Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Commander Luke Skywalker: a young pilot that served directly under Lord Vader.  He had made headlines in all the major (Imperial controlled) networks for his heroism at the Crushank Nebula and Kuat, leading to a desperate field promotion that stuck, despite the efforts he had apparently made to give it back.  That had been three months ago; in the time since, the boy had practically made himself a celebrity entirely by accident, from the fact that he was born on Empire Day to that warm little smile of his. Devout Imperials both admired and envied him, soldiers and pilots looked up to him, and little tween girls and boys gushed over his good looks and farmboy-like charm.

Tula Ven, personally, could not stand him, but then again she could not stand celebrities to begin with.

It was the curse of being a celebrity column writer in the Empire.  They all had a Face they showed the public, one that was entirely fake and hiding something much darker underneath.  She had seen it all, from secret spice smuggling to people that kept “servants” of questionable age and origin. Celebrity scandals were not unheard of, but reporting anything worse than a breakup or relationship that was off the cuff was a quick way to get oneself fired.  It was even worse when the celebrity was also military, as reporting anything objectionable could lead to never being heard from again.

“Celebrity” was just a fancy word for “criminal” in the Empire.

Tula did not doubt it would be the same case with Skywalker.  Considering who he was working under, there was no question he had a free pass to murder whomever he wanted without being prosecuted for it.  Still, he was her current target: the Thing to Write About, and since he was flying in to Imperial Center for the first time, she had to stand out on a cold platform in the early morning with other reporters trying to get photos and vids for their own segments.

The cold made it feel like forever before the shuttle carrying the commander and Lord Vader landed.  Flashes started immediately as the ramp lowered, and only increased as the dark lord descended first, with Commander Skywalker following at a comfortable distance.  The others started shouting questions, but Tula knew better than to expect answers; Vader barely tolerated their presence when they were allowed to gather at his landing sites, and she did not doubt his little shadow would be the same way.  Instead of shouting with the others, she kept her focus on the boy, his young age so very apparent despite his stone-faced expression. It was only exemplified by how woefully short he was; while Lord Vader towered above just about everyone in the galaxy, but the top of Skywalker’s head barely reached his shoulder.  She could only imagine how awkward that was to deal with.

What really caught her attention was the serious command over the crowd he had, despite not even sparing them a glance.  Vader was someone to fear to be sure; no one approached him willingly, and he seemed to have an aura around him that repelled even the most daring of reporters.  The kid seemed to share that trait, as she got the impression it was because of him that many of the reporters around her were giving up earlier than usual, slinking off to come up with their flowery, fake words that would make the whole, useless sham look good.

Well, she was not going to bolt already.

Tula was not sure where the thought originated from — sheer spite or disgust.  Either way, as the others started to break up, she made her way through the crowd and toward the edge of the area.  She knew the limits of where she could go, and she knew the stormtroopers that guarded the edge of that perimeter were probably giving her the stink eye under their helmets.  She shot one of them a look right back, before returning her attention to the two of them, only to find Skywalker looking directly at her.  He turned away after a moment, quickening his pace to come to Vader’s side.  Words were exchanged that she could not hear, before the dark lord waved him off almost dismissively.  The boy nodded, before breaking away from the lord, coming over to her.

“Is there something I can help  you with, miss?”

Well, this was working better than she expected, nevermind there was almost a million ways this could go south in the space of a heartbeat.

“Ven,” she introduced.  “Tula Ven, Imperial Star Light.”

An almost stressed smile came to his face, like he was instantly regretting his choice to approach her.

“Ah… the celebrity news printing…” he muttered, his distaste over her job very clear.  Well, at least they had one thing in common.

“You’re a popular household name, Commander,” she replied.  “It’s only natural that a publication like mine would want to write about the real you.”

He let out a faint snort at that, and Tula suspected he knew what she really meant.  A strange look came to his face, like he was focusing on something beyond what she could see, before he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small communicator.  A few taps, and he was broadcasting his signal to her own unit, a faint beep coming from it as the code was accepted.

“I have something very important to attend to, so I can’t answer questions now,” he explained, “but please call me this evening to arrange a meeting.  I’ll be happy to answer questions then.”

Tula stared at him as he nodded to her politely, before starting up the stairs to the palace.  She had not expected to get an interview on the spot, but she had not anticipated getting the commander’s personal com code either.

She stared down at her hand unit, baffled, and almost turned away from the palace.  Instead, she glanced up as she saw the commander reach the top of the stairs. Words were exchanged… before Darth Vader, most feared and untouchable man in the galaxy, turned and put a hand on the boy’s middle back, ushering him inside.

Well… that was interesting…

~.oOOo.~

“He’s pulling your kriffin’ leg, Venven.”

Tula glared bitterly over her mug of day-old caff, not in the mood.  She hated that nickname for a number of reasons, chief among them being the source.   Thalon Tek was a good looking man, and that was about all he had going for him, other than being her boss.  He was the worst kind of boss one could hope for to boot, one that seemed to think insulting his employees was a smart business model.  If she did not have obligations, she would have quit after her first day under his “rule”.

“There’s no way he’s ever going to answer your call,” he continued.  “I wouldn’t have thought you so prone to a rookie mistake.”

Tula fought against a twitch, feeling her blood starting to boil.

“I don’t make rookie mistakes,” she replied, checking the chronometer on the far office wall.  Sunset had been ages ago, but she wanted to wait a moment to be certain. Whatever the commander was doing, it probably had something to do with military meetings, and those could run long.  “He’s a kid, just over a year out of the Academy and risen to star status overnight. He’s too earnest to lie to get out of an interview.”

“So you say…” Thalon muttered into his own cup of caff, his doubt obvious.

Tula gave into the urge to twitch then, pointedly pulling out her hand unit, before flicking it over to the commander’s number, and enjoying the fisheyes she received as the com picked up on the second buzz.

“Miss Ven?”

She tossed Thalon a smirk, before she answered, “Yes, Commander Skywalker.  About that interview…?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied.   “I have the lunch period free tomorrow, if you don’t mind choosing the place to eat?  I’m afraid I don’t know Imperial Center well.”

“Of course,” she replied amicably, before rambling off a place she enjoyed, relishing the sight of Thalon’s jaw dropping as the commander agreed to being picked up.

She disconnected the call, before reaching over, pushing Thalon’s mouth closed with the hand unit.

“I don’t make rookie mistakes.”

~.oOOo.~

Commander Skywalker was exactly in the spot he promised to meet her at when Tula pulled up to the Imperial Palace at noon the next day, which only made her wish the boss was around so she could shove it in his smug, stupid face.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, Darth Vader was also there, hovering over the young man like a protective parent, though whatever they were talking about was cut short as she approached. She could feel the eyes under that mask boring through her skull as the commander left his side, and she desperately tried to ignore it while making the mental note to ask what that was all about.

The commander greeted her amicably, and the two of them were able to pull away without interference.  Still, the boy’s gaze lingered on Vader as they left, finally turning to face forward once he was out of sight.

“Please forgive him,” he began.  “There’s not much he cares about, but he’s protective of the things he does care for.”

It was almost uncanny how he picked up on what she was going to ask.  Tula glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, keeping her primary focus on the travel lanes before her.

“He cares about you?”

“Yes,” he replied easily, like it was not a big deal Vader had actual emotions.  “He knew my parents, and I saved his life over Yavin.”

“I see…” Tula murmured.  Yavin… the “official” story there was the Rebels senselessly blew up a peaceful installation, not that she believed that for a second.  It was not her place to judge, though, especially to the face of a military man that had been there.

Imperial Center traffic was hellacious on a good day, especially during the lunch rush, but today was especially heinous.  Tula fought back the urge to grumble under her breath, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of her speeder. The commander seemed distracted, staring off at something she could not see like he had yesterday.  It was unsettling, and she almost asked him a question just to get him to focus on something else for a hot minute, when he finally spoke.

“Get down.”

Tula’s head snapped toward him, a demand as to what that was supposed to mean on her lips.  That was cut off before she could get it out as he dove for her protectively. Blaster shots rang out a moment later, and she very nearly screamed as her speeder shook.  The commander let her up in the next moment, and she glanced back to see burn streaks on the trunk of her speeder.

“Get us out of here,” he ordered, and Tula did not need to question why.  She only needed to follow his gaze to see a very clearly illegally modified speeder coming around for another pass.  Her hands were flying over the controls in the next moment, her heart leaping into her throat and staying there.

“Hang on!” she warned, before sending the vehicle in a dive straight down.   She dimly heard the commander let out a yelp, clinging to the side of the speeder, but she ignored him.  There were more important things to worry about, like the myriad of things in front of them that could kill them on impact, not to mention the idiots behind them taking potshots at their backs.

She finally leveled off somewhere around level 100, dodging and weaving about the traffic that still persisted.  It was lighter than the upper levels, giving them more room to move, but also making them an easier target. She flinched as a stray blast nearly scored a hit, sharply banking the speeder between two buildings.

“You drive this thing like it’s a TIE fighter!”

Tula could not help but smirk.  “From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He glanced at her, an amused light in his eyes.

“Why aren’t you flying with the Empire?”

Tula frowed, almost wanting to remind him that he was supposed to be the one getting questions thrown at him, but she decided against it.  What was a little tidbit about herself going to do?

“I’d be lying if I said I never considered it,” she admitted, pausing to send the speeder in a stomach lurching spiral to avoid a blast, righting them before continuing, “Mom wanted a writer in the family, so I got stuck fulfilling that need.”

She could see him frowning out of the corner of her eye, and knew the follow up question before it was asked.

“Why not do what you want?”

Tula scrunched her face up in annoyance, really not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed while they were flying for their lives.  She clutched the controls a little tighter, flinching as they were grazed again.

“What mom wants, mom gets,” she snapped back irritably.  “That’s all that matters.”

Nevermind what anyone else wants.  It was the story of her miserable existence, really; always catering to the needs of other people.  It did not matter if it was her mother or her boss, or the annoying celebrities she hated; she existed only to make them look good.

There were times she could not stand herself.

Tula let out a yelp as their pursuers scored a better hit on their backside, struggling with the controls for a moment.  Too close; they were getting much more accurate!

“Well, since we’re about to die anyway, I may as well be honest,” she began.  “At this point, I’m so cynical about the Empire, I wouldn’t be a very good recruit.  I’ve seen too many people get away with too much. The whole system took the corruption of the Republic and turned it on it’s head, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

Tula expected to at least be called a traitor for that, maybe even get accused of setting this whole thing up.  She was surprised to see the gloomy look on Skywalker’s face when she glanced over at him, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I understand how you feel,” he admitted, before shifting in his seat, glancing back.  “Keep flying straight.”

“What are you—” Tula began, before she cut herself off, glancing over to see him undoing his harness, standing up as he pulled something out of a hidden pocket.  “Are you—?!”

She found herself cut off again as the kid activated the thing, a brilliant blue blade springing to life in his hands.  Her eyes went wide, before she turned away, flopping back in her seat and staring straight ahead. Holy kriff, that was a karking lightsaber.  This was probably the biggest thing she could not write about in the history of everything.

She could hear their pursuers firing on them, followed by crackling noises as the blasts hit the saber and rebound, sending them right back to their attackers.  How embarrassing would it be if one was hit by their own blaster fire? Pretty damn embarrassing probably; it would make it hard to face your fellow thugs if you survived the attack at the very least.

“Hit the brakes!” he shouted over the roar of the wind around them, just as they came out into an open area.  Tula muttered a prayer under her breath as she slammed her foot on the decelerator, squeezing her eyes shut. An odd noise filled her ears, like plasma cutting through metal, and it only made her tighten her grip on the controls, flinching when an explosion followed soon after.

Tula finally opened her eyes when she felt Skywalker plop back into his seat, seeing what was left of their attackers first: a flaming black streak on a building.  What a way to go.

The kid nodded toward where they had come from after a moment.

“Let’s head down,” he suggested.  “We should be able to hide for awhile in the lower levels.”

~.oOOo.~

Somehow they managed to find a bar that was only marginally dingy, but it still was enough for them to blend in with the local wildlife.  Tula kept her eyes on Skywalker as they ordered, part of her half expecting him to sprout bat wings or grow a second head like some monster.  He did not seem to notice or care about her scrutiny, finally looking up at her once the server droid walked off with his order. An eyebrow shot up, like he was wordlessly encouraging her to speak her mind.

“So it’s okay for Jedi to exist if they faithfully serve the Empire, hunh?” she blurted out.  He snorted at that, an almost mischievous grin coming to his face.

“I use the Force, but I’m no Jedi,” he replied.

“What’s the difference?” she shot back, already feeling the adrenaline rush from before dissolve into hot blooded irritation, especially as he just shrugged in response.

“From how Lord Vader describes them, ideology, I suppose,” he replied.  “There used to be Jedi that didn’t follow the old Order so strictly. My father was one of them.”

Tula raised an eyebrow at that.  A kid born when the Empire was formed that was the son of a Jedi?  Where did she even begin with the ridiculousness that was this kid?

“And he was…?”

“Anakin Skywalker.  He was—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Tula cut him off, waving a hand dismissively.  Of course he was related to the Hero with no Fear. Why not? “You realize how ridiculous that is, don’t you?  It sounds like the plot of a soap opera.”

He actually had the nerve to laugh at that, his blue eyes alight with amusement.

“My family is a little… unconventional, I won’t deny that,” he admitted.  “It’s brought me unwanted attention, as you noticed.”

Tula fought back a shudder as she remembered the flaming streak left on that building, leaning back from the table as the droid returned with their order.  She nursed her caff gingerly once it left, not really in the mood for the food she half-heartedly ordered. Skywalker was clearly not having any issues, if the way he dug in was any indication; must have been nice to have an iron stomach.

“So what is a son of an infamous Jedi doing serving under Lord Vader?” she finally asked.  Hey, she still had a job to do, even if she could not publish any of this information he was freely giving her.

The commander spared her a smile, having the grace to finish what he was chewing on before he answered: “Lord Vader took me in after I ran away from home, took me to the Academy and set me on this path in life.  When he told me about my parents, who they were, it was hard for me not to continue to respect him. My existence was against the law, but he still looked after me.”

“And you don’t mind that your father is probably rolling in his grave knowing his only son is working with his murderer?”

Those blue eyes of his were practically glowing with the mischievousness hidden behind them.

“I never said my father was dead.”

Oh, now what the kriff did that mean?  Anakin Skywalker was actually alive?  There was no way that was possible; the Hero with no Fear had a reputation, one that made it impossible for him to still be walking around the galaxy unnoticed.  He would have to completely reinvent himself; maybe wear a mask and—

Tula’s thought process stopped cold, her eyes slowly widening as it dawned on her.  The touching, how close Skywalker was to him, the overbearing protectiveness; she had even thought that he had been hovering over the kid like a protective parent, but the idea of Lord Vader having a child was so ludicrous that…

“I have a headache…” she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead as she leaned back in her seat.   “Why are you telling me all this?  I can’t write about any of this!  Even if I did, I would be considered a laughing stock, assuming I lived long enough to hear my coworkers cackling at me.”

Skywalker looked like he was going to start laughing during her rant, a broad smile on his face.  Tula wanted to scream at him for being a pest, for pulling her leg, but she just knew he was telling the truth.  No one could fabricate such an elaborate work of fiction and make it believable at the same time.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted softly.  “But I do feel you’re a good person that wants to do good in the galaxy; to right the wrongs brought about or made easier by the Empire.”

His expression softened, almost looking sad.

“My father and I want that too.  More than anything.”

~.oOOo.~

The chronometer had ticked over to the next day ages ago, and still Tula found herself staring at her computer.  The blank document stared back at her, cursor blinking expectantly, but she could not find it in her to start typing.

She had managed to drop Skywalker off without further incident, and she had not missed it when he was practically pounced on by Vader as she pulled away.  Those that did not know probably saw it as a commanding officer disciplining an underling, but she knew, and it was painfully obvious that it was a concerned parent trying not to panic.  It was weird, and she wished she could scrub the image from her mind and get on with her life.

Her boring, meaningless life.

Tula’s hands came up, desperately rubbing at her face.  That was part of the issue too; when Skywalker called her a good person, she felt that it was true, that she was more than just someone that painted over ugliness with words.  He made her feel like what she wanted actually mattered, and the fact that it lined up with him and Darth-kriffin’-Vader made it all the more important to her.  More than that, though, it made her question why she was not doing anything about it.

She let her hands drop, her gaze drifting to a holopicture she kept on her desk of her family.  Her father had been a meek, loving man; cared for all three of his kids, but was easily steamrolled by his overbearing wife.  Mother was… controlling, if she had to use only one word to describe her. It did not matter what others wanted; what she wanted mattered more than anything.  Her brothers bent to her will easily, but she had fought to the bitter end, through every one of her attempts at submitting her application to the local flight academy blowing up in her face.  Her spirit finally broke when her mother had her forcibly escorted by stormtroopers to the college for literary arts that she… admittedly, barely remembered.  It did not matter, because mom had her writer when she was done; the family member whose first published article was used up by writing about how wonderful she was.

A crackling sound reached her ears, and it took Tula a moment to realize it was because she slammed her fist onto the holopicture’s projector.  She winced, pulling her hand away and carefully plucking bits of cheap duraplast out of her skin. Another moment passed before she paused, staring at what she had done, and realizing just how important that spontaneous action was…

She sprang up from her seat, typing a quick message, before grabbing her bag and bolting from the room.  The morning staff could enjoy the best ever article she ever wrote, and it was only two words:

I QUIT!

~.oOOo.~

“Commander Skywalker!”

Tula saw the commander pause his stride toward the shuttle he was about to board, his father also stopping, and the two of them glanced back at her.  She could not get a read on Vader for the obvious reasons, but Skywalker’s surprise and then joy was clear. His eyes flicked over to the bag she had slung over her shoulder briefly as she hurried to catch up to them, an amused look slowly coming to his face.

