The Greater Antilles

Part Thirty-Nine

~ RR - Parte the Arrival of Holly&Han ~


And then silence. Well, as near to silence as is possible in the cockpit of a YT-1300 Corellian Transport during a tropical downpour. And then a shared sigh of relief.

"So, not only is the hyperdrive intermittently out of order, but the repulsorlift engines enjoy sporadic failures too," Holly growled. She frowned at the pilot as he brought the ship down onto solid ground.

"Look, sister, I told you we might run into a few problems. Chewie hadn't finished overhauling her." Han Solo patted the console of Millennium Falcon affectionately.

"Maybe more work would get done if you bothered your arse to help out the poor Wookiee."

"Hey! Just because your payment in return for my services is of great value in certain parts of the galaxy, doesn't mean you can insult me." Han cautioned Holly with an admonitory waggled finger. She looked over at the two crate-loads of Dr Pepper.

"I didn't know that stuff sold so well on Coruscant." Holly pointed through the transparisteel viewport at the vast mansion, which, although shrouded in warm gray mist, probably looked majestic and Greekish-Romanish-Egyptianish in fairer weather. "The venue for WAAScon 2001. Rather fabulous, I say." She eased herself out of the seat as gracefully as one can whilst wearing 5-inch heeled platform boots. "Right. If you'll just grab my bags, then we'll be getting off this hunk of junk."

Han shot her a 'Who's-scruffy-looking' glare, but his retort was silenced before he had inhaled enough air to sound suitably insulted. "Pretty please? I'll open the door. Hey, look at it this way: the more work you do, the more you get paid."

"You're fresh out of Dr Pepper."

"Two crates now, and fifteen when you've flown me home again."

"Seventeen, huh? You've got yourself a baggage-handler."

"Fankoo, Han!" Holly cooed as she shuffled past him out of the cockpit, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek on the way past and then blushing furiously. As the boarding ramp slowly dropped at the push of a button, Holly adjusted her purple-tinted sunglasses and smoothed down her metallic silver dress.

"Hello fellow WA - huh? What the Sith is that?" she exclaimed, halting her descent abruptly and causing the struggling Han to walk into her and drop all the bags. The Bizarre Scene in front of the mansion was so attention-grabbing that Holly didn't bask in the sudden Han-nearness; instead she stared with one raised eyebrow and an expression of bemusement at the huge wooden dinosaur tied to a Landrover and surrounded by girls in bikinis and men in orange flightsuits.

"Han, the bags can wait." She grabbed Han by the, uh, misunderstanding, then re-grabbed him by the hand and dragged him over to the drenched dino-gazers.

"Hi. I'm Holly. This is Han Solo. You're WAASers. You're... Oh hello, you're those flyboys. And that's a wooden dinosaur," she said, pointing at relevant intervals. "What's going on?"

Continued in 40