Beyond - Legends True Blue (OCs, H/L, L/M, Kiana Ti, Kyp, etc.) For Mod's Dare Challenge: final author's replies

Title: True Blue
Author: Divapilot
Characters: OCs, Kyp Durron, Kirana Ti, Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa Solo
Time frame: NJO
Rating: PG
Summary: Amid the chaos of a post-Yuuzhan Vong galaxy, a young woman yearns to define herself.
Genre: adventure; romance

Notes: Written for the Mod Dare Challenge. My challenge, from Nyota’s Heart, is as follows: ”Write up an NJO-timeframe piece which can be expanded into a longer thingy past the challenge parameters involving 1. An earlier invasion. 2. A less destructive force, i.e., a smaller one that is more proactively/constructively handled by the NR government and the Jedi. That is to say, it can still be challenging but they’re not as much standing around going “huh”? and tangled up with infighting. Include Kyp Durron paired with Kirana Ti as a romantic pairing. Have Han and Leia have 4 kids, the fourth being an OC, can be male or female. Jaina and Jacen can be twins or not. Luke and Mara are married and she doesn’t get that blooming illness so she can kick Anor’s butt from here to Canada!”

My OCs, Mickey's action figures, The Maker's sandbox.

Thank you, Ginchy, for your support and help with this story.

Spoiler: links to related fics

http://boards.theforce.net/threads/all-i-have-to-give-au-ocs-oc-revolution-winter-challenge-response.50026484/]All[/url] I Have to Give - takes place between ch 9 and 10 of this story.

http://boards.theforce.net/threads/the-god-of-second-chances-ddc-2015-12-23-15-ocs-solos-complete-authors-thanks-1-18-16.50026135/]The[/url] God of Second Chances - takes place three years after the completion of this story.

[Winner: 2014 Fan Fiction Awards - Beyond, Best Original Character (Bree Solo); Best Original Relationship (Bree & Blue)]

***
True Blue
***
The crowded transport lurched suddenly, and the girl grabbed the nearby handrail to steady herself. Around her, various beings – some in families, most alone – jostled and resettled themselves as the craft began its descent into the atmosphere of Irylia. The small, nondescript planet, a former Imperial shipyard, had become a makeshift interchange station for the hundreds of vessels that had frantically evaded the Vong invasion; its existing infrastructure reconfigured to service roughshod private vessels instead of the elegant destroyers and cruisers of the Emperor’s days. Thousands of people crossed the utilitarian durasteel floors every day. She was sure she would not be noticed among them.

The transport landed clumsily, slid into docking position, and shuddered to a halt. With a creak and a gasp, the transport doors slowly opened. The girl took her single bag and slung it across her brown jacket. She was nineteen years old, but she carried herself with confidence beyond her years. That was not uncommon in the post-invasion galaxy. Those who had survived had endured a lifetime of trauma and loss, and the girl was not immune to this.

She surreptitiously looked at the news screens to see if there were any broadcasts that she needed to note. Satisfied that the holonews agencies were, as usual, not reporting anything of merit, she pulled her hood forward and, head down, edged her way towards the security station. To her quiet relief, a quick scan of her forged documents triggered no alarms. She tucked the identicard back in her bag and entered the chilly rain of the street level.

Smells assailed her – the oily mechanics of the spaceport, rough scents of the beings who walked past, the faint grease of something cooking nearby. Above, speeders interlaced in their assigned lanes, creating a checkerboard of the sky. She paused to get her bearings, and in that moment, a passerby bumped into her, and she stumbled onto the street just as a landspeeder tore around the corner. The driver, a Devaronian man, shrieked at the girl as the vehicle came dangerously close to her. The girl instinctively put her hands out against the vehicle, and was rewarded with a sharp crack and a painful impact to her wrist. Grimacing in pain, she held the injured wrist close to her chest. She blinked furiously through the downpour and spun around, cursing the Devaronian as he careened down the narrow road.

The girl hunched over in pain and disbelief that one random moment could be so disastrous. No, she thought, I don’t have the slightest danger sense at all. The wrist was already swelling and she gritted her teeth against the pain. She hadn’t planned on what to do if she had an injury. Think, think. There had to be a medic somewhere. Holding her tracker precariously in her one good hand, she scanned it through eyes wet with rain and held-back tears. There was a healer’s office a short walk away. But could she risk it? A cursory scan of her would surely reveal the lie that her identicard told – and reveal where she was.