“How did you get in here?” he asked curiously, and she peered around the isolated palace landing pad, before she held up a badge.

“My press pass is good until my ex-boss stops trying to blow up my com,” she replied.  “Oh, and the trooper at the gate seemed to think it was my funeral for trying to interrupt you two.”

She chucked her badge over her shoulder, letting it fall over the platform, just as a strange, static-like sound came from Vader.  Weird; maybe there were noises his vocoder could not interpret. She filed that away for later; figuring out his moods and what sound he let out meant what was probably going to be essential.

“I want to help you two,” she continued.  “All I’ve done is written things to cater to the egos of horrible people, people that don’t deserve to be walking around free in this galaxy.”

Tula flashed a grin, shouldering her bag.

“I’ve got dirt on so many crooked Moffs and military personnel, it would make your head spin,” she added.  “We should have our hands full dealing with them.”

“‘We’?” Vader rumbled, folding his arms over his chest, before looking down at his son.  Tula could not help but chuckle at the sheepish expression that came to Skywalker’s face; oops, someone did not give dear old dad the full details on their little conversation, did he?

Tula let out a pleased noise, flashing them both a smile as she walked past them, not missing it as the two of them exchanged what could only be confused looks.  She finally paused at the foot of the loading ramp, struggling not to laugh at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

“By the way, I’m flying.”

Chapter Text

The farther away from the core worlds a planet was, the easier it was for the laws to be disregarded.  It was a fact that plagued the Old Republic, and still haunted the Empire to this day, though the wording of certain laws and decrees did not help.   Technically slavery was illegal, but most turned a blind eye if you dressed your slaves like paid servants, or if they were aliens.  How many you could get away with became a bit of a status symbol for the elite, particularly the regional governors and Moffs in the further reaches of the Outer Rim.

Moff Ramaz, in particular, had his own modest share of slaves; more than enough to earn himself notable standing among his peers.  They were the loveliest things too: Twi’lek girls of all kinds of shades, all lithe and agile and a sight to behold. Most of them barely spoke or understood Basic, but he did not buy them to speak, though his latest acquisition was making him rethink that.  She did not understand Basic at all, and she seemed to think that gave her the right to act out like she had her freedom.  He had already broken one whip reminding her otherwise, and was very near to breaking a second.

He was in the middle of educating her for the third time that day when he was interrupted with news that any Moff stuck in the Outer Rim loved to hear: a high ranking representative was in orbit, and wished to speak with him.  Whomever it was had not given a name, but that did not matter; “high ranking” was all he needed to hear. It meant his wealth and status was being recognized, that he had the chance to smooth talk his way into a more comfortable position, one more suited to his tastes.

“Take this one away and clean her up,” he sneered as he straightened his uniform, ensuring no blood had splattered on him this time.  “For your sakes, you had best hope she remembers her place.”

He barely paid attention to the slaves after that, leaving his room designated for such disciplines and making his way down the opulent halls of his mansion.  An Imperial shuttle had already landed by the time he made it out to his personal landing pad, and somehow he managed to keep a straight face as the ramp lowered and the representative disembarked.  He was much younger than he anticipated, and clearly a military brat if the scar maring his face was any indication.  It seemed like he may have had a prosthetic as well, considering the gauntlet over one arm. Ramaz was almost tempted to turn around and return to his mansion, dismiss the boy without saying a word.  Something about the boy’s gaze had him rooted to the spot, however; his blue eyes were intense, and the way they were focused on him made him feel like he was in the presence of the Emperor himself.

The boy stopped a comfortable distance away from Ramaz, his severe expression gradually turning up to the barest of smiles.

“Good morning to you, Moff Ramaz,” he began.  “I’m here representing the interests of Lord Vader.  You may call me Teak.”

~.oOOo.~

Tula marched in step just behind Luke, keeping the rim of her new uniform cap down low over her eyes.  She had been to Moff Ramaz’s mansion once before for a piece on governors of the Outer Rim, and she doubted she would be remembered, but she was not taking any chances.  When the commander had asked for the most disgusting man she knew in service, her mind immediately went to the waste of space dust that was currently all but prostrating himself before them.

The moment she had given the last known count of the moff’s slaves, Luke’s expression had darkened and the temperature in the room nose dived, and she was fairly certain the man would be dead before they left the planet.  Not that she would cry two tears for the man. The moment they stepped into the mansion, they could see the slaves, most dolled up to look like “servants”, if servants normally showed off more skin than was socially acceptable.  So nice to know he was just as disgusting as she remembered.

The moff escorted them all the way to rooms picked out for quests, and it did not take Tula long to realize these were much better living quarters than the ones she had stayed in the last time she was here.  Tossing Vader’s name out so casually had been a bit of a gamble — Ramaz was not a military man, and much more interested in lording rather than commanding.   Still, he seemed to think that sucking up to “Teak” would get him more wealth and status, otherwise she doubted they would be placed somewhere so nice.

Moff Ramaz left after a moment more of grandstanding, promising them a night of pleasurable entertainment.  It was not until he left that Luke let out a breath, like he was letting out all the rage he had been holding back in one go.  Tula could not help but give him a sympathetic look, readjusting her cap.

“Told you he was gross,” she said, earning a snort out of him.

“And here I believed only Hutts could have such a disregard for the lives of others,” he muttered.

“Just because he doesn’t crawl, doesn’t mean he isn’t a slug,” Tula replied, folding her arms over her chest.  “I have a feeling I know the answer, but what are you going to do?”

Surprisingly, Luke shook his head.

“I’m not sure…” he murmured, that distant look he got every time he was “listening” to the Force coming to his face.  Seriously, that look was never going to not creep her out.  “I think something is here.  Something I’m looking for. I just don’t know what…”

Tula raised an eyebrow as he trailed off, part of her wishing this Force stuff was not so stupidly cryptic.

“I guess we’re keeping our eyes open then?” she suggested, getting a hesitant nod from him.

“Yes… and don’t let Ramaz out of your sight in particular,” he replied.  “I have a bad feeling about this…”

~.oOOo.~

She really wanted to take the tray she was holding and ram it straight down the master’s throat.

Anya may have been born into slavery, given a Hutt forsaken pet name and raised with the belief that this was as good as her life would ever be, but that did not mean she had to like it.  She made it a point to show how much she hated it, and the marks on her back that kept her from wearing the exceptionally slinky “uniform” this human slime ball seemed to prefer was a testament to that.  Anyone else would have broken by now, but Gardula the Hutt used to say she was born stubborn, and how pretty she grew to be was the only thing that saved her.

The other slaves in the new master’s home seemed to despise him as much as she did, but they were scared; many of them seemed to think he would eventually kill her for how she acted.  At least, that’s what she assumed they thought from the few she was able to understand; many of the others came direct from Ryloth, and only spoke Basic or Twi’leki, neither of which she understood.  Only the ones that could speak Huttese as well talked to her, and usually that was to admonish her for acting out, or to try and tell her to control her almost constantly twitching lekku.   Not one of them really had any kind of desire to get away from this life, and she was not sure if she should feel sad for them or not.

｢Anya, pay attention,｣ one of the others hissed, drawing her attention away from thoughts of strangling the master with his own whip and setting the others free.  She glanced over to see she was being summoned, the master’s round face starting to turn red as he glared at her. Anya bit back a sigh, keeping a tight grip on her tray as she approached, mostly to keep herself from “accidentally” dropping it.

The master still had an irritated look on his face as she dipped down toward him and the stupid pillows he was lounging on so he could take a drink from the tray.  He did so, before grabbing her wrist and hissing out words she did not understand — probably a reminder to behave herself. She managed to keep her expression neutral, her gaze drifting over to the master’s guest, only to see the young man glaring daggers at him, particularly how tightly he was holding her.  She tilted her head curiously, not used to seeing that reaction. The master seemed to realize that his “discipline” was not in favor with his guest, and he quickly released her, turning to the other human. He had tamed his glare almost immediately, but there was a fire in those blue eyes that Anya was very familiar with.

She suppressed a smile as she straightened, going over and offering him one of the drinks on her tray.  It was hard to miss how uncomfortable the master’s habits had made him; he was not lounging on the pillows, and was having difficulty looking at the dancers for too long, his focus often on some other point in the distance.  With her offer, his focus entirely turned to her, and she saw kindness and warmth in those eyes she never thought she would see directed at her. He took a drink, saying something she could not understand, though instead of dismissing her uncomprehending look as most did, he frowned lightly, trying another language she could not understand.

｢Understand me?｣ he finally asked in clear, if broken, Huttese.  She very nearly jumped in surprise.

｢Yes!｣ she replied, biting back her enthusiasm when the master glared at her.  The young human glanced his way, blue eyes narrowed slightly, before he returned his focus to her.

｢Grab you often does he?｣ he asked, and were the circumstances different, she may have giggled at how poor his grammar was.

｢It’s not the grabs that matter to me, sir,｣ she replied instead.  ｢The sting of his whip hurts more, and comes much more frequently.｣

The young human narrowed his eyes again, and she swore she could feel the temperature in the room dip slightly.  He nodded to her before the master distracted him with words she could not understand. Whatever he replied with made the master turn pale, and Anya thought that was a good time to make her retreat, least she be blamed for whatever was said.

She settled back to wait with the other servers, a few of them giving her looks, like they expected they were all going to be punished for her acting out.  Anya ignored them, however, her gaze catching the young human’s again, and feeling her heart flutter at that kind smile of his.  It seemed to promise a lot of things, and gave her hope that maybe freedom was in sight.

The rest of the night passed without incident, and with the master being preoccupied with his guest, she managed to avoid being singled out for her behavior for once.  Anya was more than happy to make her way down the halls to the sleep room once they were dismissed, thrilled to go to bed with only a slightly sore back for the first time since she came to this place.  As she made her way down the hall, she passed by a woman in a grey uniform. The woman audibly dropped something, but kept walking, disappearing around a corner.

Anya stopped, mouth open to call after her, even if she would not understand, before she paused.  There was a folded piece of flimsy at her feet — probably what the woman dropped — and it did not take long for curiosity to win over sense.  She stooped down to pick it up, tucking it carefully into her bralette, before hurrying away.

The mansion’s sleep room was just one big basement room filled with cots for them to sleep on.  It was a marginal step up from a Hutt den, but still provided some form of privacy in the darker corners.  Anya managed to sneak over to one such corner, curling up on her chosen cot before pulling out the note and reading the simple message written on it:

You fly free tonight.

Anya felt her heart leap up in her throat, clutching the note to her chest.  It had to be from that human; she knew she should not get her hopes up, that it could be a trap… but it was written in Huttese.  She doubted the master even knew that was the only language she understood, not to mention how to write it.

The hours ticked away annoyingly slow, and though sleep would have been welcome, Anya could not find it in her to submit to it.  She kept her gaze on the door to the sleep room, waiting for it to open any second…

｢Psst…! Up here…!｣

Anya jumped at the softly hissed voice, looking up at the vent above her, and just making out a pair of blue eyes in the darkness.

｢What are you doing up there?｣ she asked.

The young human did not answer immediately, focusing on getting the grate to the vent off and setting it aside first.

｢Place crawling with security, it is,｣ he explained, pulling himself out enough to reach a hand out toward her.  ｢Need alternate route.｣

Anya pulled herself to her feet, pausing a moment to look back toward the others, before accepting his hand.  He helped her up into the cramped vent, offering her a sheepish smile, before maneuvering around her enough to put the grate back into place.

｢I’m Anya,｣ she blurted out, a giddiness rising in her chest that she could not put into words.  He flashed her another smile, blue eyes shining in the dark.

｢I’m Luke Skywalker.｣

Anya’s eyes went wide at that, and he tilted his head curiously.

｢Know my name?｣

｢All slaves know about the boy slave that became a Jedi,｣ she replied, earning herself another smile.

｢That my father.｣

Anya felt her breath catch in her throat.  That meant this human, this impossible human that carried himself like royalty and spoke Huttese and understood slave words, was the freeborn son of a slave.  It had to mean that, and she could not help herself; she flung her arms around him as much as the tight space would allow, hugging him fiercely.  A surprised noise escaped from him, his back thumping against the side of the vent, and he awkwardly patted her shoulder, before gently pushing her away.

｢Need to move,｣ he urged, shuffling so he could point himself toward the way out.  ｢Pilot is standing by.｣

Anya was ready to start moving, when she paused, looking back toward the sleep room.

｢What about the others?｣

He glanced back, that gleam from before in his eyes.

｢Don’t worry; have way to pay Ramaz for what he is done.｣

Anya could not help but grin at that, hurrying to shuffle after him through the tight vent.  It took some time, far longer than she would have otherwise felt comfortable with, but they finally came out over the mansion gardens, near the landing pad.  The moment she smelled the fresh, clean air of the outside was when it all became real for her: she was going to be free.   For the first time in her life, she was going to be her own master.  She was so giddy with excitement, she almost missed the radio pillars on each side of the landing pad, almost failed to stop before she could walk past them.  Thankfully, she did stop, a hand going to her neck as she stepped back.  Luke seemed to realize something was wrong, and he paused as well, turning toward her.

｢What?｣

Anya motioned to the pillars.

｢If I go past those, my chip will activate,｣ she explained, and that seemed enough of an explanation for him to understand what that meant.  He nodded, coming back to her and placing his hand over hers, gently moving it out of the way.

｢Think I can use Force to deactivate,｣ he explained.  ｢If no, may need go back to find Ramaz’s deactivator.｣

The thought of going back into that hell house made her skin crawl, and Anya shook her head.  Better she take the chance and die here; at least that way she would die a free woman.

｢Do it.｣

Luke nodded his understanding, a distant look coming to his eyes as he focused on her neck.  Anya’s fingers curled, nails digging into her palms as she half expected her life to end any second.  Forever passed before Luke finally let out a breath, giving her an encouraging smile.

｢There; you’re—｣

He suddenly let out a gasp, doubling over and forcing Anya to grab him to keep him from falling.  Alarms rang out a moment later, and the mansion behind them came alight with activity. Footsteps came pounding toward them, and the woman from before was there, helping her with Luke.  She was saying something, probably asking what happened, not that Anya could actually understand her. Luke shook his head, saying something in return that made the woman’s face turn white, before the doors to the mansion burst open.  Guards came pouring out, blasters drawn and aimed at them.

Luke stood up straight, still looking like he was in pain as he reached an arm out, pushing Anya and the woman behind him.  Anya clung to his arm, tightening her grip as the master came out, his face red in utter rage. He was damn near spitting as he spoke, yelling something at Luke.  The young human responded in kind, his voice low and cold, devoid of the warmth he had shown her.

He glanced back at her after a moment, muttering out of the side of his mouth, ｢Get to run for shuttle and don’t look.｣

Anya clung to his arm tighter, but reluctantly let go as the master — no, Luke had called him Ramaz — pulled out his whip.  She felt her blood boil at the sight of it, especially as it came snapping toward her freeborn savior.

She reacted without thinking, shoving Luke out of the way and catching the whip on her bare arm.  She let out a hiss of pain as it stung, blood welling up around the leather, but she ignored it, instead relishing the shocked look on Ramaz’s face as she wrapped it further around her arm, pulling as hard as she could.  The guards raised their blasters, but there was a loud snap next to her, and the blue glow of a lightsaber washed over her, keeping them from firing.  She ignored them since they were not going to be a threat, dragging Ramaz toward her as he continued to stubbornly hold on to his whip, sucker punching him hard enough to make any Hutt thug proud once he was close enough.

She wrenched the whip away from him as he went down to his hands and knees, and she could not help but savor the sight of him in the same position she had been in so many times since she was sold to him.  Her hand wrapped around the leather of the whip, before she let it crack, watching as it cut through his flimsy finery, right through his skin. Blood welled up immediately, and she felt fire bloom inside of her as she let it crack again and again, letting it tear his clothing to shreds.

One last crack had it wrapping around his neck, and she planted her foot on his back as she pulled back, digging her heel into the bloody cuts she had inflicted as she did so.  He gagged, letting out noises much like a drunken Gamorrean would, and she could not help but smile at the thought.  Of course a pig would squeal like a pig; it was far too fitting.

｢Anya…｣ Luke began beside her, and his calm voice was enough to drag her out of her morbid thrill, tearing her gaze away from Ramaz and turning to him instead.  The sad look on the young human’s face grounded her, helped her realize that as much as she wanted to torture him, to make him suffer, it would not help her in the end; the satisfaction would only be temporary, and leave her feeling empty later.

Her grip on the whip tightened, and she allowed herself the sound of Ramaz sobbing in pain one last time, before she forced her anger out with a soft breath.  No; she was not going to be the one to make him suffer. Luke would see to that, and then they would free all the others. It was the best way to handle this.

She tugged at the whip, letting it unravel from the pig’s neck, before she finally turned and nodded to Luke.  She was looking away in the next moment, moving to walk past the radio pillars toward freedom.

~.oOOo.~

“He killed every one of those people, Tanbris.”

As much as he hated it, Tanbris was starting to get used to seeing haunted looks on Luke’s face, especially after the last three months.  Between being a face in the Empire, the Emperor’s continuing efforts to make him cooperated, and on top of the day to day expectations of a navy commander, they were coming to his face more and more frequently.  The mission to investigate Moff Ramaz had left him looking particularly haunted, and the reason why came out in the debrief.

Slaves were chipped with an explosive that would activate if they tried to run.  Some owners added additional security, as was the case with Anya. The moment Luke deactivated her chip, they all activated, exploding in every single slave but her; the only thing saving her was Luke managing to disarm the explosive before the signal to detonate activated.  It had been a failsafe for the sake of Ramaz’s pride; the disgusting man had rather buy new slaves instead of admitting that one escaped his clutches.  Of course, such a rig to the detonator coding also made it impossible to deactivate any single slave chip without detonation, meaning Ramaz had no intention of ever getting rid of any of his slaves.

