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Han shook his head, then, slowly, haltingly, he told her what had happened. Tears filled Bria’s eyes as she sat listening to him. Finally, he stopped … or ran down. “And I made it back here,” he finished. “The rest … the rest you know. Honey”—he looked at her, feeling his throat close up—“this is it. There’s no place left to turn. I can’t think of anything to do except use the last of our credits to try and get off-world. Then … we can work. I can get a job piloting, I know I can.” He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

“Baby … this is my fault. I should have realized the Hutts would run an all-system scan on my retinal patterns, and that they’d turn up all my aliases. I thought I’d been smart—but I was dumb as a box of rocks. Oh, Bria …” He groaned, and turned to her, sliding his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder. “Can you forgive me?”

She kissed his forehead and said softly, “There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be in a pleasure-house being passed around from one stormtrooper to another. Never forget that, Han. You are a hero. You saved me, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I couldn’t say it before … but … I want you to know. I love you, Bria.”

She nodded, and a tear broke loose and coursed down her cheek. Han wiped it away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I admit I came close to it myself, earlier, but I’ve been thinking. If we can just get off this blasted world, I know we can manage. We can work. We’ll make a life … I know we can.” He hesitated, then blurted, “We could even get married, sweetheart. If you want.”

He could tell she was profoundly moved by his awkward proposal, but she shook her head. “Your dreams, Han. You can’t give them up. We’ve gotten this close. We have to think of something. You’re going to be an officer in the Imperial Navy, remember?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Not anymore, Bria. That’s over, now. I’ve gotta think of what else I’m gonna do with my life.”

“Oh, Han!” she began to cry in earnest. “I can’t bear to see you so hurt!”

“I’m okay,” he insisted, though it was a lie.

Bria laid her head against his chest, then held him tightly. “We’re okay for tonight,” Han said. “Tomorrow we’ve gotta do some heavy-duty planning.”

She was kissing him now, his cheek, his chin, his jaw … little, desperate, grazing kisses. Han held her tightly and captured her mouth, kissing her, touching her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, desperate to touch her, to be healed by her touch.

The dingy little room faded away, and all he could think about was how glad he was to be with her …

· · ·

In the early hours before daylight, on this world where night and day meant very little to anyone who wasn’t living a wealthy “top-level” existence, Bria Tharen sat huddled in the grubby, cramped refresher unit. In her hands was a stylus, and before her was a sheet of flimsy and a large stack of credits.

Faintly, from the bedroom, she could hear Han snoring lightly. He was so exhausted he’d never heard her get up and leave, never awakened when she’d returned, hours later.

Now she struggled with the flimsy and the stylus, stopping every so often to wipe away the tears that blurred her eyes, making it almost impossible to write. Six or seven times she’d voided the flimsy and started over, but time was ticking by, and she couldn’t be here when Han awoke. If he awakened, Bria knew, she’d never, ever, be able to make herself go.

So she was taking the coward’s way out, once again. Her sobs caught in her throat, and she pressed both hands against her chest. For a moment she wondered whether her heart might stop from the pain she felt, then she shook her head and told herself to stop delaying. I’m so sorry, she made herself write. Please forgive me for doing this …

Tonight, for the first time, she’d realized that Han might not achieve his lifelong dream if she stayed with him. She’d been dragging him down,