Story Challenge #21: 2nd April 2004
A story written in five minutes, beginning with "The pen--" [Time limit? What time limit? ^_^;]

Associations I
A SW fic by Morgan D.
Plot suggested by Lekanthir

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The pen is too close to the hangar where the tech folks are trying to get the speeders to work. The tauntauns clearly resent the noise and turmoil around them, and they make a point of letting us know how chafed they feel whenever we get inside.

I glare at them all, letting them know how little I care.

"Whoa, calm down, calm down," Luke soothes them, somehow making his voice sound above the cacophony of failing engines and frustrated people without losing its soft tone. "I'm sorry for this. But some of you are getting outside now. It's much quieter out there, isn't it?"

"Sure it is," I grunt, wincing at the animals' stink. "It's cold as hell too."

"They'll be fine as long as we come back before sunset."

"It's not them I'm worried about!"

Luke gives me that amused look of his that tells me he's not taking me seriously. Wonderful.

One of the tauntauns is jostling its way toward the kid, its two pair of nostrils moving furiously over Luke's skin.

"Hello, girl. Ready for some exercise?"

The tauntaun hesitates, eyeing Luke suspiciously. That female, easily recognisable by the chipped tip of its right horn, has been Luke's choice for riding since we got to this planet. It's become quite fond of the kid, but right now it seems somewhat unsure. I have to suppress a chuckle when I realise what its problem is.

The kid has my scent all over him.

Thirty seconds later Luke is blushing hotter than a blazing sun, and I know he's figured it out too. And I know he's taking the time to enjoy the recent memory too, because he won't look me in the eye now.

I guess that's one of the things I'll never understand about Luke. You see him now, all coy and modest, and you'd never believe he was the one who shoved me into that storage room, his hands deep inside my clothes even while a young sergeant entered to collect some flashlights.

We were lucky she didn't see us. There've been enough rumours about Luke, me and the Princess going around lately. More than enough for my taste.

I look around, wondering which tauntaun I should take. I don't need four nostrils to sense that Luke's scent is on me too, but that shouldn't give me any problems.

"That one with the white spot under the neck," Luke suggests. "I don't think you've ever ridden that one."

That's the kid's knowing grin now. The grin that says, 'See? I can read you like a datapad.' I positively hate that grin.

For a moment I consider picking some other animal, just to spite him. But maybe there's a more valuable lesson to teach him by accepting his suggestion. "Thanks. That's the one I'll take then."

"Why?"

Bingo. "Why what?"

"Why do you pick a different tauntaun every time?"

"Habit creates attachments," I shrug. "And attachments are always a bad idea."

He stares at me in silence for a moment, apparently not surprised or disappointed. Just staring. Studying me. Or maybe waiting for me to say something else. I don't. So he turns back to his tauntaun and starts saddling it.

I don't know what I was expecting. Or why I decided to get that message clear now. It's not like Luke has ever tried to chain me to a serious relationship or anything. There's never been one single word alluding to romance between us. In fact, he seems as unwilling as I am to turn our peculiar friendship and occasional fucking into something bigger. The one person he gets all mushy about is still Her Worshipfulness, not me. Never me.

"You usually don't wait this long to criticise me," says Luke after a while.

"Who says I'm criticising you?" Was I wrong after all? Does he want something serious from me and I've never noticed?

"Isn't that what you're hinting at? That I'm getting too attached to Camillia?"

Camillia. That's an amazingly stupid name to give a tauntaun, even when you're talking about Luke. Maybe there's some private joke in it. But if there is, it's too private for him to share, even with me.

Anyway. I mention attachments and he assumes I'm talking about his feelings for a tauntaun. It doesn't seem to have even occurred to him that I was talking about myself. That's a relief.

Right?

"You get attached to too many things," I tell him, fastening the saddle on my tauntaun's back. "It'll be your death someday."

He's frowning. Not at me, but at himself. "I don't get attached to that many things. Why do you say that?"

"Oh, please... You won't even let the tech guys wipe your astromech droid's memory."

"Why should I? It's not necessary."

"It's standard procedure."

"Since when do you care about standard procedures?" he snorts, and I have to agree with him. "Besides, the continuous interface between Artoo and my X-wing's computer has improved the ship's performance a great deal. My fighter is now a lot faster and more manoeuvrable than any other in the fleet."

"Fine... But if anything happens to Artoo, you'll have to say goodbye to your fighter too, because at this point the computer won't even recognise another droid."

Now it's time for one of his cocky, I'll-never-be-beaten smiles. "I'll just have to be careful and make sure nothing happens to Artoo."