“You couldn’t have known that would happen, sir,” Tanbris reminded him, but even as he said it, his words rang hollow in his ears.  He knew Luke would continue to blame himself, and he was not so certain he would not feel the same in his place.

“I haven’t even found a way to tell her yet,” he added softly, the pain in his voice palpable.

Tanbris let out a breath, following Luke’s gaze across the hanger.  Hanger One of the Executor had been reserved for their use; they were free to take in whatever ship they wanted, and do as they wished without fear of prying eyes loyal to the Emperor; Vader had seen to that, and Triple Zero and BT-1 enforced it when they were on ship.  Anya was at the far end, where they had simulators set up, and she was curiously peering into one of them. She finally climbed inside, and Tanbris let out an alarmed noise, starting toward her.

Luke caught his arm before he could leave his side, his focus on the readout for the sims.  The screen corresponding to the pod Anya was in came to life with data as she started up one of the programs, and they could hear her cheering with delight as she started shooting down enemy ships.  Her score steadily climbed before it suddenly stopped when she was defeated, only to reset as she tried again. Her score the second time was better than the first, and the third better than that. Tanbris let out a faint noise as her fourth try trumped out his old best score, an almost woeful look coming to his face.

“Looks like she’s a natural, sir,” he commented, glancing at Luke, only to freeze at the look on the young commander’s face.  Oh, he knew that look; that was the look of a Bad Skywalker Plan about to be set into motion.

“I have an idea.”

“I noticed.”

Luke paused at that, shooting him a bland look.  Tanbris merely raised his hands, knowing what was coming and knowing trying to argue otherwise with Luke would get him exactly nowhere.

“I’m just your ready officer, sir,” he added.  “I only provide support; I have no say in how you build your squadron.”

Luke nodded triumphantly at that, moving to start toward the pod Anya was in.

“Your father, however, is another story.”

Luke’s steps immediately faltered, and Tanbris had to fight against an amused smile as an annoyed glare was sent his way.

Chapter Text

Triple Zero was having a bit of a conundrum, and it largely revolved around Mistress Aphra.  He had been traveling with her in the three months since that fateful meeting on Mustafar, since the conversation that had taken place there that led the mistress to run away, to throw herself into the deepest depths of the galaxy.  That was not to say he was not enjoying himself; there had been more than just a few instances where he had been allowed to murder as he saw fit. But to say he saw cause for alarm in her self destructive tendencies, in her need to associate with the worst of the worst, to throw herself into the darkest holes of the galaxy to find memories of the past, was a bit of an understatement.  Part of him calculated that it would catch up to her eventually. However, as he stood faithfully by her side at the trade-in counter at the Cosmatanic Steppes, he was realizing that his calculations may be off.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Aphra—” the inspector droid began for the umpteenth time, only for Aphra to interrupt him.

“That’s Doctor Aphra!”

“Ms. Aphra for now,” the droid shot back, irritation in his vocoder.  “Your doctorate has been suspended. Until this has been cleared, the archaeological association is unable to verify any of your finds.”

Mistress Aphra looked like Master Vader had strangled something cute in front of her.  Her mouth worked a moment, struggling to come up with a response.

“This has to be a mistake…” she whimpered.  “I recovered the Abersyn Symbiotes of Boothi-Twelve!  Check again!”

“I’ve triple checked,” the droid replied banally.  “You are not a doctor, ergo, I cannot assist you.”

Mistress Aphra scrunched her face up, and for a moment, Triple Zero was certain he was about to witness some delightful unadulterated violence.  Even if it was against another droid, it would be worth it to see the mistress completely lose her mind. Instead, she whirled on her heel, stomping off and away from the trade-in counter.  He could not help but sag a bit dejectedly, before tottering after her, passing where BT-1 and Black Krrsantan were sitting, watching as Aphra walked right into a wall, before continuing to ram her head into it.  He paused at that, a concerned cant to his head. Oh dear; Master Luke made him promise he would send out an encoded message if the mistress ever did anything egregiously stupid. He wondered if this qualified…

“Oh, mistress, it must be terrible having your credentials questioned,” he said, knowing full well it would not help the situation.  He was programmed for murder, not consoling stupidity.

“I mean,” Aphra began, thumping her head against the wall one last time, “I cheated.  Obviously. But how did they find out?”

Triple Zero may well have sighed if he were capable of it.  Of course she cheated. His capacitors could not even find it in themselves to fire up in surprise.  Just as he was about to offer a solution to this predicament (involving murdering key individuals responsible, of course), a voice from behind cut him off.

“Your questionable morality was always going to catch up with you eventually, beloved.”

Mistress Aphra froze solid, slowly turning away from the wall as Triple Zero shuffled himself around.  There was an older flesh unit behind them, male, in robes that suggested he was one of the researchers that called the Cosmatanic Steppes home.  He smiled kindly at the mistress as she sunk back against the wall, a look on her face that he did not quite have the capacity to describe. It was close to the horror of one realizing they were about to die, but not quite right.

“Perhaps it’s lucky that someone that loves you was the person that uncovered your ethical lapse.”

Black Krrsantan came up behind them, a curious rumble escaping from him.  Mistress Aphra ignored him, biting her lip.

“Dad…”

Triple Zero allowed his photoreceptors to glow a little brighter, his way of “widening his eyes in surprise,” as a human would do with such information.  An older Aphra unit! How interesting; if Master Luke’s interaction with Master Vader in his capacity as an older model Skywalker unit was anything to go by, then there would be hugging and happy noises, or at the very least sincere happiness to see the other unit again.  Instead, Mistress Aphra marched up to her father, hands balled into fists and looking like she was just shy of punching the man. Because of course she had to defy every expectation he had of human behavior.

“What have you done, dad?!” she very near screamed at him.

The peaceful expression on the older Aphra unit’s face fell, becoming sterner, as if the mistress were younger.

“The question is, what have you done,” he replied.  “I discovered you place the symbiotes on Boothi-Twelve; I leaked just enough to the board for them to explore the possibility.”

Her father paused, and Triple Zero could not help but feel a little delighted at such underhanded tactics, even if it was making their current situation much more difficult.

“You know there are still hundreds of academics working there trying to find an explanation as to why those symbiotes were dormant?” he asked, both judgement and a challenge in his voice.

“And they’re making great strides in ancient cattle herding methods,” the mistress shot back, the fact that she did not care what those academics were doing with their miserable lives obvious.  “Dad, if you needed something, you could have just asked; you didn’t have to blackmail me into helping you!”

An awkward silence followed as both the older Aphra unit, Black Krrsantan, BT, and Triple Zero stared at her, the doubt hanging heavily in the air, to the point one could see it.  Aphra managed to pretend they were not silently calling her out for half of a whole minute, before she threw her hands up in the air.

“Okay, I would have said no, but you could have tried first!” she exclaimed, letting her arms drop.  “Just please, please; whatever you want, please tell me it doesn’t have to do with the Ordu Aspectu.”

An all too pleasant, all too pleased smile came to the older Aphra unit’s face.

“It’s the Ordu Aspectu.”

Mistress Aphra let out a noise that was somewhere between a rather vulgar curse in Shyriiwook and the mating call of a kowakian lizard monkey.  She smacked her hand to her forehead as she did so, whirling away from her father and making the whole scene that much more delightfully entertaining.  Still, despite that display, her father’s smile did not budge.

“Come on, darling,” he began.  “This is a real chance to bring beauty back to the universe.  This is a chance to make good the wrongs in this galaxy.”

Aphra stopped, and Triple Zero did not need to see the look on her face to know it was conflicted.  It may have been for different reasons, but those were the same words Master Luke had given her before she left Mustafar.

She finally let out another irritable noise, shaking her head.

“Ark Angel, now,” she snapped, storming off.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra was many things, but “loving daughter” was far from being one of them.  She had her reasons, of course, chief among them being dad had been so obsessed with his work on the damn Ordu Aspectu that mom left, taking her with her.  And then when mom died in a ditch on some Force forsaken Bantha fodder of a planet, the Imperials that found her dropped her off with dad, who had been so absorbed in his work that he was not even there, had not even known they left the planet.  He did not find out until he came back after she torched the house, along with the majority of his research at the time.  She was not sorry for doing that to him.

Just like she was not sorry for pulling a blaster on him the moment they were secure in the Ark Angel.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot at you until you spit out how to fix this, then punt you out into the nearest ditch!”

Her father held up his hands, taking a step back and nearly bumping into Santy, who let out a faint grumble in warning.  He glanced back at the wookiee, before letting out a breath, turning his attention back to her.

“I know you’re… ethically troubled, my dear, but even you couldn’t kill me.”

Aphra held her blaster on him, looking like she would prove him wrong out of spite.   Of course she could not; no matter how much she wanted to, there was no way she could kill her own father.  A moment passed before she finally lowered her blaster.

“You’re right, I can’t,” she replied… before she shot a finger toward Triple Zero.  “Trip! You’re up!”

The droid started slightly in surprise, before his red photoreceptors glowed brighter in his excitement.  He started forward, holding up his hands, fingers folding back to reveal various instruments of torture. Her father let out a yelp as she turned away, already begging for the droid not to touch him, even before he got close.  The sound of it hit Aphra right in the chest, making it feel like her heart was being squeezed, and bringing to mind a certain pilot that had been so relieved to see his father was alive, despite coming so close to death…

“Stop, Triple Zero, don’t…”

The droid froze, almost looking mournful at the order.

“Did you just torture tease me, Mistress Aphra?” he asked.  “That is… exceptionally rude.”

Aphra let out an annoyed noise, grabbing her father and pulling him away from the homicidal droid.

“You’ll survive, Trip,” she replied, shoving her father onto a stool.  “I’ll let you go nuts on some Emperor loyalists later.”

She put her hands on her hips, staring down at her father, who peered up at her almost meekly.

“All right,” she began, “you’ve wasted your life, my life, and most of mom’s life hunting down the Ordu Aspectu.  What makes you think you can find them now?”

He opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off as Santy let out an annoyed growl.  BT followed after, the metal grinding beeps sounding exceptionally irritated.

“May I echo my colleagues,” Triple Zero began.  “Just who are the Ordu Aspectu? ‘Ordu’ would suggest Jedi influence, but—”

Aphra cut him off, waving a hand as she saw her father’s face light up.  Oh no, no, no; if she let him answer, they would be here all week.

“Ancient, ancient history, Trip.  I’ll tell you—”

“Oh listen, brave droid!” her father exclaimed, cutting her off.  “Ignore Little Boop! Let me tell you of the doom of the Ordu Aspectu!”

Aphra let out a groan, planting a hand over her face as her father began to recite the story she must have heard a thousand times growing up…

~.oOOo.~

The Fortress of Garn was under siege; what felt like a thousand ships bore down on the peaceful installation, firing endlessly.  Explosions rocked the command center, and the Immortal Rur felt his heart ache as more and more of his brethren were denied eternity.  Still, despite the grim situation, he would not give in to hate and violence; the Ordu Aspectu sought eternity for the good of all, and he would not allow those beliefs to be compromised.

Not even against Jedi that refused to understand.

The walls to the command center burst open, and red spilled into the room as the Jedi advanced.

“Your heresy ends here, Rur!” the woman in the lead announced as Rur took up his own lightsaber.  His faithful apprentice, Amon, was just behind him, the blue of their weapons trying to drown out the red as they met the Jedi in battle.  Try as they might, however, their peaceful defense was no match for a Jedi out to kill. The others of their order died all around him, but Rur kept fighting on until he heard the death cry of his apprentice.

“No!” he cried, sending the Jedi that killed him flying across the room.  He was at Amon’s side in the next moment, but it was already too late; he was yet another that lost eternity.

“You’ve forced my hand, Jedi!” he exclaimed, calling on the Force to fling debris toward a nearby console.  The fortress shuddered, before the familiar lurch of hyperspace followed, sending them off to space unknown.

~.oOOo.~

Silence fell over the room as her father finished reciting the legend, and Aphra could not help but observe how Triple Zero managed to look bored and disappointed despite his frozen facial expression.  The droid shifted a moment, glancing down at BT, before turning his attention back to her dad.

“Firstly, they sound rather boring, if you’ll forgive my saying so,” he began, before shifting his attention to her.  “Secondly… ‘little boop’?”

Aphra narrowed her eyes, the clear threat in her expression enough to make the murder droid take a step back.

“Pet name,” she explained shortly.  “You tell anyone, and I’ll do to you what you want to do to everyone else.  I’m not kidding.”

Her father let out a soft breath at her antics, and she shot him a glare, daring him to get any further up her shit list than he already was.  He merely folded his hands before him, ignoring the clear threat.

“Many believe instead of hyperspace, the Ordu Aspectu were transported to a higher plane of existence,” he explained.  “I personally believe Rur did it; he achieved the immortality he sought. If we can find the Fortress of Garn, it would precipitate a renaissance; an awakening in the Force for all—”

Aphra cut her father off, slapping a hand sharply on the wall she was leaning against.  She pushed off of it after a moment, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“You know what recent experience tells me the reality behind your fairy tale is?” she demanded.

~.oOOo.~

The Fortress of Garn was under siege; what felt like a thousand ships bore down on the war machine, firing endlessly.  Explosions rocked the command center as the shields failed, and the Immortal Rur tightened his hand into a fist, the Force trembling with his rage as more and more of his followers were denied eternity.  Still, despite the grim situation, he would not surrender; the Ordu Aspectu sought eternity for their own sake. It was their right, just as it was their right to lord over the galaxy.

The simpering light of the Jedi did not have the power to quash such ambition.

The walls to the command center burst open, and blue spilled into the room as the Jedi advanced.

“Your heresy ends here, Rur!” the woman in the lead announced as Rur took up his own lightsaber.  His faithful follower, Amon, was just behind him, the red of their weapons trying to drown out the blue as they met the Jedi in battle.  Try as they might, however, their power was nothing in the face of a Jedi out to kill. The others of their order died all around him, but Rur kept fighting on until he heard Amon’s death cry.

“Fool!” he snarled, grabbing him by the head as his life began to dwindle.

“You’ve forced my hand, Jedi!” he snapped, drawing the Force out of Amon’s dying body, using it to fuel his growing rage.  The room around them trembled with the power of the dark side, knocking debris onto a nearby console. The entire fortress shuddered, before the familiar lurch of hyperspace followed, sending them off to space unknown.

~.oOOo.~

Her father was visibly upset by her take on the story, while Triple Zero seemed positively delighted.

“Well, they seem much more exciting,” he said, Santy letting out a growl of agreement.  Her father’s gaze flicked to them a moment, dismayed, before focusing back on her.

“Chelli, dear, there’s no way—”

“There’s just as much evidence for that as your story, dad!” she cut him off.  “There’s even a reading that suggests Rur was going after the possessive infinitive instead of eternal life.  The whole thing was an argument between Jedi grammarians! Jedi who literally just used the Force to be grammar nerds!”

Aphra flung her hands up in exasperation at the ridiculousness that was this man.  She could not believe she had ever wanted to see him again, even if she had been staring death in the face at the time!

“You are chasing mist!  Still! After all these years!”

Her father let out a sigh.  “But think of the possibilities!  What could one bring back to us from eternity?  What if—”

“What if I’m right, dad?” Aphra demanded.  “Do you even know the things the Dark Side of the Force does to a person?!  I’ve seen it, okay?!   It leaves scars on you that you can’t even comprehend!”

She was dimly aware of Triple Zero and BT exchanging looks at her outburst, and her father was staring at her with a look that was both concerned and horrified all at once, but she was not really seeing them.  All she could see was the face of a man that had been burned, both literally and figuratively, mourning the losses his own actions had brought about. Her stomach started to throb a moment later, intimately aware of the scar that still lingered.

“Boop…?” her father asked softly, bringing the present back into focus.  “What have you been doing…?”

Aphra did not answer, hugging her arms to herself and turning away.  It was not until Santy let out a faint rumble that she became aware of tears rolling down her face, and she reached up, swiping them away angrily.

“Fine, dad,” she finally said, ignoring his question.  “We’ll go chasing after your dream. But no more calling me ‘boop’.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke stared at the stacks of datapads and readers he had stacked up on his desk, trying not to feel daunted.  Floating his idea for the future of Black Squadron by his father had gone over better than he expected, but the amount of research and planning that would need to go into it was bound to keep him preoccupied for months.   He could handle it, he knew he could, but just looking at it was more than a little intimidating.

He was about to reach for the first pad on the stack, when his comlink beeped with an incoming message.  He was perhaps a little too happy to grab that instead, plugging it into a reader to bring up the text message.  It was not much of a surprise to see it was from Triple Zero — he honestly expected a message about Aphra sooner than this.  Though as he read the message, his eyebrows slowly climbed, finally staring in disbelief at the coordinates included at the end of the message.

“Why would they go there?” he murmured to himself, before closing everything down and pushing himself up.  It looked like research was going to have to wait.

~.oOOo.~

“Yavin-Four?!”

Aphra felt like her head was going to explode as she stared at her father.  He had refused to tell her exactly where they were going once they left the Steppes, instead giving her coordinates and telling her to land on the fourth moon of the system they arrived in.  Naturally, she had no idea what she was getting into when she landed on the jungle moon and started to hike toward the ancient temple they were currently looking down on. Of course, even over a year later, there were still Imperial troops around the main temple, and she found herself peering through a pair of macrobinoculars, taking in the sight of way more troops and massive walkers than she felt comfortable with.

And then her dad had to go and open his mouth.

“There was a Rebel base here?” he asked, looking completely lost after she translated Santy’s growled explanation as to why she was so upset.  “I’m afraid I don’t really follow current affairs.”

Aphra felt an eye twitch as she lowered the binoculars, turning a fierce glare on her father.

