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| Cold by R2-B9 |
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Han had felt the cold of deep space once, for a brief second as a hull breach had been blasted in the Millenium Falcon's cockpit. Beyond the feeling of having his soul sucked out through his fingertips as he slapped a temporary plasteel patch over the gap, it was not this cold.
Blackness and cold drowned him, for he could not see, nor breathe.
Han longed for the heat of Vader's torture instruments, or to roll in the snows of Hoth, anything, just make the cold stop. He couldn't panic, though. Something about the carbonite freezing process acted as a suppressor of such feelings. He wasn't in perfect hibernation, and he'd heard Lando say. He was wide awake, totally cold, but unable to move. He wished for sleep, or death, or something besides this feeling of
being totally aware.
Boba Fett's ship? Great. Thanks, Vader. Next time I get a shot at
you, I'll be sure and be using one of the Falcon's quad laser cannons. Let's see you deflect that with your parlor tricks. Damn the force, anyway. If it weren't for all that hocus-pocus I'd have fried him like I fried Greedo.
What?
Blaster fire? Luke??? Leia, I heard you yell his name. Luke, ol'
buddy, thanks for thinking to come and rescue us, about time you paid me back... the shots, they've stopped... I don't hear any thing now, wait, is that wind? We must be outside. Aw, Luke... pal... you can't have gone down that quick. Filthy stormtroopers must've ambushed you. I swear, if I ever get out of here, I won't be satisfied until there isn't a piece of trooper armor without my blaster marks on it for you.
Poor Leia.
She had to see that happen... she's lost me, and her fallback, in the
span of an hour. It figures. She finally gets up the nerve to say she loves me, and I'm zapped into this ice-cube. Funny, I never thought I'd be the one giving her the cold shoulder. Oh, that's it, I've been in carbonite an hour, and I've completely lost it.
C'mon Fett, let's get this show on the road. I'd like to personally thank you for all your efforts at living up to your bounty-hunter reputation. You've
finally gotten the upper hand. I hope I get to see it when Jabba ices you, instead of paying you off for my delivery. Maybe we'll see that ugly face of yours, right before his pet rancor makes a snack of you like so many of Jabba's other business associates. I won't be so lucky. At least I'll be out
of here soon. Tattooine is only a few hours by hyperspace from here. Jabba won't waste any time taking care of me. He's had three
years to build up steam, and I don't think the treasury of the Empire
could buy him off.
Huh, if I ever get out of here. I know what the next thing I'll be
seeing is. Jabba's ugly, slime-coated face. He's going to make a great display of killing me in some grand fashion, in front of his lackeys. If there's one thing generous about Jabba, he likes his shows to entertain as many as possible.
At least it'll be warm.
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