There had to be a second plan. Where else could she get medical help without arousing suspicions? She raised her head and peered through the rain at the ships docked at the loading bay. She hadn’t planned on returning to open space so very soon, but circumstances called for improvisation. Her father had told her tales of his quick escapes by hiding in plain sight or by fading into those things that people took for granted. Here, that meant blending in with the ships. With this in mind, she made her way to the larger of the two vessels docked at Bay 34. Big ships needed big crews, she reasoned, and she was a competent worker. Where there were ships, there were workers, and where there were workers there would be an infirmary. She could put in her time, then as soon as she could get this bone knitted, she could be on her way.

Boxes and crates of all types were being loaded onto the cargo transfer droid as she neared the rear of the ship. A human man was checking the cargo and motioning to the droids, indicating where they should stow the items. She ducked under the shelter of an awning and approached him with what she hoped was a confident, unhurried air. “I’m looking for a job,” she announced.

The man looked up from his clipboard, annoyed at the interruption. “Don’t got any work available.”
“Come on, you have something. I’m a good mechanic. I used to help my dad keep his old piece of junk flying all the time.”

“Hold on.” The man strode over to the cargo droid and began to yell at it in Huttese. The girl followed him, persistent. “You won’t be sorry,” she called after him. “I swear, I can fix anything. I can be really useful.”

The man turned back to her. “Look, kid, there isn’t any work here for you, and don’t think I don’t see you’re hurt. If you’re looking for any kind of work and you can’t even move your arm, then you’re running from something and we don’t need no more trouble than we already got.” He switched off his device and pointed to the opposite side of the street with his stylus. “You gotta go. I hope you get something, kid, but it ain’t gonna be here.”

The girl sighed, nodded slowly, then turned to leave, heading in the direction the man had indicated. Her wrist was swelling worse and the pain began radiating up her arm. All right, maybe it was time for a third plan. She glanced through the gray murk of the rain and spotted a group of people, mostly human, beginning to assemble near the passenger entrance of the docking bay. The girl moved toward the back of the crowd, in the relative dryness of an overhang. She pulled off her the damp hood of her jacket with her good hand and sat and waited. Eventually the group grew to about sixty people, of all ages and species. They were clearly exhausted and hungry; tired refugees from all over the galaxy, thrown together by chance at this bay on their next step to a settlement.

A bell chimed and the sodden group picked up what few belongings they still had and began to shuffle toward the entrance. The girl pulled her hood back on and quietly slipped in among them. She slowly moved along with the crowd, glancing to either side of her to see any reactions of those around her, but they were preoccupied with their own affairs. With growing despair she realized that each person was holding a passcard -- their boarding ticket. Just a small green pass that she didn’t have. The girl began to formulate some way she could talk her way past the ticket taker. As long as there was an actual person and not some stuffy protocol droid, she might be able to charm him or her into letting her on board.

Her hopes dimmed when she saw the droid at the entrance. One after another, the passengers presented their green passcards for the droid’s approval. She was actually considering hiding behind one of the larger beings when she felt a hand at her elbow. Turning sharply toward her right at the intrusion, she saw a young human glance conspiratorially at her from under his rain-soaked hood. “Hang on,” he said quietly.

They reached the front of the line. The droid turned to the man, who raised his passcard for scanning. His was similar to the others’ except for a black stripe on the bottom. “Welcome aboard, Doc,” the droid said. “Your quarters are ready for you.”

“Thanks, Entoo-ell,” he said. Gesturing to the girl, he continued. “This is my patient. She’s with me.”

The droid turned to her. “Welcome aboard, Patient of Doc.” The droid inserted the man’s passcard into a reader and returned it.

The man pocketed the passcard, then smiled at her reassuringly and escorted her into the narrow corridor. She leaned back against the wall, relief rippling off of her, grateful to be out of the rain and on the move again. Her wrist throbbed with pain.

He cautiously steered her toward the rear of the ship, navigating through numbed refugees and their wailing children. “The way I figure, there’s never an accurate count on these refugee transfer ships. What’s one more person aboard?” He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward her arm. “You really should get that taken care of.”

