(no subject)

[ishotfirst]

Well.

That certainly ain't the lake.

The hatch shuts behind them with a solid klunk and Han stares into the cargo hold of the Falcon for a few seconds.

"Uh."

Yeah.

Definitely not the lake.

Comments

[almosthonorable]

Under his breath, "I like my hat."

But blending in is more important.

He surveys the lounge, eyes lingering on the chess set.

" -- huh."

Half a beat.

"That's right smart."

He'll ask Han about computers later; he's heard the term thrown around in the bar several times.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

There's a warble from down the corridor.

"Out here, you big oaf," Han calls back.

The Wookie walks up from a doorway and then stops.

"Wrrraggggff?"

"Friend of mine from the bar."

[almosthonorable]

Blink.




Blink.




Ben tips his head toward the furry ... thing.




" -- howdy."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Ben, Chewie. Chewie, Ben."

The Wookie waves, then mutters something at Han under his breath.

"I know. Look, why don't you go get those parts for that engine out of technical and then we can put them together when Ben and I get back, alright pal?"

[almosthonorable]

Ben's eyes flick from Chewie to Han.

To Chewie.

Back to Han.

"Real nice feller."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Rrrrroufffff mrragggff grrrrouggg wuaa."

"Yeah I know."

Han eyes Ben.

"Saved my hide a few times. Lot of times. We go way back. Now, Chewie, please..."

The Wookie mutters something under his breath and then goes off to fix HIS ship because OBVIOUSLY Han doesn't care.

"Alright. You. Clothes. Uh, hang out here for a minute, wander around, whatever, but I'll be right back."

[almosthonorable]

With a nod, Ben watches Han go.

A quick glance around the area, and then he approaches the chess set.









When Han returns, he'll find Ben still standing in front of the board, slowing waving a palm through the holo-pieces.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

Han returns a couple minutes later with a shirt that will make Ben blend in. His boots are okay and so are his pants already. That lead spitter, well...eh.

"Havin' fun?"

He hits a couple buttons to close the access ramp to the hangar before he grins.

"C'mon. Ain't gonna see nothin' unless you're near the windows."

That grin might just be a bit 'crazy pilot at it again'.

[almosthonorable]

"One way of puttin' it."

Finally drawing back his hand, he turns and takes off his beloved hat.

"Then let's see them windows, General."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

Ben Wade has HAIR.

Wow.

Han leads the way up into the cockpit and then points at the chair on the right.

"Take that one, will ya?"

Through the cockpit windows Ben will be able to see people scurrying about, a few odd spaceships, and then closed bay doors in the distance.

He pulls the cockpit door shut. "And you can leave that hat on until later if you want." He wanders around behind the seats, flipping switches and other lit buttons. No engine noise or rumble, yet, though.

[almosthonorable]

A damn fine head of hat-hair, at that.

He folds himself into the chair, trying not to show any discomfort while Han fiddles around.

His lips twitch a little as he replaces his hat, and he studies the ships through the window.

Chancing a glance behind his shoulder, "The hell you doin', anyway?"

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"You said you wanted a tour, didn't you?"

fwoom

Suddenly, she's alive. Power springs to the controls in front of, behind, above, and around Ben and the panels light up, various states of colored keys and blinking lights.

There's a vibration.

It's power.

Han strides over and hops into his chair to Ben's left and leans up to the comm.

"Solo requesting hangar bay X19 access for hyperdrive test flight, blast doors open please?"

"Yes sir."

Those hangar doors at the far end move after a second and it's just black.

[almosthonorable]

It's unsettling.

Unsettling as all hell, is what it is.

Ben's eyes move from panel to panel, and he works to keep his expression carefully neutral, though his right hand fists into the side of his pant-leg.

And then the doors open.

And Ben stares.







" -- looks a little different'n it does from the ground."

Or a lot.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Without the atmosphere to distort the lightwaves, they don't blink. The lights in here block out the stars. When we get out there you'll be able to see the stars."

Han glances over.

"Y'might want the seatbelt on before we get goin'."

He taps at his own hip, and if Ben looks at his chair he'll see the end of the belt and get the picture.

Han waits.

Patiently.

Sort of.

(The Falcon does take three minutes to come up to full power, anyway.)

[almosthonorable]

Tearing his eyes away from so much nothing, he looks over and nods.

Seatbelt.

Huh.

He grabs the belt and only fumbles for a split before it clicks into place.

Almost cheerfully, "We hit somethin' and I get stuck in this contraption, I'm blamin' you."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"We hit something and it knocks the grav spanners loose, you'll be glad you have that on."

No, he's not going to explain why.

Unless Ben asks.

Han's not wearing his seatbelt. In fact, he's up again and wandering around the cockpit. Flicking switches again.

"General, you're clear," the comm crackles. "Expected return time?"

He slides back into the seat and hits the button. "Ah, just taking her out for another test run, see if I managed to fix the hyperdrive engine I blew last time out or if she needs more work. Won't be too long."

"Have a safe flight sir."

"Yeah."

He rolls his neck around and then takes control of the stick, leaning very, very gently on the throttle.

It's like they're floating (because they are) towards those big open doors.

[almosthonorable]

Eyebrow.

"What happens when that happens?"

Listening to the exchange, a second eyebrow joins the first.

Wryly, "Blew out an engine. Sounds awful safe'n — "

And they're floating.

Hovering.

And moving.

Ben's fist curls tighter against his knee.

But he's grinning, just a little.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"She'll hold together," he promises. "I just pushed her a little too hard."

It's like a horse. Sort of.

Floating. Hovering.

Slowly.






"And well, if the grav shift goes then the ship doesn't compensate for which way is up and which way is down, so you get really turned around and it's just not fun at all. Haven't blown that in a long time, though."

And then they pass the edge of the doorway and it's nothing but black and pinpricks of stars.

[almosthonorable]

Slow.

Slow's good.

Easy.

It's kinda like riding a horse — only not.

"Well, let's hope like hell that don't — "

And then his eyes widen, just a little.





Looks a lot different from here.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"You think the Falcon is big?"

Han nudges the thrusters to spin the ship around, so now they're falling backwards.

Away from the hangar and the ship they were on.

It's huge.

[almosthonorable]

Goddamn.

A quiet, impressed chortle.

"'Bout how many folks live on this thing?"

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Couple thousand? She's the command ship."

There are others. None of them are quite as big. Some smaller shuttles are scurrying back and forth like cars crossing busy intersections. The fleet isn't on the move, though, so as they drift back, he turns them around that way he doesn't actually hit anything.

The sensors would warn him anyway, but it's always good to be sure.




"So you wanna start off with a bang or a bang?"

[almosthonorable]

Couple thousand.

Twice the size of Dodge City's population floating right there.

At Han's question, Ben looks over.

And grins.

"You even hafta ask?"

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Astral."

Han winks.

"You should probably hang on to that hat, then."



He doesn't go directly into hyperspace. After all, he's supposed to be testing that engine. Not blowing it up again. So he merely throttles up to a speed where the stars don't quite streak and takes off in a straight line.

That grin'll get bigger once he starts doing anything other than 'straight'.

[almosthonorable]

"The hell's ast — "

The rest of the word and the question mark at the end get lost in a short, silent intake of air.

His hand hasn't made it to his hat.

Yet.