Archive: Just SWA-L
Archive Date: November 29, 1999
Author's Webpage: I also have fanfic from the Hercules/Iolaus side of the Force at http://www.rtis.com/nat/user/chimera/legends.htm
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, no money made, etc.
Notes: Originally published in the fanzine "Return of the Rest of the Garbage."
Pairing: Han/Other
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set post SW:A New Hope.
Summary: While on a rebel mission, Han and General Madine become the targets of an inept assassination attempt.

Han Solo leaned on the stone counter and stirred his drink with a finger. The bar in the main floor of the Kskannit Port Authority was lavishly decorated with trailing vines, floating glowglobes in their own little clouds of colored mist, and scenic murals of the ocean views, beaches and rocky islands that surrounded the port city. The bar was built on a multitude of levels, landings for tables and booths connected by winding stone stairways. Even though it was mostly filled with merchant and corporate types, with a few off-duty Imperial officers scattered through, it was still a nice place. Han wished he was there with anybody else.

General Madine, the highest ranking Corellian in the Alliance forces, was standing next to him, surveying the mixed human and nonhuman crowd with what he probably thought was casual interest. To Han's eyes, he looked unmistakably military, even in civilian clothes.

Madine glanced at Han, saw what he was doing to his drink, and his mouth tightened in mild disgust. He said, "They're late," managing to convey the suspicion that this was in some way Han's fault.

"Yeah," Han answered, mentally adding asshole, and licked his finger off.

Madine looked away with a sour expression.

It was the first words they had exchanged in two hours.

Han and Madine had cordially hated each other from about the time Han had first stepped off the Millennium Falcon on Yavin 4. Madine was a stickler for military discipline, a martinet, and he hated the myths that depicted all Corellians as pirates or smugglers or just constantly involved in some sort of illegal activity. Han figured he was Madine's worst nightmare, and he liked it that way. That Madine was also an arrogant, judgmental bastard hadn't helped their working relationship any, either.

Madine had been on Bail Organa's staff on Alderaan, sent there years ago as a liaison when the Corellian planetary government had been funneling credits into the building of the Rebel Alliance. That support had ended with the Imperial crackdown on the Corellian homeworld, and now most of the funds generated by the Corellian starshipyards went straight to the Emperor. Madine had remained in the Alliance, on Alderaan, and it was only luck that he had been offplanet with General Rieekan when the Death Star had destroyed it. Han figured part of Madine's problem was that he had been on Alderaan too damn long.

This whole trip had been an exercise in a kind of self- discipline Han didn't normally practice. He and Madine's most common method of communication was to trade insults and the old, overcrowded rebel command frigate Tantavie IV was just barely big enough for the both of them. To get along for this amount of time aboard the Millennium Falcon they had resorted to simply not speaking unless absolutely necessary. Thwarted of their usual means of self-expression, they had resorted to facial expressions. Han didn't know how many more times he could take Madine's "you're contaminating my airspace by existing" look, complete with contemptuous lip-curl, without becoming homicidal.

But the mission was almost over. One more meeting with the Rathian traders and the trade conference at Kskannit FirstDome tomorrow, and that was it. So I just have to get through one more night without killing him, Han thought, sighing to himself.

Madine looked around the bar again. Being sent here with Han Solo had been a major aggravation. He had always thought Luke Skywalker a welcome addition to their pilots, but Solo he hadn't trusted at first. Eventually, he had to grudgingly admit that while Solo still didn't have any respect for the goals of the Alliance, he did seem to feel personal loyalty to Princess Leia and General Rieekan, at least. It was just his personality he found repugnant.

Solo fit the image of what the Empire was trying to convince the rest of the inner worlds Corellians were like so well it might have been designed with him in mind. He was scornful of authority, unbelievably arrogant, and his past was so shady it didn't bear investigation at all. The fact that he had admitted to being a smuggler only made Madine wonder what he wasn't admitting to. And he had found the downport accent especially irritating, and even more so when he had realized that it was something that Solo could drop or assume at will, depending on just how irritating he wanted to be.

They had managed not to have any acrimonious exchanges during the trip to Kskannit and their time waiting in the port, but Solo had proven a master at the body language of contempt. How someone could manage to convey that he found your presence an almost overwhelming burden by doing nothing more than looking at you was baffling, but Solo was an expert at it.

Madine glanced at Solo again, slouching against the counter and looking so much like the typical Corellian pirate that he was surprised they hadn't been arrested yet. He let out his breath in annoyance, then saw a Rathian moving down the steps in their direction.

Han spotted the Rathian at the same time. He said, "That's him," at the same time Madine said, "Here he comes." They glanced at each other in irritation.

Han knocked back the rest of his drink and got ready to playact. They were here to meet with Rathian Traders, posing as representatives from a Corellian trading conglomerate. It was part of a plan to get the Kskannit World family, now up to its collective ears in debt to the Rathians, out of hock before they were forced to open their accounts to a takeover. A large part of the reason they were in debt was that most of their liquid funds had been used to buy ships for the Rebellion.