The girl smiled weakly. “Know any good healers?” A steady line of passengers shuffled past them, pushing their way down the hallway. Each passenger who bumped into her shot a spark of pain ripping up her arm, and she cringed despite her best effort to maintain a stoic appearance.

He grew serious. “I’ll be by to check in on the passengers in about half an hour. I can take care of it then. Can you hang on that long?” He reached up and pulled the hood off his head, revealing a delicate set of tattoos on his forehead and long, straight blue hair that fell in damp rivulets down his back.

The girl nodded. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Doc,” she said.

He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Not doc yet. Just a medical student. But I’m hoping to finish my training when everything gets stabilized and I can go back home to Baroli. Everyone here just calls me Blue.”

“Well then, thank you, Blue,” she said, a small smile tracing her lips. She could not help but notice how his dark indigo eyes shone when he smiled. Hastily, as if to change the subject, he pointed down the corridor. “So, um, you can find a place to sleep down there if you don’t mind sharing with someone. There are some basic supplies; blankets, cleaning cloths, that sort of thing.”

She had turned to go when she heard him calling behind her. “You got a name, Patient of Doc?”

She turned around again to see him standing in the corridor, watching her, his arms folded across his black jacket and head tilted inquisitively to one side. “Bree,” she called back. Then she quickly turned around to continue her search for an open area to settle in.

She realized with a start that she hadn’t told him the name printed on her false identicard – and although Bree wasn’t her actual name it was close enough. Close enough to the name she sought to escape, the name that chained her to a world of responsibilities and expectations that she had never had a choice about accepting. She was determined that for once in her life she was going to stand on her own two feet and do things her way. She had made it this far, and once she got this medical help, she would be on her way again. She would succeed or fail based on her skills and merits alone. She was not going to shoulder the burden of being Breha Amidala Solo, missing daughter of Rebel hero Han Solo and the former Princess Leia of Alderaan, anymore.

 

Oooooh you know I love this, girl!!! Great to see it up on the boards!!! I love the mystery to who Breha is and why she's 'missing'. I also love how the Force appears to be at work here, probably without her knowing it.

 

Great start. I guess growing up with famous parents can be hard on a young person. I just never thought about that way for the Solo or Skywalker kids. I look forward to seeing more of this adventure.

 

Wonderful start and intriguing air of mystery surrounding this "missing" member of the family. I am chuffed you got my dare, divapilot

 

Great start with a missing member of the Solo family

 

Wow! You're in trouble now, divapilot. I'm so hooked already that I'm going to pester you until you turn this into an epic!

 

I love it. And Bree/Breha...so great. I identify with her already.

 

You have me hooked already, I will be checking for updates on this one!

 

Great set up.

Looking forward to learning more about "Doc."

 

Thanks, Ginchy! Yes, this one kinda took off like a rocket. The Force has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?

It seems that the Solo kids (and Ben for that matter) just assumed they’d follow in the family business. But what if they said no?

Thank you! And boy, what a dare. You had me going, girl. Ironically, it was the last words that got the muse inspired: “from here to Canada” – escaping north, running away… then the image of the girl on the run came to me. So thanks, Nyota’s Heart! You are my inspiration.
And I guess I’ll have to make it romantic for you…

Thank you! It’s easy to go missing when people tend not to pay much attention to you.

Thanks! Glad you like it. And I’ve already written it; the story is multi-post. I will get another chapter up each Thursday or Friday. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

Thank you! Breha is a girl on a mission. But she might not find what she thought she was looking for… Glad you like her.

Aw, thanks! I hope you like the next part.

Thank you! So glad to see you around the boards again. You have good instincts. Doc is important.

 

Chapter 2.

Bree took a blanket from the shelf and walked into a large open space crowded with refugees from various places. The tired group began to divide the cargo hold into individual areas, parents comforted sniffling babies, and children started exploring as far as they dared. Bree spotted an open area toward the center, where a woman and a young girl were putting down their bundles. The child clung to the mother’s skirts with one hand while clutching a worn-out stuffed whiskerkit toy in the other.

Bree approached them cautiously. “Would it be all right if I shared with you?” she asked.