“The Battle of Yavin, dad,” she growled out, Santy taking a step back in concern.  “Death Star went ker-blewie. Happened about a year ago now; not exactly current.”

Her father stared at her blankly.  “The… Death Star? I thought that was just a story.”

Aphra turned a deadly glare on her father, tempted to shove him over the cliff they were standing on and leaving the planet as fast as the Ark Angel could fly.  He took a step back, an awkward look on his face as he waved down to the troops below.

“Talks of it were there and gone so quickly, I didn’t think anything of it,” he added.  “If I told you of a planet destroying machine, you would say I was insane. That thing was real?”

Aphra fought not to scream, never mind how tempting it was.  She was frustrated enough with the man that it was very likely the Imperials down below would be able to hear her, and they could not have that happen.

“Yeah, dad; it really destroyed Alderaan,” she hissed.  “It really destroyed Jedha!  You’re obsessed with the Jedi; you can’t tell me you bought the story of the Kyber Temple being destroyed in an accident?!”

Her father fumbled helplessly.  “I… I was pulling the final elements together on the Ordu Aspectu…” he answered lamely.  “I was so busy, I just… I didn’t realize…”

That was the wrong thing to say.  That was the entirely wrong thing to say, and Santy took another step back as well as the droids as Aphra struggled not to explode.

“Millions of people were turned to dust and you just… didn’t... notice?!”

Silence fell over the group, and her father struggled to come up with an excuse for his absent minded behavior. He finally let out a breath after a moment, his shoulders slumping in shame, and a reluctantly regretful twinge hit Aphra’s heart.  Maybe, maybe that had been a little too harsh; maybe her outburst had been fueled by too much bias toward her father.  At the same time, there was really no excuse to miss something that serious!

“Excuse me, Mistress Aphra,” Triple Zero began.  “Perhaps we should call in assistance on our current problem? Even just Master Luke would certainly make this easier.”

Aphra let out a breath, shooting the droid a suspicious glare.  Why bring him up now?  They could handle this!  She could handle this! She did not need any of those people!

“No; no Luke, no Vader,” she stated sternly, and it was her father’s turn to stare at her in numb shock, especially at how casually she had brought up the Dark Lord.

“Darth Vader…?” he asked softly, earning himself another glare.

“Yeah, dad.  I work for Vader every now and then,” she snapped.  “Not that you’d know; you don’t keep up with current affairs.”

Now that had been too harsh and she knew it. Still, she looked away so she would not have to see her father’s expression fall, looking out at the main Massassi Temple below them instead.  Aphra frowned to herself, a plan slowly forming in her mind.

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do…”

Chapter Text

There was nothing like visiting the site of old trauma to remind a person how traumatic the event had been.

The moment the gas giant that was Yavin filled the viewport of the Windsor , Luke could feel his heart seize in his chest.  He could still hear the sounds of battle in his head, the ghosts of commands issued echoing in his ears, and his own voice wishing a farewell to the man that he would later know to be his father.  The Force amplified the sound, and for a moment, he swore if he blinked he would still be able to see the Death Star, hovering in the space before the fourth moon. Luke dimly felt his hands let go of the controls, clutching at his head as he fought desperately to make it all go away, to make the noise stay in the past where it belonged.  A faint beep broke through the voices after a moment, and he felt something metal leaning up against him.

Slowly, Luke realized he was back in the Windsor cockpit, that DV-2 was booping softly, trying to get a response out of him.  He forced out a breath, trying to push his anxiety and fear out with it as he slowly loosened his grip on his hair.  A hand fell to the top of DV’s angular head, and the droid let out a happy boop, nudging against him again.

“Sorry, buddy,” he breathed out after a moment, rubbing his head fondly.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

DV let out a positive sounding boop, offering to fly the rest of the way.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” Luke insisted, giving the droid a smile, albeit a shaky one.  “Just… keep talking.”

Another boop from DV, and before long he was telling him about that first full day in service on the Executor, when he had not bothered to download the navigation data for the ship.  “All Star Destroyers are the same,” was his excuse, something that did not really fly when he was caught where he was not supposed to be, and would have gotten memory wiped if his namesake had not swooped in and threatened everyone in the maintenance bay.  Luke had heard the story hundreds of times before, mostly because Danres enjoyed teasing the little guy about it. Still, it did not fail to bring a smile to his face, and it kept him calm enough to navigate to the fourth moon.

Luke had never been on Yavin IV itself, though he did recall the briefing before that disastrous battle.  It was a jungle world filled with ancient structures left behind by a race long since lost to history. Actually seeing it was something else, and he could not help but look out in wonder as they swept low over the trees, coming to the temple structure that had once served as a Rebellion base.

He knew before coming that a few platoons had been deployed at the old base for some time, under the command of a Captain Tolvan, but he did not know them, nor was he expecting as much activity as he was seeing.  Troops were mobilizing quickly, heading into the trees, where Luke could just make out the sounds of explosions and blaster fire.

“Aphra, what are you doing…?” he muttered to himself as he shut down his ship, before heading out.

The highest ranking officer left to greet him was a lieutenant who already looked like his day was not going the way he planned.  His gaze flicked to the rank plaque Luke had actually remembered to wear for once, and his face paled even more than it already was, saluting him a moment later.

“Commander, sir,” he began.  “I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of engaging hostiles at the moment.”

“I noticed,” Luke replied mildly, his gaze flicking to the jungle as another explosion went off.  “Update me on the situation.”

“Sir…?” the lieutenant asked, and Luke had to take a moment to realize why he was having that reaction.  The man was ground forces; while he technically out ranked him, he really did not have the authority to be directly ordering him for information.  Clearly, he was getting too used to his reputation preceding him.

“Commander Luke Skywalker, lieutenant,” he introduced.  “Where I go, Lord Vader’s interests go with me. Please update me on the situation.”

The poor man went sheet white at the mention of his father’s name, especially with how casually he threw it out there.  He stiffened even more than he already was, absently tugging at the collar of his uniform, before clasping his hands behind his back.

“Sir, a few minutes ago we intercepted a Rebel transmission coming from one of the nearby temples.  We believe it was a trap, sir; our forces have been engaged for some time now, but haven’t made any headway against them.  Captain Tolvan is leading the assault personally, sir.”

Luke raised an eyebrow at that; he did not think Aphra had an army of Alliance members behind her, so either she set up some droids to help her with whatever she was trying to accomplish here, or Black Krrsantan was with her.  He was voting on the later, just from the sheer chaos he could hear from even this far out.

“And no one slipped by the captain?” Luke asked.  “Or you?”

“S-sir…?”

Luke was about to reply, when he felt a shift in the Force so sharp and sudden, that his breath left him for a moment.  The sky brightened just as suddenly, and both of them turned toward the temple as a low groan of rock shifting came from above them.  The top of the main temple was opening, the light of the sun reflecting off of something inside, creating a brilliant — if a bit primitive — star map that seemed to engulf the entire sky.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question,” Luke said absently, starting toward the temple and leaving the lieutenant to continue staring slack-jawed at the sky.  The man snapped out of it by the time he was halfway to the entrance, shouting after him as he ran to catch up.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra gave her father five seconds of smug time for actually being right when it came to something pertaining these damn Ordu Aspectu.  He was lucky she had given him that much; she had not expected the whole damn temple to be a mechanism for the map that would lead them to the Fortress of Garn — supposedly.  The Imperials would definitely have seen that, and she knew her father would need to get readings so they knew where to go next, and they barely had time to do that much.

“Done!” he finally announced, lowering the reader from his face, and Aphra almost sagged in relief.  They did not even have time for that, and instead she raised her blaster, waving to the droids.

“Beetee, contact Santy,” she ordered as she headed for the door.  “Let him know we’re good to go, and get the Ark Angel ready.”

Her father was scrambling after her a moment later, staying close behind her as they rounded a corner and re-entered the temple.

“How much time do we have?” he asked.

“Depends on how competent they are—”

Aphra cut herself off as she started down the stairs they took to get up to the floor they were on, finding herself face to face with a familiar pair of blue eyes behind a messy mop of blonde hair.  There was an awkward moment where they just stared at each other, her mind racing with several issues, chief among them that she had to keep up appearances in front of her father, and she was going to kill Triple Zero for going against her orders.  In the next moment, Aphra’s foot was snapping out, hitting Luke square in the face, and she immediately felt her stomach bottoming out in regret.   Stars, kicking Luke was like kicking an akk pup!

“Not this way!” she shouted as Luke went down, grabbing her father’s hand and pulling him along behind her, heading for another way out.  “Beetee, slow them down!”

She could hear BT let out a confused beep, but did not pause to see how the droid would work out how to handle her orders, pounding stone to get to a different way out, Triple Zero shuffling not that far behind.  She could hear the sounds of stormtroopers not that far behind, followed by an explosion that rocked the whole room. They paused at that, Aphra looking back as BT rolled their way, beeping rather smugly.

“Yes, I agree,” Triple Zero replied.  “Being dead should slow them down.”

Aphra immediately felt her stomach hit her shoes.  Oh… no, this was fine. Luke could totally survive an explosion, right?  Right. Right! No way he would be horribly maimed by such a thing.

...r-right?

She swallowed hard, before grabbing her father’s arm again, dragging him along behind her.  They managed to get down a few floors before he started to fuss, looking around in confusion.

“This isn’t the way we came in,” he protested, and Aphra nearly rolled her eyes.

“That’s the way they’ll be coming,” she snapped.  “We need to find another—”

She cut herself off as they reached the end of the stairs, coming out to a long hallway that at some point ended in a bare wall, but now had a large opening to the outside.  Either age or a stray blast had brought it down; she did not know, and at the moment she did not care.

“Run for it, guys!” she shouted, holding her father’s arm tight as she bolted for the opening.  She dimly heard Triple Zero griping — as expected, seeing as his body was not exactly built to run — before he suddenly went zipping by them, riding on the back of BT.  Oh… she did not realize the little guy had fold out platforms on his legs. That would have been nice to know that earlier.

Aphra’s elation at having an easy way out of the temple lasted right until they actually made it out into the sunlight, and right into the sights of an AT-AT’s laser turrets.  She swallowed hard as she stepped back, standing in front of her father protectively as her gaze shifted down, falling on a severe-looking woman in an Imperial officer’s uniform.  Cold steel eyes fixed on her angrily, her angular face offset by her spiky white hair. The glint of metal showed that her neck and part of the back of her head were uncovered prosthetics, and Aphra could not help but notice both of her arms were prosthetics as well.

Aphra felt her heart do a little flip in her chest, and she was not entirely sure it was from fear.

“I can handle this,” she assured her father, taking a step forward.  Almost immediately, she felt her tongue tie around itself as she focused back on the woman, the clever words she had in mind flying right out of her head.  Instead, she flashed a bright grin.

“...we’re lost?”

Yeah, she knew that was not going to work, but seeing the Imperial woman’s nose scrunch up in irritation totally made it worth it.  Stars above, she was legitimately cute.

“Open fire!” the woman shouted, and Aphra jumped, realizing there were at least a dozen stormtroopers behind her, all of them raising their weapons.  She yelped, taking a step back, and—

“Hold that order!”

—wilting in relief when she heard Luke’s voice from behind her.  Oh good, he did not blow up, that was wonderful! Though when she turned toward him, she almost wished he had been delayed a little longer, if only because that glare he was giving her promised a quick death.  The most innocent smile she could muster worked its way onto her face as the cute officer let out an irritated scoff.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Luke was about to answer her, when the ground suddenly exploded around them with laser fire.  Aphra ducked down, wrapping an arm around her father to protect him from flying debris as the Ark Angel descended, the boarding ramp lowering for them.  BT immediately zipped inside, Triple Zero still riding on his leg platforms, and Aphra stood, shoving her father toward the ramp.

She paused before running inside herself, looking back in time to see Luke lifting himself off the ground.  His gaze fell on her, and almost immediately the annoyed look on his face dropped, replaced with genuine concern for her.  It hurt to see that look, much like the look he had given her when she flew off Mustafar. Aphra turned away, trying to convince herself that this was fine, before running into the ship, closing the ramp behind her.

~.oOOo.~

Captain Magna Tolvan was angy, to put it mildly, but she was also a professional.  She kept her face expressionless as she made her report to Admiral Ozzel directly as was requested of her, and then weathered the expected lecture that followed.  She had it coming, of course; she had failed to capture the Rebels they had been pursuing, save for the young man that claimed himself an Imperial commander. It was yet another mark to add to her record, one already marred by her colossal failures at Edau.  Not only had she failed to properly guard lead scientist Galen Erso, completely failing to notice his loyalty was fake, essentially allowing him to engineer the weakness into the Death Star, but she also failed to properly defend the research facility when the Rebels attacked, leading to its total loss.  The Admiral had no qualms reminding her of this, and how fortunate she was that when the dust finally settled, Lord Vader had no longer been in command when punishments were handed down.

“The Rebel you did capture,” Ozzel said, finally changing the subject, “have you gotten anything from him?”

“No sir,” she replied, “just that he claims to be a Commander Skywalker of Black Squadron.”

Even with the grainy blue of the holocall, Tolvan could see Ozzel’s face go deathly pale.  He glanced to the side a moment, as if making sure no one heard her, before he dropped his voice, speaking urgently.

“Whatever you do, Captain Tolvan, you make sure that boy is proved a Rebel,” he hissed.  “Whatever you can find; do you understand?”

Tolvan pursed her lips, the only outward sign she would show she was not pleased by such a request.  She would not stoop so low as to manufacture evidence, no matter who requested it; her mentor had taught her better than that.

“Yes sir,” she lied, saluting as the call ended, before her eyes narrowing in distaste.  That was rather sloppy of the admiral; if he really wanted her to do such a thing, he shouldn’t have all but confirmed the commander’s identity.

Tolvan turned on her heel immediately, heading to where they were holding the young man.  He looked up as she entered the converted troop transport, blue eyes focused on her curiously.  She held his gaze for a moment, feeling something… unusual about him, but not sure how to describe it, before dismissing the stormtroopers guarding him.

“Admiral Ozzel has confirmed your identity,” she stated once they left, getting Skywalker to raise a curious eyebrow.

“Did he?” he asked, not bothering to mask the genuine surprise in his voice.  It brought a tight smile to Tolvan’s face as she continued:

“He wants me to prove you a Rebel by whatever means necessary.”

That got the young man to roll his eyes.

“He’s as lazy as he is incompetent,” he grumbled.  “Small wonder how Lord Vader hasn’t strangled him yet.”

Tolvan shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Lord Vader and his preferred method of dealing with officers that failed him.  Part of her wondered if he would say the same of her past failures, but she shook it off immediately, refusing to dwell on it.

“Who was that woman?” she asked instead, getting him to raise an eyebrow again.

“Chelli Aphra,” he answered.  “A doctor of archaeology, specializing in ancient technology.  She was working with us until about three months ago.”

“She’s a rogue agent then?”

Skywalker paused at that, his face scrunching up in thought.  It was clear he did not want to dismiss the doctor as such, but he did not know how else to describe her.

“She’s… troubled,” he settled with.  “One of our missions uncovered something that made her uncomfortable, and she was reluctant to continue.  I’ve been keeping an eye out for her in the event she does something… unadvised.”

“Like stage a Rebel attack on an Imperial survey detachment?”

“Exactly.”

Tolvan let out a snort at that, folding her arms over her chest.  Just her luck to end up caught up in all of this.

“And I take it you intend to go after her?” she asked.  He frowned, shrugging slightly as he leaned back in his seat, reaching up with a hand to run his fingers through his messy (and completely out of regulation) hair.  The action gave her pause; he… was supposed to be handcuffed, right? Her eyes flicked over the table, spotting the binders in a corner. When had he…?!

“I want to, but I only got a glimpse of that star map that appeared,” he admitted.  “Wherever she went, I’m sure it has to do with whatever that was showing.”

Skywalker paused, his eyes focused intently on her, and for a moment, Tolvan felt like she was being looked through; like everything she was being laid bare before him.  She shifted, the only sign she allowed to show how uncomfortable his gaze was.

“You want to go after her as well.”

Tolvan stiffened, a hard look coming to her face.

“She killed the men under my command,” she replied, “sent us on a wild mynock chase and ruined months worth of surveillance.  Of course I want to go after her; that’s why I placed a tracker on her ship.”

A mysterious smile came to Skywalker’s face, eyes alight like he just heard something funny, before he stood from the seat he was supposed to be chained to.

“Then I suppose we should hurry, Captain.  We should take my ship; it’ll be faster than anything you have here.”

Tolvan stared after Skywalker as he rounded the table to leave, like he was not a prisoner at all, and free to leave whenever he wanted.  Just who was this boy?

~.oOOo.~

To say that Aphra was bothered by what happened on Yavin IV was a bit of an understatement.  She liked Luke; maybe not enough to be naive and call him a friend, but enough to regret kicking him in the face.  The fact that she could feel that her father wanted to question her about it did not help, and she spent most of the trip through hyperspace to who even knew where with him sitting next to her, taking glances at the side of her head, but not saying anything.

That changed when they came out of hyperspace, and her, her father, and Santy were left staring out of the viewport for a long moment.  She tore her eyes away from the sight first, staring up at her father as he stood from his seat.

“Is it everything you were hoping for?” she asked, waving out to the space before them.

“I-I don’t…” he began, before he let out a breath, his shoulders sagging.  “I think now I just wanted one thing: for it all to be real.”

Aphra did not say anything, her eyes on the lost fortress in front of them.  There were no lights on within, the buildings only lit by the stars around them.  There was no atmosphere shield that she could see, but she felt the Ark Angel shudder slightly as she approached, weaving around rocky satellites that orbited around the half moon that made up the bottom part of the Fortress of Garn.

