Gil swung his legs out of the simulator, dropping to the ground. Wedge Antilles was giving him that level “Your butt is mine!” look, arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground. Gil was grinning too hard to notice. Wedge unfolded his arms, demanding softly, “And what the hells was that little stunt you just pulled?”

Gil’s grin slipped slightly. “Um....” he attempted, somewhat at a loss. What was Antilles on about? He’d done quite a good run.... he’d thought. There again, the sim instructor never let you go without having something to say...

“Where in the flight manual does that one come in?” Wedge demanded, voice remaining quietly dangerous.

“Um...” Gil attempted again, realising that things had obviously not gone as well as he had thought.

“What is the first rule of combat training for a wingman?”

Gil got that sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, “Don’t leave your wing-control...”

Wedge smiled, “And what did you do?”

“Left her...”

“Why?” Wedge asked, still smiling.

Gil swallowed, “Because I saw an easy target...”

“And did we get our easy target?”

“Yes,” Gil confirmed, then thought he’d better add, “Sir.”

Wedge beckoned the rookie across the room then turned, hitting the replay button on the monitor. A three dimensional image of Gil’s simulator run began to play-out in the air above the podium, “You’re doing fine here, sticking to her like glue, following her through. You get the aim and she peels off to give you room. You take the shot and boom the bad guy’s gone.....” The replay stopped, “Then what should you have done?”

“Broken off and followed her through.”

“So what happened?”

“I had another TIE in my sights, Sir.”

“So you delayed and took the shot.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Wedge nodded, all sarcasm disappearing as he acknowledged, “Which was an excellent idea. A three second delay, another bad guy gone and you could have pulled tight, let your wingman know you were closing and you’d have got an excellent score for this run, Gil.” The replay started again, the sarcasm returning “Except he jinked out of your way and you, like a damned fool went after him!” Wedge used the pointer to show up another TIE pairing, “Which meant that she was left wide open for these flyboys and you didn’t even see her getting blown apart!” Wedge glared at Gil, who closed his eyes in dismay at his own idiocy. But worse was to come as Wedge continued, “Nor did you see them lining you up to take you out just after you finally got your elusive TIE! The corkscrew victory roll was magnificent! For a dead man!”

“Sorry, Sir....”

“Is that what you’re going to tell Alissha Downhigher’s family when you get her killed?”

The door had opened and Alissha lifted an eyebrow as she walked in, Han Solo at her side, “Who’s getting me killed?”

“This idiot! Unfortunately he’s being assigned to you!” Wedge told her, then turned his attention back to Gil. The young man had an older sister with the Rebellion. Wedge had flown with her briefly before he and Luke were posted to Devariis and Wedge used her now as his trump card, “Isn’t Cali with the X-wing squadron assigned to Ackbar’s fleet?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gil confirmed cautiously.

“Then think about it. That could have been her you got killed. Now get your butt back in that simulator and let’s try again, shall we?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gil said, running the few feet across the floor to the simulator and almost vaulting inside. The blacked out canopy hissed closed.

“What did he do?” Alissha asked.

“Left his wingman to go after an easy target.”

“Ooh... that one...” Alissha commented, knowing that they’d all done it at one time or another. Thankfully it was usually in the sim, where the only repercussion was a bawling out by the instructor. Just like the one Wedge had given Gil.

“Don’t think he’ll do it again,” Han suggested, “or at least, not until he can look you both in the face without squirming!”

“Hey,” Alissha told him, slapping him on the arm, “I like them to squirm!” She turned back to Wedge, “How is he otherwise?”

“Not bad actually. He’s got a lot of promise.”

“Well, if you think you can trust me with him, I get the feeling that this man is about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

Wedge looked at Han who grinned. “I think,” Wedge began, “Gil’s safer with you than I am with him...” he finished, stabbing a thumb at the Corellian.

Han held his arms wide in mock horror, “You try to do a man a favour and he throws it back in your face!”

Alissha switched on the charm, “Maybe you ought to do a girl a favour...!”

“And maybe I ought to get Han out of here before you eat him alive,” Wedge countered. He punched a sequence of numbers into the simulator, telling Alissha, “Sim cycle is up and running, level three but he can take it.”

“Got that, Boss. Have fun.”

“Fun...” Wedge repeated, cautiously.

Han dropped an arm around his shoulder, guiding him gently to the door, “Yeh. I hear that you might be in need of a wedding bracelet... And it just so happens that I have may have just what you need stashed away on the Falcon.”