The woman looked up, then quickly assessed Bree. “Yes, I don’t mind.” She sat down on a blanket, then her child crawled on her lap. Bree smiled at the little girl, who buried her head in her mother’s dress.

“I’m Alta, this is my daughter Tara. We left Marois station almost a year ago when the Vong were coming,” the woman said. “Where are you from?”

Bree nodded knowingly. Marois station, a communications outpost, had been completely destroyed. “Coruscant,” she said.

Alta smiled sympathetically. “I thought I heard the accent. There’s a lot of displaced Coruscanti here.” Alta raised her eyebrows as she watched Bree spread out her blanket with her one good arm. “You’re in luck,” she said, gesturing to Bree’s injured wrist. “This ship has medic aboard. Not every refugee ship has such a luxury.”

A voice suddenly came over the speaker and they turned instinctively toward the sound. A human man that Bree had not seen before began to speak. “Listen up. I’m only gonna do this once. When I get to you, hold out your arm. If you have a scanner, I’m gonna scan it. If you don’t have a scanner, you’re gonna get one and I’m gonna scan that. You’re only here because the government pays us per scanned refuge, so if you make trouble, then you aren’t worth my time and you’re gone. I don’t care if I throw you out the airlock to do it.” With that, he tossed the speaker to the side and took out a hand-held device.

The man began to move about the cargo area, stopping at each person. Alta sighed, then rolled up her sleeve. The little girl whimpered as her mother then rolled up the child’s sleeve too. “You may as well get ready for it,” Alta said to Bree.

“I haven’t got a scanner,” Bree said.

“Oh.” Alta paused with concern, then said reassuringly, “Well, he’ll give you one then. Don’t worry, it’s over quickly.” She paused before adding, “You’ve never been on a refugee ship before, then?”

“No,” Bree admitted. “What’s the usual procedure?”

“They will keep the lights on low all night, if you’re worried about that. You learn to sleep though the light.” She shifted the drowsy child on her lap. “They’ll have some kind of food for us in the first light. Figure on two good meals a day. Usually they refuel half-way through the trip and they’ll make a last stop for a resupply, but we don’t get off the ship. It’s a slow process, so the whole trip should last about five weeks. Don’t worry, you’ll get in before your transit card expires.”

Bree nodded. “What happens when we finally get to the displaced persons camp on Tanis?”

“Most people go right to the citizens register to see if anyone they know is there. If you know someone, you can stay with them. If not, you have a month to rest and then you have to go. My husband and I, well, we got separated and I’ve been looking for him for months. Tara and I have been to five camps already. I keep hoping we’ll find him soon.”

Bree was about to ask another question when suddenly there was a commotion. The man who had made the earlier announcement was standing over a young Twi’lek teenager, holding the youth’s arm in his burly grip. The boy tried to pull away, but the man held him tightly. With his free hand, the man raised a metal tube with a large point on the end. The man ignored the boy’s frantic shrieks and jabbed the point into his arm, then, slowly, drew it out again. The boy whimpered as the man wiped the blood off the device and put it back in his case. Bree felt a chill go through her as she unconsciously rubbed her unmarked arm.

Alta noticed her concern, then scanned the room. “There’s the ship’s medic,” she said, pointing to the far end of the room. “Go get your arm fixed, and ask him to set you up with a scanner. If you’re lucky, he’ll be gentle and he’ll use a clean inserter and some numbing solution.”

Bree looked in the direction where Alta was pointing and saw Blue, crouching next to an old man as he efficiently went through his examination. Bree got up and made her way across the crowded area toward him.

He looked up as she approached, and his face broke into a bright smile. Quickly, he patted the man on the back and stood up. “Hey,” he said. “Glad I saw you. I figured you’d need an analgesic.” He reached into his backpack and handed her a small packet, which she accepted with her left hand and then popped into her mouth. Instantly the packet dissolved and the pain medication began to take effect. “Let me take a look at that wrist,” he said.

Gingerly, she extended her right arm. She still cringed even though his grip was gentle as he scanned it with a device attached to his datapad. “Yeah, you have a fracture here. I thought you might. Don’t worry, I can fix it.” He put down the datapad and reached into his backpack again. Bree crinkled her nose at the sour aroma of bacta, and he smiled at her as he began to wrap the wrist in stiff medi-tape. “What happened to you, anyway?” he asked lightly.