She brought the Ark Angel down near a path that looked like it led to the center of the fortress.  It was a moment before they disembarked, as Aphra double and triple checked the sensors to make absolutely sure there really was breathable air outside.  There was, and while it was cold out, oxygen-breathing species could go out without assistance; there was even functioning gravity. She did not know how that could be, when it looked like they could just jump and be pulled out into space, but the lost fortress was just as safe as any other modern installation.

They finally left the ship, her father staying close to her as they made their way down the path.  As they walked, balls of light flickered to life above them, illuminating the way forward…

...and giving them a clear view of corpses, long since rotted to the bone and still clothed in ancient Jedi robes, some still clinging to their lightsabers.  It was a humbling sight; Jedi were meant to be cremated on death, a way of releasing the physical to let the soul rejoin the Force. Her father let out a shuddering, shocked noise, and Aphra’s gaze flicked over to him, taking in the devastated look on his face.  She let out a breath, shaking her head.

“Well, dad, this is about as real as it gets.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke could feel thousands of years worth of festering sorrow, pain, and utter despair the moment they came out of hyperspace. It hit him so strongly that his vision whited out a moment, leaving him completely overwhelmed, and he did not even realize he doubled over the console until he heard DV let out a soft boop.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted, gripping the Windsor ’s controls a little tighter as he heard a faint tsk come from behind him. Captain Tolvan did not seem to approve of a lot of things he did, from letting himself free (which was a bit of an accident; he was never conscious of when he freed himself from handcuffs — it just happened) to the fact that he insisted on piloting himself. He was not sure why she was so surprised by that one; he was the one that would lead Black Squadron when his father was not flying. Ozzel May have confirmed his identity, but it seemed the captain still had doubts about his actual position.

His vision finally cleared as he gathered the Force to himself, separating the centuries of pain apart from the present and pushing it aside so he could focus on the dilapidated fortress before them. It was clearly old, older than maybe some of the documentation in his father’s library on Mustafar, but beyond that he could not place just how old it was.

“Readings indicate breathable air,” he said, focusing on puzzling over his console instead. “I don’t know how, but we’ll only need cold weather gear out there.”

“I will inform the troops,” Tolvan replied stiffly, turning to leave.

“Make sure their blasters are set for stun,” Luke added, glancing back at her. “I don’t want to hurt Aphra if we can avoid it.”

Tolvan glanced back at him, but said nothing as she headed to the back.  Luke frowned at her, before he glanced down at DV.

“She isn’t going to listen, is she?”

DV’s response was hardly encouraging.

Chapter Text

Luke was careful to land out of range of the Ark Angel ’s sensors, never mind the ship looked like it was completely shut down when he spotted it.  Fifteen minutes later they were disembarking, and Luke could feel a pulse resonate through the Force the moment he set foot on the ground.  The Force itself ached with sorrow on this hallowed ground, but more than that, something here was calling to him.  No, not here, but across the galaxy, made easier for him to hear in this place… He let out a soft breath, letting his consciousness reach out curiously, across the stars.  It was not the Emperor; he was very distinctly aware of him and what his slimy presence felt like.  Whatever it was, it was… peaceful, calm, with no malicious intent to be found, and it was definitely looking for him specifically.  But who…?

He was drawn out of the Force by the snap of blaster rifles, and Luke shook his head slightly, his eyes finally settling on Triple Zero, who seemed slightly miffed at having stormtroopers threatening him and BT.

“Don’t shoot!” Luke ordered as Tolvan opened her mouth.  She snapped it closed, turning a glare at him, but he ignored her, walking right up to the droids.

“Always good to see you, Master Luke,” Triple Zero greeted him amicably.  “Apologies for failing to contact you sooner; I had no idea Mistress Aphra’s downward spiral would lead to this.”

Luke was not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so he let it go for now.

“What’s going on, Triple Zero?” he asked.

“It seems Mistress Aphra is buying into her father’s idealistic crusade to find the remnants of an ancient Jedi sect, despite spending the entirety of her life hating him for it,” the droid explained, and that time Luke easily picked up on the sarcasm in his voice.  “Judging from the condition of this place, I doubt they will enjoy what they find.”

Luke let out a breath, reaching up to scratch at his forehead.  Aphra was impulsive, sure, but it was not like her to nosedive this far into something she hated.  Although… she had never mentioned her father before; maybe some unresolved issues with him prompted her to do all this…?  He could analyze it later, after he made sure she was okay.

“Where is she now?”

“Heading toward the central spire, sir,” Triple Zero answered as BT let out an irritable beep.  “Doctor Aphra Senior and Black Krrsantan are with her.”

Luke nodded to himself, thinking over their options.  Aphra was probably both scared and needing to keep up appearances in front of her father; at the very least, it sounded like her kind of mindset.  The captain was probably ready and willing to shoot her at the first opportunity, which was an issue, but not one he could not handle.

“All right,” he finally said after a moment.  “Go back to the Ark Angel.   If Aphra manages to get out of here, please continue to keep an eye on her.”

The droid tilted his head slightly, as if uncertain as to why he would continue to show so much concern for her.  Luke knew he probably should not — knew that just about any Imperial agent was not worth this amount of trouble — but he had faith in her.  He knew eventually she would come back to their little band of sort-of-rebels-but-not-quite, and he did not want to give up on her.

“Understood, Master Luke,” Triple Zero finally said, starting to totter off with BT following behind.  The stormtroopers parted for them, and Luke did not need to be looking to know that Tolvan was giving him a judgmental look.  He glanced over at her, understanding on his face, but refusing to back down at her expression.

“Just as you seek vengeance, Captain, I look to protect,” he explained, and she let out a faint scoff, muttering under her breath, before turning away.  Luke nodded to himself, before proceeding forward, taking point and keeping his focus on the here and now, despite the lingering sensation of someone he did not know observing him through the Force.

They were a few minutes in before light suddenly flooded the entire area, leaving Luke and Tolvan squinting to adjust.  A faint hum of power ran through the entire fortress, and he stared out at the illuminated path, a heavy feeling settling in his gut.  No wonder the Force sang of despair here; there were so many dead — former Jedi, he assumed, and laymen alike. Even the captain had to stare a moment, morbid wonder written all over her face.

“These are not Jedi that died in the purge,” she pointed out.

“No, this is much older than that,” Luke murmured faintly, eyeing the ground.  He could see the occasional spot that had been disturbed recently, where a cylindrical imprint of a lightsaber remained with no lightsaber to be found.   Aphra…

“We’re getting close,” he said, trying not to let his annoyance show as he plowed forward.  The most irritating part was he knew how she would respond if he called her out on robbing from the dead.  Namely, she would point out that archaeologists are essentially graverobbers with paperwork.

They were coming out into open space before long, and Luke found himself struggling against the feeling of his heart freezing in his chest.  It was literally open space; the path they were on ended abruptly, turning into a near transparent bridge that led to a tall tower in the very center of a small, floating island.  Aphra and who he could only assume was her father were already on the other side, with Krrsantan keeping watch as the two doctors worked on a console. The wookiee barked out a warning, raising his bowcaster as Aphra’s head jerked up in surprise.

“Open fire!” Tolvan ordered before Luke could say anything.  His mouth was open to protest as the stormtroopers started firing, and sure enough, she had not told them to set their weapons to stun.

“Tolvan, that’s enough!” he snapped.  “Stand down!”

She ignored him, ordering her troops forward instead.  They stepped out onto the near transparent bridge, a faint glow lighting under their feet as they marched forward.  Luke opened his mouth to protest, only to snap it shut as return fire came from the other side, forcing him to duck back behind cover.  He bit back the urge to swear, half tempted to pull out his lightsaber from its hiding place and end this fast, but he had a feeling Tolvan would just try to shoot him instead.

“Tolvan!” he shouted instead, watching as Aphra and her father ducked into the tower.  The captain finally shot him an annoyed look, her hand on her blaster, like she was ready to pull it on him.

“With all due respect, Commander, until you’ve ground pounded with the troops, I suggest you refrain from presuming you know how to command them.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at that.  As refreshing as it was to be dealing with someone that did not know him and did not put him on a pedestal, now was not the time to be dealing with back talk!

“You are trying to kill a good person just because she out maneuvered you!” he snapped back at her, really tempted to call her out on what else he sensed when she had talked about Aphra back on Yavin.  He was not about to embarrass the woman in front of her troops, but he knew he had to do something to stop this.  Luke’s gaze flicked around the area, from the bridge and open space beneath it, to what might have been some ancient console, a crystal glimmering on the surface of it.

Stars forgive him, but they were not going to listen to him.

Luke bolted out from cover, blaster fire flying all around him and Tolvan yelling at his back.  He slapped his hand down on the crystal once he was close, yanking it straight out of the console.  The bridge the troopers were on immediately flicked out, leaving them to drop into space below, screaming the whole way until they breached the atmospheric shield.  Luke flinched, regret churning in his gut as he glanced across the way. Black Krrsantan nodded to him, acknowledging the tough choice he had made. His bowcaster came up in the next moment, and a flare of warning in the Force came too late for Luke to dodge.  He heard a shot, and pain flared in his shoulder as the wookiee fired in the same moment, Tolvan’s cry of pain coming a second later. Luke let out a pained gasp as he collapsed against the console, blinking against spots that danced along his vision. Stars, that was the same shoulder Solo had shot almost a year ago now; why did it have to be that shoulder?!

After a moment, he fumbled to get the crystal back into the slot, bringing the bridge back to life.  He fell to the ground soon after, struggling against tears of pain as he heard Krrsantan heading over to him.  The wookiee knelt down, letting out a concerned growl as Luke fumbled up enough to lean against him.

“I’ll be okay,” he gasped out, carefully craning his head to check the damage.  It definitely looked worse than the last time he had been shot, but if Tolvan had been aiming to kill, he probably would have been dead.

He let out a groan after a moment, flopping back against Krrsantan.

“Whatever Aphra’s doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

The Force suddenly lurched sharply, sending Luke’s head spinning painfully.  He covered his mouth with a hand, struggling against the urge to throw up as an unsettling green hue engulfed the area.  Everything felt wrong, so utterly and completely wrong in a way he could not describe, but all he knew was the Force was not supposed to feel like this.

There was a creek of metal moving, and both Luke and Krrsantan turned to see the ground move, dust from a thousand years of stillness shifting to reveal a droid, its eyes glowing green as it came to life.

“Eternal Rur…!” its electronic voice groaned, static bursting over the vocoder as others joined it, their cries sounding like the dead come back to life.

Krrsantan let out a warning growl, his bowcaster coming up as he wrapped a protective arm around Luke.  He let him, clinging to his arm and staring wide eyed as the droids shambled toward them.

“Aphra, what have you done…?”

~.oOOo.~

There was a lot Aphra needed to worry about, namely the fact that Luke was out there trying to control that cute Imperial captain by himself.  She had heard him shouting at her to stop, and was not surprised in the slightest when she had not listened. Cute and tough as nails; were it any other time, she would be making jokes about how she was in love.

Despite the danger and her worry for Luke, she found herself unable to dwell on it overly long, caught in awe over the massive crystal structure that made up the central core of the Fortress of Garn.  The crystals gleamed a faint green, throbbing with life, and despite being over a thousand years old, the air felt charged with energy. More dead bodies littered the ground in this central control cluster, and she felt her father’s hand on her arm after a moment, his gaze fixated on one of the corpses in utter awe.

“There, by the console,” he breathed.  “Immortal Rur himself.”

“I’ve seen more immortal,” Aphra quipped before she could stop herself.  She glanced at her father, a sheepish look on her face, before she shuffled over and knelt to inspect Rur’s long dead body.  Her father, meanwhile, went to the console, running his hands over the panels, looking for a way to activate it. He finally let out a disparaging noise as she stood again, resting both hands on the aged metal.

“It’s missing a crystal,” he finally announced.  “We can’t reboot the computer.”

Aphra let out a huff, part of her disappointed, the other part not at all surprised.

“So, dad, you’ll never know what happened here, and we’re going to sit here not knowing until the Imperials find a way up here.”

Her father let out a heavy, defeated sigh as he closed his eyes, and as much as Aphra wanted to say it did not bother her, she felt a bit of her heart break at the defeat on his face.  She should not care; he had wasted his life and the life of his family on an impossible dream.  He should have known better than to just throw his hopes into the past!

“I just wanted to bring light back to the universe,” he murmured softly, and Aphra felt that broken part of her heart immediately snap.  This again…!

“You wanted to save the universe?” she demanded.  “You have no idea how scary the universe actually is—!”

“You’re wrong, Chelli,” he interrupted her, and somehow his soft voice was enough to stop her mid-rant.  “I knew very well. That’s why I chased the Ordu. Even before the Jedi died, I could see the cracks in the galaxy, the darkness that was seeping in.  The Jedi weren’t perfect, but they held that darkness at bay… at least until the Empire set fire to the galaxy.”

He paused a moment, turning a lost and hopeless gaze toward her.

“I’m one man.  I’m no warrior.  If I could bring back the Ordu, then maybe I could light a spark of hope in the universe.  Then I could have a galaxy safe for my daughter to live in.”

There was that bit of her heart, breaking all over again, and Aphra had to turn away, a hand going to her face to fight back tears.  He sounded so right, so incredibly hopeful, that she could not help but think that he would fit in with Vader and Luke and their crazy misfit band.  Hearing him say all that really felt like she was on Mustafar again, listening to Luke talk about bringing light and hope back to the universe.  He had sounded so right about it, just like how her father sounded so right about finding the light of the Ordu.  It scared her now, just like it scared her then.

Why trust her with something like this?

Aphra let out a shaky breath after a moment, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crystal like the ones on the console.

“Here,” she said, tossing it to her father.  He caught it awkwardly, staring at her in disbelief.  “Rur the Not-so-Immortal had it on him.”

“Chelli—”

“Dad, listen,” she cut him off.  “I get it, okay? You and mom wanted the best for me, but you couldn’t figure out how to do that while dealing with the reality of the galaxy.  All I want right now is for you to be prepared if your dream turns out to be the opposite of what you thought it would be.”

Her father paused, holding the crystal out in his hand.  In that moment, she could tell he had considered that, could tell that the nightmare of that reality had haunted him on many sleepless nights.  At the same time, her father had so much hope that what he wanted could be a reality.  She let out a breath after a moment, her shoulders slumping.

“Remind me after this to introduce you to a friend of mine; you’d adore him,” she said, earning a faint smile in return, before her father set the crystal in the console.

The crystals on the console immediately burst to life with a green light that engulfed the entire room.  Aphra raised a hand, squinting through the brightness to see the light converge into something resembling a face.

“When… when is this?”

Aphra shuddered at the voice that filled her mind, biting her lower lip.  Oh, this was some serious Force stuff at work already. This was so many levels of not good.

“Who are you?” her father asked, staring at the light in absolute wonder.  Because of course he was.

“I am Rur,” the light answered.   “When is this?”

“Uh… pretty sure you’re not,” Aphra replied, even though everything in her was screaming to run and get Luke to deal with this.

“I’m sorry, but… Rur is dead,” her father pointed out, his gaze flicking toward the corpse on the ground.  The green light of the face before them seemed to glow brighter in irritation.

“That shell is the False Rur.”

There was a mechanical groan from behind them, and both Aphra and her father turned to see the green light seep into the husk of a droid, left disabled in a corner of the room.  Its eyes came alight with the same creepy green that surrounded them as it began to move, struggling to pull itself up on its damaged legs.

“I am Rur,” the droid said, a faint buzz coming from its damaged vocoder.   “Eternal Rur!”

More droids came to life around them, shaking off centuries of dust as each of them demanded to know when it was.  They slowly pulled themselves up, shambling toward them as her father huddled close to her, grabbing her hand protectively.

“Let’s make a deal, Rur,” she said, thinking quickly.  “I’ll tell you when it is after you tell us what happened here.”

“Torture can tear the answer from your impudent tongue,” Rur shot back, and Aphra could not help but swallow in nervousness.  Man, some people were just cranky when they woke up.

“Yeah, but torture is so slow,” she replied.  “Just give us the basics and I’ll tell you the time, honest.”

The droids paused as Rur let out a faint hum of consideration.

“This is logical…”

~.oOOo.~

The Fortress of Garn was under siege from within; Rur could see as much when the orthodox Jedi set foot on the surface of the moon shell they had carved out for themselves.  The ghost that now occupied his flesh shell greeted them amicably, upholding the treaty signed that ensured the Ordu would permit such inspections. But he knew; the fake him would permit a close inspection of the facility, and the Jedi would know that he had achieved the immortality he sought.  The likelihood that they would attempt to call him a heretic and stop him was high.

And that he could not allow.

The Jedi were the first to fall, easily slain under the droids that he could now wield as his own limbs.  His other Ordu brothers attempted to defend them, the poor fools; he murmured prayers of forgiveness to himself as they, too, were denied the same immortality.

Once the main opposition was gone, he sent the Fortress deep into Wild Space, knowing full well that only the Ordu crystals could track the vessel.  He would be safe for now, and would be able to rebuild the Ordu in secret, away from the influence of the Jedi.

A bang resounded through the Fortress, and suddenly they were brought out of hyperspace as all power but that leading to his console died.  Even so blinded, he could see why: dear Amon, still believing the ghost in his flesh shell was the real Rur, had cut the power to the facility, before succumbing to his droids.

“No!” he bellowed in rage as the wall to the command center burst open, chunks of debris sent flying through use of the Force.  The ghost in his flesh shell came bursting through the hole left behind, lightsaber flashing as he cut one of his droids down.  The others came up around the console, forming a wall that no matter how hard he tried, the ghost could not penetrate.

“You cannot destroy me without destroying everything that is or ever was of the Ordu,” Rur hissed.   “You wouldn’t dare do such a thing.”

For a moment, the ghost kept his lightsaber up, prepared to attack… before he sighed, lowering the blade.

“...you’re right,” he said softly.  “And that is the sin I bare.”

