Summoned to a midnight meeting in the Guildmaster's office, Han was surprised at the crowd gathering there.

"There he is!" a familiar voice yelled. "Get the bastard, Lorge!"

Two ham-sized fists grabbed Han's shirtfront, and he found himself gazing up into Lorge Tyne's face. The huge pilot was smiling in a most unpleasant manner.

"Me and Thel got a bone to pick with you, Solo," Lorge rumbled. As if by magic, Lorge's small, slender partner materialized at his side, a belligerent scowl twisting his features.

Han plucked ineffectually at his shirt to get it away from Lorge. "Hey, whatever it is, I didn't mean to do it," he protested.

"That's a likely story," Lorge snarled. "I suppose you haven't been working hand in hand with the Alliance for the past three years. I suppose you and Chewie haven't gotten the Imps on Claudio so pissed that they tried to take me and Thel out."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Han demanded. "Me and Chewie haven't been anywhere near Claudio in years."

"Don't argue with him, stupid," Thel broke in impatiently. "Just belt him and get it over with."

"Hold it!" The Guildmaster's voice carried over the noise of the room.

Lorge looked from Han's face to his fist and then back again, disappointment clouding his face. Han seized the opportunity to pull his shirt out of the big man's grasp. Edging around the two pilots, Han made his way toward the Guildmaster's desk as he stuffed his mauled shirt back into his trousers. Rono was already there, perched on one corner of the desk.

"How come those two are so bent outta shape?" Han asked, jerking his thumb to indicate the Jin Lorel'sowners.

Rono chuckled. "They just spent two weeks ducking Imperial cruisers who they figure were really after you and the Falcon.They'll have forgotten about the whole thing by tomorrow."

"I hope so," Han said with heartfelt sincerity. He glanced around at the other people in the room. Leia and Brynn were standing together with Lando and Chewbacca in the far corner. General Rieekan, Colonel Yinder--the head of Alliance Intelligence--and Ryo Gren were studying something on Ryo's desk computer. "What's all the excitement?"

Rono's studied insouciance dropped, and his eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation. "We may have just struck pay dirt on that damn Death Star. The Terrible Two were met by a real impressive welcoming committee when they tried to land on Claudio."

The Guildmaster looked up from his notes, nodded briskly to Han, then called Lorge and Thel over to the desk. "I want you to go through your story again," he directed them. "But skip the comedy routine."

Glowering at Han, Lorge recited the tale again, his words well larded with expletives and asides. Han listened closely, interrupting twice to have Lorge go over some points that didn't seem to jibe. Somewhere in the middle, Leia came over to stand beside him. Finally, when Lorge ran out of words, Han looked directly at the Guildmaster.

"It stinks," he said flatly.

Ryo gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. "I agree. It's a setup."

Both Rieekan and Yinder nodded. "The Imperials want us to go to Claudio," Rieekan said.

"You gonna send someone?"

Rieekan shrugged. "Can't afford not to. It just might be legitimate."

Han's gaze traveled back to Ryo's expressionless face.

"There's something there," Ryo said in a soft voice that carried unshakable conviction. "I can taste it. They want us to come looking for it, which means it's well hidden, but there is something there."

Han rubbed his hand across his chin. His grandfather's hunches were usually right on the money.

The head of Intelligence made a decisive hand gesture. "Rieekan, you inform the Council that we've got a lead," he directed. "I'm going to go scare up somebody to send over there. Talk to you later." With a brusque nod, the man left the room.

Claudio. In his naval days, Han's squadron had once been posted to Claudio Base for a six-month tour of duty. It had been a pleasant, but dull assignment. Claudio was a minor installation whose main function was to remind the local worlds that they were part of the Empire.

Han sat on the couch in the small front room of the quarters he shared with Leia. His shoulders were hunched and his wrists draped loosely over his knees. In his mind's eye, he pictured Claudio Base as he remembered it: a sleepy, backwater world where nothing ever happened. Depending on one's point of view, Claudio was either a vacation or a punishment. Han's squadron had taken the former view, and had spent their six months partying to the best of their ability and money.