“A speeder came out of nowhere and clipped me. Then the driver swore at me and kept on going.”

“Be careful around speeders. You can get badly hurt.” Blue snapped the clips on the tape shut to immobilize the wrist. “There. All set. Anything else you need?”

Bree bit her lip. “I don’t have a scanner. That guy over there seems pretty intense. Can you give me one?”

Blue looked over her shoulder to the human man who was brusquely scanning the refugees, and his expression hardened. “Sure.” He crouched down and rummaged through his backpack. A moment later he returned with a device similar to the one the other man had. He inserted a small tracker into it and waited for the light to turn green. Holding it tucked beneath his arm, he then rolled up the sleeve of her jacket. He held her left arm steady with one hand while he wiped the area with a numbing solution. “Hang tight. This might hurt,” he warned. Bree closed her eyes and felt a sharp bite on her forearm. Then the numbing solution dulled the pain into a soreness.

She opened her eyes to see Blue staring intently at her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his hand on her shoulder.

Bree nodded. “I seem to keep thanking you,” she said.

Blue waved his hand dismissively. “No thanks needed. That’s my job.” He closed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. They stood there for a moment before he spoke again. “Would you mind if – I mean, would it be okay if I came back later? To check on your wrist, I mean.”

“Sure. That would be great..”

“Good. Well, I’ll see you later, then.” Blue smiled and gave a quick nod before going back to the next examination. Bree lowered her head, smiling to herself, and made her way back to the area she shared with Alta. She sat quietly for a few moments next to Alta and the now-sleeping Tara, then stole a glance at him. He was speaking with another refugee, his long blue hair tied neatly to hang down to his mid-back.

A deep voice jolted her. “Arms out,” the man’s voice commanded. Bree turned to see the man who had made the announcement earlier. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet, then scanned the device that Blue had implanted. He checked the datapad and scowled. “This scanner’s new,” he said, raising his voice. “Where’d you get this? Did Blue give you this?” The man glowered at the Barolian medic, who, distracted from his patient by the noise, rose and began to advance toward them.

The man shoved Bree as Blue came closer. “This your new stray, Doc?” he jeered.

“Leave her alone, Wells,” Blue said, a note of warning in his voice.

The rough man, Wells, smirked. “It is, isn’t it. At least this one’s pretty.”

Wells reached to touch Bree’s face, but Bree sharply knocked the man’s hand away while Blue angled himself to stand between Wells and Bree, standing toe-to-toe with the larger man. “Not here,” Blue said. “You got a problem with me, you don’t bring it here.” Wells glared at him, ignoring Bree, then turned abruptly and left the room.

Blue watched him leave, then exhaled. He turned to Bree. “I’m sorry for that. Wells had no right to try to touch you.” He rubbed the side of his face tiredly. Finally, he spoke. “It’ll be a while before I finish all the exams, then I have reports to file. But I promise I’ll be back to check on you. Is that okay?”

Bree nodded, and Blue seemed relieved. They said their goodbyes, and Bree sat down on the blanket beside Alta and her daughter. Blue had been exceptionally kind to her, and she knew she owed him a debt for his medical attentions. She glanced at him again. For some reason, she felt compelled to see him, to register where he was, to watch him as he tended to the others. Bree scoffed at herself.

With a determined motion, she redirected her attention to her immediate surroundings. She examined the neatly wrapped wrist that had brought her here in search of medical care. So much for a quick solution to her problem, she thought. It would be a month before they docked again. She had better learn to fit in to this new life as a refugee as quickly as she could.

 

Of course Doc Blue is important. Also, Wells is bad news and Alta knows who she is. Blue's no slouch but when he figures it out will he be confused, delighted, or angry? Hmm.

 

I like Blue and Alta. I hope Bree stays safe

 

I like Doc more with each update. His kindness makes Bree feel safe I am sure. Wells is a nasty piece of work. Someone needs to put him squarely in his place but good!

~

I like Alta and Tara and hope they meet up with Alta's husband soon.