Leia Organa was at FirstDome, the World Family's private retreat on the opposite continent, pretending to the Rathian representative there that she was a scion of Ascalon Trading, and about to bolster the World Family's credit and prevent the takeover. Chewbacca was with her, as bodyguard and pilot. Han had been stuck with Madine, since they were supposed to be from a Corellian company. Their job was mostly diversionary, to keep the Rathians off-balance and make them think they were drawing unwelcome interest from other corporations. Leia would do the real work of frightening the Rathians away from their quarry. The man moving towards them was dressed in a bright shimmersuit very much at odds with the duller colors worn by the spacers and the natural toned silks of the natives. He was short, middle-aged, and corpulent, which was an important symbol of financial success on Rathi. It was a new one this time too, Han noted. The traders had sent a different representative to each of the three meetings so far. The Rathian approached them cautiously, as if they were a pair of growling nashtahs, and said, "I am Thelit Narin. One of you is Madine, of Dagram Trading?"

"I'm Madine."

"Greetings to you." The Rathian eyed then both a shade nervously, Madine thought. Since nervous was exactly how they wanted the Rathians, it was all for the better. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Narin added, "Your... associate has a name?"

Madine looked at Han, who was leaning on the bar with one hand hooked in the tiedown of his low-slung gunman's holster, relaxed but with an air that suggested he could react with lightning swiftness. He was surveying the room with narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide who to shoot first if a firefight started. His gaze came to rest on the Rathian trader and stayed there until the man blanched, then he said, "No."

Madine smiled, pleasantly. With Han radiating so much menace, the Rathian would probably see the expression as sinister. The General said, "Shall we sit down? I think we still have a good deal to discuss."

Madine leaned on the railing of a broad walkway that overlooked the lush tropical vegetation below, waiting for Solo, who had stopped at the Port Authority to make sure their launch window hadn't been moved back. The port was a little crowded and it had been the earliest one they could get; it was important they take off on time, to make the meeting with Leia Organa and spring the trap on the Rathians.

The early evening breeze had been cool, but oddly seemed to be growing warmer as the sun went down. It was still heavy with the mingled scents of flowering vegetation and salt from the nearby sea. The buildings growing out of the tame jungle below were white reinforced stone, with domes or flowing arches, all connected by broad walkways or lifttubes. There were few people or droids out in this area, which mainly contained various freight line offices and the port's Business and Navigation center; most sentients would be gathering at the other end, where the entertainment complexes were located. Madine thought about what this pleasant place would look like if the Empire found reason for a crackdown and full occupation, and felt a coldness settle in the pit of his stomach.

Madine turned as Solo came down the ramp that led from the Port Authority. Solo paused, scanned the several levels of sparsely occupied walkways around them with a preoccupied frown, then snapped, "Come on," and started away.

Madine swore under his breath and followed. Rank meant nothing to Solo. He refused to hurry to catch up and the other Corellian was forced to wait for him at the lifttube, pacing impatiently and glaring at him.

They had gone down a couple of levels and were taking the long straight stretch that led to the forest of docking platforms, when Madine realized what was bothering him. He had caught a glimpse of a human spacer behind them in the second lifttube, and now he saw the man again, coming down the walkway after them. This would not have been unusual, since this was the shortest way to the ships, but he had also seen the man leaning in a doorway on the upper level, while he had waited for Solo outside the Port Authority. He looked forward again, and said, "We're being followed."

Solo gave him a contemptuous glance. "What, you just noticed?"

Madine pressed his lips together. He usually ignored Solo's attempts at provocation, finding that annoyed the other man more than any attempt at a reply. But he found himself snapping, "You could have mentioned it."

"What, am I your mother?" Han didn't wait for an answer. He took a quick turn into another lifttube and Madine perforce followed.

The bottom of the tube opened into the downport. All ports had downports, places where neither the local nor Imperial law could quite reach, where anything could be bought and sold, where it was dangerous to travel alone. Here the metal walkways were only a few feet above the ground level, and the vegetation shut out all the fading daylight, and the smell of wet soil and garbage canceled out the flowers and the sea. Arc lights on the support pillars lit the shantys constructed of leftover scraps of portable building materials and the more permanent structures that were disreputable bars or shops. Everything seemed closed and there was very little sound or movement.

Han had already drawn his blaster. He motioned for Madine to take cover behind a support pillar perhaps twenty feet away. "You take that side. And watch yourself."

Madine grimaced at the unneeded warning but headed for the pillar, drawing his own weapon.