"What're you thinking about?" Dressed in a filmy wisp of something that revealed a lot more than it covered, Leia came into the room to stand in front of Han.

"Not much," Han said lazily. Then his attention was diverted from the far away to the present.

Leia slowly pirouetted, a wicked smile curving her lips. "Do you like it?"

"That's an understatement," he purred approvingly. His glance warmed as he examined the new garment in intimate detail. "But I think I need to get a closer look." He stood up and reached for her.

Claudio. As Han went through the mechanics of his day, the word kept intruding on the edge of his consciousness. Finally he gave up and sought out Rieekan in operations. The general was listening to a report from one of his staff and motioned for Han to wait. He glanced around. Leia was there, talking with two other people at the far end of the room. She gave him a quick smile and a wink before turning her attention back to her conversation.

"Solo?" Rieekan stood in front of Han.

Han gestured Rieekan a few steps away from the rest of the personnel. "Has Intelligence come up with someone to send to Claudio?"

"They've got a couple of people. Yinder will make his decision by this afternoon, and we can get the guy on his way tomorrow."

"We don't have anyone else on Claudio now?"

"No."

Han looked down at the toes of his boots, then back up. "I know Claudio, General, and I'm familiar with Claudio Base."

Rieekan's eyebrows rose. "Are you volunteering?"

"I suppose so." He shrugged. "I was stationed there for six months, so unless you guys can come up with someone who's had more time there, I'd say that I'm your best choice."

"Let's go talk to Yinder."

"Okay, Luke, you'll be in charge here for the next couple of weeks or so," Han said briskly, then clapped him on the back. "You know what I've been trying to do, and everything's in the computer anyway. You shouldn't have any trouble. Just make sure you keep up with the daily reports and keep after the squadron leaders to get theirs to you. Dano's the real pain. You may have to chase him down and drag it out of him."

Luke nodded soundlessly.

"One copy goes to Rieekan, and one to the Guildmaster. Any repairs go to Timmer Shay. Don't worry about the bookkeeping. Lando and the Guildmaster have that under control. They know what belongs to the Alliance and what belongs to the Guild. You just turn in the repair lists to Timmer."

Luke nodded again.

Han grinned easily. "Don't worry about it, junior. It's only a couple of weeks at the most. I wouldn't stick my worst enemy with this job forever."

Luke made a gesture of dismissal. "That's not what I'm worried about. It's you. You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Sure," Han said with a confidence he didn't quite feel. "I know Claudio Base like I know the back of my hand, and I sure as hell remember how to be a pilot. In and out, that's all there is to it."

"Well, good luck, Han." Luke forced a cheerful smile.

"You are a fool, Solo,"Chewbacca stated without heat as the two sat at the Millennium Falcon'sgame table. "You will get yourself killed for no purpose."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Han grimaced

"When do we leave?"

"Wearen't going anywhere, fuzzball. You'restaying right here. I'm leaving in the morning."

Chewbacca shook his head. "I am coming with you. Someone has to protect you from yourself."

"I'm not a baby, Chewie. I can take care of myself. You have to stay here and take care of the princess--just like before."

Again, Chewbacca shook his head. "Circumstances are different. Her Highness is in a safe place, surrounded by many others who will care for her. The Guildmaster will allow no harm to come to her, nor will Yoda or Skywalker."

Han drew a sharp breath. "Chewie," he said softly, "if I don't come back from this, she's gonna need a lot more than they can do for her. You understand?"

There was no compromise in the Wookiee's posture. "Then it would be best if I come along to ensure that you do return."

"No, dammit!" Han slammed his palm down on the tabletop. "You're staying here, and that's the end of it. Dragging you with me'll just make the job that much more difficult. How in the name of all the hells do you expect me to explain you?"

"We had no problem when you enlisted,"Chewbacca huffed.

"I wasn't sneaking around trying to be a spy! You'll screw it up for me this time. Can't you see that?" Exasperated, Han jumped to his feet. "You're not going, and that's the end of it. Got that?"