 

I like Blue - he seems very kind -- reminds me of my new GP. Very kind and actually sees me as a person and then a patient - if that makes sense.

 

I loved this update, especially how you develop your characters. Also, as someone who works with refugees, I find that your description of the whole situation is spot-on - you really managed in a few sentences to highlight how the people who ferry refugees around tend to treat them like cattle and to be abusive (or even exploitative.) That was a nice touch of realism

 

I love getting to know Bree, and learning about the situation she finds herself in. I can just picture everything because your writing is so clear and concise, girl. I wonder what Wells means about Blue's 'strays'? Very interesting, and, as always, I'm greedy for more!!!!!

 

:

It'll be a while before Bree lets that whiskerkit out of the bag. Thanks for replying!

Bree’s tougher than she looks – or thinks she is. Thank you!

Wells is a bully. And Doc Blue is very kindhearted. Bree is thrown into this little society, and she needs to pick her alliances carefully. Thank you for reading and replying!

That makes perfect sense! No one wants to be just the next file or a processing number. It dehumanizes you. I’m glad these characters are realistic for you. Thanks for your kind comments.

High praise from you. I am just basing my ideas off of what I have read about the Syrian refugees. Their lives seem desperate and terrifying. Thank you for your comments and reply. I appreciate it!

There is a lot not revealed yet, and Wells alluded to this. Thank you so much for your very thoughtful reply! I hope I can live up to it.

 

A bit of a shorter chapter but a look at the homefront.

Chapter 3.

Leia came home from a sparring session at the temple to find her husband staring intently at a viewscreen. Whether it was due to her rapidly sharpening Jedi skills or the fact that they had been married for decades, she immediately sensed unease in him. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Han leaned back in his chair, still looking at the screen. “When was the last time we got a message from Bree?”

She took off her jacket and came closer, looking over her husband’s shoulder. An image of their younger daughter was playing silently on the screen. “I don’t know. A week ago? She said classes were going well, didn’t she?”

Han leaned in and pulled up three screens simultaneously, each showing a transmission from Bree that was taken in her university room. “What do you notice?” he asked her.

Leia peered intently at the screens, puzzled. Eventually her eyes focused on the desk behind Bree. “It’s the same desk in all three comms,” she said.

“You got it. Bree is wearing different clothes, the time of day is different, even her hairstyle is different. But the desk is exactly the same. Same styluses in the same place. Same cup in the same spot. Wouldn’t it make sense that during the three weeks she presumably sent those messages that something would have moved?” Han shook his head somberly. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

***

That evening, Leia and Han sat around the small table in the Skywalker’s kitchen. Luke still wore the weariness of an extended mission, cut short by the distress in his sister’s voice in her communication to him. Mara stood behind them, sipping on a mug of caf.

“When was the last time you know for sure you heard from her?” Luke asked.

“About two weeks into term. We talked for a few minutes; she said she wanted to buy some new software for one of her classes. I sent the money to her account,” Leia replied.

Han leaned his arms against the table. “We knew she was going to be doing some field work, so we wouldn’t be able to speak with her that much. But she promised to send us weekly updates. It was on the third update she sent that I noticed that the background of her transmissions wasn’t changing. When was the last time a nineteen-year-old girl didn’t move her make-up stuff around? So that’s when I went to talk with the encryption guys and asked them to analyze the transmissions. They found that the last three comms from Bree were time-delayed – she sent them all out at the same time but tagged them to arrive a week apart from each other. They also said that there’s been no activity on any of her credcard accounts for about two weeks.”

“I can’t sense if she’s actually in danger,” Luke said, turning to Leia. “Can you?”

Leia shook her head. “I was never able to sense her like I could the other kids. She blended in too much with the other nonsensitives.”

“What did the university have to say?” Mara asked.

“No sign of a struggle. No signs of violence. No one has seen her in about two weeks, and she hasn’t been to her classes,” Han said. “They didn’t contact us because as an adult, Bree has the right to stop attending if she wants to.”

“Her datapad’s missing,” Leia added. “But her comm unit is there and turned off. If she has a commlink then it’s an unregistered one, but no one has heard from her.”

Luke leaned back, assessing the information. “So, no sign of foul play, we don’t have any ransom demands, and no group is claiming credit for kidnapping her.”