Han stepped into the shadows of one of the deserted shacks, waiting. The man trailing them might just be looking for an easy target, but in that case he should have taken off when he saw there was two of them. Between the Empire and the Rathian Traders' machinations, there was every reason for extra caution. He hoped it turned out to be nothing. The sooner we can get out of here the better, Han thought. Kskannit's downport wasn't much compared to those of the giant ports of Commenor or Forsalis, but it was better not to hang around here too long. And it was damp and uncomfortably warm, down here below the jungle level.

Leaning in the doorway, Han had to blink and rub his eyes. What the hell... The arc lights had suddenly developed colored halos. Before he could wonder about it the spacer stepped out of the lifttube.

Instead of moving briskly down the walkway the man stopped, his hand dropping to his holster and looking suspiciously around at the deserted buildings.

An amateur, Han thought in disgust. He waited, watching, but the spacer seem to realize something was wrong, and hastily retreated back to the tube.

Leaning against the pillar on the far side of the walkway and watching the man who had followed them, Madine wiped perspiration off his forehead and realized he was a little light-headed. It was almost as if he had had too much to drink, but though the Rathian had insisted on buying them two more rounds of the local liquor, he hadn't even touched his second, and the stuff wasn't that strong, anyway. Especially not to the Corellian metabolism, which could tolerate amounts of alcohol that most human species would find toxic. No, it couldn't be the liquor. He hadn't slept much last night, since the Falcon's threadbare spare bunk was even less comfortable than the accommodations on the Tantavie; he was probably just tired.

He watched the spacer retreat and wondered impatiently where Solo was. Just then Han stepped around the pillar and brushed past him, saying, "What are you waiting for? Come on."

Madine jumped, startled. As Solo had stepped past him he had felt an almost overwhelming rush of...not anger, but something oddly near it. Something he would rather not think about too closely. Madine swore under his breath and hurried after him.

Going up in the docking pylon's elevator, Han found himself leaning against the clear wall, watching the ground fall away and half-hypnotized by it.

"Dammit, are you listening to me?" Madine's angry voice finally penetrated.

"Yes, what?" Han snapped, startled. He hadn't heard a word the general had said, but he didn't consider that a problem.

"The Rathians must be suspicious." Madine was pacing in the large elevator, empty except for themselves, his arms folded, his face angry.

"Oh, no kidding." Han leaned back against the glass wall and stretched luxuriantly. He realized he had never had sex in an elevator before. Or a lifttube, for that matter.

"They might even suspect we're from the Alliance." Madine threw Han a look of contempt. "You probably gave us away."

Lifttube, definitely, Han was thinking. Have to give that a try, eventually. Though it presented unique logistical problems. Madine's words sank in an instant later and he stared at him, his jaw dropping. "Me? Where the hell did that come from?"

"During one of the meetings, you must have done something--"

"All I did was sit there, you were the one who did all the talking," Han said, outraged. "If somebody gave us away it was you." His job had been to fly the ship, stay with Madine, and keep his mouth shut, and for once he had actually managed to do just that. Madine kept glancing at him, then looking away, his fair complexion reddening. For some reason, this made Han even angrier than being unfairly blamed, and he added, "If I did something to screw the mission, you tell me just what the hell it was."

That Madine couldn't answer and, fortunately, the elevator stopped at their docking level.

They reached the Millennium Falcon without further incident, and Han paused only to seal the hatch and set the controls on voice-lock before heading for his cabin. His goal was to get away from Madine as quickly as possible, before he did something he probably wouldn't regret later.

In the cabin, Han noticed the ship's airmix was oddly warm and he wondered briefly if there was something wrong with the cooling system. He pulled off his vest and dropped it on the floor, then took off his blaster belt and hung it on the hook above the bunk.

He sat down heavily and wiped his forehead, surprised at the film of sweat. He felt a little light-headed, too. Maybe it was that lousy local rotgut. The trader had kept buying them drinks and the Kskannit brew was unpleasantly sweet. He had only had a couple of glasses, though. No, Madine was so damn hostile he was probably emitting a magnetic field that was making Han ill.

He struggled out of his boots and flopped back on the bunk. He didn't feel like just going to sleep, though he probably should. He was restless in the worst way and wished he could go back out and try to scare up some compatible female company in the entertainment complex. I wonder if there are any Corellian ships in port. That stray thought brought back a potent sense memory of the night he had spent on the cargo lifter in the Falcon's hold with Captain Lane Triskill and her first mate Adrinna. He groaned and rubbed his face, trying to banish those images. No sense getting worked up when you have to stay here and guard what's his name. Better settle for a cold shower, Solo. He tugged his shirt open at the collar. Damn, it's hot in here. Something's got to be wrong with the enviromentals.

"Solo, we need to talk." Madine was standing in the cabin hatchway, which Han had somehow forgotten to close. He hadn't calmed down any from their earlier discussion; in fact, he looked even more irate.

Han sat up on his elbows. "Fuck off."