As long as she stayed still the pain was bearable. Fatigue gripped her, the leaden ache in her head making coherent thought difficult. She heard the door crash back. Through the exhaustion Karrik recognised the dark menace that slowly enfolded her and the fear rose, clutching at her. Grotesquely she found a brief whisper of comfort in the fact that Vader had been unable, once more, to entrust her to his lackeys. Then the fear swamped all rational judgement.

Vader regarded the huddled woman on the floor of the cell, watching her flinch slightly as he took another step towards her. She was almost ready. She still held that Rebel defiance in her heart, but he was close, so very close. All it needed was one more concentrated push and he would break her, "All I require, Flight Officer, is the location of the Rebel Base."

She remained silent.

He gathered the Force, reaching out, knocking her over onto her back. Fire ripped through her shoulder, the scream dying on her lips as bone grated against bone, the explosion of pain from her ribs robbing her of breath. Pinpricks of light danced through her head and for a moment she blacked out - but only for a moment.

Vader waited until she could draw breath, "I grow impatient of your obstinacy, Flight Officer Tennan!"

Karrik sensed movement at her side, heard the low hum and dragged her eyes open. The hovering sphere of the droid inched towards her. Despite her injuries, she tried to move away. Vader lifted a hand. Invisible restraints wrapped round her, holding her immobile as the hypodermic bit deep into her arm. She cried out, feeling the cold liquid seep into her veins. The hum of the droid receded.

"Taspin was the rendezvous point used by Rebel fighters for the jump to your new location! You will give me that location!"

Karrik fought to breathe, the agony and the dark flow of malice from Vader slowly shredding her strength. For a few interminable moments she suffered the full force of the Dark Lord's power. Reality wavered, her existence simply becoming the torture of staying alive. The drugs coursed through her, beginning to smother the last remnants of objectivity. She opened her eyes but couldn't focus, the black cell walls suddenly writhing with different colours. She turned her head, seeing the dark shape of Vader outlined in a grey haze - found herself beginning to detach from the agony.

"You will tell me, Flight Officer," Vader warned her, "Do not think that you will be allowed the luxury of death until I have the information I require!"

Sudden pain flooded back in, swamping her, wrenching a scream that Vader crushed in her throat with a slight movement of his hand. He took a step towards her, his presence bearing down on her. Survival instinct shrieked: tell him, just tell him! But reality had not yet fully deserted her, the small, tired message cutting through everything else: Say that name and Wedge is dead.

Abruptly the malevolence evaporated. She found herself floating on colour.

"The Rebel Base, Tennan!"

She had to concentrate, biting down on the name. You can't tell him. You can't tell him, You can't tell... can't tell... can't... Agony crushed her back to the floor. She screamed... Hoth beginning to form on her lips, but she dragged it back, "No..."

A different question slammed at her, the result devastating. Before she even realised that she had spoken, Skywalker's name echoed through the cell: the name of the X-wing pilot who had destroyed the death Star at Yavin. No... Oh, Goddess, no... But... it wasn't that place... it was just a name: one name amongst thousands. It didn't matter. Honest. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more.... except the colours. Strange colours.... she wanted to stay here amongst the colours.

Vader waited. She was still protecting the base, but he could work towards that. There was other information that he wanted, details that he wished clarified... His son was somehow connected with the Millennium Falcon and the Princess Organa. It was an association that could be used to his advantage once he had defined its limitations, "Skywalker was with the Millennium Falcon's crew on the Death Star when they rescued the Princess Organa. The freighter was also at Yavin and then again at Taspin when Skywalker was rescued. What is Skywalker's relationship with the crew?"

For a moment longer she resisted the question, then finally she answered, her voice a whisper, "They're.... friends... Solo... went to Taspin.... because the Commander was.... in... trouble.."

"And Skywalker's relationship with Organa, this is also... friendship?"

"Yes..."

Vader stood for a moment, considering the implications of her answers as pleasure reared, momentarily. Potential avenues of action turned absolute. If he could not trap the boy directly, he needed only to snare Organa or Solo, pull gently on the rope, and Luke would come running. Behind the mask he allowed himself a brief smile. Our fates twine ever closer, my son.

He turned back to the Rebel traitor lying on the floor. Taking a step towards her he reached out with the Force, letting her suffer the full power of the Dark Side, feeling the final spark of resistance fade and die. "The location of the Rebel Base, Flight Officer Tennan?" he demanded, "Give me the location!"

The word was a whisper that was almost too quiet for him to hear…

"Hoth..."