Sure. As if cold pragmatism were the real reason behind his passion to defend that little whistling machine and its crazy personality. As if it weren't obvious that he cares.

Let the kid deny it as mush as he wants. I know better. He's one of those folks who just can't live without bonds, without people to be loyal to, without something to protect. I'm glad he at least has the sense to keep his clingy tentacles away from me.

Luke pulls Camillia's bridles, guiding it out of the pen, and takes less than two seconds to mount it. I follow him an instant later, trying to keep my chosen tauntaun from horning me. "Cut it out, you stupid beast!"

"Like I said, there are advantages to continuous association," Luke smirks. "Such as mutual trust."

I don't bother to reply.

"Not to mention improved performance," he adds slyly. "And you know that better than anyone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I yell, wincing at the sudden hoarseness in my voice. I'm burning inside my thick clothes, glowering up at his face, having to put unexpected effort in not looking at those hands that were all over me no more than a few minutes ago.

Luke's eyes widen, and his slyness dissolves into genuine puzzlement. "You and Chewie. You and the Falcon."

I want to kill him.

That's Luke Skywalker for you. He tries to score a few points and ends up with the whole sabacc pot in his lap... and then he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Alright..." I groan, both at the admission and the tauntaun's stench as I climb to my saddle. "So I've let myself get attached a couple of times. Is that what you want me to say?"

It is. He doesn't say it, but I know. He's not pining for confessions of how good our continuous association makes me feel. He's not mocking me for betraying my own rules of survival and letting him win my trust. He's not rubbing it in my nose that our supposedly peculiar friendship is becoming more and more natural, and our supposedly occasional fucking more and more frequent.

He doesn't even realise that's all I can think about these days. Since Ord Mantell...

Argh... What's the point of dropping warning hints to him about the dangers of getting too involved? He's not the one who needs to hear them.

He just sits there, gazing at me worriedly, perhaps wondering if he should apologise for pushing my buttons. Wondering why in blazes I got so worked up about tauntauns and ships and Wookiee co-pilots.

Suddenly we're surrounded by Rebels riding more of those reeking animals, and we're given instructions about the directions we should take. There're eight of us going out to patrol the area surrounding the base. Somehow I had completely forgot about the others. About them, about the galaxy, about anything that wasn't Luke.

I gotta get out of here. Fast.

The kid rides beside me for a while after the others have left, although his appointed circuit is in the opposite direction from mine. Damn, he is going to apologise.

"I'm sorry for Camillia," I say in what I hope will come out as a humorous tone. "As soon as the speeders are adapted to the cold, I doubt she'll ever get to see you again."

I can almost hear his shoulders relaxing. "You think I'd be so ungrateful to forget all the good moments she and I have had together?" he jokes, petting his tauntaun's ears. "True love is forever."

Fuck.

That's my cue — deliberately offered as his apology — to tease him about Camillia and take revenge from his previous remarks.

And all I can do is stare at his hands.

Thankfully, some impatient controller saves me from embarrassing myself even further. "Echo Three, what's the hold up?"

Luke flinches. "Sorry, Echo Base," he replies into this commlink. "Starting my circle now."

He gives me one of his cutest smiles now. The shy one that says, 'Oops!'

"See ya, kid," I somehow manage without pulling him into a kiss.

"Try not to get in trouble without me!" He veers Camillia around and is soon out of my sight.

And that's exactly where I should keep him.

My tauntaun roars and shifts its weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, I don't like you either," I snap, spurring it on. Riding a cranky beast to scout miles of frozen terrain on a lifeless ice ball. It seems like my last day with the Rebellion will be far from memorable.

Because as soon as I'm back to the base, I'm going to Rieekan to tell him that Chewie and I are leaving. Tonight. Before my life gets even more complicated.

I know I'm gonna hear a lot from Her Royal Highness. I know Chewie will not be pleased. And I know Luke will never give me any smiles again.

But loving Luke is the kind of bad habit I just can't afford.

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Associations II
A SW fic by Morgan D.
Counterpart to Associations I

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"The pen isn't large enough for this many tauntauns, Commander," Lieutenant Con'kame tells me as we climb the fence. "They might hurt each other fighting for space."

I'm glad I'm not the only one who's noticed it. Unsurprisingly, Con'kame used to work at a cattle ranch before joining the Alliance. Trust the farmers in the group to pay attention to stuff like that. "The speeders will be operational in no time," I try to reassure him. "Then we'll be able to let most of them go."