"This is a vital mission--"

"I know that, dammit." Han slung himself out of his bunk and pushed past Madine. He was going to check the enviromentals, but when he got to the main area, he couldn't remember what he had come in here for. Madine stormed up behind him, saying, "The Alliance is paying enough to keep this jury-rigged scow in operation, you could at least try to fulfill your end of the bargain."

"I am, dammit." Han hated it when people insulted his ship; insults to himself or even Chewbacca were far easier to shrug off. He could have pointed out how many x- and y-wing pilots this jury-rigged scow had picked up when combat forced them to eject in deep space, how many retreats she had covered, how many times she had been shot up or had to fight her way out of tractor beams, all for the Alliance. Instead all he could think about was how easy it would be for Madine to fail to survive this supposedly low-risk mission.

"Well, you don't act like it! You don't give a damn about the Alliance, or what we're trying to do. You're only with it for what you can get out of it."

"Yeah, sure," Han snarled, not really paying attention now. The enviromentals, he thought, that's what I came in here for. He went back to the aft engineering station to look at the readouts.

Madine followed him. "Is that all you've got to say?"

"You think whatever the hell you want." He stared at the display on the unit, baffled. The controls were all reading normal. Great, the internal sensors must be out of alignment, Han thought. Like I really need that right now. "If you think I blew this mission deliberately, fine. I don't give a shit."

"That wasn't what I meant," Madine said, but didn't bother to clarify what he did mean. "You're behavior on the Tantavie is disruptive, insubordinate--"

Han really, really hated the word "insubordinate." He turned slowly to face Madine, more than annoyed now.

"--and you've slept with every woman on my Command staff," the general was shouting "What are you trying to do, work your way through the whole fleet?"

This was really unfair, considering there were only three women on the command staff and Han had only slept with two of them. Instead of pointing this out, he said, "Jealous?"

Madine grimaced and didn't bother to dignify that with an answer. "Why the hell are you with the Alliance anyway, Solo? Can you just tell me that?"

"Damned if I know." This was too close to the truth for comfort. Han couldn't believe he had blurted that out.

"I know why," Madine said bitterly.

Han leaned back against the workbench for the engineering station, his expression sardonic. "So enlighten me."

"You and Leia Organa."

"That's none of your business." Han knew saying that made it sound like there was something going on, but there hadn't been anything between he and Leia so far except friendship, since thoughts and fantasies didn't count. But they had gone on several long missions together, with nobody but Chewbacca along as a chaperon, and he knew this had made several members of the Alliance High Command a little nervous.

"It is my business," Madine said. "The last thing she needs is pirate scum chasing her like--"

Han was suddenly, violently, angry. He pushed forward, almost into Madine's face, and said, "Leia doesn't need your help to deal with me." That one didn't come out right, commented the part of his mind that seemed oddly uninvolved in the argument. He tried again. "Maybe she doesn't need it. Maybe she wants it." There, that made a little more sense. Sort of.

"You think you can get away with that?" Madine said through gritted teeth.

Get away with what? Some rational fragment of Han's mind wondered. Instead he sneered and said, "Who's gonna stop me?"

Han wasn't sure who threw the first punch, but suddenly they were rolling on the deck, trying to kill each other. Han knew now for certain that something was wrong with him. His reflexes were slow and he didn't seem to have much strength; fortunately, Madine wasn't in any better shape. Then the general broke a hold that should have ended the fight right there and suddenly Han was on his back, his shoulders pinned.

Madine was looking down at him, bleeding from a split lip and panting from exertion. Han realized he didn't remember throwing that punch, though it must have been only seconds ago. He also didn't remember why they were fighting. He took a breath to point that out, then suddenly Madine's mouth was pressed against his, warm and hard, roughly forcing his lips apart.

Han tasted the other man's blood and sweat, and for a long moment his body wouldn't obey his orders to do anything. He realized Madine had forced a knee between his legs and that should have infuriated him, but instead Han felt a wave of heat that swept up his body and washed out any protest his mind was still making.

Han realized his arms had been free for some moments, and dug his fingers into Madine's shoulders, but instead of pushing him away he shifted his weight and rolled.

Madine gasped when his back hit the deck and Han's weight came down on top of him, but killing him was not exactly what Han had in mind at the moment. They were fighting over something different now. But Madine's reactions were still quicker. He struggled determinedly, then broke the hold again and wound both hands in Han's hair, pulling him down. Making a desperate noise in his throat he found Han's mouth again, deepening the kiss until their teeth scraped. Han wrenched his head away again but Madine kept his grip on Han's hair and found his ear with his tongue, probing deeply, then tugging on the lobe with his teeth. Then his hands moved up Han's back, sliding his shirt up, then down to knead his buttocks, and he was pushing a knee up between his thighs to put a steady, grinding pressure on his groin.

Han lost what little control over the situation he had gained then; he was making involuntary noises that had nothing to do with protest and could barely keep himself braced on his forearms. Oh, what the hell, he thought. He twisted his head down and bit the other man in the neck, though the growl in his throat had more to do with arousal than anger.