Wedge gazed at the intricate working and design of the bracelet, astounded at its beauty. Thin spiderwebs of spun gold bound slender sapphires and emeralds to the ten silver filigree links. But yet again his eye was drawn to the other bracelet, still lying on the table. Obviously by the same designer it was once again silver with the same spiderweb of gold but without the precious gems. Instead, every second link was a pair of pearls, bound by gold and silver threads into a figure of eight. And the clasp was inlaid with a single diamond.

He picked it up, looking at them both, then gently laid the sapphire and emerald bracelet on the table.

“Now I know that you guys usually exchange rings....” Han began.

“No,” Wedge assured him, still looking at the bracelet, “honestly, these are great. And this one.... This one I know she’ll love.” He looked up, almost afraid to ask, “How much?”

“Forty credits.”

Wedge’s mouth almost hit the floor, “Forty?” He looked down at the bracelet, then back up at Han, “Solo, this has to be worth at least a hundred...”

“Hey, Kid,” Han grinned, dropping onto the sofa across from him, propping his feet on the table, “if you want to give me a hundred, then fine. But these are only going to Jabba and, believe me, he won’t appreciate them!” The grin faded, sincerity breaking through for a moment, “And besides, how much money have you actually got stashed here?”

Wedge sighed, “Point taken...” As it was he was going to have to ask Luke and the others if he could borrow something from them. He put the bracelet on the table, standing up, “I’ll get the credits to you as soon as I can.”

Han nodded, reaching over, picking up the bracelet and handing it to Wedge, “Take it with you, Kid. It’s not as if I don’t know where to find you. Just don’t spread it around!”

The younger man grinned, taking the bracelet, “Thanks.”

Han pushed himself to his feet, walking with the pilot to the ramp of the Falcon. He watched as Wedge began to walk across the hangar then broke into a run, only to skid to a walk as the Deck Officer yelled at him. Han grinned, leaning on the ramp strut, watching the goings on of the hangar. All the usual day-to-day tinkering, and over in the far corner the speeders were being stripped apart and rebuilt. Images of his previous nights’ dreams washed into his thoughts - not quite nightmares, but not far off. These people had left their families and their homes, were risking their lives – sometimes more – to fight against the Empire and topple it from power. And all that had been put at risk because if him... Because some damned Bounty Hunter had recognised him.

As much as he hated to admit it, his outlook on life hadn’t been the same since he met Luke and Leia. And no matter what protests he made, it was he himself who was keeping the Falcon and Chewie here. No matter what he said to the contrary there was nothing stopping him just blasting away from here in the Falcon. Chewie wouldn’t like it, but he would go. The truth was that he, Han Solo, wanted to stay with these people. He had found something here that he never ever thought he would find – people who liked him, despite everything that he had done to hold them at arms length and make them hate him. And he had found himself liking them.

But unless he could pay off Jabba he was putting their lives at risk. If Chae had attacked him before Karrik had met her contact, things could have gone disastrously differently. And as much as he hated to admit it, his over-riding fear on Ord Mantell hadn’t been for himself – it had been for Hoth.

He turned, walking slowly back up the ramp and into the Falcon. The money they had been given by the Rebellion for saving Leia had slowly dwindled over the past years, spent on information, pay-offs, hardware and a myriad other things that the Rebellion had needed – not that he’d ever admit to it. He’d been checking the boxes when he came across the bracelets – and there was less than half of it left. He and Chewie had to leave. They had to get the rest of the money they owed Jabba and pay him off. All he had to do now was to convince himself that leaving was the right thing, the only thing, he could do.

Vader strode down the corridors of the Executor towards the Command deck. Now, at last, he had the location of the Rebel base.... Still, he had once before seen the effect of being fooled into believing a Rebel confession. His memories flowed back to the Death Star, to the tiny figure of the Princess Organa trapped against him by Tarkin's vehemence... “Dantooine.... They're on Dantooine...”

“You see, Lord Vader, she can be reasonable...” Then, later, had come the disbelief... “She lied! She lied to us…!”

“I told you she would never consciously betray the Rebellion...”

The Rebellion begat great loyalty amongst its personnel and sympathisers. He would not be caught out as Tarkin had! His son's capture was too important.

Until the existence of the Rebel base on Hoth had been confirmed he would not commit himself to any action. Until the existence of the Rebel base on Hoth had been confirmed Karrik Tennan would remain alive. And if she had lied to him, he would ensure that she revealed the correct location... before personally executing her.

Sweeping onto the bridge he strode towards the cartography station, searching through the star maps for Hoth. There! Frozen sixth planet of a system by the same name... He turned to the next map, and the next, "Admiral Ozzel!"

The man scuttled across to him, "Yes, Lord Vader?"

"Dispatch probe droids to the following systems. We are searching for possible Rebel Bases...."