For a long moment, Chewbacca stared up at the human, his eyes darkening with pain. Han swallowed the lump in his own throat. All his adult life, from the moment he had returned to Corell from Dagobah, Chewbacca had stood at his shoulder, shadowing Han's every footstep, no matter how foolhardy or ill considered. The Wookiee might complain that the pilot was a starsick, brainless idiot, but never once had he given serious consideration to returning to Kashyyyk and his own blood family. Han was an Il Rohanna, a Jedi of Tseborah, and Chewie was honor-bound to Han as he had been to others of that Line, as his uncle Withawillarump had been honor-bound through the years of his life. Il Rohanna and Wookiee, together the two Lines had danced through time: the Wookiees lending the Il Rohanna their great physical strength and immense lifespans for stability of Triangle and Square, the Jedi of that Line repaying the debt by exerting their Forcery for the benefit of Kashyyyk and the Wookiees. It was an equitable bargain on both sides, made stronger by individual ties of love and affection. And it was Chewie's love for this particular human, a love that Han returned in full measure, which was making this leave-taking difficult.

Han cleared his throat, hopeful that Chewbacca had accepted the defeat. "The Falcon'spapers are all in order," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. "She's yours, free and clear, if something goes wrong. The Guildmaster will ratify the transfer of ownership."

"As you say,"Chewbacca responded indifferently.

Han hesitated a moment, then ruffled the top of the Wookiee's head. "Take care of things for me till I get back."

Certain of Yoda's whereabouts, Han plunged blindly through the now well-worn path to the clearing. There, the old Jedi was sitting on the stump that had become his regular perch. His eyes were closed, and there was a peaceful expression on his round face.

"Come to say goodbye, have you?'' he remarked casually as Han drew close to him.

Hunkering down to be at eye level with the Master of Dagobah, Han grinned cheerfully. "I hope not." His grin faded. "But just in case..." He unfastened the lightsaber from his utility belt and held it out with a steady hand. "You keep this. There're others of my Line--one of them can use it someday, maybe."

Yoda accepted the weapon and thrust it inside his robes. "Guard it well I will," he promised solemnly. He held out one hand to Han, and the two shook. "Mind what you have learned, Han Solo," he said in a brisk voice. "Each step, you must think, reason. No foolish heroics."

Han nodded. "Nothing foolish."

"The Force will be with you."

"I hope so."

Ryo Gren and Brynn were in the Guildmaster's office looking over a pile of tear sheets when Han walked in. To his eyes, they both seemed suddenly older than he remembered, and there were lines of weariness etched deep into both their faces. The past few weeks had not been easy on them, he thought with a sudden stab of guilt, as they strove to balance the needs of the Guild, the Alliance, and the Conference.

"I--uh--" He didn't know where to start.

Ryo put the flimsies aside. "Rieekan was by earlier," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Brynn and I are not going to pretend to be happy about this, but we understand."

Spared the necessity of explaining, Han nodded thankfully. "I--I just want to say thank you. Both of you." He stopped.

Brynn came around the desk and put her arm around his shoulder. "There's no need for that, Han," she said gently.

"Well," he started, then ground to another halt, shrugging. He brought his gaze back to Ryo's face. "I gave the Falconto Chewie," he said quickly. "Ratify the papers for him, would you?"

Ryo nodded.

Then Han touched the spot where his saber usually hung. "And I gave the saber to Yoda to hold," he went on. "He'll know who to give it to when the time's right."

Again Ryo nodded.

Once more, Han glanced back and forth between his grandparents. They had raised him, cared for him, had done all they could and then stepped back gracefully to let him live his own life--even if it hadn't been the one they had wished for him. And now, when it seemed as if he had nothing left to give them except some empty words--the only things of value he had collected in his life, his ship and his saber, having been given to others--they still understood. Abruptly, Han hugged his grandmother close, then shook hands with his grandfather.

Han entered the room with trepidation. If those other good-byes had been difficult, this last one promised to be the worst. Not for the first time, Han wondered if he had done the best thing for Leia and himself on that mad flight from Hoth to Bespin. Certainly, had he not forced the issue, there would have been a great deal less pain for both of them.
"Hello, Han." Leia was curled up on the end of the couch, reading a printout. Her eyes, when she lifted them to Han's face, were bright but steady, and her face was calm.