The ghost’s hand shot up, calling one of the crystals on the console to it with the Force.  Rur let out a cry of agony as his consciousness started to ebb, the sight of the ghost being set upon by his droids the last thing he saw…

~.oOOo.~

Aphra glanced over at her father, a crestfallen look on his face.  She was pretty sure what they just heard was worse than her father just being wrong.  To know he was right about the Ordu being something good, only to have that goodness destroyed by their own hubris… well, maybe that was just like him.

“It seems the droids acted on my final orders, to purge all organics until their power ran out,” the thing that called itself Rur continued.   “For their individual batteries to have failed, it must have been a considerable time…”

Aphra let out a breath at that; time to fulfill her end of the bargain, and she had a bad feeling about how it was going to go.

“Rur, what calendar are you familiar with?” she asked.

“The Domancian Accord.”

Aphra’s eyes widened as her father let out a breath.  Oh, yeah, this was going to end badly.

“That… the Accord is ancient, ancient history, she explained.  “Long before even the Republic was founded.  At least four, five thousand years ago.”

A shudder went through the entire facility, and Aphra let out a squeak of fear, backing into her father.

“No, no, no!” Rur bellowed, shaking dust loose from the ceiling.   “Everyone dead, for so long!  I have lost everything! I had so many plans, such great designs, such weapons!  They stole my life! I would have had an empire! They would have begged!”

The fortress shuddered with Rur’s rage again, very nearly knocking Aphra off her feet.  Her father suddenly let out a scream of pain, and she whipped around to see one of the droids had grabbed him, some kind of plasma in its hand burning at his leg.  She snapped her blaster out immediately, blowing the brittle, ancient droid to smithereens.

“I CANNOT PUNISH THE DEAD!” Rur bellowed.   “I WILL PUNISH THE LIVING!”

Oh, they were so out of here.  Aphra grabbed her father, dragging him back to the elevator, shooting at the droids as she kicked at the controls to send them back down.

“This is bad,” she said as the last droid disappeared from sight.  “This is badder than bad. Pretty sure it can’t get worse than this level of bad.”

It was a moment before they returned to the base of the spire, only to see hundreds of droids pouring into the area.  There were not any stormtroopers to fight them though; the cute captain was still there, nursing a painful looking shoulder wound as she tried to fire on all the droids with Santy.  Luke looked like he was in a similar state, wielding his lightsaber one handed as his other arm hung there kind of uselessly.

“It take it back, it got worse,” she muttered, looking around desperately, before spotting another crystal.  She bet that would knock out the bridge from this side.

“Luke! Santy! Get over here!” she yelled.

Luke glanced back, before saying something to the others.  They started to pull back, covering Luke as she could see him concentrate, pulling on the Force to shove the droids off balance.  He was bolting across the bridge in the next moment, and Aphra yanked the crystal out once they were all on solid ground.

“Aphra…”

She cringed when she heard Luke’s soft voice, hesitantly turning to him.  He was not mad at least, but the concern on his face was harder for her to process.  She let out a breath, slinging off the pack that had all the lightsabers she had gathered on their way in and handing it off to him.  He let out a grunt as he took it, blinking in confusion as she slipped one of the ancient weapons out, flicking it on as she whipped off her beanie, tossing it aside.

“Aphra, what’s going on?” he asked as she spun her hair up into a bun.

“I need you to get our ships over so we have a way out, and look after my dad,” she replied.  “I need to go all archaeologist on an ancient not-a-Jedi-maybe.”

He stared after her in mute surprise, though she was not paying attention to him.  She turned to the side, catching the cute captain staring after her, and Aphra could not help herself.  She tossed the captain a smile and a wink, enjoying the sight of her face turning a little pink, before she stepped back into the elevator.

The elevator was barely halfway up the spire when she heard Rur’s voice echoing down to her head.

“You return to die in my presence, mortal!”

Cranky and arrogant; ancient Jedi were more of a pain than the ones from the old Order, apparently.

“Sorry, not interested in the dying part,” she said as the elevator stopped, raising the old lightsaber defensively like she had seen Luke and Vader do so many times.  This was her first time wielding one of these things, but these droids were old and clunky; this would be fine.

With a shout, she launched herself forward, easily slicing through one of the droids, before pivoting and sending the blade through the head of another.  Rur seemed to realize his mistake, that his droids did not handle as well as they had thousands of years ago, especially as she cut through a third on her way to his console.

“No!  If you destroy the console, you doom us all!”

“It’s fine!” Aphra insisted, bringing the lightsaber straight down through the console.  Rur’s lighted face instantly winked out as the fortress started to shake. Red emergency lights flicked on as cracks started to appear in the walls and ceiling.

Aphra moved to leave, when she paused, spotting the largest crystal of the bunch within the ruined console.  It glowed faintly with a green light, and Aphra had a feeling that was “Rur”. She should just leave it, or spear it with her lightsaber; that would be the sensible thing to do… but when had she ever done anything sensible?  Instead she stepped onto the console, ripping the crystal out of its holder and stuffing it into her remaining bag, before heading out.

~.oOOo.~

Luke had DV pick them up as quickly as possible, while Triple Zero flew the Ark Angel out to a nearby planet to rendezvous with them later.  It seemed like the best thing to do instead of have two ships trying to pick up their groups at once, and turned out to be a wise decision as the fortress started to collapse.  He pulled the ship around once they were clear of the fortress, watching as it slowly fell apart, before finally disappearing in a brilliant explosion that buffeted the ship even with as far out as they were.

“Behold, the twilight of the Ordu Aspectu…” he heard Aphra’s father utter, and he turned to him to see a mournful look on his face as he reached up, swiping away tears.  Luke tried to give him a comforting smile, unable to begin to understand how much all of this must have meant to the man.

“When it comes to Force users, I’ve been finding that very few stories end happily,” he said softly.  “It’s what we do with the lessons we learn from them that determines our path forward.”

He gave him a curious look, one Luke was used to at this point.  There were very few things that he did that people expected, like being nice.  The Empire, at least the ideas his father and him had for it, needed to work hard to dispel the image of the officer that would rather shoot you than speak to you.

“Your lightsaber…” Aphra’s father began after a moment, his gaze flicking down to where it was still hanging from his belt.  “That… you didn’t get that from the fortress. That’s a more modern design.”

Luke smiled faintly, resting a hand over the hilt.

“It’s my father’s,” he explained.  “He’s letting me use it until its safe for me to build my own.”

Aphra’s father gave him an uncomprehending look, and Luke could not help but laugh, offering his hand.

“Commander Luke Skywalker,” he introduced, watching as the elder man’s eyes slowly lit up in shock and wonder, questions just waiting on his lips.

“Careful, Luke, he will talk your ear off.”

They both turned to see Aphra leaning against the door frame to the cockpit, arms folded over her chest.  Luke opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand, shaking her head.

“...thanks for saving us, mini boss,” she finally said reluctantly, “but I still mean what I said before.”

Luke opened his mouth, a million protests he wanted to make just resting on the tip of his tongue, but all of them refusing to come out.  Instead he slumped in his seat, reluctantly nodding, before turning his attention to calculating the jump to hyperspace.

~.oOOo.~

Tolvan was still trying to process the last few hours of her life, even as she stood next to Commander Skywalker, weathering what could only be described as an unhinged rant from Admiral Ozzel.

They truly made a ridiculous pair, their opposing shoulders wrapped up in enough medical gauze and bacta patches to look comically bulky underneath their clean uniforms.  She was honestly surprised they had even been allowed to dress their wounds and change into clean clothes, if how spitting mad Ozzel was provided any clue as to how much trouble they were in for their actions.  Still, the two of them stood stone faced as they weathered the storm, and Tolvan had to feel a small amount of respect for the commander for maintaining the guise of professionalism, never mind she could see a fist clenched like he wanted to strangle the life out of the admiral.

“I will see that the both of you recieve demerits for this gross breach of protocol!” Ozzel snapped, and Tolvan glanced at Luke as he let out a sigh, finally letting that stone mask of his slip to one of barely maintained patience.

“With all due respect, Admiral, you have no authority to do so,” he said.

Tolvan took back everything nice she ever thought of him.  The boy was clearly insane, though perhaps seeing Ozzel turn so red she half expected steam to come out of his ears made the back talk worth it.  Skywalker even had the audacity to smile, relaxing his stance as he folded his hands before him.

“Need I remind you that Captain Tolvan is part of the army, sir?” he asked, just barely keeping an air of respect.  “It’s the responsibility of the general her unit falls under to issue a demerit, not you, though that general is allowed to take your suggestion under advisement.”

The way the commander said that was as clear as outright saying no one would ever take what he had to say under advisement.  Tolvan actually felt herself struggling against a smile; even if Skywalker ended up in the brig for this, she had to admire his tenacity.

“Also, despite how much you desperately try to show otherwise, you are not my commanding officer,” Skywalker continued.  “Though I’m certain Lord Vader would be delighted to know you made an attempt to frame one of his own personal pilots as a traitor.”

It was amazing how a man could go from burning mad to sheet white in less than a second.  Ozzel took a step back, a hand absently trying to loosen the collar of his uniform. The commander tossed him a humorless smirk, before turning to her.

“Captain, if you would accompany me, please?” he asked, before turning toward the door, moving to leave without being dismissed.  Tolvan glanced back at Ozzel, seeing him starting to turn red again and, despite the clear threat to her career, elected to follow the commander out rather than endure another round of yelling.

The two of them walked in silence for a long time, down the labyrinthine halls of the Executor.   She quickly lost track of the many turns they were taking, but the commander seemed to know the way like he had grown up on the vessel.  It seemed like he was deliberately taking the long path to wherever their destination was as well, trying to blow off the rage he had built up from before.

“It’s hard to take seriously the demands of a man that paid for his position, rather than earn it,” he finally said, and Tolvan glanced over at him, eyebrow raised.  He returned her look with a faint, barely there smile. “I wish Admiral Montferrat had transferred to this ship, but the day he leaves the Devastator is the day he falls over dead.”

Tolvan let out an amused snort at that, very familiar with the reputation of the dead-eye admiral and his dedication to his ship and crew.  Skywalker’s smile seemed to turn a little more genuine in response, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small hand reader.

“Forgive me, Captain, but I researched you while I was being patched up,” he continued, and Tolvan felt herself stiffen.  It seemed she was to endure yet another lecture today after all, but as usual, Skywalker was out to surprise her: “You were mentored by Inspector Thanoth, graduated top of your class, and expected to rise high through the military.  The only reason you’re still a captain is because the blame for Eadu was placed entirely on you.”

He pursed his lips, and there was sympathy in his eyes as he glanced at her.

“Such a catastrophic failure is not one to be shouldered by one person,” he said softly.  “Especially as intelligence from the Rebellion showed the attack was due to miscommunication.”

Tolvan had to stop, feeling her head swim.  No one had ever said the events at Eadu had not been entirely her fault before, and she certainly was not expecting such kindness from someone she shot.   She gave him a suspicious look after a moment, narrowing her eyes.

“What is it you want, commander?” she asked, because he had to want something.  No one would act like this out of charity.  Skywalker raised an amused eyebrow, as if confirming he did want something.

“Did you know Inspector Thanoth put in a recommendation for you to be transferred to Intelligence?” he asked, and Tolvan paused at that, frowning.

“Sir, as I understand it, the inspector is dead,” she replied.  “Killed in action.”

A mysterious smile came to Skywalker’s face.  “Missing in action, presumed dead,” he corrected, though the way he said it made it clear that was not the case.  He glanced at his reader again, thumbing through it.

“There is a position open now.  If you accept it, you will have to start at lieutenant inspector, but you will be placed right away,” he continued, before returning his gaze to her, that mysterious smile still lingering.  “My father has need of a new adjutant from the Intelligence Division, one capable of keeping him informed of matters that even he cannot keep track of, for various reasons. With Thanoth elsewhere, I believe you most suited for this responsibility.”

Tolvan frowned at that; his father?  That was strange; he had just been snippy about Ozzel for buying his position, yet he was here through connections?  Something was not adding up, and it took her a moment to realize where they were. The corridor was deserted, save for a few maintenance droids trundling about, and the doors to a docking bay loomed before them, marked with a giant “1”.  Skywalker treated her to a smile again, as if he knew what her answer was going to be before she even decided, and he unclipped his code cylinder and waved it at the door release.

It would have been easy to be distracted by the many ships inside the docking bay that had no business being on an Imperial ship — one of which was clearly Rebellion in origin — if the first thing Tolvan had not heard was the breathing.   She felt herself stiffen, eyes wide as they fell on Darth Vader himself, standing near the entrance and talking almost amicably with a Togruta in Rebellion fatigues.  They both paused and turned toward them as they entered, and it took everything in Tolvan’s power to keep her feet moving so she stayed just behind Skywalker.

“Father, Ahsoka, may I present Lieutenant Inspector Magna Tolvan.”

...father?

...Vader?

Tolvan felt all the color drain out of her face.  Oh… oh what had she just unconsciously agreed to?

~.oOOo.~

Aphra was happy to sink into her favorite seat once they were back on the Ark Angel, her dad sitting on the one across from her.  The droids were back in the shop, powered down after the long trip and enjoying a good recharge, and Santy was in the cockpit, getting the ship ready for take off.  It gave her the time to be with her dad who, despite meeting Luke, still looked like he was entirely lost.

“The university sava you stole the symbiotes from died last month.”

Aphra jerked in surprise as her father spoke, staring at him with wide eyes.

“He had no desire for his posterity to be undermined by just publishing everything you’d done,” he continued.  “He knew you hated me, so he told me what happened, hoping that hate went both ways.”

His gaze flicked to her, so heartfelt, as if saying that would never be true… as if she did not know that already.

“You can get your doctorate back by—”

Aphra held a hand up, stopping him, and he gave her a curious look as she reached into her bag.  She pushed aside the lightsaber Luke had allowed her to keep — Rur’s, she noted with some amusement — before pulling out the crystal she had yanked from the fortress console.

“I think this was the core of the fortress,” she explained.  “When it went down, so did this. But it’s Rur, or whatever’s claiming to be him.”

Her father let out a breath, and she could tell part of him wanted to be excited, but he could not manage it.

“Even as dark as these times are, that thing could make it so much worse,” he replied softly.  “Even with all it knows, it’s evil. Pure evil.”

Aphra paused a moment, before she shook her head.

“Maybe so, but…”

She trailed off, letting out a breath.  She couldn’t believe she was doing this…

“If there’s a chance it could be used for good, we should take it,” she said sternly.  “I don’t want to see you give up on your dream, dad; because no matter how many times I said it in the past, you were not wrong.”

He stared at her for a long moment, looking like he was on the verge of tears.  Geeze, that just made all this worse; Aphra let out a breath, resting a hand on top of Rur’s crystal.

“I think I know someone that can reactivate this crystal,” she began.  “But it’s going to involve some dirty, underhanded work. Do you trust me?”

Chapter Text

Blasts of green and red were going off all around, and Biggs found himself gritting his teeth as he sent his ship into a dive, keeping pace with his wingmates through some of the heaviest laser fire they had ever been through.  He doubted he would have been able to keep up with this concentrated madness on his own, and suspected his commander in the ship before him was doing everything she could to help him keep his thoughts clear, allowing him to stay hyper focused on his surroundings.  He could admit that he did not understand the Force, outside of it being a special power for special people, but if it was okay for him to “borrow” it like this, he was not about to deny its existence.

Unlike certain Corellians that would remain nameless.

He broke off in sync with Wedge, sending their ships spinning downward in mirror images of the other.  Biggs was squeezing the trigger the next moment, sending red blasts of fire tearing through an eyeball before lining up his next shot.  That TIE fighter also fell under his attack, just in time for him to see his commander break off, barrelling toward a very distinctive TIE Advance, and leaving Biggs and Wedge to form back up without her.

It was an unspoken rule in the squad; when Vader shows up, leave him to the Force user.  There was always at least one new kid that got cocky, however, and it looked like today was not going to be any different.

“Rogue Six, break off,” he ordered when he saw the X-wing heading for the same target.  “Leave the mega-squint to Rogue Lead.”

“I got a clear shot!” the kid protested, and Biggs heard the distinct sound of Wedge palming his helmet sharply over the com.

“No you don’t, Six; get outta—”

He did not get the chance to finish as Vader’s ship turned sharply, blasting Six’s ship to space dust before diving to avoid Lead’s attack.  Wedge let out a sigh over the com as Biggs just shook his head.

“Damn kids…” he muttered under his breath, before he and Wedge both were forced to rejoin the fight.

Things did not last very long after that.  The two of them were able to score three more kills each before the Empire was sent limping off in retreat, ending the simulation shortly after.  Biggs let out a pleased noise as his score came up, happy to see it was improving, before he pushed his way out of the sim pod. Those that had not made it to the end were already out, various looks of disappointment between them, especially the “damn kid” that was Rogue Six.  Wedge hopped out soon after, pulling his helmet off and tossing Biggs a wide grin. His enthusiasm did not last long, however, the smile slowly fading as his gaze shifted behind him, and Biggs did not need to turn around to understand why.

Commander Leia Skywalker felt like an irritated ball of rage, even to him, and it took Biggs a moment to dare to look back as she removed herself from her pod.  Her gaze was fixed solely on Six, who at least had the grace to look uncomfortable under her glare.

“That could have been a better performance, especially from some of you,” she finally spoke, some of the others starting to look uncomfortable now.  “Rogue Six, care to explain why you disregarded a direct order?”

Biggs was honestly surprised the kid could meet her gaze; he had to give him credit for being daring, but that would get him killed one of these days.

“I had a clear shot,” he replied, and Biggs could hear Wedge let out another sigh.

“You did not have a clear shot,” Leia replied sternly.  “Even in a simulation, never assume you have the upperhand on Vader, or you will lose.”

