garbageship | That's no moon... Wait, no, it's a moon.

This isn't about killing anyone. Not unless it's absolutely necessary. The less killing they have to do, the better. Han has no doubt Ben can handle himself with a lightsaber; this is about new skills, not old ones.

"It's a start." Hopping off his rock he shrugs his jacket back into place, bends to pick up a couple of rocks. Moving targets take work, after all, more so when you're trying to do it without one of your customary senses. Han is expecting Ben will do pretty well, not nearly as well as he'd like. Way back when, he used to be able to get him to keep it up, now and then. Not with everything, but this one's important.

"Come on, let's see."

Regrettably, he can even see the wisdom in learning skills that don't depend on the force. He doesn't have many, and doing things without the aid of the force takes considerable concentration. If he ever intends to visit a populated planet, he'll need to be able to suppress the one power he has that he trusts.

In the interest of not spending the foreseeable future on the Falcon, he takes the stance that Kitty showed him and nods. This is going to be humiliating.

Flexibility is a skill in itself, and it's one Ben will benefit from, his father thinks. It's the one advantage the Rebels always had over the Empire; for that matter it's a lot of why Han couldn't stand the Imperials, why he threw in his lot with Leia and Luke and theirs, why he didn't have any stomach for the Republic's politics.

Seeing Ben ready to give it an honest try does make him smile a bit, though, and he pitches the rock as hard and high as he can.

Flexibility never seemed like something that needed to be mastered when he could accomplish everything with the force. His training included physical exercises, too—the force is best channeled by a strong body—but nothing like this. None of the weapons that those who don't have powers need to rely on. It wasn't necessary.

He shoots several times in quick succession and comes close, but doesn't land a hit. He also doesn't redirect his shots or slow down the rock's fall, so it wasn't a total failure.

"Again."

And that is their best shot against the First Order, too. It hasn't escaped Han's notice that if Ben goes back to the dark side, they're going to have made him much more dangerous.

"Good," he says approvingly, watching Ben's movements, his eyes, the way he's tracking the target rather than the rock itself. Those shots don't hit, but they come close enough that in a real fight they'd do some damage. More importantly. Ben is struggling and working through it, which is exactly what he wants.

He throws another rock.

If anything, the First Order is more rigid than the Empire. Not Snoke, necessarily, but the military arm controlled by General Hux. They're so regimented and incapable of reacting to spontaneity. Kylo Ren took great pleasure in bringing chaos into their meticulously-organized ranks and gumming up the gears of their perfect war machine. No one appreciated his capriciousness.

In many ways, he never stopped being his parents' son.

He's too tense this time and his aim suffers for it. Fiery intensity can be helpful at times, but this isn't an exercise that requires as much as he usually throws behind his efforts. He takes a moment to calm himself.

"Again."

Fundamentally terrible as that is, relying on a sadistic affinity for chaos, there's little doubt it'd make Han grin if he knew it. That's his boy. (More like him than he ever was when he was at home, for that matter.) He's got his moments of falling into line, recognizing his duty, but all these years haven't bred the scoundrel out of Han.

The problem with that try is obvious but Ben takes stock and adjusts before he can say anything. Good, also good. The real question is if he could keep this up in a fight, could manage to aim and fire and dodge and cover without giving in to the easy path and using the Force.

After a beat he tosses the next rock, stoops to grope for another, still watching.

It might take a fight to find out if he can override his instinctive use of the force.

This time, his second shot lands. It's not a glorious victory, but it's an accomplishment. Without thinking, he glances over at his father. For approval? Validation? Another rock? He doesn't even know.

He's off to a good start, and obviously Han is proud. So approval, if that's what he's looking for? Done.

"It's all timing," he affirms. Bending to patience and understanding, rather than making the forces involved bend to you. Han's not exactly proud that his son shot a rock, he's pleased to see him making the effort to do it the difficult way, since that-- above all else-- has always been his greatest weakness.

"Don't lock your elbows. Another?"

If he says yes, he'll throw the next stone.

What are these warmish feelings that make him want to keep doing this until he gets it right? Goals are supposed to be accomplished because the consequences of not meeting them are horrible.

"I'll get the timing right." It's more of a threat to himself than a promise to Han. Don't lock the elbows, don't tense, rock with the recoil, aim where the target will be and not where it is, don't fail at something as pedestrian as shooting a blaster. Stormtroopers can use blasters. He's better than a stormtrooper.

"Yes."

No one is gladder than Han Solo about the high miss rate of Stormtroopers, but they're not that bad. They train, which is exactly what Ben is doing now. It takes time, and since it's not just a question of survival of course there needs to be some other motivation. Of course he was proud of Ben when he was young, but there's a different tenor to it now; everything carries much more weight because he's coming from so much further away.

It's a lot to remember at once, but people get the hang of it. He pitches the stone as high as he can.