For a moment, Han wondered if she hadn't been told, then dismissed that idea. She had been in the operations room when he'd made his offer to Rieekan, and Yinder would have reported to the Council immediately that he had the perfect sucker lined up for the trip to Claudio. "Hi, sweetheart." Han bent to kiss her quickly, then sat down next to her on the sofa. His eyes flicked over the papers she was holding, a preliminary report from Yinder.

It took every shred of self-control Leia had acquired in her short life to keep the serene expression on her face and her body from trembling with fear for the man sitting next to her. Ever since Rieekan had drawn her aside to tell her what Han had done, she had been reminding herself that Han Solo was a survivor, a man who never counted the odds, a man who always seemed to come out on top--if a little worse for wear--and a man who wasn't given to empty heroics. If Han volunteered to go to Claudio, he had to be fairly certain he'd return. She had been reading Yinder's report to reinforce that belief. It was necessary for someone to go to Claudio, and Yinder rated the starpilot's chances of success at something close to acceptable--and a lot higher than that of the two other men he'd had in mind for the detail. They too had once been Imperial naval pilots, but neither had been assigned duty on Claudio. Han's familiarity with the base and the surrounding area made him the only acceptable choice.

Over and over, Leia had rehearsed the arguments. But in spite of her best efforts, a part of her deep inside refused to believe, wanted to wail in fear and clutch Han close, to keep him safe on Jerail. Let someone else take this detail, someone who was nothing more to Princess Leia Organa than a faceless name on a list. Sending a man out to quite possibly die was never an easy chore--it was the one Leia loathed more than any other task--but no one else had brought such warmth and love into her life, shored her up when she thought she could not take another step, or saw a desirable, living woman under the hard, decisive war leader. More than once since that day of horror and fear aboard the first Death Star, Leia had cursed the fates that had allowed Han Solo to cross her path.

Leia opened her mouth to speak, to say something light that would not tear at the fragile illusion they had created since Han's return from the death of Bespin's carbon-freezing chamber, but Han placed his finger over her lips.

"Shhh," he said, tracing the outlines of her face in a gesture that was both soothing and terrifying. Leia squeezed her eyes shut, fear winning at last. Then Han's lips were on her own.

"Han?"

"Shhh." His arms went around her, holding her close. "Don't think about it, Leia." There was a faraway, singsong quality to his voice. "Everything'll be okay. Just don't think about it."

Slowly, the knot of pain and fear deep within Leia began to uncoil, mesmerized by the words Han was whispering to her.

Han looked at the small woman nestled so trustingly in his arms, and hated himself. It was something he had sworn to himself that he would never do: tamper with the mind and emotions of one close to him. It was a gross violation of another living being's personal integrity and betrayal of his own belief in free will and choice. Yet, it would have been cruel to leave Leia once more to suffer when it was within his power to soothe her. It was little enough to give her in return for the love and peace she had brought to his strife-riven soul. If only things had been different, if only they had met in a less chaotic, demanding time and place...

Han sighed. Any fool could win if he were dealt four aces and the Supernova; it took real talent to bluff with five pieces of low garbage. Carefully, Han shifted. Leia stirred and made a small, drowsy sound.

"It's all right, Princess," he repeated once more, his hand resting gently on the back of her head. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Simultaneously, he cleared his own mind of fears and doubts and constructed the Triangle--Tseborah, Corell, and Dagobah--drawing the lines with firm, bold strokes that betrayed no hesitation. With confident steps, he walked into the center and planted his feet solidly on the point of intersection. Holding his hands up, he began to draw their strength and energy into himself. When he would have stopped, something prompted him to go on until it seemed as if every cell and nerve in his body pulsed with vibrant life. Enough,he was told. Obeying what he knew not, he pivoted the hundred and eighty degrees from the Light to the Dark, and the Shadows between. In a single fluid motion, Han lifted his right foot and smashed his boot heel down on the intersection where he stood. The lines of the Triangle shattered, dropping away in a shower of golden sparks, taking with them the three points. Head high, Han strode into the swirling mists of the Shadows.