Han let Madine roll him over, didn't protest when he felt him tearing at the fastenings of his clothing. They were both drenched in sweat and Han's skin was so hot the deckplates felt freezing cold against his back where his shirt had been pushed up. The shock of that contact gave him a moment of clarity. He wasn't sure why this was happening but he knew where it was going to end, and the last time he had done it had been years ago and under the influence of six bottles of spiced brandy, and he had very little memory of it. But he was too drunk or crazy or something to get on top and too overcome by need to stop it. Then Madine lowered his head again, lips burning against Han's neck and collarbone, then his chest and stomach as he moved lower down, and the moment of clarity was over.

Han felt Madine's mouth on his inner thigh and his fingers dig into his hips, and had time for the thought the problem is I don't think I believe this is really happening. Then he was arching his back and cursing, grabbing the support bar for the workbench over his head in pure reflex, overwhelmed by sensation as a warm mouth covered him.

Madine stopped way too soon, suddenly pulling away and sitting up. Furious, Han couldn't get his breath for a moment, then managed to gasp out a deadly insult in Corellian, which translated roughly into standard as "You bastard who would have fathered yourself on your own mother if you'd had half a chance."

Snarling, Madine shoved him down and fell forward on top of him, and Han braced himself. Breathing hard, obviously ready, Madine did -- nothing.

"What?" Han demanded, his voice so hoarse he hardly recognized it.

Madine shook his head, sitting up and bracing himself on his arms. "I can't-- I'm not going to--" His breathing was so ragged he could barely get the words out.

It didn't matter; Han was so far gone he couldn't understand what the man on top of him was saying. The only request for clarification he could manage was "Huh?"

Madine swore in frustration. "Do you have a medkit?"

Fortunately, the location of everything onboard the Falcon was as good as hardwired into Han's brain. Without having to think, he waved a hand vaguely over his head to indicate one of the storage lockers in the bulkhead behind the workbench, where one of the spare emergency kits was kept. With a gasp of relief, Madine staggered to his feet, reaching the indicated cabinet and tearing it open. Han saw about half the contents hit the deck before Madine evidently found what he needed.

The interval lasted just long enough for Han to become completely infuriated. He didn't know why they were doing this or what the hell was going on, but he didn't intend to put up with it too much longer; if Madine delayed any further somebody was going to get hurt. He leaned back, hooked Madine around the ankle with one leg and yanked. Madine sat down hard, cursing, then they were grappling and rolling around on the deck again.

Han finally decided Madine had fought hard enough to show proper appreciation for what he was about to get, and let himself be pushed down onto his back again. There was a frantic struggle to tear clothing open, then Madine reached down between Han's legs again.

Han cursed and grabbed double-handfuls of Madine's jacket and shirt as a finger slipped inside him, but it was a well- lubricated finger. He belatedly realized what Madine had wanted out of the medical kit. Madine seemed to find the right spot unerringly, and Han caught his breath, closed his eyes, and thrust up against his hand. I think he's done this before. A second finger joined the first, but it wasn't enough. He normally liked subtleties, liked a long slow build, but right now that wasn't what he wanted. Through gritted teeth Han growled, "Come on, dammit."

Madine snarled something incoherent back, but he gripped Han under the knees and pulled him forward. Han felt the first pressure and gripped the support bar of the bench over his head, bracing himself. Madine pushed forward and Han arched his back and shouted wordlessly as he was entered. The sensation was intense, more than Han had expected, reminding him that he was as good as a virgin at this. But the discomfort was buried in a sudden wave of hot, blinding pleasure. Only partially inside him, Madine hesitated. Dammit, Han wanted to scream from frustration. Do I have to do everything? He took a firmer grip on the bar and thrust back, catching Madine by surprise.

Madine partially withdrew and thrust in again, all the way in, hard, and Han pushed up to meet him. Oh, yeah, that's it, Han thought as the pressure started to build. Madine pressed into him more deeply, more roughly and Han flung his head back and closed his eyes. Right there. Madine kept thrusting until Han was so far gone he lacked even the coordination to thrust back. All he could do was writhe helplessly, biting his lip until he tasted blood. One last deep thrust and Han cried out as the release took him, washing over him in a hot wave and taking his consciousness with it.

Madine came back to his senses slowly. He knew he had been unconscious for some time, and he knew he was lying on a warm, yielding body that was bonelessly relaxed, all the usual tightly coiled tension driven out of it. He lifted his head, saw that Han's eyes were closed, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, and his breathing was even and deep. Madine realized he was still partly inside him, and shifted his weight back, carefully withdrawing. Han made a noise in his throat, and turned his head a little, but didn't wake.

