A/N: I greatly enjoyed the film Solo and look forward to future installments. This thread is to house my drabbles and ficlets inspired by the film. There are SPOILERS for the film SOLO herein. You are warned! It's a SPOILER! These aren't the SPOILERS you're looking for! Funny, I don't recall ever owning a SPOILER! Aw, but I wanted to go to Toche Station and pick up some SPOILERS! I find your lack of SPOILERS disturbing! . . . . . Beckett Tobias Beckett was a clever man, and meticulous, but careful was not a word many used to describe him. He could teach you the game, show you the ropes, and even give you enough rope to...well...you know how it goes. He did tell you not to trust anyone. Didn't anyone include him? He was the the boss after all. He had survived in the game for a long time. But, back to careful. He could see plenty of moves ahead, adjust his plans to account for unexpected variables. He could even walk away with two cases of coaxium hyperfuel. But, he didn't count on your cleverness. Your resilience. Your adaptability. He certainly didn't count on you escaping Drayden's yacht alive. It turned out that the one with too much rope was him, as evidenced by the smoking hole in his chest. Han Han's separation from Qi'ra at the Imperial checkpoint on Corellia had had almost taken the fight right out him. As he hid himself in other being's clothes and tried to stay out of sight of searching stormtroopers, he fought the desperation of losing his love. He was nothing if not resilient and determined; a boy whom had survived on his wits and witticisms for years under the watchful eyes of Lady Proxima. Would this separation, this amputation, be the thing that derailed his dreams? No. A sudden resolve emboldened him and he stood and searched the way station for immediate exit opportunities. He his eyes landed on a recruiting station for the Imperial Navy. Better a goon than a goner, he thought. He would become the best pilot in the Empire and he would come back for her. Chewbacca I have been a prisoner of Empire for years. I have been driven with the lash and beaten with the club all in the name of progress. That progress being the furthering of the Emperor's domain. Mining spice here, breaking rocks there; even suffering the humiliation of performing for officers and their friends. I was never stupid enough to resist enough for them to kill me. I valued my life too much and didn't want to lose the opportunity for future escape. That was before Mimban. It was bad enough that the planet was a humid mud hole pockmarked from Imperial bombardments, but Chewbacca hand danced his last Vermi Dogo for the mudtroopers. He had raged out, knocked a few grunts around, and, unfortunately, a couple of officers. That had landed him in this hole, chained to a pylon, staring at human male who appears scared witless. He ended up being smarter than he looked. Qi'ra Once Beckett left with the coaxium, she knew Drayden would kill Han, or both of them. The betrayal had caused his scars to flush and his eyes to rage with red rimmed fury. The doors closed and the hells broke open. The melee was intense, with Qi'ra and her boss locked in a blade battle to the death. Han, try as he might, was unable to get a clear shot to end it any sooner. In the back of her mind, she knew this was another battle for freedom, another fight for the power to rule her own destiny. However, that destiny did not lie with Han, the way it once had. Like her boss had said, she had done things; thing not spoken of but things that no longer enabled childish dreams of love and adventure. However, there was still a small compartment in her soiled heart, where she kept her love for Han. Han Solo. She wanted him to live. She even wanted him to succeed. But it would not be with her. He would not understand her choice. He would not condone it. After everything he had seen and done, he still harbored foolish notions of their life together. Their love for each other. As the yacht flew over the ridge where she could see that Han had gotten the better of Beckett, she exhaled and blew him a kiss goodbye. Lando Lando Calrissian was not arrogant enough to realize when he had been bested. He has also not foolish enough see grace given him by a man, whom by all rights, could have drawn his blaster and ended his life if that had been his pleasure. The Millennium Falcon, as fine a ship as she was, was not worth his life. When the sabaac game had ended, and the party dismissed, and ownership had been exchanged, Lando broached the subject. “Why didn't you kill me, Han?” Lando asked, as he casually drew on a cig stick. “You had every right.” Han took a pull from the flask he had lifted from Beckett's body and smiled magnanimously. “Because I like you Lando. You're my friend. Even if you are a lying, cheating, thieving, and shamelessly rakish, son of a bitch.” Lando grinned, showing his full set of perfect pearly whites. “Compliments will get you everywhere, Buddy. But, truthfully, I am in your debt for not only not shooting me dead, but also for not exposing me.” “Don't worry about it, Lando,” Han continued. “We've both been dealt bad hands and, in light of certain obvious absences, I'm thankful you're here.” “I can drink to that,” Lando responded, genuinely, and touched his glass to Han's flask.