Chapter
6

I don’t know why I asked you here,” Han said to Threepio, waving his hand in an expansive gesture. They sat in a booth in a cantina on Coruscant. It was a tame place by any standards—clear air, couples dancing slowly to the sound of Ludurian nose flutes.

Chewbacca looked up from his drink with weary eyes and growled. Chewie knew Han was lying. He knew exactly why Han asked Threepio there.

Threepio glanced at both of them, and his logic drive told him to probe further. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

“Well, see … you’ve been closer to Leia over the last couple of days than I have,” Han said, hunching his shoulders. “She hasn’t exactly been happy with me … and she’s spending all of her time with that prince, and after what happened to them this morning, they are so tightly surrounded by bodyguards that you can hardly get a glimpse of them. And now Leia left me a holo message to say she might be going to Hapes.”

Threepio studied the words for 3.12 seconds, searching through layer after layer of innuendo and unspoken meanings. “I see!” he said. “You two are having diplomatic problems!” Although Threepio was a translator with some of the finest programming in the galaxy, his human friends seldom called on his talents when dealing with their own complex emotional entanglements. Threepio perceived immediately that Han was placing an inordinate amount of trust in his abilities. This would be a rare opportunity to prove himself. “You’ve certainly come to the right droid! How may I help you?”

“I don’t know …” Han said. “You see them together a lot. I was just wondering, you know, how things are going. Are they really getting that close?”

Threepio immediately accessed all visual records where he’d seen Leia and Isolder together over the last couple of days: dinners three nights in a row, council meetings where the two of them discussed potential difficulties in negotiating a settlement between the Verpines and the Barabels, just walking, dancing at a party for a minor dignitary. “Well, sir, during their first day together, Prince Isolder kept an average distance of point five six two decimeters between himself and Leia,” See-Threepio said, “but that space is closing rapidly. I would say that the two of them are becoming very close indeed.”

“How close?” Han asked.

“Over the past eight standard hours, the two have been touching nearly eighty-six percent of the time.” Threepio’s infrared optical sensors picked up a slight brightening as blood rushed to Han’s face. He quickly apologized, “I’m sorry if this news disturbs you.”

Han downed a mug of Corellian rum. Since it was his second in the past few minutes, Threepio quickly calculated Han’s body mass and the alcohol content of the rum and decided that Han was more than mildly inebriated. Yet the primary manifestation of the intoxication seemed to be only a slight slowing of his speech.

Han placed a hand on Threepio’s metal arm. “You’re a good droid, Threepio. You’re a good droid. There’s not many droids I like as much as I like you. I don’t know, what would you do if some droid prince was trying to muscle in on the woman you loved?”

Threepio’s sensors picked up heavy emanations of alcohol from Han’s breath, and he leaned away to avoid any corrosion to his processors.

“The first thing I would do,” Threepio proffered, “would be to gauge the opposition and see what I have to give that the opposing party does not. Any good counselor droid could tell you that.”

“Uh-huh,” Han said. “So, what do I have to offer Leia that Isolder doesn’t?”

“Well, let’s see …” Threepio said. “Isolder is extremely wealthy, generous, well-mannered, and—at least by human standards—attractive. So, now all that we need to do is see what you have to offer that he doesn’t have.” Threepio searched his files for several moments, overheating his memory drives.

“Oh dear!” he whined at last. “I see your problem! Well, there’s always emotional attachment, I suppose. I’m certain that Leia won’t forget about you just because a better man has come along!”

“I love her,” Han said emphatically. “I love her more than I love my own life, more than breath. When she touches me I feel like … I don’t know how to say it.”

“Have you told her?” Threepio asked.

“Like I say,” Han sighed, “I just don’t know how to say it. You’re a counselor droid.” He poured another rum, just stared at it. “Do you know how to say it? Do you know any songs or poems?”

“Indeed! I carry masterpieces from over five million cultures in my memory banks. Here is one of my favorites, from the Tchuukthai:

Han listened to the gentle music of the words, the soft curling snarls, the muted thunder. “That sounds pretty good,” Han admitted. “What does it mean?”

See-Threepio translated it as closely as possible.

Han stopped him with a wave of the hand. “All right, all right, I get the picture.”

“There’s much, much more,” Threepio assured him. “It really is a beautiful epic, all five hundred thousand lines of it!”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” Han said, sounding as disheartened as ever. He sat, listening to a foursome who had just sat down at another table, and Threepio realized that over the past minute, Han had been focusing on them. Threepio downloaded his auditory tracks and played back the conversation of those at the other table to find out what so intrigued Han.

FIRST WOMAN: “Oh, look, there’s General Solo!”

SECOND WOMAN: “Gee, he looks pretty bad. Look at those bags under his eyes.”

FIRST MAN: “Kind of scruffy looking, if you ask me.”

SECOND WOMAN: “It makes you wonder what Leia ever saw in him, anyway.”

FIRST WOMAN: “Now that prince from Hapes, he is so gorgeous! Down on Coruscant, street merchants are selling posters of him!”

