Leia, A Novel

Princess Leia Organa, lately of the space-transport The Millennium Falcon, pulled a lever in an effort to re-engage the damaged engine of that vehicle. The flying hack sat in woeful disrepair since its captain, the dastardly pirate Han Solo, piloted the rickety rust bucket into a deep crater upon a planet-like body afloat in the dark abyss of the heavens. It took all of the venerable princess’ composure not to direct an improper word at the stubborn lever, which protested even after she had welded it whilst wearing a most displeasing set of goggles, unfashionable lo these past three seasons.

One moment later, Mr. Solo, who was most assuredly not a gentleman of any means, manners, or delightful expressions, ambled by in an inelegant fashion, resembling a scruffy nerfherder. In perfect bad character, he reached for the princess like a Wookiee desirous of a side of fresh bantha. His hand brushed hers, which was, at the moment, unprotected by a glove. Such familiar contact was, naturally, not befitting a royal of her dignity and stature in the universe. With a most bitter sigh, she rebuffed his efforts at chicanery, which was surely all the smuggler was about.

The villain spoke: “My most humble pardons, Your Worship. I intervened only in an effort to assist you in your welding distress.”

Princess Leia rolled her expressive eyes, for the odious man declined to utilize her proper title, though she had schooled him in the use of it repeatedly at the frozen tundras of the Rebel base, located in the neighborhood of Hoth. “Mr. Solo,” replied she, “kindly refrain from addressing me thusly.”

“Indeed, Princess.”

The maiden frowned, for his acquiescence puzzled her. She bristled with disdain for the ruffian, yet her heart inexplicably beeped like an overwrought R2 unit in his presence. She turned away. “You do make things distressing at times.”

“Indubitably, I do. But perhaps you might leave off behaving as if I were Jabba the Hutt. You must acknowledge that betimes, in certain conditions, you do not consider me a loathsome laser brain.”

It seemed pure folly to acknowledge this statement, so the princess rubbed her aggrieved hand. Perhaps one pleasant consequence of the explosion of her planet might be that her mother, who interfered dreadfully with her daughter’s life, would never observe Leia participating in the manual repair of a space carriage, or exchanging pleasantries with a base marauder like Han Solo.

At length, she deigned to reply, “On certain occasions, when you take the opportunity to set aside your scoundrel ways, it may be that your character does not approximate that of a conduit worm.”

The uncouth rake laughed at her astute observation, displaying for all the galaxy his low-born manners. “Scoundrel? Scoundrel? Such a word, directed as it is at my person, is eminently pleasing to my ears.”

In a complete disregard for propriety, Mr. Solo took Leia’s hand and caressed it familiarly. Only he could be so bold!

“Desist your caress, sir!”

“I have no idea to what you are referring.”

Leia had been reared properly in the court of Alderaan. Certainly, on occasion, she might have opportunity to encounter the stray military regiment of Storm Troopers, or be obliged to make a swift escape from doom during her missions of diplomatic mercy. However, until today, she had never suffered trepidation and blushes such as she presently endured.

“Cease, I pray, for my hands are soiled with the common grease of drudgery.”

The half-witted scalawag made no efforts to halt his untoward stroking of her shockingly naked palm. “No apologies are necessary, Worshipfulness, for, you see, my very own hands are similarly besmirched. What apprehension creases your porcelain brow?”

“Apprehension?”

Mr. Solo abandoned all delicacy and drew the princess toward him. “What a pity it is that you tremble so.”

“I must disagree. I am not trembling.”

“Your protestations notwithstanding, you have a great opinion of me because I am a scoundrel. Indeed, I have often considered that an increase in the number of scoundrels in your acquaintance would improve your disposition.”

“I cannot oblige your misapprehension. I enjoy the company of pleasant Rebel gentlemen.”

“I am a pleasant gentleman.”

“Not at all. You — ”

Without further ado, the reprobate placed his lips upon hers! This gratuitous display of libidinous passion was interrupted by the metallic manservant, C3PO.

“Sir!” spake the machine excitedly. “Upon attempting repairs to the equipage, I came upon the reverse power flux coupling and rendered it isolated.”

Mr. Solo ceased his ministrations upon the stricken princess and muttered, “How very fortunate a turn of events, goldenrod. I am in your debt.”

“I took no trouble at all about the matter,” replied the hapless droid.

Leia slipped away, lest her reputation be as soiled as her hands.