(no subject)
The door stays gone, for awhile. The money (all those credits and all that treasure) is lost, then found again, but he doesn't use it to pay off Jabba. Part of him kicks himself when he spends it on the Alliance instead, but there's a reason for it going towards new equipment and the cost of setting up their command at the icy base on Hoth.
(Her name is Leia.)
He's gotten used to the howling winds outside of Echo, gotten used to having the Falcon snug in the the hangar bay (he sleeps on board, the rack more comfortable than any cot in that ice palace the rest of them sleep in) and he's gotten used to the fact that he's cold all the time. Being on his ship helps, a little, but when you're on the back of a tauntaun in sub-zero temperatures, even the bright daytime sun isn't enough to get rid of the chill in your bones.
At least here, he's safe from Jabba. For now, anyways.
It's a normal patrol to set out life sensors on the plains, and the weather is cooperating to the point where the wind is light and the sky is clear of clouds. Han hates being dirtside for longer than he has to be, but thinks that he may just hate being iceside even more.
The tauntaun smells worse than Chewie after a few days without a bath half the time (and the other half of the time his nose is too numb to even register what he's smelling) and the cold creeps into his fingers. There's something to be said for sleeping on the Falcon, sure, but sometimes in that rack at night, he rubs at his hands to bring the feeling back and thinks about the fireplace back at the Bar, the way the flames crackle and the heat just radiates through you.
Steel and snow just don't feel the same.
He changes into dry gear, catches a quick nap and a cup of caf, then heads out to go check on the kid. Meteorite strikes were normal, and he just wanted to check one out, just to be sure.
Except Luke's not back. Not at the south entrance, not checked in...
Not like Luke.
There's a funny feeling in Han's chest, as he hurries back to his ship to grab his gloves and the thicker gear, the scarf around his neck, goggles on his head, comm unit, and then back to the south side again to grab another one of those damn furry beasts.
"The temperature's dropping too fast," one of the guys protests. "Your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker."
Han mounts up and grabs the reins, then remarks sharply down at the guy who dared to protest. "Then I'll see you in hell."
Night falls quick on Hoth, even if it's never completely dark. The weather has fallen to hell around him, the wind swirling drifts of snow into his face, even with the thick coat and gloves, he still feels numb.
A practical whiteout.
There's no way anyone could survive this.
+++
Back at Echo Base, Leia stands next to the Falcon and looks out of the bay doors at the swirling snow. The distance one can see is fading rapidly, and they need to close the shield doors for the night to keep the base from getting too cold.
Once those doors close...
It's a longshot, that anyone could even attempt to survive a night on the snow covered plains when the weather was cooperating. When the weather wasn't, then there's no chance at all.
Or, as the R2 unit helpfully provides, the chances of survival are grim:
735:1
Leia stares out into the snowstorm before she nods softly.
Close the doors.
(Her name is Leia.)
He's gotten used to the howling winds outside of Echo, gotten used to having the Falcon snug in the the hangar bay (he sleeps on board, the rack more comfortable than any cot in that ice palace the rest of them sleep in) and he's gotten used to the fact that he's cold all the time. Being on his ship helps, a little, but when you're on the back of a tauntaun in sub-zero temperatures, even the bright daytime sun isn't enough to get rid of the chill in your bones.
At least here, he's safe from Jabba. For now, anyways.
It's a normal patrol to set out life sensors on the plains, and the weather is cooperating to the point where the wind is light and the sky is clear of clouds. Han hates being dirtside for longer than he has to be, but thinks that he may just hate being iceside even more.
The tauntaun smells worse than Chewie after a few days without a bath half the time (and the other half of the time his nose is too numb to even register what he's smelling) and the cold creeps into his fingers. There's something to be said for sleeping on the Falcon, sure, but sometimes in that rack at night, he rubs at his hands to bring the feeling back and thinks about the fireplace back at the Bar, the way the flames crackle and the heat just radiates through you.
Steel and snow just don't feel the same.
He changes into dry gear, catches a quick nap and a cup of caf, then heads out to go check on the kid. Meteorite strikes were normal, and he just wanted to check one out, just to be sure.
Except Luke's not back. Not at the south entrance, not checked in...
Not like Luke.
There's a funny feeling in Han's chest, as he hurries back to his ship to grab his gloves and the thicker gear, the scarf around his neck, goggles on his head, comm unit, and then back to the south side again to grab another one of those damn furry beasts.
"The temperature's dropping too fast," one of the guys protests. "Your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker."
Han mounts up and grabs the reins, then remarks sharply down at the guy who dared to protest. "Then I'll see you in hell."
Night falls quick on Hoth, even if it's never completely dark. The weather has fallen to hell around him, the wind swirling drifts of snow into his face, even with the thick coat and gloves, he still feels numb.
A practical whiteout.
There's no way anyone could survive this.
+++
Back at Echo Base, Leia stands next to the Falcon and looks out of the bay doors at the swirling snow. The distance one can see is fading rapidly, and they need to close the shield doors for the night to keep the base from getting too cold.
Once those doors close...
It's a longshot, that anyone could even attempt to survive a night on the snow covered plains when the weather was cooperating. When the weather wasn't, then there's no chance at all.
Or, as the R2 unit helpfully provides, the chances of survival are grim:
735:1
Leia stares out into the snowstorm before she nods softly.
Close the doors.