Star Wars Journal - Hero for Hire by Han Solo

Han Solo is in trouble. Recently freed from carbonite by Princess Leia, he is locked in a small, dark cell in the dungeon of Jabba the Hutt’s palace. He is awaiting a death sentence. If that’s not enough, he’s suffering from hibernation sickness—nausea, blindness, and confused thoughts. Not to mention he doesn’t know what has happened to Princess Leia. Obviously, he is in no condition to escape. And not even Chewbacca’s presence in the cell with him offers much hope.

In the meantime, Han’s presence has come to the attention of a monk, Sai’da, of the B’omarr order of monks. The B’omarr monks live in the very core of the mysterious palace where Jabba the Hutt has unlawfully staked his claim in the outer rooms. The B’omarr monks built this palace as a monastery, but eventually withdrew into the inner sanctum. They have an uneasy peace with Jabba.

Sai’da is a historian. He has a quest for knowledge of species outside of his limited sphere. He hears stories of the Rebel Alliance and of the Empire. Yet he rarely has the opportunity to talk with those involved in the daily struggles. He wonders what motivates someone to join forces with one side or the other. How does an individual life unfold and take shape? How does this affect history?

These are some of the questions that Sai’da ponders as he approaches the cell of Han Solo, led by one of Jabba’s guards. Sai’da is a tall, thin man draped in a dark robe that covers his head. He walks quietly, arms crossed, with his head tilted to the side, contemplating the coming interview. He attempts no conversation with the guard. He has a data pad in one hand that he will activate as soon as he enters the cell. All conversations will be recorded for future consideration.

Sai’da, like most highly trained B’omarr monks, has unique, mystical insight into the nature of others. He senses this will be a most interesting exchange.

Sai’da:
Greetings, Mr. Solo, I am Sai’da, a historian of the B’omarr order of monks. We built this monastery—

Han:
Whoa. I don’t think I’ll be needing any religious assistance in my final hours, buddy, since I don’t plan on staying here long enough to become an appetizer for Jabba’s rancor.

Sai’da:
No, you misunderstand. It’s your history I want. I’m not here to minister to you in your final hours.

Han:
Chewie, would you mind showing our new friend to the door? I’ve got some problems, mister, and telling you how I got here won’t help them any. No offense. Besides, I’m having a hard time even keeping my head up at the moment. I’m pretty woozy, and, oh yeah, in case you missed it, I’m blind. Chewie, help me sit down before you toss this guy out of here.

Sai’da:
There’s no need for violence. I am not your jailer. Besides, I’m locked up in here with you now. I don’t have access to the cell. One of Jabba’s guards let me in.

Han:
That still doesn’t sound too friendly to me. You and the guard are pals, right? Never mind, I don’t want to hear it.

Sai’da:
The guard and I are not acquainted. I only wish to speak with you. Since my order cultivates patience, I have time to wait. You don’t, however, seem to be feeling too well. Is it the hibernation sickness?

Han:
So, you know a few things, huh? If you’ve got some answers, you can have a seat. Like how long is this gonna last? Or even better, tell me what happened to Princess Leia.

Chewbacca:
Grrrrrrlwaugh!!

Han:
It’s okay, pal. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about our princess. But finding you in the cell was a shock. Plus I was pretty disoriented. Not to mention nauseated. But really, she’s okay. She was very much alive when she got me out of the carbonite.

We were barely reunited, though, when Jabba’s ugly laugh surprised us. A short-lived rescue. And since he’s not one to listen to reason—big surprise—next thing you know his goons have hauled me to this wet, leaky, poor excuse of a cell, and I don’t know where she is. So, what’s your name again, monk man?

Sai’da:
Sai’da.

Han:
Okay, Sai’da. Tell me where the princess is.

Sai’da:
As far as I know, she is with Jabba. She is unharmed. It is for you he harbors his animosity.

Han:
Animosity? That’s a polite way of putting it. I like how you educated types talk. I mean, I’m here waiting for Jabba’s spineless thugs to show up and you say… never mind. Listen, the point is, you don’t think the princess is in danger?

Sai’da:
I can’t be sure of anything with Jabba, but I don’t believe she is in danger for now.

Han:
For now. Not good enough. Can you get us to her? I know I don’t look like I’m in any shape for a big rescue attempt, but my best buddy here, Chewie, can handle the physical stuff.

Chewbacca:
Grrrrwwwl!

Sai’da:
I don’t want to mislead you. I am in no position to take you to the princess. I am here simply to record your history and—

Han: Maybe I’d feel a little more like talking if I thought there was something in it for me. You know your way around this place, right? But, hey, how come you’re in this monastery—you did say it was a monastery, right?

Sai’da:
Correct.

Han:
Got to be the weirdest monastery in the galaxy. Anyway, if you’re not with Jabba, what’s your deal? Why should I be wasting my time with you?

Sai’da:
Time cannot be wasted, Mr. Solo. Let me explain my presence. The B’omarr order of monks built this monastery as a place of perfect exile. It is vast. We eventually withdrew into the inner sanctum as our practices do not require much space. We focus on the power of the mind and spirit. Unfortunately, people began to break into the citadel and to use its corridors and alcoves for business purposes and hideaways. Jabba the Hutt eventually claimed a portion of our monastery as his “palace.” We rarely see him. We study our philosophies and keep our private peace.

Han:
Peace, huh? You’ve got your peace while Jabba’s wreaking havoc on half the galaxy?

Sai’da:
He is not our concern.

Han:
Well, he’s my concern, monk man, and if you’re not pals with Jabba, how come you know I’m here?

Sai’da:
We monks are aware of all that goes on in the palace. We have a mystical intuition into the inner lives of certain people. You have come to my attention. I am a historian and I am interested in your history.

Jabba accommodates some of our requests as he has a primitive fear of our powers. He provided me with access to your cell.

Han:
Jabba’s afraid of something? That’s a good one. You might just be somebody I want to know after all. So, tell me, were you aware of me and my history while I was doing my act as the frozen man?

Sai’da:
Yes, but only vaguely.

Han:
And this intuition you have? Can you use it to tell me about Leia?

Sai’da:
I can tell you that she has a powerful force inside her that is not diminished by captivity.

Han:
I could have pretty much told you that myself. I was thinking of something a little more helpful. But still… what do you think, Chewie?

Chewbacca:
Waurrgh. Rrmph.

Han:
Maybe. The monk knows this place better than we do, that’s for sure. I guess we don’t have anything to lose. You seem to be our only option, Sai’da, my man.

Sai’da:
As I said, I don’t wish to raise your hopes. I am a historian and I seek to record your story. My usefulness as an escape artist is, I’m afraid, limited. To put it mildly.

Han:
At least you’re honest. Maybe. But do you think you could answer a few questions along the way?

Sai’da:
Perhaps. As I’m able.

Han:
All right, you can start by telling me what you look like.

Sai’da:
That’s irrelevant. Only the mind matters.

Han:
Are you kidding me? You’ve been in this dungeon too long, mister, trust me. Try getting yourself frozen up in carbonite for… how long was I a wall ornament, Chewie?

Chewbacca:
Awwrk.

Han:
A year? A year. I’m surprised my brain hasn’t turned into a big piece of slug gel.

Whew. I’m not enjoying this. Being blind. I feel cornered, like someone could come at me and I’d never know what hit me. It’s not how I’m used to operating. How long exactly do you think I’ll be this way?