"I hope so. I fear Command will decide to keep them here, you know, just in case. Like spare equipment, if the modifications in the speeders don't work."

"I'm sure it won't come to that."

Con'kame seems about to say something else, but changes his mind and jumps into the pen to look for Sul, his favourite tauntaun.

He probably thought about mentioning Leia. One problem in having a friend in Command is that everyone seems to think I can have anything I want just by snapping my fingers. And that's not true at all. Leia is a fair person. She won't bend the rules for selfish reasons, or for selfish friends.

Well, it's for the tauntauns' sake, not mine. Maybe I could mention the topic to her, at least to find out if there're indeed any plans to keep them around after the speeders are ready. That should be harmless enough.

Or maybe I should ask Han first. For someone officially disconnected from the Rebellion, he's always strikingly well informed of everything going on around here. I don't know how he does it. I don't know if I want to find out.

I spot him as he goes over the fence and lands noisily inside the pen. The tauntauns step away from him, roaring warily. Han's only reaction is a very annoyed glare.

I'm at his side in a second, driving the animals' attention away from him. "Whoa, calm down, calm down."

Han doesn't seem in the least impressed by the tauntauns' horns. The last time I warned him to be careful around them, he started telling me about some acklays that tried to eat him on this planet called... Vendaxa or Fendaxa or Zendaxa... something like that. I suppose he was trying to say that a two-meter-tall snow lizard is just not enough to impress a man who's gone through all the stuff he's gone through.

What I think is that a man who's gone through half the stuff he boasts to have gone through would know better than that.

A few meters away from the pen, someone tries to turn on the engine of one of the speeders. The screeching noise that results from it causes the tauntauns to lower their head almost to the floor. Poor fellows, their forelimbs are too short to reach their ears. "I'm sorry for this. But some of you are getting outside now. It's much quieter out there, isn't it?"

"Sure it is," Han grunts. "It's cold as hell too."

Oh yeah, it is. First time I was outside, I thought I'd die right there and then, my lungs frozen solid by the icy air I was breathing. 'Cold' doesn't even start to describe it. Luckily, the tauntauns have their natural protection of fat and fur. "They'll be fine as long as we come back before sunset."

"It's not them I'm worried about!"

And he tells me I'm whiny...

Con'kame has found Sul already, and I can see that Nolan, Gartlebb and Walcys have already started saddling their tauntauns. Elarm and Qeth will take a while longer, as they're fighting for the same tauntaun. I'd better start moving.

Camillia finds me before I find her. Her horns scrape my shoulders a little when she presses her head against the back of my neck; her warm breath on my bare skin tickles. I shouldn't have left my scarf hanging on the fence. "Hello, girl. Ready for some exercise?"

She keeps sniffing me even when I turn around to pet her. That's a bit unusual. And she hasn't given me wary looks like this since the first time I rode her. Doesn't she recognise me anymore...?

Han makes this weird, throaty noise, like he's choking or something. It's a little like the sounds he was making back in the storage room, while he was...

Oh.

I knew it was a bad idea. The timing was lousy, the place was inadequate, the circumstances were awkward, and I didn't have half of an excuse to jump sex-thirstily on him like that. But I was beside myself, and when he responded to my kiss, I just lost it.

So here I am, in the tauntauns' pen, smelling thoroughly of Han Solo.

I hope Camillia won't charge at me. That would be hard to explain.

Why did I do that? Spontaneous combustion, that's what it was. I was just about to tell Han that funny story Wedge told me at breakfast, and he asked me to tell him after we came back from the patrol. Maybe he was hoping I would forget about it. He's never interested when I try to tell him stories that I've heard from other people, I really don't know why. After all, he listens to my stories. Well, he makes all those faces, pretending to be bored, irritated or in physical pain, but he does listen.

Anyway, I was reminded of when I tried to tell Biggs the story of how Han, Chewbacca and I rescued the Princess, and of how he had promised me that he would listen to all my stories when we returned from the battle against the Death Star. Of how he never came back.

The next second I was grabbing Han, devouring his mouth, pushing him through the first door I could find. Thank the Force there wasn't anyone there!

That I was with Han to quench the grief over Biggs had been a lie of the first days, a lie I haven't been able to tell myself anymore for a long time already. But only then, when Sergeant Riett-Bsib burst into the room to get I-don't-know-what and I realised I could not, would not let go of Han, it dawned on me what that actually meant.

It might have been the memory of Biggs that triggered that encounter. But the reason why I was there, groping every part of my friend's flesh I could find had nothing to do with the past.