Oh, shit, Madine thought. Just...Oh, shit. He sat up, still dazed. They had obviously been drugged in the bar. Now that his head was clearing he could recognize the symptoms. The heat he had felt despite the cool Kskannit night, the increasing disorientation, the anger coming out of nowhere, unfocused and wild, out of all proportion even to his normal hostility to Solo. Madine grimaced. And the increasing stupidity of their argument. Stupid and ironic, considering his current position.

Looking worriedly down at Han, Madine pulled his pants back up, fumbling to get them to stay that way since he had broken half the fastenings when he had ripped them open. He touched Han's face, then felt for a pulse. The other man's skin still felt feverish, but his breathing was normal and relaxed and his heartbeat strong and even. Madine remembered Han had had at least two drinks to his one, and both must have been spiked; he probably just needed to sleep it off.

He pulled Han up, dragging one arm across his shoulders, and managed to get him across the lounge and down the short companionway to his cabin. Once there he lowered him to the bunk, then reached for the cover tangled at the foot to pull it up over him. And found himself hesitating.

He hadn't had much of a chance to look at the body he had just experienced; things had gone too quickly and he hadn't been in any state close enough to his right mind for careful observation.

Sprawled on the bunk, Solo looked younger than usual, though Madine had always thought them to be about the same age. The cabin lights gleamed on sweat-slickened skin, drew red highlights out of the thick tousled hair. Solo's body was all lean hard muscle, his stomach flat and tight. As soon as he had entered him Madine had known that Han hadn't been with any men, not like this, at least not recently; the expression on his face had told Madine that. In the heat of the moment that had only heightened the experience.

Madine remembered suddenly that he had at least had the sense to stop and use a lubricant, and felt a rush of relief. That must have been the only thing close to a rational thought to cross his mind during the whole episode.

But with the dregs of the drug still clouding his memory, he couldn't remember if he had taken Solo considerately or if he had shoved into him like a drunken spacer mounting a port prostitute. He could remember Han writhing and crying out raggedly, remember digging his fingers into the muscular buttocks and thrusting hard, again and again.

Madine shook himself and pulled the blanket over Solo. Without waking, Han promptly kicked it off and rolled over on his stomach.

Madine cursed under his breath and fled the cabin.

Out in the lounge area he paced, trying to clear his head. He had to clarify how much of this had been his own doing, how much had been the drug.

He remembered the fight that had started things clearly enough. Traditional Corellian culture held that male to male sex was supposed to be somewhat rough, though Madine had always preferred the playful variety to mock violence. In an even contest of unarmed combat against Solo, Madine knew he wouldn't have been able to win, but Han had gotten a double dose of the drug; it had confused him, slowed his reactions. Made him vulnerable, Madine thought. All right, if he had twice as much of the drug as you, why did you initiate it? he asked himself.

It didn't take a great deal of observation to see that Han was primarily interested in women. Madine had always been more attracted to men; of course, it had been so long since he had been with anybody that he was surprised he had still remembered how to do it at all. You initiated it because you haven't had sex for years, that's why you initiated it, a little ironic voice in his head pointed out, not since you had a life, before you joined the Alliance. No, this would never have happened if not for the drug, but it would also never have happened had Madine not completely lost control.

And it was painful to admit it but he had always found Solo physically attractive, no matter how repellent he thought his personality. He had become painfully aware of that once when he had walked into a repair bay on the Tantavie, and there was Solo, bent almost double over a dismantled console, fishing for something deep inside it with one hand on the bulkhead in front of him to steady himself. Madine had had to turn and walk out of the compartment, and been greatly disgusted with himself when the episode had figured largely in his thoughts when he had been trying to get some sleep on the next offshift.

Madine shook his head. He had enjoyed what had happened, there was no escaping that. And he also had to admit that under the influence of the drug he wouldn't have minded much if the initial battle had gone the other way, and he had been the one to end up on his back on the deck. He just wished to hell he knew if Solo had minded it or not... If he had wanted it at all.

But despite the mental haze, Madine couldn't remember wanting to hurt Solo, just to have him, as thoroughly and completely as possible. What he was really afraid of was that he had imagined Solo's responses and interpreted real attempts to get away as encouragement. That the other man had simply been too weakened and overcome by the drug to fight him off.

If that was the case... Madine thought grimly, Then he's going to kill me. And in all fairness, I'll just have to let him.

Han woke slowly, gradually becoming aware that he lay sprawled face down, his head pillowed on his arms, on his own bunk. His thoughts were oddly hazy and distant, and memory of the immediate past was elusive. There was a pain between his eyes, and a more pleasant ache somewhere else. Uh-oh, Han thought, suddenly much more alert. What did you do? Oh, he knew what he had done all right, he just couldn't think who with. Dammit, this is why you don't get drunk, Solo. Except he hadn't been drinking, not seriously... He rolled over and stretched, easing the kinks out of his back and trying to concentrate.

Abruptly the haze cleared.

