Chapter Text
Han had side-eyed the old man just standing there serenely behind Chewie’s seat, looking completely unbothered as they were reeled into the cargo bay of a Star Destroyer.
He was checking his blaster compulsively, half muttering in Mando’a under his breathe, before he’d had Chewie lock down anything on their girl’s systems that would make her look anything other than just a piece of trash broken-down-and-abandoned freighter.
It had hurt almost physically to even think that about his girl, and he brushed a hand apologetically along her worn sides before he’d strode forward and lead the way to one of his more comfortable smuggler’s hiding spots.
He moved through the ship to make sure there was no sign of anyone having been here but him and Chewie before he joined Luke, the old man, and the two troopers in the smuggler’s hold.
Luke was using the little bit of room he had in the cramped quarters – which was already close when it was just him and Chewie, but now was more than firiendly with the addition of four more people – to poke at the pipes and circuits he’d soldered into new positions to make this particular space. Lando had left him with five or six smaller spots to smuggle things, and one larger that had once held unrefined coaxium from his infamous Kessel Run, but considering that he’d almost lost the Falcon several times through theft, bad luck in sabaac, or repossession, he made sure to have one completely unknown space except for him and Chewie.
He would have led them to the honestly larger smuggler’s hold, but even ten years later, he could still smell how the coaxium had nearly completely destabilized. It was a scent most would be unfamiliar with, but anyone who dealt with coaxium knew it – and the scent tended to linger on the skin for hours no matter how many times he went through the ‘fresher, and it never quite came out of clothes.
Caution had never been his strong suit, but such a scent lingering on a smuggler was usually a calling card for regularly hauling coaxium and he’d dealt enough with it for a lifetime.
It was bad enough that his work with Jabba, smuggling spice, left a peculiar funk in the air.
He had been able to tell Luke had recognized it in a heart-beat, and he’d given him an unusually sharp-eyed glance that he’d realized must have been him checking for signs of addiction.
The old man, Ben or Obi-Wan, or whatever he was going by now, had also recognized it in a heart-beat. He’d found it curious at the full-body shiver he’d done, and the way his eyes had diluted just at the small flecks still caught in his air filtration, suggesting he’d once had an extremely bad reaction or overdose in the past.
He’d said nothing though when not even hours into the trip, he’d found the old man fiddling with his air filtration system, cleaning it out and piling up anything he deemed completely contaminated by spice. He’d explained nothing other than saying that he may be paying to be smuggled to Alderaan, but that did not mean he had to breathe in spice.
Han had of course taken that moment to demand to know how he would be paid, and the man had smiled and commented that he’s gotten along just fine all his life without money; “Have you once seen money pass through my hands?”
He hadn’t as Luke had paid for the old man’s drink in the cantina as they’d been discussing their business together, and he hadn’t gotten anything upfront before leaving Tatooine.
He had demanded to know how he was getting paid then, because Luke had balked at the amount he’d wanted for going so far into the Inner Rim – and had even admitted to having only a couple hundred credits total.
The old man had had the balls to just smile, and say he had an old friend who could pay a queen’s ransom.
Han looked at the man now, and the smile was still faint on his lips as he quietly talked with the two troopers in low tones. He was within arm’s reach, but he couldn’t understand them.
He didn’t need to hear though to understand that for all the man smiled peacefully, there was something in his eyes that was gearing up for a fight.
Han closed his eyes as his Lady shuddered and groaned when she docked inside the Destroyer, kept them closed as he listened to the footsteps of ‘troopers above his head, searching the ship for any sign of anyone.
Caution would never be his strong suit, but he waited several beats longer than he normally would have before opening his eyes to look at Chewie.
Chewie had just straightened up from where he’d hunched some, then the top slid open without any of their hands touching it.
The old man casually flicked two fingers and the top of the smuggler’s hold slid open without a sound, then he climbed up and out far more spryly than how Luke did moments later on his heels.
He’d grinned the devil’s smile then had slipped down a hall deeper into the ship, the two 212 troopers silently at his back and blasters raised and sweeping side to side. Han saw for a moment a shadow of General Kenobi in the old man, and an old tarnished pride buffed up and gleaming like gold in the two men’s gazes.
Luke had watched the old man go, curious but not really understanding the real gravity of the those three, but Han had just turned to Chewie with a wince and didn’t enlighten the kid, “Sorry buddy, but you’re going to need to wear the cuffs again.” - which Chewie was very unhappy with – “Why is it always me?”
Han had winced, then quickly clapped the cuffs he kept on his person lest Chewie destroy them so they couldn’t ever do this ruse again, on his old friend’s furry wrists while Chewie grumbled under his breath, “One day, you’re going to be the one wearing the cuffs, Han, as I escort you like my prisoner, and I’m going to enjoy it.”
Han had patted his arm, “Sure, sure, Chewie. Did you forget about the one she-beast who liked her men big and furry and thought soft-fleshed men like me were tasty treats? And how she thought you were bringing me to her as a courting gift, and ‘kindly’ offered a pair of special durasteel cuffs that even you had problems breaking off me to drag me to her giant maw of teeth upon teeth? I was nearly eaten, Chewie. Just a year ago. Suck it up, buddy. At least you’ll get to bash some buckets together before we’re done.”
Luke had just stared at them with wide eyes, and Han had cut him off before he could do more than open his big mouth, “We’re not discussing it, kid. I’m never explaining that story.”
Han had poked his head out of the Falcon, saw the coast was clear, and the led the way quickly into an empty hall a different direction than the way the old man had gone.
Chewie lumbered quietly right on his tail, Luke a moment after him.
Han had been on enough Star Destroyers to know a basic layout, and he knew if he got to an elevator, which should just be right up ahead, went up two decks, across the corridor uncomfortably close to on-ship barracks, then down five decks and they would be at the brig.
He’d been thrown in enough brigs to know where most were, or at least able to make an educated guess.
Luke followed him, “You got a plan, Han?”
“I’m consider ditching the trouble-magnet old man, regardless of this supposed queen’s ransom his friend can pay me, in favor of rescuing this princess the old man says is here. Which would be a lot easier if we could get some ‘trooper armor, and act like we’re escorting Chewie here to the brig.”
He was side-eyed, but Han was nowhere near intimidated because the kid just looked like a grumpy puppy who had been abruptly awoken from his nap. Particularly with the way he seemed completely unaware of how ruffled his hair was, half of it sticking up in all sorts of directions after being rubbed against the Falcon’s circuitry.
Han snorted, “I should ditch the old man, because I get the feeling that spending any sort of length of time with him is just going to land us in hot water. Often. But a queen’s ransom is a queen’s ransom, and it will be extra beautiful when combined with the money a grateful king will give to see their princess returned from danger. Might even be enough to get Jabba completely off my back after the last time I had to ditch cargo when I was boarded.”
Luke watched him for a moment, “You’re not going to leave Ben behind, right?”
Han felt like he really should tell the kid that he wasn’t intimidating in the slightest with the pout and puppy-dog eyes that left him anything but stern. He didn’t though, because it was hilarious.
He had to look away to hide his blatant smirking, and spotted a pair of ‘troopers boarding the elevator they wanted.
Grabbing the kid by the arm and pulling him with, Han and Chewie rushed the soldiers before they could see it coming.