ishotfirst | (no subject)

"Means wicked. In a good way."

When is being wicked not a good thing, though?

Straight.
Straight.
Straight.
Stra--

Han laughs and jams the stick hard left into a turn. Not a roll, or a spin, just a hard, fast, stick-you-to-your-chair left turn.

"Wick — "

And then Ben gets slung back, hard, against his seat.

"Like fuckin' Lucifer."

That's laughter in his voice.

Han has no idea who Lucifer is, really. Well. Bad guy. Pointy red horns and a tail. Or something. He's seen a few pictures. But that isn't on his mind.

The ship's alive.

An extension of him and his focus is almost zen like.

Except for the possibly evil laughter as he pulls back hard and the Falcon strains upwards, or what feels like upwards, but there's no real up or down in space.

Ben would turn his head to glare and grin in equal measure, but he's pressed into his chair again.

The stars streak by so fast they're hardly more than dotted lines of light in Ben's periphery.

Once he can draw in a breath again, he may be laughing again.

Just a little.

Han levels off and they're still going pretty fast, but he does slow them down a little.

So that Ben can breathe.

Then he does what's completely normal in this situation, while they're hurtling along in a straight line.

He gets up out of his chair and moves to the nav computer behind him.

Ben's eyes slide to the now-empty seat beside him.

Slowly, carefully, he turns and cranes his neck.

" -- you always leave the steerin' up to the boat?"

"Well usually Chewie steers when I get up. Or if we're shootin' things." He glances over at Ben. "She can fly herself until I sit back down."

Han consults a screen, hits a few more buttons, and then frowns.

Hits the buttons again.

Then smacks the panel, hard, with a fist.

zing beep beep beep beep

"There!"

"Right smart technology there, General."

Truthfully, to the former.

Sarcastically, to the latter.

"Ain't she?"

Pride. All pride.

Han grins and returns to his seat.

"Wanna see something else really wicked?"

Honestly, "She is."

When Han sits, Ben looks over and quirks an eyebrow.

"Again, you gotta ask?"

"Well just wanted to give you the chance to back out."

Han looks innocent, then nods, takes his hands off the yoke and hits a button up on the console.

fwoom

The ship spins slightly on her own power to point them in a direction.

And stops moving.

And Ben blinks.

There's one beat.

Two.

Three.

"We ain't movin'."

It's like they've frozen completely.

Four.

Five.

Then he slams the throttle forward, hard.

And the stars

bend
streak
blur

"Holy — "

Marymotherofgod

" ... goddamn — "

His fist twitches at his knee, but he resists the urge to grab his hat.

A little bit wide-eyed, he chances a look over at Solo.

Who's grinning his damn fool head off.

And laughs.

Once they've actually jumped and the stars have blurred so much that they're in a blue and purple tunnel of light, swirling around them, the g-force lets up and they're not sticking to their chairs.

Han swivels a bit to face Ben.

"Welcome to hyperspace. We're currently traveling..." he waves a hand in the air as he leans back to do the math. "...about...180...no..."

He narrows his eyes.

"187,000 miles per second. Give or take a few thousand. I forget the exact number."

Ben thinks on that for a long minute, watching the blue and the purple light show outside.

" -- how many horses you think that is?"

Han snorts.

"No idea, to be honest."

They go on for awhile. It's fast but it's not that fast, relatively speaking. Eventually though, after a couple of hours, conversation, a tour and so on, the nav computer beeps loudly at him.

"We're comin' up on droppin' out of hyper," Han says. "You may wanna put that belt back on."

A nod.

Ben's getting used to this whole flying-in-space thing.

(Sort of. Ish.)

He clicks the belt back in place.

"Gonna get shook around or somethin'?"

"Shouldn't. Unless we hit something that ain't supposed to be there."

Like the last time with the fact that a planet had been blown to bits.

(Han wisely leaves that story out.)

The tunnel swirls as he pulls back on the throttle, then the stars streak, bend, and then stop moving as they appear to be coming up on a planet (http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/thumb/b/b8/Corellia.png/631px-Corellia.png) of some sort.

"Now that's a right pretty sight."

Ben squints, tilts his head just a little.

" -- planet, ain't it?"

Because it doesn't look like a moon.

The one Ben's used to seeing, anyway.

"Planet," he smirks a bit. "Corellia."

Ben might recognize the name.

(After all, it's where Whyren's Reserve is labeled as coming from.)

"Corellia."

His eyes narrow a fraction as a distant bell rings in his brain.

"Place where that damn fine whiskey's distilled?"

That's approval in his voice.

"The one and only."

A beat.

"I was born here, too, but there ain't nothing like visiting a planet just to try the booze."

There's other ship traffic, above the atmosphere. Transports. A few big shipyards building new vessels. Han doesn't go into land, just yet, because he wants to circle around once to find the right city.

"Gotta drag you out to Dodge City sometime, Solo."

Lines appear on his forehead as he surveys their current surroundings, committing the positions of other ships as fast as he can.

"We goin' down for a spell?"

"Yeah, just want to find someplace that ain't likely to be crawlin' with Imps."

The computer beeps at him and he seems to ignore it, but it registers.

"Might get a little bumpy as she goes down under the cloud cover but it's normal," he assures Ben.

The narration would like to state that the idea of Han Solo on a horse for an extended period of time is hazardous to one's health from danger of laughing too hard, and should only be considered if one is prepared to do so.