A few of the others shifted uncomfortably, but somehow the new kid managed to stand his ground.

“With all due respect, ma’am, why do you have to be the one to take Vader down?” he asked.  “It’s not like you’re the only one who’s had family killed because of him.”

This kid wanted to die, apparently; Biggs had to fight against a groan as Leia narrowed her eyes at him.  This was always needlessly difficult, how people just did not believe in the Force, how they just automatically assumed that she went after Vader in revenge for Alderaan.

The fact that they could not exactly tell people Vader was part of her family did not help.

“What’s your name, Six?” she asked, even though Biggs knew that she knew it already.  Just as he knew that she committed the names of every pilot to memory, and personally wrote letters of condolences to the families of every pilot fallen, even if they had not been part of her squad.

“Janson, ma’am,” the kid answered.  “Wes Janson.”

She nodded at that… before taking one of her lightsabers off her belt and igniting it, bathing the area in a purple glow.

“When you can take up one of these and know what it means, understand the responsibility that comes with it and believe in the power that is paired with it, then you will understand why only I go after Vader, and the rest of you stay back.”

Janson did not look like he understood, not that he could blame the kid.  Still, Leia closed down her lightsaber and turned to leave, her red trimmed braid trailing behind her as she walked off.  Biggs and Wedge paused, exchanging looks, before starting after her.

They followed her through the docking bay in their temporary base on Horax III.  Their stay here was just supposed to be quick: gather up some much needed supplies, do a little recruiting, a little training, and then get out before the Empire even knew they were there.  Unfortunately, it was the training part they were running into problems with, and as much as Leia was a born leader, they could tell the frustrations when it came to this part of command were starting to get to her.

They were well on their way to the door leading to the rest of the base, before she finally spoke.

“I don’t know how my brother stands it,” she said, coming to a tired stop, hands on her hips.  “Imperial egos are worse to deal with than these kids.”

Biggs and Wedge exchanged looks, deciding not to remind her she was not that much older than some of those kids.

“Luke’s always been crazy,” Biggs offered instead, a lopsided smile coming to his face.  She turned at that, offering him a faint smile, before leaning against a storage container.  It looked like she was about to say more, when the sound of a ship coming in distracted her. Biggs turned, just in time to see a strange, slapped together ship that made the Falcon look like a reliable mode of transportation come in for a landing, and he found himself frowning.  Where had he seen that ship before…?

Leia stood up straight, starting toward it with Biggs and Wedge not that far behind.  By the time they got to where the ship landed, the boarding ramp had already been lowered, and an unfortunately familiar woman was walking down it.

“You!” Wedge shouted, a hand fumbling for his blaster.  The small astromech rolling down the ramp next to the woman let out a blat, a kriffin’ rocket launcher popping out of its body somehow.   Wedge took a step back, though his hand did not leave his blaster.

“Who are you?” Leia demanded, looking like she would rip off her lightsabers any second.  The woman just offered her a charming smile that would make any high roller gambler swoon.

“Doctor Chelli Aphra,” she introduced.  “I work for your dad, and I need your help.”

~.oOOo.~

To say that Leia was uncomfortable with the everything that was Aphra would have been vastly understating the matter.  Just about everything on the rogue archaeologist’s ship was unsettling, from the two murder droids to the bounty hunter wookiee that took a long, interested look at her, to the creepy glowing green crystal.  About the only normal person on the ship was Doctor Aphra Senior, who had looked both surprised and utterly thrilled to meet her.  He was the one to tell her of the crystal’s origin and how they obtained it, the later of which had Leia the most concerned.

“What makes you think this ‘Rur’ will be cooperative once you reactivate the crystal?” she asked, casting a suspicious gaze toward the younger Aphra.

“Because no one likes spending an eternity sleeping, no matter how cozy it sounds,” she replied, kicking her feet up onto a console.  “Besides, it’s worth making the effort. With all the ancient knowledge in this thing, it has to have an answer to your Emperor Wrinkletine problem.”

Leia sat back on her seat, grateful that Biggs and Wedge had strong armed their way into coming aboard.  She glanced at the two of them now, both of them looking like they wanted to shoot the younger Aphra and leave it at that.

“So how am I supposed to activate it?” she finally asked.

“You don’t,” Aphra replied.  “But I know someone that can: the Queen of Ktath’atn.”

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said with a shrug.  “She keeps to her world, not so much the courts of the Mid- and Core-Worlds.  She’s old, and very bored. Once a year she swaps favors for meeting interesting organic life.”

She flashed Leia a smile, dropping her feet to the ground as she leaned forward in her seat.

“And who’s more interesting than a Jedi Princess, daughter of the Hero with no Fear?”

Leia narrowed her eyes at that, and she felt Wedge shift beside her, like he was ready to pull his blaster.

“What’s the catch?” she demanded.

“The catch, like I said, is she only does this once a year, and by the time we get there from here we’ll have maybe a few hours to get you looking presentable enough to show off to her highness.  I need a yes or a no in the next few seconds.”

So no pressure; Leia was liking this less and less by the second.  She should just be walking off this disaster ship, but… She found her gaze drifting toward the crystal.  If there was even a chance that it had something that could help them with Palpatine, then it was worth the risk, right?  If only to free her family…

Leia squeezed her eyes shut, having a feeling she was going to regret this.

“Fine,” she answered, nodding back to Biggs and Wedge.  “But they stay.”

“That’s fine, we don’t have time to kick them off,” Aphra replied, springing to her feet.  “Santy!”

Aphra bolted for the cockpit, the wookiee lumbering after her as Leia sunk back in her seat.  She had a bad feeling about this…

~.oOOo.~

Wedge had a feeling this whole crazy thing was going to go south the moment they landed on Ktath’atn.  The tropical downpour levels of rain were doing absolutely nothing to make the tall spires of the queen’s citadel any less creepy, not to mention the company they were keeping.  He could not help but glance back at Aphra’s murder droids, the blackened steel of their plating almost making them disappear into the gloom, and their glowing red eyes made all the more demonic looking for it.  Wedge shuddered after a moment, pulling his rain poncho close and trying to think of something to say so he could stop freaking himself out.

“So, uh… ‘Ktath’atn’,” he began.  “What’s that mean?”

It was Triple Zero that ended up answering him: “‘The military expedient construction of loud, shrill exhilations,’ is the literal translation, but I much prefer, ‘the Screaming Citadel’.”

Lightning chose to crackle through the sky at that moment, blood red and splitting the gloom like a well used knife.  Wedge let out a weak noise, regretting he asked and huddling as close to Leia and Biggs as he could. Leia looked back at him almost absently, but it seemed her focus was more on their surroundings.  It took Wedge a moment to realize they had an audience, and he watched as the people of Ktath’atn gathered around, staring at them.  Something felt wrong, however, almost like their gazes were completely empty, yet they were still focused on them, especially Leia.

“Chelli, dear,” Aphra’s father spoke up, resting a hand on his daughter’s arm.  “These people look so thin. Do we have food to spare for them?”

Aphra blew out a breath, looking over to Leia.

“I know the princess is a humanitarian, so I came prepared for her suggesting it,” she replied, before raising her voice.  “Santy! Bring out the box!”

Krrsantan thumped down the ramp a moment later, a massive crate of food slung over his shoulder like it did not weigh anything.  The natives took a collective step back at the sight of the wookiee, before fleeing from the landing pad, leaving him letting out a confused sounding warble.

“Guess they’re more scared than hungry,” Aphra muttered, clearly bothered by that response.  “Santy, just set it down; they’ll come for it if they want it.”

The wookiee shrugged, setting the container down before locking up the Ark Angel, and their group continued on.  They passed by twisted, bone-like wooden poles, looking like they may have been part of a construction project that had long been abandoned, before following through a tunnel system that had them slipping in and out of the rain.  Wedge’s gaze flicked over to Leia on occasion, taking in how quiet she was, like she was listening to some distant voice they could not hear. He knew the “Jedi look” when he saw it, and it did nothing to settle his unease over the situation.

They finally came to a massive set of stone stairs, leading up to a guard post that blocked access to the citadel proper.  Two guards in jet black armor guarded the way in, and they stepped forward at their approach. Aphra took point then, raising the hood of her poncho a bit so her face could be seen.

“We’re here for the party,” she announced.  “Doctors Aphra and—”

The guard cut her off with a sharp, “No wookiees.”

Wedge jumped as Krrsantan let out a loud, mad snarl, crashing into Biggs as he did so.  At least the guards also had enough sense to take a step back.

“The Queen has… allergies to certain species,” one of them explained.  Krrsantan let out a grumble, saying rather colorfully what he thought of her allergies, before Aphra rested a hand on his arm.

“Santy, it’s fine, I’ll bring you leftovers,” she said, pulling out a deck of playing cards, before motioning toward where they could see a Gamorrean ducking into a building, obviously a cantina of some kind.  “Here, make friends, don’t kill anyone.”

Krrsantan let out one last annoyed grumble, before starting toward the cantina as the rest of their group was allowed through the guard house.  Wedge found himself taking an uneasy glance back, wishing they had been able to take the wookiee with them. Not that he did not have faith in Leia’s abilities if things went south, but having over six feet of fur and muscle at their backs was so much more reassuring.

“You’re like Han with that wookiee,” Leia finally commented, an amused note in her voice as they ascended the last of the stairs, leaving them on a long bridge leading to the citadel.  “How did you find him?”

“One,” Aphra began, her face twisted into a grimace, “never compare me to Han Solo.   Two, he’s one of the bounty hunters working with your dad.  And three… I owe him a lot of money.”

Leia rolled her eyes at the last part, while Biggs shot Aphra’s back a suspicious look.

“Speaking of finding people, how did you find us?”

Wedge nearly stopped walking at that, staring at his fellow pilot with wide eyes.  How had none of them thought to ask that question sooner?  The vague, hand waving motion Aphra did in response did nothing to inspire confidence.

“I told you guys, I work for the big guy,” she replied, clearly reluctant to give Darth Vader’s name, if the quick glance at her father was any clue.  “You think a father doesn’t keep tabs on where his daughter is?”

Lightning crackled ominously overhead again, and Wedge wilted a little.

“I have a bad feeling about this…”

~.oOOo.~

Luke had his arms folded over his chest as he watched the information from the sim pods fill out before him, his eyes flicking back and forth over the data.  He was still developing his plans for pulling people into the squad, and had a list of names he was determined to pursue himself, but he still needed to test the two he had with him.  Anya and Tula were very good, and did well individually. So far, at least, they seemed to work well together as well, helped by the fact Tula spoke enough Huttese to understand Anya. The twi’lek was slowly picking up Basic in return, with Tula helpfully sitting down with her and teaching her.  It would take some time, but if he kept the two of them paired, he was sure they would continue to compliment each other.

He was pulled away from his observations when he heard a familiar boop, glancing over to see DV rolling toward him.

“Hey, buddy,” Luke greeted him, absently rubbing his head once he was close enough.  “What’s up? I haven’t seen you all morning.”

The reluctantly booped response brought a concerned frown to his face.

“Having a crisis?  Deevee, what’s wrong?”

He was clearly reluctant to say at first, his boops soft and low and coming out slowly, before he finally blurted out the whole story.  He told him about how Aphra had contacted him, letting him know that she really needed to talk to Leia, and to please tell her where she was and not to tell Luke because it would just make him worry.  Which, of course, Luke was worried; what could Aphra possibly want with his sister…?

“I have a bad feeling about this…” he murmured, before pushing aside the data on the console before him.  “Deevee, plug in and get me a secure line to Ahsoka. We should warn them.”

~.oOOo.~

“What do you mean you don’t know where Leia is?”

Han was entirely, completely frustrated as he stared down at Leia’s R2 unit, trying not to lose his patience with the little guy.  He understood that he could not always know where she was at all times, but he was her astromech!  The rust bucket should have at least had an idea!  No matter how he asked, though, all the little droid could come back with was a worried warble, which did nothing to ease his nerves.

“Uh… Captain Solo, right?”

Han turned at the new voice, raising an eyebrow at the kid in Rebel orange behind him, taking occasional peeks over at the Falcon nearby, as if he was not sure anyone would ever admit to actually flying it.  He frowned, immediately defensive, settling his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, what’d’ya want?”

The kid made a face, before gesturing vaguely toward the docking bay.

“If you’re looking for Commander Skywalker, I saw her go into a ship that docked before,” he explained.  “I didn’t see her come out before it left, though.”

Great, not what he needed to hear right now.  He nodded to the kid, waving him off and watching him leave before he turned around… only to have his vision filled with red and black and sharp, rotting teeth.  Han yelped as he jumped back, instinctively pulling his blaster, but managing to stop himself from firing.

“Kark, Maul!” he snapped.  “Don’t creep up on me like that!”

Maul flashed a sinister grin at him, clearly enjoying the sight of him squirming.  His expression dropped a moment later, suddenly so serious that Han could feel his stomach bottom out.

“Get your ship ready,” the former Sith Lord ordered.  “We needed to leave immediately.”

“Why, what’s going on?” Han demanded, R2 beeping up the same question.  Maul answered with a grim expression, and unease crawled up Han’s spine as a result.

“Leia has been tricked to going where Force users are not meant to tread.”

~.oOOo.~

Her father was nervous as all hell, and Aphra did not need to be Force sensitive to pick up on as much.  He was not pacing at least, but the fact that he was staring at everything around the room they had been given, like he was hoping to find answers for what they were doing there.  She shot him a look that all but begged him to relax and not blow this, but it was clear her patience was being worn thin, something that was not being helped by their current company.

“Geeze, Biggs, I thought you were from a well off family,” Wedge grumbled, trying to help him with his spavat.  The mustachioed pilot let out an annoyed grumble, fidgeting as the Corellian worked.

“Look, ‘well off’ on Tatooine mostly means you’re not starving,” he groused, before turning toward Aphra.  “And why do we have to dress up too?  I thought the idea was to make Leia presentable?”

Aphra folded her arms over her chest, tapping her foot as she watched the two clowns.  Seriously, it was amazing the Rebellion got anything done with people like this around.

“Like I said before, this place doesn’t fall under the Empire, but that doesn’t mean the guests here aren’t going to be opportunistic,” she explained.  “And if you knights want to stick close to your princess, you’re going to have to ditch the Rebel orange.”

The two of them shot her annoyed looks, but she was not paying attention.  The door on the far end of the room opened, and Leia came out, stealing every bit of attention span Aphra had in her.  Seeing the other woman in Rebel fatigues made it easy to forget she actually was a princess at some point, so the fact that she cleaned up nicely was enough to make Aphra forget to breathe.  The slinky, sparkling white gown helped a lot, especially with the way it hugged every subtle curve of her body before falling into a glittering pool at her feet.  The red fabric was still woven through her hair, though her braids were pinned up, hugging the base of her skull and emphasizing the graceful curve of her neck.

“Damn…” Aphra muttered under her breath once she picked her jaw up off the floor.  She must have been louder than she thought, because Leia treated her to a raised eyebrow and a bemused smile.  Aphra did her best to shrug it off, rolling her shoulders.

“I mean… damn Solo for actually being lucky over someone,” she said, enjoying the sight of the princess blushing and turning away.  She caught Triple Zero peering at her in the next moment, an almost mischievous gleam in his red eyes.

“I believe that is Aphra-speak for, ‘I want to tear off that dress and—’”

“Trip, your vocoder is malfunctioning again!” Aphra yelped, hurrying to push the Rebels out of the room.  “Dad, why don’t you look into that for me okay, bye!”

She caught her father giving the droid an askance look, before she slammed the door closed behind her.

~.oOOo.~

The ballroom in the Ktath’atn citadel was a who’s who of every questionable business man and woman of every imaginable species across the galaxy.  Just on sight, Leia recognized representatives of Black Sun, Mimbani Group, Son-Tuul Pride, several drug cartels, the Ezaraa, and many, many more. It would have been disastrous if her identity was revealed in the middle of this room, and she made certain that Biggs and Wedge stayed close at all times, playing the role of bodyguards as she discreetly slipped through the room alongside Aphra.

“You could have warned us what kind of people would be here,” she hissed at the other woman once there was a break in the swarm of people.  Aphra just tossed her a smile that did very little to ease her worries.

“Look, just relax,” she encouraged.  “I mean, you’re a pro at mingling with these types.  Can you imagine if your brother was here?”

Aphra let out a cackle, and while Leia rolled her eyes, she had to fight against a small smile tugging at her lips.  No, she really could not imagine Luke trying to mingle with these people. She was about to reply when a heavy knock rang through the chamber, and conversation around them slowly died as the guests turned their gazes to the end of the room.  A massive stair sprawled along the back wall, leading up to an ornate dias and equally ornate throne, in front of which stood a woman bedecked in red and black. Her vibrant red hair stood out against her black crown, distracting to the point where Leia almost missed the fact that her eyes did not seem to have pupils, nor did she quite match the “old” description Aphra had given her.

“Presenting Her Majesty!” the chamberlain announced as the queen seated herself on her throne.  “She welcomes all, and looks forward to seeing the novelty of your presentations! She hopes they will enliven her jaded palate!”

Their little group hung back, waiting their turn as attendees came up to the throne and presented what they brought with them.  Some were fairly tame, while others were outright ridiculous to bordering on illegal. Wedge let out a shaky breath behind her as someone brought something called an aetherbeast up, and she did not need to look back to know he was uncomfortable.

“These people are crazy,” he muttered.

“We’re just as crazy for going through with this,” Biggs agreed softly.

“C’mon, you guys, trust me,” Aphra stressed.  “You think I’d willingly put my boss’s daughter in danger?  You know how he’s like!”

She mimed like she was being choked, and Biggs fixed her with a deadpan stare as Leia shook her head.  She noticed then that they were being waved forward, and nudged Aphra to stop. The woman flashed her a smile, starting forward, and Leia fell in step beside her while Biggs and Wedge filled in behind.