Han sat bolt upright, slammed his head on a low-hanging stanchion, and swore loudly. Still cursing, he rolled off the bunk and tore what was left of his shirt off and threw it against the wall. Then he remembered the Falcon would be picking up Leia, Chewie, and the others at Kskannit FirstDome this morning, and they would all be wandering in and out of his cabin like it was a public transport lounge. He grabbed the shirt and stuffed it into the bottom of a locker. Then he looked at the chrono. He had a launch window scheduled for just under a standard hour.

This time directing his imprecations toward the Kskannit Port Authority instead of himself Han dug out clean clothes and headed for the shower. Standing under the stream of stale recycled water, the events of last night started coming back to him in increasingly appalling detail.

He could remember the strange character reality had assumed on the walk back to the ship, the disorientation, the rise in body temperature. That little shit Rathian hired somebody in the bar to put something in the drinks, obviously. Something that hadn't exactly meshed well with Corellian biochemistry. Or Corellian culture. Maybe the Rathian just hadn't known that a loud violent argument was still considered an extremely erotic form of foreplay in some of the more primitive areas of the homeworld. Dammit, I can't believe I did that. If it had been anybody, and I mean anybody, else... In any other position... And I can't believe I liked it so much. The drug had heightened his reaction to everything, making the stimulation almost unbearable.

At least he remembered liking it this time. The last time he didn't remember it at all, to the point where he wasn't even sure it had actually happened. It had been during one hell of a party on a Corellian pirate ship, and Han had had such a hangover afterward that he hadn't come out of it for three ship-standard days, and all physical evidence had faded by that point. He only had Bran's word for it that Bran had thrown him down on the galley table and that Han had tried to bite his ear off. Considering what they had been drinking, Bran might just have hallucinated the whole thing.

He wouldn't have liked this time as much if Madine hadn't stopped to look in the medkit. Han had known the standard kits contained a tube of the stuff you were supposed to use to make the internal plumbing arrangements of pressurized flight suits more friendly when they interfaced with your own equipment, and which everyone knew had a variety of other handy uses, but he hadn't thought of it himself. He hadn't been thinking, period. He wished he could stop thinking now. He had to get the ship ready, break atmosphere, figure a course around the system that would let him approach Kskannit from a completely different trajectory while he changed the ship's ID beacon from the Dagram Company's Skyhawk to Ascalon Trading's whatever, he couldn't even remember the registry he had picked out. Then land at FirstDome, rendezvous with Leia and Chewie and the others, meet the fucking Kskannit World Family, and try to pretend like nothing had happened. Han resisted the urge to beat his head against the bulkhead, but just barely.

Madine was standing near the tech station when Han came into the lounge area. Before he could say anything, Han snapped, "Don't talk to me."

Madine ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He hadn't been able to sleep. He had showered in the Falcon's primitive bathing facility, changed clothes and stuffed the ones he had been wearing into the bottom of his duffle bag, feeling glad his spare shirt had a high enough collar to hide the bite marks on his neck. Then he had cleaned up the mess on and around the engineering station and spent some time running their symptoms through the only onboard computer that he could convince to talk to him, trying to identify the drug that had been used on them. The only thing he had been able to ascertain for certain was that it wasn't a type of spice; he was beginning to think it was probably a synthetic meant for some other purpose entirely, and they would just have to wait for the meddroids on the Tantavie to do a blood screening to find out what it was.

Since Madine had heard the old ship's water purification system rumbling again, accompanied by muted thumps and swearing, he had known Han was awake. It had been one small mercy, at least. He knew they had an early takeoff scheduled and he hadn't been looking forward to having to go in there and wake him. He said, "We have to talk about this."

Han paused at the tech station, keyed a command into one of the comps that had appeared to Madine to be completely nonfunctional, and all the boards on the station came to life. He snorted derisively and said, "No, that's how we got into this. Or how you got into me."

Madine winced. Blunt but true. He noticed Solo's hair was still damp from the shower and then had to firmly squelch the thought that triggered. The fact that Solo was fully dressed and wearing his gunbelt didn't seem to be hampering Madine's imagination any. Determinedly, he said, "We were drugged."

Han stopped to stare at him. "No, really? You think?"

Ignoring the heavy sarcasm, Madine continued, "We were probably supposed to kill each other but--"

"But it wasn't correctly tailored to Corellian metabolism. Yeah, I got that." Han crossed the lounge to look around the corner at the engineering station. He saw it had been cleaned up, the scattered contents of the medkit put away. He glanced back at Madine, brows lifting ironically. "Got rid of the evidence already, did you?"

Madine gritted his teeth and didn't comment. The memory of all that lean hard muscle under his hands, first through tight fabric and then only hot bare skin, was too close to the surface for comfort. He kept thinking of things he hadn't had a chance to do.... And he couldn't quite make himself ask the question he really wanted the answer to. Knowing he was stalling, he said, "I also sent a coded comcall to the Princess at Kskannit FirstDome--"

Han turned on his heel, slowly, and stared at him. "What did you tell her?"