“Is it possible that she did this herself?” Mara asked. “Would she just run off and leave everything?”

Leia rubbed her forehead. “Bree has always been such a good girl. Why would she do that?”

“She’s been through a lot,” Mara said. “I know how close she and Anakin were. They were like the two younger twins, the match to Jaina and Jacen. I wonder if she needs to deal with her grief in her own way.”

“But we had a funeral and final rites for him!” Leia protested.

“A Jedi funeral. With Jedi rites. How would that have given Bree any closure?” Han said. “Jaina and Jacen had you, Leia, and Luke and Mara to help them deal with the loss of their brother as a Jedi. I was so devastated by Anakin’s loss myself that I know I didn’t consider how Bree was doing. I took it for granted that she had moved on from it. Maybe she didn’t. I should have paid more attention to her.”

Leia looked distraught. “She never said anything about this to me.”

“You were both crushed by Anakin’s loss,” Mara said gently. “Maybe Bree didn’t want to burden you with her own grief.”

“Whatever the reason, we have to deal with this issue now,” Luke said. “The question is, do we want to start an investigation that involves the official authorities? Should we handle it more quietly? If what Mara suggests is true and we get more security involved, it might drive her deeper away. If she was kidnapped or being held against her will, it might tip our hand that we’re on to the kidnapper. What if we sent a team of our own to investigate first?”

Han and Leia glanced at each other before Han responded. “Let’s try to keep it quiet for now. But I still want the local authorities to be on alert. And if there is a team, I’m going.”

 

Liked the discussion of what Bree's motives are/were and also the decision to run a quiet investigation for now looks to be a good choice but with local authorities on the lookout.

 

love the discussion with the Skywalker families. A quiet investigation and locals on alert, I hope Bree stays out of trouble

 

I liked that Han was the one who noticed that her background items on her desk and surroundings was not changing -- good catch for him.

 

Thank you! Her family now knows she’s running, and they need to think about why.

Thank you for your reply. Bree is half Solo, half Skywalker – trouble finds her!

Han’s a good dad. He loves his kids. You don’t need the Force here, just paying attention. Thank you for replying!


Chapter 4.

A week after she arrived aboard, Bree’s wrist was nearly healed. Blue took the bandages off (although she could easily have done so herself), and she flexed her hand experimentally. “Looks good,” she said approvingly.

“You’re fine. It was a clean break,” he said. Although the ship’s rules stated that the refugees were not allowed access to the vessel beyond the cargo bay, Blue kept finding excuses why it was necessary for Bree to report to his office.

They were sitting together in an alcove near his small medic’s office, sharing a package of rations. He broke off a piece of bread from his meal and gave it to her. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“You finish it. I’m not hungry.”

“You know,” Bree said, picking the bread apart, “We used to have a Barolian babysitter, a friend of my parents’. He was the best babysitter. Or maybe the worst.” She laughed at the memory. “One time, my brother Anakin convinced him that our parents wouldn’t mind at all if we took apart the speeder engine to see how it works. Another time we got him to teach us how to slice around passwords. He showed us all kinds of shortcuts for digging into systems, most of them probably not quite legal. It never occurred to him that if we were quiet we were probably doing something we shouldn’t. After the speeder incident, though, my parents got another sitter.”

Blue laughed; then his face took on a look of concern. “What happened to your family? Do you mind if I ask?”

Bree chewed on the bread to buy time as she considered how to answer. “My parents were involved in the war. They were gone a lot. My sister and my brothers were all – soldiers.” Bree looked downward. “My brother Anakin was killed in action. My other brother isn’t the same anymore and my sister just throws herself into her job now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Anakin was the best brother. We were close in age, and my two older siblings were twins, so Anakin and I did everything together. If the twins picked on us, he had my back.” She sighed. “When I found out he had been killed, I felt like half my heart had been torn away.”

“Did you serve in the war too?”

“Oh, no. My parents didn’t feel I was capable of it. They’ve always protected me. That’s why I went to Corellia University instead.”

Blue whistled appreciatively. “Impressive. Corellia University? And they didn’t think you were capable?”

“My family’s priorities are different,” she said dismissively. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

He changed the subject. “So what were you studying at Corellia?”

