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"You really believe I could do this?" It looked bad—he knew that. Explosives in Han's quarters, explosives on Luke's bike. Even a nerf-brain could draw the connection. But Leia was no nerf-brain, which meant she should have been able to see that the connection was too obvious. This wasn't just a frame-up job, it was a bad frame-up job.

It was almost like she didn't want to see it—like she wanted him to be guilty.

"I'm just trying to be objective," Leia said. "Evaluate the evidence, find the truth. My personal beliefs don't enter into it."

"Okay, let's say I did it," he said, trying a different tack. "Why would I be stupid enough to hide the explosives in my quarters? Why not on my ship? Or in someone else's?"

"Why would someone set you up?" Leia countered. "You barely know anyone here."

"Because I'm not a part of the Rebellion, you mean?" Han said. "That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"That's not—"

"After all the times I've saved your skin, you still don't trust me, because I won't put on a uniform and sign on the dotted line."

"I'm just asking questions, Han."

"And I'm done answering them." Han folded his arms. "After everything I've done for you and your Rebellion, you suspect me of—" He shook his head. "No."

Leia leaned forward. "If you're innocent, Han, help me prove it. Help me help you."

But there it was: if.

She didn't trust him. After all they'd been through. "You know, I'd never accuse you of something like this," he pointed out.

"That's different," she said.

"Yeah. I guess it is." Han stood up and returned to the dark corner he'd been lounging in when she arrived. "I guess we're done here."

"This isn't over," Leia warned him. "It's my job to get to the bottom of this."

"Fine." Han couldn't look at her. "But it's not my job to help you."

She still didn't betray a hint of emotion, nothing to indicate there was anything between them but unanswered questions. She didn't even slam the door on her way out.

But she still locked it.

CHAPTER THREE

"Hey, you can't go in there!" The guard backed up against the wall of the makeshift brig, blaster in one hand, comlink in the other. He was clearly undecided about what he should do first: call for reinforcements or shoot. "This is your last warning, you hairy— oof. "

With a single, furry blow to the head, Chewbacca saved him the trouble of deciding. The Wookiee slammed the blaster into the wall, then crushed the comlink under his massive foot. The guard would be fine when he woke up. He just wouldn't wake up any time soon.

These humans were so fragile. Sometimes it seemed even a sneeze would knock them over.

A Wookiee sneeze, at least.

Chewbacca was a Wookiee of many loyalties. But none was greater than the loyalty he owed to the human who'd saved his life back on Kashyyyk. Ever since, when Han Solo called, Chewbacca delivered.

And that night, as Yavin's many moons crawled across the sky, the call had come: "Get me out of here, Chewie!"

Chewbacca planned to deliver.

Han was being kept in the back room of a supply warehouse. Once past the Rebel guarding the door, Chewbacca thudded down the hallway. His bulk made stealth impossible; his strength made it unnecessary.

"Stop the Wookiee!" someone shouted from behind him.

"Don't kill him!" came another voice. "Just stun him!"

The blasterfire came fast and heavy. Though he knew it wouldn't be lethal, Chewbacca dodged and weaved, ducking the explosions. A few glanced off his thick hide, but it took more than a single stun blast to put down a Wookiee. Still, he had to find some cover. The guards were calling for reinforcements—soon he'd be even more outnumbered and the rescue mission would be ruined.

He couldn't let Han down.

Chewbacca ducked behind the nearest obstacle he could find, a giant durasteel cart brimming with the disgusting protein supplements the humans ate for many of their meals. Laserfire raked the side of the cart, scorching the durasteel and sending sparks flying into the smoky air, but Chewbacca