"That the Rathians tried to kill us," Madine snapped. "That they probably mean to make their deal with Ascalon instead, that she'll have to adjust her strategy accordingly."

"Oh." Han looked away, then rubbed his forehead and winced.

Madine noted that as a confirmation they were both still having the same reactions to the drug; he had had a headache for most of the night, too. Then he realized Han might be experiencing pain in a different area entirely, and it was his turn to look away. He needed to find out just exactly what it was he had done last night, or the guilt was going to drive him insane. But he hesitated. There was a more clear-cut issue they needed to get settled, first. It might be the coward's way out, but.... "I don't think we need to mention what happened to anyone."

"No kidding," Han muttered. He and Madine had never tried to hide their mutual hostility. If this got out, it would be the biggest joke in the rebel fleet. He supposed Madine knew that as well as he did.

"We can say we had a run-in with some downport thugs," Madine offered cautiously. They both certainly had enough bruises to account for it. He was again glad his shirt hid what were obviously human bite marks. He imagined himself trying to explain that to General Rieekan, who was too perceptive by far, and inwardly shuddered.

Han rolled his eyes, trying to remember the last time he had heard the kind of semi-sentient predators that haunted downports referred to as "thugs." "Yeah, fine, whatever." He let out his breath. Madine didn't appear to be about to say or do anything that Han would feel obligated to kill him for, and he wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved. Explaining away Madine's sudden demise convincingly to Leia when he got to Kskannit FirstDome would have been difficult at best, anyway. Also for some bizarre reason she seemed to actually like the stiff-necked bastard, and after everything else she had been through Han felt reluctant to deprive her of any friends.

Resigned to the general's continued existence, Han started across the lounge toward the cockpit and caught Madine glancing surreptitiously at him, so he immediately developed a limp. Madine looked away, his back stiffening in angry embarrassment. Han thought about retaining the limp for the rest of the day, maybe leaning on Chewie occasionally for support once they got to FirstDome, but decided he didn't have the energy to keep it up. And Leia would just keep demanding to know what was wrong with him. He paused at the entrance to the gunwell, knowing suddenly how to get Madine to leave him the hell alone so he could start his preflight in peace. He turned, leaned back against the bulkhead and folded his arms, and said conversationally, "So. How was I?"

Madine cursed and turned to leave, but stopped in the opening to the companionway. Don't be a bloody coward, he thought. He turned back deliberately. "Solo."

Han pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache, a hangover reaction to the drug, was considerably worse. "What?"

"I want to ask you something."

Han looked at him, eyes narrowing. Of course you do, you bastard. "No, you didn't catch anything from me, I'm clean." Not that Madine was likely to take his word for it. "I had a screening on the Tantavie, you can check my med records when--"

"That's not it." Madine took a deep breath. "What happened last night..." There wasn't going to be any easy way to say it. "Did I rape you?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me." It had been difficult enough to get the words out the first time, Madine wasn't going to repeat them.

Han pressed one hand against the bulkhead, to remind himself how solid it was and how he really didn't want to try to put his fist through it. He looked up at the conduits overhead, then down at the scuffed deckplates. "You think--" He had to pause for a moment to get the self-control to continue in a reasonably level voice. "You think you could-- I ought to--" He was so angry his vocal cords were locking up. "You stupid bastard," he finally managed.

Madine looked torn between anger and confusion. "Well, did I?"

Han realized he would have to clarify the point. He took long strides to the engineering station and leaned down to jerk a small square case out from under the edge of the workbench. He tossed it to Madine.

Startled, the general caught it awkwardly. It was a vibroblade. An old model, but in excellent condition. It had been easily within Solo's reach the entire time they had been under the workbench.

His voice tight with suppressed fury, Han said, "I got holdout weapons all over this ship. If you'd tried to rape me, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now, I'd be looking for someplace to dump the body. Now get the hell out of my face so I can do my preflight."

Madine decided a strategic withdrawal at this point was the best course. He set the vibroblade down on the nearest console and went down the companionway. Once out of sight, he stopped and ran his hands through his hair, sighing with relief. He was glad he could remember it without guilt, now. Because the gods know you needed it, he thought wryly. In a few years, if he managed to avoid Imperial justice and live so long, this would probably be funny. It was a little funny now. He chuckled softly to himself.

Han slammed around the corner of the companionway suddenly and said, with dangerous lightness and an expression that was close to feral, "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Madine snarled, straightening his shoulders and standing stiffly. "I was coughing." Apparently numbered among Han's other annoying qualities was incredibly acute hearing.

Han eyed him for a long moment, then evidently decided reluctantly that it wasn't worth spacing him over. Still in that voice that few beings had probably lived to remember later, he said, "No more coughing, and the next few hours will go much more smoothly," and vanished back around the corner.

Madine let out his breath and smiled. Treading carefully for the next few hours wasn't such a big price to pay, after all.

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