Nebulous - Han Solo [2]

The Girl

Tasha looked at herself in the mirror that she didn't even know was there in the back of the Falcon until Lando showed her. The long green dress she wore brought out the colour in her emerald eyes, sliding over her body in a way that made her feel strangely vulnerable and powerful at the same time. Espionage, blending in was part of her unique skill set, the one she probably used the most. Her hair hung loose and straight around her face, and she'd coloured her lips a blood red. She was striking, noticeable ... stunning. Lando almost couldn't believe it when he looked at her as she strode towards him in the pilot's seat.

"Eyes back in the head please, Calrissian," she said, smirking. He gulped slightly, nodding and turning his attention to the landing gear as a tall, sleek and bloody expensive looking yacht came into view.

"Stars," Tasha muttered, sliding into the seat next to Lando with her eyes still on the ship, "I'm glad I dressed up." Lando chuckled.

"They're holding a reception for various partners and allies at the moment, otherwise they aren't in one place for very long." He explained.

"And are we crashers or are we on the list?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"I called in a favour. We're on the list." Tasha nodded, steeling herself as the ship floated to the ground in an area clustered with other small vessels. All of them looked a lot more expensive and well-maintained than the Falcon with bits of it practically falling off as the landed. Lando stood from the controls, attaching his long blue cape to his shoulders and handing Tasha a black, fur-trimmed one she hadn't noticed before. Even she had to admit it was terribly glamorous.

In.

Out.

You belong here.

Tasha repeated the words over and over again, just as she always did, eyes scanning everything as they handed in their weapons and coats. Her pulse raced as the attendant took her blaster and lightsaber from her, tugging them from her reluctant hand.

The room they walked into was terribly grand: gold trimmed everything, the large windows letting the light pour in and sparkle off of the jeweled chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling and the glasses the equally glamorous guests were carrying. Tasha was even more glad she'd put such effort into her appearance. A great number of eyes shifted to her as they entered, and she gratefully took Lando's arm when he offered it to her. Her eyes scrutenised the room at the lightning speed of a practiced spy. The windows that let in so much light had automatic blast coverings that didn't appear to be removeable, and the door required a specific password to let anyone in or out. The only way out of here was if someone let you leave, and Tasha didn't like it.

"Lando," came a musical voice before she could create a viable escape plan. A woman glided towards them, long dress skimming the floor, a crimson dawn brand on her wrist. She placed her hand on Lando's shoulder and kissed both his cheeks.

"Qi'ra," greeted Lando as she pulled back, his charming smile firmly in place, "its been too long."

"Indeed it has, it appears as though you're keeping much better company these days," she added, turning to Tasha.

"Tasha," simple. Nothing identifiable. Qi'ra smiled slightly: well-rehearsed and blatantly fake.

"I know. The princess of the rebellion. Once thought dead, now resurrected for the cause." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed her.

"Sounds as though you don't agree with what we're fighting for." The green-eyed girl replied icily, tilting her head to the side slightly. Qi'ra's smile flickered dangerously.

"Your revolution has made my life terribly difficult to get decent employees lately. You're taking an enormous risk showing up here." She said, changing the subject, "Both of you."

"We know that-" began Lando.

"Then why are you here, because I highly doubt its because you want to supply us with fuel, as you spoke about in your communication." She laughed lightly, "Do you really think I'd be so careless in my research as to not realise the Empire has seized your mine?"

"Han Solo." Tasha quietly interrupted, "you knew him? Right?" Qi'ra looked around, seeming nervous for the first time.

"I think Lando it would be better if we discuss what I could do for you in the backroom, otherwise everyone will be after what you can offer us." She spoke a little louder than before, announcing it to the people close to them with her false smile once again flawless. She swept into a room that joined onto the reception, dismissing the guards with a wave of her hand and placing herself with a careless delicacy on one of the two couches that sat facing each other in the centre of the room. She motioned for them to sit, Tasha perching nervously at the request. What surprised her was the sigh that Qi'ra gave, her eyes losing their iciness as they rested on Lando.

"I heard he'd been captured." She said, "I doubt Jabba will kill him if he's frozen in carbonite like they say he is; he'd find it much more amusing to hang him on his wall in that hideous palace of his."

"We know that," said Tasha, "we're planning to rescue him." Qi'ra completely blanked her, keeping her attention on Lando and continuing to talk.

"What I don't understand is what you could possibly want from me? I cant tell the Hutts to simply release him. I'm not as influential as you would think."

"We need to get someone on the ground, in Jabba's palace, someone who can do more recon work and keep an eye on Han as we work out a plan." Tasha explained, her voice more insistent and her patience waning. Qi'ra glared at Tasha, as though annoyed by her very existence.

"I don't recall ever asking you," she spat, Tasha scoffing and leaning against the back of the couch in an almost bored gesture, "and why do you and your band of freedom fighters care so much anyway about one smuggler who has, regrettably, been captured?"

Tasha's expression of annoyance, amusement and condescension disappeared and her jaw tightened, going cold and looking down at her fingers for the first time. Lando knew only he could rescue the situation and the plan to save his friend and conscience.

"She cares about him, Qi'ra, just like you used to," he said through a sigh. Tasha looked up, trying unsuccessfully to hide her vulnerability behind shutters in her green eyes.

"Look," she began, her voice slow, like she was constructing the sentence carefully, "you have no reason to trust me, or to like me, most of the time I don't really like me, that's not the point. I'm not asking you to do me a favour." Deep breath. "I'm saying, if you've ever, ever, felt even the slightest thing for Han, I'm begging you please please please, help  us rescue him. All we need is for you to help us place a person on the ground. No one will be able to trace it back to you...

Please."

Qi'ra was shocked by the raw emotion dripping from every word of the desperate plea put forth by the girl in front of her. In that moment Tasha really did just look like a girl, a scared, slightly desperate girl full of worry for the one person she probably cared about more than any other. She didn't look like the strong warrior princess Qi'ra had heard about in stories, frightened of nothing, charming but clearly emotionally unavailable. Calculating. Strategic. Strong. And she felt something twitch in her chest, a memory of herself in a past life, running the streets with Han, his desperate look as he left her at that gate, the stab when she betrayed him after he saved her. His good heart.

"I might be able to help you," she said slowly, "but before we start I need to know how far you're willing to go to save him."

"All the way."