“Sociology, psychology. I just wish I could do something with what I’ve learned. To be of some use to someone somewhere.”

“I made it through three years of pre-med before everything went directly to the seven bowels of hell. I had even begun to apply to medical school.” He snapped shut the now-empty ration box. “There’s never enough to eat in these things.”

She tilted her head. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“There’s my parents and I have a little sister. She’d be about fourteen. I don’t know for sure where they are now.”

“When is the last time you heard from them?” she asked.

“Years.” Sadness tinged his voice.

Bree was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.” She instinctively reached over to touch his hand. He pulled away, and she stopped. Then he smiled, the playful smile she had gotten used to, and reached for her hand.

“Let’s see,” he said, holding up her left hand for examination. He traced his fingers around her wrist and rubbed the back of her hand. “Good muscle response, no sign of infection: my diagnosis is that I think your wrist is much better now.”

She stifled a laugh. “That’s the wrong wrist, doc.”

“Oh, my mistake.” He took her right hand into his, and caressed it. “Either way, you have lovely strong wrists.”

They grew silent again. She looked at her hands in his, and stretched out her hands so that their fingers interlaced. Her heart began to beat a little louder. They sat like that for a moment, fingers entwined, before he leaned in closer to her. She leaned in too, and closed her eyes. His mouth met hers and she felt herself melt.

***
Alta smiled as Bree settled herself on their shared space. “Another visit with Doc Blue?” Alta asked coyly.

She touched her lips absently. It was almost as if she could still feel the warmth of his. “He’s sweet,” she said. “And my wrist is all set. He’s a really good medic.”

Alta tidied the strewn playthings that Tara had left, and glanced over to her daughter, who was engaged in a game with another child. “You’re right, he’s an excellent medic. Tara had a touch of a respiratory infection and he caught it and treated it. I didn’t even realize she was coming down with anything,”

“Bree, I know it’s not my business, but…” Alta paused. “Have you wondered why such a good medic is on a refugee ship?”

“No. Should I?”

“Medical experts are in high demand. He could be making a lot of money somewhere else. Why is he here? He can’t be making more than a third-class specialists’ pay.”
Bree frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything, Bree. All I’m asking is this – before you get all tangled up in this man, how well do you really know him?”

Bree sat back and put her arms around her knees, resting her chin on her hands.

“It’s probably nothing,” Alta said reassuringly. “Just remember, though – when this ship docks in another four weeks or so, you will be getting off and he will be moving on.”

***

Blue was bent down to inventory the lower cases in the pharmacy when he heard the door to the storage area open. He stood up as Wells came around the corner.
Wells snorted. “Look here. It’s the parolee from Baroli.”

Blue turned away and began to check labels again. “Don’t start.”

“How ironic. You of all people are in charge of keeping track of the drugs around here. It must be tempting.” Wells came closer, sneering. “I bet you know exactly which ones can bring back that spice high that you like so much.”

“Leave me alone –“

“Or what?” Wells laughed. “What are you gonna do? Hit back? And I’ll file assault charges on you, and you know what that means.”

Wells came closer and knocked the datapad out of Blue’s hand. “How’s your latest stray working out? That’s what, three now? How many more to go?”

Blue’s breath came out in labored heaving. “I told you. Leave her alone. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“I’d say she does. Are you making friends with her? And does she know why you’re being so nice?”

Rage erupted in Blue, but he grabbed the railing and hung on instead of answering. Wells circled around to face him again. “Tell me, sleemo,” he spat. “What if she knew the truth about you? How would she feel if she knew you were nothing more than a filthy drug addict? A convicted dealer?” Wells’ fist reeled back and hit Blue hard across the face, splitting his lip. Blue gripped the railing even tighter to stop from hitting back.

“What if she knew you were a killer?”

 

Wow, the divapilot genius at work again. I was melting, just like Bree, in the first scene. Totally. Then I figured, despite Alta's wise cautions, maybe he's looking for his family is why he's on the ship instead of making big bucks. Then comes Wells' disclosures. Taking those with a large grain of salt. He's probably trying to overcome his past and also avoiding the big money because that might make him want to run with the wrong crowd again.

 

Interesting update with Bree and Blue and Wells telling that