SECOND MAN: “Yeah, I bought one for my sister.”

FIRST MAN: “As for me, I’d take one of his bodyguards any day.”

FIRST WOMAN: “With a body like his, I’d kill to be his guard.”

SECOND WOMAN: “Well, you can guard that body all you want—I’d rather be his masseuse. Can you imagine kneading that hot flesh all day long?”

Han said angrily, “Look, Threepio, why don’t you keep an eye on Leia. If she asks about me, tell her I miss her. All right?”

Threepio stored the request. “As you wish, sir,” he said, rising to leave the bar.

Chewbacca growled a good-bye to the spy. Threepio made his way out into the streets, wandered down chasms toward one of Coruscant’s central computers that had a reputation as something of a gossip. Such a computer would gladly tell a droid secrets that it would never reveal to a biological life form. So Han needed a diplomatic counselor. This would be a wonderful opportunity for See-Threepio to prove himself! A wonderful opportunity!

Threkin Horm looked his best—dressed in a long, dark green waistcoat and white pants, his thinning hair meticulously curled so that ringlets danced around his ears. Leia noticed that he didn’t look as fat as usual when he stood under his own power, and he was standing now at the podium. “As you all know, I have called this session of the Alderaanian Council so that we can discuss preparations for Princess Leia’s marriage to Prince Isolder, the Chume’da of Hapes.”

The crowd erupted into vigorous applause. The plush council room with its curtained walls and plum-colored chairs could hold nearly two thousand people, yet only a hundred members of the council were present. The rest of the seating was occupied by curious onlookers, while the back of the hall was a gleaming forest of metallic media droids. Leia sat in her seat on the front row, only a couple of meters from where Threkin stood on the podium. Han sat in a back row, dressed casually in a white shirt and vest, looking very much the way he had when they’d first met, years ago. Chewbacca sat beside him.

Leia had intended to discuss her plans here bluntly but hadn’t been prepared for so much media attention. In the past day she suddenly found her entire life in the spotlight—the attempted assassination of the morning before had been covertly filmed from eight different angles and was playing on all the stations. New Republic Intelligence officers had swept the embassy for bugs this morning and found microphones with open channels to fifteen networks. It seemed that the only thing the public liked better than a royal marriage was a royal assassination, and the media hounds were lapping this up. Leia’s only consolation was that if another assassin struck, he or she would have to shoot through the camera operators to get her.

Ah well, best to get this over with. “Threkin, members of the council,” Leia said, standing. “I would like to thank you all for coming here, but don’t you think this is a bit premature? I agree that this seems like a marvelous offer, but I haven’t consented to marry Prince Isolder yet.” She sat down again.

“Oh, Leia,” Threkin said with a condescending smile. “Often in the past your clear head and cautiousness have served you well, but in this particular case …?” He shrugged. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other, and you have agreed to a six-month excursion with Isolder, touring the worlds of Hapes. I think it’s a grand idea! It will give you and Isolder a little time to grow closer while the royal house of Hapes gets an opportunity to see how well that pretty little head of yours wears a crown!” The crowd tittered with nervous laughter at the jest. “Let’s put it before the council.” Threkin waved at the seated assemblage. “Don’t you all think that Leia and Isolder make a beautiful couple?”

Most of the professional politicians remained somewhat somber, but many of the traders snickered while members of the media and audience cheered and clapped. This didn’t look at all to Leia like a normal council meeting, this looked like a carnival.

“You can’t plan my wedding without me!” Leia interrupted, rising from her seat, astonished at Threkin’s audacity. “Isolder understands, as I’m sure that you must, that we aren’t engaged—either formally or informally. I’m going to Hapes simply to …”

And she realized the truth. Isolder was taking her to Hapes so that the planetary dignitaries she might someday rule could study her, measure her for the crown. And she was going so that she could have time to get closer to Isolder. It was just as Threkin said. No matter how she might try to deny it, everyone else in the galaxy could see what was happening. She glanced over at Han. He looked miserable. She sat down, tried not to blush, intensely conscious that this encounter was already being carried live over dozens of news nets. She knew she should argue against Threkin, if only to save face, but right now she just couldn’t think. For the first time in her life, Leia was at a loss for words.

“Indeed, indeed we can’t plan your wedding without you,” Threkin assured her from the podium. “We wouldn’t think of it. We are only making plans in the eventuality that you marry Isolder—”

“Councilman Horm?” See-Threepio’s voice cut through the council room. Leia turned, saw the golden droid standing on tiptoe and waving from the back of the room excitedly. “Oh, Councilman Horm, may I address the council?”

“What?” Horm asked in disdain. “Let a droid address the council?”

Leia smiled inwardly. The droid rights lobbyists would have a field day with that comment. It might well be the first nail in the coffin for Horm’s political career. Leia stood quickly. “He may only be a counselor droid, but I think we should let him speak!”

There was grumbled assent from the general assembly, along with deafening cheers from the forest of media droids in the back.

“I, I, I see nothing wrong with that!” Horm sputtered, waving his arms. “I yield the podium to, to, to—that droid!”