"Surviving" is really good motivation. Whatever motivation is present right now isn't nearly as strong, but he's going to stick with it while it lasts. (And maybe this will become a matter of survival. Knowing how to fight without the force could be necessary if none the grimmer futures he has been contemplating pan out.)

Maybe he needs to approach this differently. When he's at his most effective with the force, he rarely puts too much thought into what he's doing. His mind and all of the chaos that goes on inside of it tend to hinder more than help. He can turn it down.

This time, he lets go of all of the advice and overthinking and just shoots. It's a clean hit.

For a minute he isn't sure he believes it, only because using his abilities is so ingrained into Ben's nature that such a smooth shot seems too simple. But it looked right. There's no odd disconnect between his body language and the look of concentration on his face, and nothing-- not the rock, the gun, or the bolt of energy-- moved in any way but how it ought to.

(It makes sense, he reasons. Just because he hasn't used blasters doesn't mean he knows nothing about fighting; about timing, aiming, controlling his actions,)

(It makes sense, because he's his father's son.)

Han can't help a grin.

"Another, or do you wanna try something harder?"

If the force was involved, it was in a subtle way that he wasn't aware of.

(Ben has been training in one way or another almost constantly for the vast majority of his life. Is aiming a blaster so different from blocking a blaster's bolt? Can't lessons learned from one weapon be applied to another?)

He allows himself a self-satisfied almost-smile even though the accomplishment was small. It's proof that he can do something without the force. He's not always sure that he can.

"What would be harder?"

It's not obvious? His grin hasn't quite faded yet, as he stands tossing the rock idly in one hand. Han takes a moment to scout out the landscape, finding the rest of their party and making a mental note of where they are, then nods his head in the other direction. It's a clear path for quite a few meters.

Just a father and son playing catch, right?

"Running start."

Moving target, moving shot. If he makes the shot and doesn't use the force it'll be blind luck. Still worth practicing.

That sure does warrant a there's-no-way-that's-going-to-happen-but-okay look.

"I'm going to miss." He's also going to do it, he just wants to make sure all expectations are nice and low before he does.

"Probably."

Annoyingly, he sounds pretty cheerful about the prospect. In fairness, Han might well miss, too. Nothing for it but to try. He readies himself, intending to match the running start before he pitches it.

One of them might as well be cheerful about inevitable failure.

With great reluctance, he sets off at a leisurely jog, blaster at the ready.

Look, if you're facing inevitable failure, you might as well have some fun with it.

He hangs back just a little, enough to avoid any stray shots, and throws the stone while running-- arcing it high, so there's a little further for it to fall, time for maybe one extra shot at it.

Fun isn't something that he does anymore. That sabacc game came close; they might need to do more fun training when they're back on the ship.

He instinctively frees a hand to slow the rock (the hand-waving isn't strictly necessary when using the force, but it does allow for greater accuracy and strength) and manages to catch himself before actually doing anything. The sloppy one-handed shot he gets in misses completely.

He frowns and runs a hand through his hair. Being bad at things isn't fun at all. "I lost focus."

"The more you've got going on..." He shrugs. That's why they're doing this; it's not accuracy, still, it's flexibility. Keeping track of everything at once. Better to get the practice in when its not life and death.

"Try again?"

He doesn't seem the least bit disappointed.

What's annoying is that he knows he can multitask in a fight. That's with the aid of the force, though; this is like running around with a key sense missing, isn't it? Or is he capable of broadening his focus without the force? He hasn't tried. He has no idea what his abilities are like.

He nods decisively. "Yes."

This time, his jog is much closer to an actual run. Things are getting real.

Probably there's going to be a tipping point, here, when the frustration outweighs the utility of challenging himself. For now Han isn't looking ahead. This is Ben's task but he's just as invested, pushing himself to match his speed. He wonders sometimes what would have happened if their son had taken after him. By now maybe he'd be a crack shot.

Maybe he'd have rebelled and moved to Tatooine to take up moisture farming. Who knows.

The rock goes sailing and Han stops short, breathing heavy but not losing sight of it.

Eventually. With a fiery temperament, there's a fine line between the need to overcome a challenge and the temptation to get mad and quit when the challenge isn't surmounted quickly enough.

He could have always become obsessed with Anakin's early life and developed a love of racing. Slightly more exciting than moisture farming.

Ben keeps both hands on the blaster and shoots twice. Both miss, of course, but he was tracking it well and likely would have hit something if it had been person-sized. Even though he's clearly not pleased with his performance, he seems to be accepting that this is a thing he can't master in an hour.

(He wouldn't have had to leave home to take up racing. Han prefers to fly but he knows his way around a speeder, and even if he'd worried he'd have been there at the sidelines, cheering. Solo men love a little danger.)

"If that was bigger--" he says, the approving tone and nod ought to finish it. "How do you feel?"

Like he's learning? Tired of running?

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