I was afraid I'd never see Han again.

Which was a ridiculous thought, I admit. He's here, isn't he? I can feel him here, standing right beside me, even if I don't dare to look up at him right now — if he sees in my eyes a tenth of the feelings I have for him, he'll shut me out for certain. But he won't leave. I'm sure he realises that now.

After a tense moment, Camillia finally gives me the tauntaun equivalent of a purr. That's right, girl, I'm still the same old Luke, no matter how horribly Han-ish I might stink.

I wish Han would stop glaring at the tauntauns like that. They can sense he doesn't like them. As he looks around to choose one, the animals step back in a clear 'Oh no, not me!' message.

Many of them don't have anything to worry about anyway. "That one with the white spot under the neck," I can't resist suggesting. "I don't think you've ever ridden that one."

I'm the one getting a glare now. How dare I know what goes on through his mind?

Well, I wouldn't if he weren't so obvious about it.

"Thanks," he says acidly. "That's the one I'll take then."

He waits for me to question him. It's our old game: I play the clueless rookie, while he plays the streetwise pirate that teaches me the truths of the universe.

Or at least I think it's a game. Sometimes I wonder if Han really believes I'm that ignorant. I mean, okay, I didn't know how to tell a male Wookiee from a female one until he told me how... and no, I didn't know that you're not supposed to touch tnaimian microchips without protective gloves... and the only variation of sabacc I was familiar with was the Mos Espa Dare, I had no idea about all the seventy-six others... But come on! Of course I had fired with a KVB-09 rifle before! I was damn good with it even before Biggs volunteered to teach me to hold it properly, back when we still felt the need of lame excuses to touch each other.

On the other hand, if Han does believe I'm that clueless... that's the person he feels comfortable to be with. Maybe that's what gets him to trust me, to relax around me: because he thinks I'm inherently incapable of stabbing him in the back.

And I am. For an entirely different reason, but I am.

Either way, I don't want things to change. So... "Why?"

"Why what?"

I roll my eyes. Thankfully, he has his back to me right now, so he doesn't notice. "Why do you pick a different tauntaun every time?" I indulge him.

He turns to me now, making sure I'll have my attention fully on him when he reveals this new gem of wisdom, whatever it is. "Habit creates attachments. And attachments are always a bad idea."

That's precisely what I had expected him to say. So precisely that it puzzled me. That has always been the ground rule for... for this thing between us, so I certainly don't need a reminder. Why would he make a point of spelling that out now?

I wait for him to add something, to explain, but nothing comes.

He's clearly giving me a warning. But about what? It can't be about us. He doesn't know how I feel. If he did, he wouldn't be standing there looking so calm.

I take Camillia to the spot where I crossed over the fence, where I had left the saddle and my scarf — which I put on at once. Maybe I'm trying to read too much into Han's words. If he's indeed playing the part of the streetwise pirate, they must have been just a general advice about surviving in the Ruthless Universe.

Han brings his uncooperative tauntaun to be saddled, but his thoughts seem so far away that he doesn't even take notice of the animal's struggles. "You usually don't wait this long to criticise me," I say.

He frowns at me, waking from whatever daydream had captured his mind. "Who says I'm criticising you?"

"Isn't that what you're hinting at? That I'm getting too attached to Camillia?"

"You get attached to too many things," he says with a grimace. "It'll be your death someday."

The words ring a distant bell in my mind, calling up for an unpleasant memory... from the night I stood gazing at this lush forest bathed in starlight, trustingly turning my back to Lord Vader. He turned on this green-bladed lightsaber... and...

Wait... that... that never happened! Where did that come from? "I don't get attached to that many things." Certainly not to Darth Vader. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, please... You won't even let the tech guys wipe your astromech droid's memory."

"Why should I? It's not necessary." Honestly, sometimes I feel some people are a little bit manic about memory wiping. Do they fear droids and computers will rise in riot if they're allowed to remember what happened to them the previous month?

Uncle Owen was like that. Is something behaving strangely? Clean it up, wipe its memory and start anew. To be fair with him, nine out of ten times that does solve behavioural problems.

On the other hand, if Artoo hadn't managed to run away from me when he did, I'd have taken him and Threepio to Anchorhead to have their memories wiped, and Leia's call for help would have been erased as well. She'd have been executed on the Death Star, and I'd never have met her. Or Han.

"It's standard procedure," he reminds me.

Of all people... "Since when do you care about standard procedures?"

He winces at that, and he should. Standard procedures would have the Millennium Falcon thrown at a junkyard after two seconds of inspection.