The media droids cheered and Threepio walked up to the podium, scanning the crowd on his left and right as he did so. Leia had never seen a droid take such initiative. She wondered what he wanted. Threepio reached the podium and turned to address the crowd.

“Well,” he said, “I would like to propose that the council should begin planning Leia’s wedding—to General Han Solo!”

“What!” shouted Horm. “Why, why this is preposterous! General Solo isn’t even royalty! He’s just, he’s just …” Horm must have realized that he had better not say anything libelous, but he shrugged in disgust. All through the crowd, a wave of grumbling began, and Leia wondered if she hadn’t misjudged in letting poor Threepio address the council.

“I beg to differ!” Threepio answered. “I have been communicating with various computers through Coruscant’s network all morning, and I’ve discovered some startling facts that all of you seem to have overlooked—possibly because General Solo has labored intensely to hide them: although the Corellians became a republic nearly three centuries ago, by birthright Han Solo is the king of Corellia!”

The room erupted in a dull roar and media droids began hitting Han Solo with spotlights. Threkin Horm’s nasal voice sliced through the chatter with, “What? What? What?” Leia turned and looked to the back of the room in shock. The back seats of the auditorium were raised in tiers, and she could see Han plainly, blushing, trying to scrunch down into his seat. From the look on his face, she could tell that Han was indeed trying to hide something. And Leia knew that Threepio’s programming as a counselor droid made him incapable of lying. Han put his hand up over his eyes and looked down at the floor. In all these years, why didn’t he ever tell me? Leia wondered.

Aboard the Bith counselor ship Thpffftht, Luke watched the holo vid with interest, surprised that even on a backwater world like Toola the doings of Leia and Isolder—and now Han—could be of enough interest to warrant the enormous expense it cost to send the news clips through hyperspace. Well, Leia was living every woman’s fantasy—attracting the interest of an incredibly rich and handsome prince. And the intrigue of the assassination attempt had escalated the worth of the story so that now Luke could watch his sister live, nearly three hundred light-years distant.

The Bith ship was scheduled to jump into hyperdrive within a few moments, and Luke studied the video with interest. The holo vid cameras were focused on Han now, and Solo sat scrunched in his chair, hand over his face. Even Chewbacca, sitting next to Han, opened his eyes wide in surprise, a throaty roar of astonishment escaping from between his canines.

Luke smiled inwardly. Of course, he thought, Han is a king. I should have recognized it before. But why did he hide it? In spite of his smile, Luke felt troubled. He could feel something odd, something distant and dark stirring. Too many in the galaxy would resist Leia’s union to Isolder. He could feel the force of their malevolent intent, and Luke silently willed the Bith technicians to hurry and finish their equipment tests before making the jump to hyperdrive. Luke wouldn’t reach the Roche system any too soon.

“Indeed,” Threepio went on. “Han is the royal heir! Birth records indicate that Han’s paternal ancestry goes back to Berethron e Solo, who introduced democracy in the Corellian empire. You can easily track the birthright for the next six generations, to Korol Solo, but records from Korol’s period were destroyed in the Clone Wars and the lineage became lost.

“But Korol Solo married and fathered his first son on Duro nearly sixty years ago, and because of the wars and turmoil, that son never returned home. His name was Dalla Solo, but he changed his name to Dalla Suul to hide his identity during the Clone Wars. His firstborn son was Jonash Suul, and the first son of Jonash Suul was named Han Suul—who changed his name back to Han Solo. Obviously, Han knew of his royal lineage, but for reasons that are quite beyond me, he’s also tampered with records back on Corellia in an effort to hide that lineage!”

There was an audible gasp from the crowd, and Threkin Horm shouted for order. Han got up slowly and walked out of the auditorium as the roar in the background diminished. Leia half-stood, watching Han leave, and the crowd quieted enough for Threkin to cry out, “But wasn’t Dalla Suul also known as Dalla the Black? The famous murderer?”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Threepio admitted, “though the history texts describe him more accurately as a kidnapper and a pirate.”

“And, well,” Threkin said, “well, what kind of lineage is that? I mean—Dalla Suul was one of the most notorious kingpins in organized crime! You can’t expect respectable people to give any credence to Han’s claims of royal lineage.”

“Well, I am just an ignorant droid and confess that I don’t really understand how the actions of one’s ancestors enhance or detract from one’s respectability,” Threepio apologized to Threkin Horm. “Such concepts are beyond the ability of a model AA-One Verbobrain to process. But since Dalla Suul’s illegitimate daughter was your mother, I expect that you are infinitely more familiar with the logic of the arguments than I am.”

Threkin Horm’s face paled, and he stood shaking.

The holo vid clip ended, and a droid announcer began commenting on it. Luke flipped off the holo and sat back in a thick chair, folded his hands on his lap. In only a couple of generations, Han’s line had diminished from kingship to underworld kingpin. No wonder Han had hidden his lineage, had turned his back on the Alderaanian Council and stormed away before his secret was revealed. Poor Han.