ishotfirst | (no subject)

"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.

"Imps?"

Ben's eyes flick toward the sound, then he nods again.

Though his hand does curl at his knee again. Slightly.

~~The narration would like to point out that JESUS HAROLD CHRIST, said scenario must happen, if only for the lulz~~.

"Imperial forces. Bad guys. Corellia's part of the Rebellion but that doesn't mean the Empire isn't hanging around to keep an eye on things."

That and Han's...wanted in various systems for a lot of various charges.

Details, honestly.

The Falcon slowly glides down through the atmosphere and there's a bit of jostling as they break down through the clouds and into the air that's not weightless space. Ben might notice the actual real effect of gravity, again, rather than the artificial bit that the ship kept up.

They're over a large, busy city, ship traffic moving in neat lines between buildings.

Bemused, "And you're kinda at the head of that rebellion and all."

He understands, Han.

At the slight change in pressure, he frowns slightly and lifts his arm.

" -- huh. Feels a mite different."

A quick glance at Han.

"Normal, ain't it?"

But then the scene outside the ship catches his attention, and he forgets to worry.

This is busier than Dodge City and San Francisco put together.

"I think she's bigger than your Earth, so the effect'll be a bit more. Not too bad, though. Normal."

He slips into a line and they slide through the city until they reach a spaceport.

Hundreds of different ships, coming and going.

He hits a button (it transmits a signal to the spaceport itself) and then thinks for a minute, eyes closed.

"Identify." The comm crackles at him.

"Jenos Idanian of the Longshot requesting access to docking bay 7377."

He opens his eyes and eyes the control hub, waiting.

Hoping they don't have that one on their watchlist.

While Han eyes the control hub, Ben eyes Han.

"Idanian."

A beat, then he lowers his voice, just in case, his eyes on the activity outside once more.

"Guess I'll be keepin' 'general' to a minimum 'round these parts."

"I own the bay," he says quietly. "I just don't own it. Jenos Idanian does."

If you get the picture?

"Access granted. Will you be needing fuel services or repairs this afternoon?"

"Nah, I'm fine, just a short stop anyways."

"Very well. Proceed."

Han looks a little smug as he glances over at Ben. "Piece of cake."

A non-committal grunt as Ben's lips twitch.

"Somethin' to be said for throwin' your name around, y'know."

(Like striking fear into the hearts and pocketbooks of the owners of the Southern Pacific.

That's a good time.)