"Besides, the continuous interface between Artoo and my X-wing's computer has improved the ship's performance a great deal," I tell him, and I know my pride is showing in my voice. "My fighter is now a lot faster and more manoeuvrable than any other in the fleet."

"Fine... But if anything happens to Artoo, you'll have to say goodbye to your fighter too, because at this point the computer won't even recognise another droid."

Well, there is that. "I'll just have to be careful and make sure nothing happens to Artoo."

Camillia is ready for our stroll. Eager too, judging by the way she's pressing her forelimbs on my shoulders. She's so sweet and friendly. I regret naming her after Camie; they're really nothing alike. Unfortunately, the tauntaun won't answer to any other name now.

It was a really stupid, unkind joke. I had just got on the saddle and was so relieved that I wasn't thrown off it immediately; Con'kame told me I should name her, and the first thing that came to my mind was Fixer pointing at Camie and whispering in my and Windy's ears, 'Look and suffer, brats. That's a female you'll never get to mount.'

Han asked me a couple of times what was the story behind the name, but I'm not crazy. He'd tell it to Leia just to embarrass me, and I really don't want to see the look on Leia's face if she finds out.

Or Camie's, for that matter.

The others are almost done with their tauntauns too, so I take Camillia out of the pen. Han's tauntaun uses its horned head to prod him out too. "Cut it out, you stupid beast!" he snarls.

I can't help teasing him. Look at it this way: would he spare me, were our positions reversed? "Like I said, there are advantages to continuous association. Such as mutual trust. Not to mention improved performance." I wink at him. "And you know that better than anyone."

Colour flees from his face. "What's that supposed to mean?" he yells.

I suppose I'm just as pale now. Did I say something wrong? I mean, something really wrong? Did I cross the line between teasing and insult? I honestly didn't mean it! "You and Chewie," I clarify. "You and the Falcon."

He's still glowering at me with such intensity I've never seen before. The clarification was probably unnecessary anyway. I pointed out the obvious flaw in his argument, and he's not happy. At all. "Alright..." he growls, mounting his tauntaun. "So I've let myself get attached a couple of times. Is that what you want me to say?"

Well, yes. I didn't think he would react this badly though.

Maybe that whole 'habits create attachments' thing was indeed a warning about the two of us after all. Not about the sex, but about our friendship. I'm getting too close. He has Chewie already; he doesn't need a new best friend. He doesn't want one. Chewie might be allowed to brag about knowing Han too well to take his aloof façade seriously. I'm not.

I've let myself get carried away by what happened on Ord Mantell. Idiot.

I open my mouth to apologise, but Con'kame and the others are here now, all ready to leave. Qeth is complaining loudly about Elarm, who ended up with the tauntaun they were competing for. Gartlebb is assigning us our watch circuits — damn, I got the northeast circle again?! — and Walcys is coming on to Han real hard.

Han seems too distracted to even notice it. Is he that furious with me?

Biggs' voice is ringing in my ears again. 'You'll tell me your stories when we come back, all right?'

I don't know why, but I can't let Han go without apologising first.

I steer Camillia to ride beside him while I try to think of appropriate words. He'll scowl at them if they're too mushy, and shrug them off if they're too vague.

He breaks the icy silence between us before I can make up my mind. "I'm sorry for Camillia. As soon as the speeders are adapted to the cold, I doubt she'll ever get to see you again."

I'm forgiven. I can tell from his light tone. He's not mad at me anymore. Or maybe he is, but won't hold it against me. Either way, no reprisal is coming, and I'm forgiven.

I love him.

The least I can do is give him the opening for a reprisal anyway. "You think I'd be so ungrateful to forget all the good moments she and I have had together? True love is forever."

Han doesn't take the opening. Again he seems lost in thoughts, lost to the present, lost to me. I'm not even sure he's heard me.

Which might've been for the best. Mentioning true love was too risky. I hope I'm not blushing.

"Echo Three," calls an annoyed voice from my wrist commlink. "What's the hold up?"

Ouch. "Sorry, Echo Base. Starting my circle now."

Han grins at me the way he usually does before he kisses me. "See ya, kid."

"Try not to get in trouble without me!" I urge him, pulling Camillia's reins and turning her around. I rush her to my appointed circuit, replaying the events of the storage room in my head.

I hope this dreadful hunch is nothing but my brain cells going flaky after being exposed to the cold for too long. Because I do intend to see Han again.

And when I do, I'm gonna kiss him senseless.

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