“Okay, follow my lead,” Aphra murmured.  “And remember, trust me.”

Something about someone insisting they could be trusted made Leia trust them even less.  It was fine when Han did it, because he usually accidentally got them out of trouble.  Aphra, however… she may work for her father, but Vader was not exactly the best judge of character.

They stopped before the queen as all the others had, and she tilted her head curiously, as if she were trying to puzzle out what they brought for her.

“And I present… the princess of Alderaan.”

Leia felt her blood run cold as the ballroom fell deathly quiet, save for Wedge letting out several swears under his breath.  The queen looked far from pleased, waving a hand sharply.

“Rejected!” the chamberlain snapped.  “And the queen would like it noted that she is not a bounty hunting office for the Empire.  She does not easily take offense for abuse of her hospitality, but it is always a possibility.”

Aphra opened her mouth to protest, but Leia was distracted by the sound of metal clad feet on the stairs.  One of the Black Sun representatives was approaching, because of course they were; their reputation for being the criminal arm of the Empire was well known.

“If her majesssty hasss no interessst in the princessss, we will gladly take her inssstead,” the trandoshan hissed, an oily sort of pleasure in his voice that made Leia’s skin crawl.

“Back off, sleemo,” Wedge warned, moving to intercept the lizard creature.  “She’s not going anywhere.”

The lizard creature snarled, grabbing a hold of Wedge as Aphra let out a worried noise.

“Get your hands off of him,” Leia demanded, her voice ringing cold in the ballroom.  The Black Sun representative merely hissed, flashing razor sharp teeth.

“Or what, Princessss?”

Leia narrowed her eyes, though not before catching Aphra’s face lighting up in amusement.  Now she understood why she announced who she was; if she just said she was a Force user, it was unlikely they would be believed.  Forcing a conflict like this? Forcing her to use her power?

A smirk twitched onto Leia’s face, and she reached a hand out, grabbing the slimy creature by the neck with the Force.  His eyes bulged in surprise as he let go of Wedge in favor of clawing at his neck. She was shoving the trandoshan away in the next moment, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

“And for the last time, I abdicated,” she added.  “It’s Commander Skywalker to you.”

Aphra let out a faint noise, absently rubbing at her own neck, but before she could say anything, the chamberlain stepped forward, flinging his arms out for attention.

“I must apologize,” he began.  “All guests must leave immediately.  Sadly, that includes all those whom the Queen expressed interest in.  All will receive compensation for their time. We understand their disappointment.  The queen will be here next year, as always.”

A disappointed murmur went through the hall, some already starting to file out as the chamberlain approached them, a welcoming smile on his face.

“The prin— excuse me, Commander Skywalker and her companions are welcome to stay,” he said softly.  “Go, sleep. The Queen will hear your request in the morning.”

Leia nodded as Aphra gave her thanks, and her gaze flicked over to the queen as she stood from her throne.  Her gaze remained fixed on her in turn as she made her way out, blood red lips twitched in a pleased look that seemed like something far more than just interest.

~.oOOo.~

Chewbacca’s dismayed growl echoed through the docking bay, drawing more than a few stares before people went about their business.  Han could not blame him; he would have much preferred his best pal over the company he did have to keep on this trip.  At the same time, he was not about to risk the Wookiee’s life either.

“Look, I don’t like it, but if Maul’s right, then this Ktath’atn is no place for Wookiees,” he replied.  “You can yell at Leia all you want for this insanity when we get back.”

Seriously, of all the people that should know better…

He waved to his best friend as R2 plowed up the boarding ramp, earning himself another dismayed grumble, before heading into the Falcon himself.  He followed the droid into the cockpit, seeing him settle by Maul.  Ahsoka was already in the copilot’s seat, finishing up the preflight sequence, while before her…

Han bit back a groan, trying not to glare at the holocall from dear old dad as he plopped into the pilot’s seat.

“—we are clear on the other side of the galaxy,” Vader was saying.  “It will take a day at most for us to arrive.”

“We’ll get Leia out before then,” Han replied, sounding more annoyed than he probably should have.  Ahsoka raised an amused eyebrow as Vader folded his arms over his chest. A dim part of him half expected to start gagging, but he was too annoyed at the moment to care.  “You got anything useful for us?”

There was a moment where Vader just breathed, like he was fighting against instinct, before finally answering.

“You are a smuggler,” he rumbled over the com.  “The usual approach to such things should suffice.”

“Right, right; keep your blaster on you at all times, be ready to shoot your way out.  Got it.”

Han reached over to pointedly hang up on the dad lord, but what Vader said next had his fingers freezing on the switch.

“And above all else, never trust the queen.”

It was Vader that ended up closing the line, and while Han wanted to grumble about him getting the last word, he could not help but feel a chill run down his spine.  What the hell had Leia gotten herself into…?

Chapter Text

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Leia turned a bleary eyed stare to Biggs at his soft spoken question, for all the world feeling like she could just fall over and sleep right then and there.  No, she had not slept, or at least she was fairly sure she had not. The night prior had been a blur of whispered warning and a deeply unsettling sense of foreboding that kept her awake throughout the night.  Something was wrong in this citadel, but she could not put her finger on what, and the Force was being vague and cryptic as always.

She finally reached up after a moment, rubbing at her face.

“I’ll be fine once I get some caff in me,” she answered him, absently glancing around as they made their way up a long, spiraling staircase.  The rain had yet to let up outside, to the point Leia was beginning to suspect the planet was caught in a perpetual storm. It made everything outside exceptionally gloomy, and everything inside more so.

She turned her gaze ahead, trying not to frown at how absolutely cheerful Aphra was.  It was almost nauseating, though Leia suspected she was only interested in getting her immortal Jedi reactivated, and they were just that close to having that happen.

“What makes you so sure this is going to work?” she finally asked.  “Your father said this crystal is thousands of years old; what if the technology doesn’t exist anymore?”

Aphra glanced back at her, gesturing reassuringly.

“Relax, princess,” she began.  “Like I said before, the queen has an interest in all manner of physical deformities and oddities, including Jedi.”

She paused, scrunching her face up as she realized how crass that sounded.  Biggs shot her an irritable look as well, and Leia swore she saw his hand drifting toward his blaster.

“No offense,” she mumbled hastily, before continuing, “Anyway, word is she’s fairly obsessed with them.  If she can’t activate the crystal, she’ll know who will.”

Leia made a face as they finally came up to a landing leading to a long hallway.

“That hardly inspires confidence,” she grumbled.  It was Aphra’s turn to make a face at that, waving a hand dismissively.

“Look, all we’re doing is breakfast,” she said as they approached an ornate set of doors, guarded by two of the queen’s men.  They drew up their vibro-pikes as their group approached, allowing them access. “Just let me do all the talking and maybe she won’t keep you like she does all the other oddities brought before her.”

“She what?”

Biggs definitely went for his blaster that time, and Leia had to smack his hand away before the guards saw as Aphra pushed open the double doors.  Light spilled in from a chandelier insided, bedecked with real wax candles, but despite the warm glow, the room was dark like the rest of the citadel.  Gothic designs on the walls loomed out from the darkness, surrounding a long table that was spread out before the queen, with three empty settings waiting for them. Leia did not need to look to know the queen’s gaze immediately zeroed in on her as they entered the dining hall, and even the light from the chandelier did little to alleviate the unease she was feeling.

“Ah, the guest of honor has arrived,” the queen said, waving to the empty seats.  “Come, sit. I hope you’re hungry.”

The queen smiled gently as they approached, though Leia got the distinct feeling of something crawling up her spine, like a thousand tiny legs were trying to find purchase on her skin.  She fought against a shudder as she refused to cower at the queen’s gaze, close enough to her now to see that her eyes were such a pale blue they were practically white. Was that why they seemed pupil-less before?  But she distinctly remembered…

“I know I, for one, am absolutely starving,” the queen continued, breaking Leia out of her thoughts.  She inclined her head respectfully, and Leia was privately grateful Aphra and Biggs provided a buffer between her and the queen as they sat down.

Krillcrab eggs were served first, something Leia had not had in ages.  She was not exactly enthusiastic about digging in, at least not as much as Aphra was, who was well on her way to licking her plate clean by the time the next dish was served.  Leia tossed a glance at Biggs, who shook his head absently, keeping a napkin between the two of them as a barricade against food spray.

“The Princess of Alderaan, gifted and trained in the Force,” the queen finally spoke up once the third dish came around.  “Such a well guarded secret; however did you discover it, Doctor… Aphra, was it?”

“Oh, the usual way people find things out these days,” Aphra replied absently, getting the queen to raise an amused eyebrow.

“Bribery?  Torture?” she suggested.

“Something like both,” Biggs grumbled, frowning as some of Aphra’s food spray landed on his hand despite his best efforts.  The queen favored him with an amused smile, before turning her focus back on Aphra.

“It’s not every day someone brings me a Jedi, especially in the last twenty years,” she said.  “You realize, of course, I will need to test this.”

Aphra waved a dismissive hand as she dug into some kind of noodle dish.  A moment later, one of the servants set a covered platter before Leia, and she stared at it a moment, turning a raised eyebrow toward the queen.  She motioned toward it, settling back in her seat with an expectant look on her face.

“If you would indulge me.”

Aphra looked up from her food, both her and Biggs watching Leia as she focused on the covered platter.  Everyone was silent as absolutely nothing happened.

“She means use the For—”

“I know what she means,” Leia snapped, keeping her focus on the dome cover.  No matter how hard she tried, it refused to move; she knew she was connecting to the Force, but for some reason, it was not responding.  This had not happened since she was eleven, and she felt her face heat up in embarrassment.

“Is something wrong with your Jedi?” the queen asked, almost sounding disappointed.

“She works well under pressure,” Aphra replied absently, biting into a fried tentacle.

“I see,” the queen replied, looking amused, before she motioned with a hand.  Next thing Leia knew, a hand was slapping over her eyes, tilting her head back as something cool and sharp was placed against her throat.  She heard the sound of a chair moving sharply, followed by a thump, and she could picture Aphra holding onto Biggs’ arm to keep him from doing something stupid.

“So anyway, about my payment,” Aphra began, telling the queen about the crystal of Rur as Leia sat there, trying to use the Force with a knife at her throat and Biggs feeling like he was going to strangle someone.  It was not exactly conditions conductive to figuring out why the Force was not working like it should.

“My blade grows hungry, princess…” a voice hissed in her ear, and Leia grit her teeth in annoyance.  Aphra’s voice spoke up, starting to sound a little nervous.

“Hey, we don’t have to wait for her,” she began.  “Why don’t we—”

“Touch that plate, and the deal is off, Doctor,” the queen’s voice came sharply.

Leia could hear something faint just then, and a spike of fear went through the room.  It took her a moment to realize it was coming from Aphra, and she sounded tense when she spoke next.

“Leia, whatever you do, don’t open that lid.”

Leia let out a frustrated noise, under the impression that this con — or whatever this was — just went up in smoke.  She grabbed whomever it was behind her with the Force instead, flinging them over the table. Her eyes sprang open just in time to see her aggressor's foot catch the lid, knocking it off the plate, and revealing two hideous looking bugs, mandibles clicking as they started toward the three of them.

Biggs shot up first, pushing Leia back as she got up from her seat.

“What are—”

“Run!” Aphra shouted, and Leia turned as her arm was grabbed and she was pulled back, the other woman holding her tightly.  Biggs pulled his blaster as they retreated, but one of the bugs leapt off the table, latching onto his neck. Biggs let out a scream, dropping his blaster and trying to pry the bug off, only to be grabbed by the queen’s men.

“Biggs!” Leia shouted as Aphra pulled her back, using all her weight to shove her out the door.  An explosion went off a moment later, engulfing the room and knocking the doors off their hinges as Aphra dragged her off.

~.oOOo.~

Something rumbled somewhere above them, making Wedge look up from where he was getting their things together.  He frowned, turning a concerned look to Aphra’s father, before he pulled his blaster, heading for the door to their suite.  He kept the weapon up, reaching for the handle and yanking the door open, sweeping back and forth over the hallway outside. The area was deserted… at least for now; he was not betting on that staying the case.

“Triple Zero, get the doc out of here,” he ordered.  “Get the ship up and running, and find Krrsantan if you can.”

He heard BT let out a blat as he left the room, with Triple Zero replying, “Yes, we do need more humans making foolish self sacrifices.  It makes things easier for us.”

Wedge rolled his eyes, hefting his blaster before continuing down the hall.  The area was unsettlingly silent, to the point that he could hear it when Aphra Senior and the droids made it out of the room and started heading the other way.  He was not too worried; he was pretty confident the murder droids would protect Aphra’s dad well enough.

He proceeded down the hall and then up a staircase, his back to the wall and his blaster held before him, ready to shoot anything that so much as twitched.  The shuffling of feet just around a corner made him stop, counting off to ten in his head, before he whirled around, blaster up and—

“Biggs!”

Wedge let his gun arm drop as relief flooded him.

“Sheesh, you scared me,” he continued as the other man’s mustache (was it a bit singed?) twitched up in a smile.  “Where’s Leia, is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Biggs replied easily, turning and motioning for him to follow.  “C’mon, this whole thing went south. Let’s regroup and get outta here.”

“I’m all for…” Wedge began, only to trail off as he spotted something odd just under the collar of Biggs’ shirt.  It looked like he had gotten a nasty bug bite, and like something was… wriggling just under his skin.

“Hey, Biggs?” he began.  “You okay? There’s something weird with your—”

That was as far as he got; they turned a corner, and two of the queen’s guards were there, rushing past Biggs to grab him.  Wedge let out a yell, his legs snapping out and clanging loudly against the guards’ armor.

“Biggs, what the hell!?” he bellowed as his wingman turned, favoring him with a smile.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said as another guard came up, holding a jar with some kind of freakish bug in it.  “Coming into the queen’s service only hurts a little bit.”

~.oOOo.~

Aphra felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest, clinging to Leia’s hand as she damn near dragged the princess through the entire citadel.  She kept telling her to stop, that they needed to go back, but she just did not get it.  There was no way they could go back, not with those damn things after them; those bugs made Darth Vader look cute and cuddly in comparison!

“Will you at least tell me what those things were?!” Leia finally demanded after a moment, making more of an effort to keep up with her.

“Abersyn symbiotes,” Aphra answered, making a face.  “Classified ‘beyond quarantine’ by the Empire. Once they get on you, they take over all brain and motor functions.”

She paused a moment as they rounded a corner, coming out to a landing with yet more stairs.  It was not too much of a surprise, considering the size of the old building, but Aphra really never wanted to see a staircase ever again after this.

“Not only was our dear queen planning on keeping you, she was going to keep all of us,” she continued, pulling out her blaster.  “Nasty, really; I think I like her.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Leia grumbled.  Aphra rolled her eyes, of half a mind to tell her she was not being serious, but decided against it.  She pulled out her comlink instead, thumbing over to the code she had given Triple Zero.

“Trip!  Please tell me you guys got out!”

Surprisingly enough, the droid answered almost immediately.

“Of course we did, mistress.  It’s not like things go to hell on our end,” he said, sounding a bit miffed that she would imply as much.  “We do have a slight issue, howev—”

The droid was cut off by the sound of a brief scuffle and a lightsaber igniting in the background, before a new voice bellowed over the com.

“Aphra, if you harmed a hair on Leia’s head, I’m sending you back to Vader in a matchstick box!”

Aphra wrinkled her nose at the com, not missing the small smile that was threatening to creep up on the princess’ face.

“Han, I’m fine,” Leia said loud enough to be heard over the com, just as the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs.  They both ended up stopping short, eyes widening.

“Uh… think you’re going to need to rethink that, princess…”

What was waiting for them at the end of the stairs could only be described as a morbid menagerie.  They were normal species of the galaxy, creatures the two of them saw on a regular to semi-regular basis, but they were all off in increasingly disturbing ways.  The Gungan was rabid, their skin pale and mottled like they had been out of the water for far too long.  The Ithorian had two heads, bobbing independently of each other, while the Talz — normally just above the height of the average human male — towered closer to a Wookiee’s impressive height.  Those were only the ones Aphra could immediately see; there were many others, each with glowing red eyes, each looking intent to rend them limb from limb.

Aphra let out a scream, firing off a warning shot before bolting for the door, clinging to Leia’s hand the whole way.  The princess yelped herself, stumbling after her as she pulled up one of her lightsabers in a vain attempt to scare the creatures off.

“Solo, I don’t care what you do to me!” Aphra shouted into the comlink.  “Get a fix on this signal and get us out of here!”

The two of them barrelled down the hall, breaking through several doors before they finally busted out to a courtyard within the citadel.  Rain pelted them as soon as they stepped outside, and Leia whirled around, holding out a hand as she commanded the doors to close. They bulged a moment later, like something big and heavy had slammed into them.

“I’m not going to be able to hold onto this forever!”

Aphra looked around frantically, trying to think, before the sound of a ship passing overhead made her look up.  A yelp escaped from her as she caught sight of the Millenium Falcon coming down, throwing herself out of the way as it nearly crashed on top of her.  As it was, it seemed to settle oddly on the soft ground, tilting a bit to one side, before the loading ramp lowered.

“Darn, missed,” Solo commented as he made his way down the ramp, swaggering like just about any other Corellian.

Aphra shot up, about ready to snap at him, only to end up backing away as a red lightsaber blade was thrust in her face.  She looked past it to the beady yellow eyes beyond, and swallowed nervously.

“Maul, no,” a familiar voice said, and Aphra might have wilted in relief when she caught sight of Ahsoka if it were not for the death pointed in her face.

“She brought my apprentice to this accursed place,” Maul hissed, only to frown as Aphra let out a nervous laugh.

“Oh c-c’mon, Darth Shorty, it’s n-not that bad here!”

Maul’s eye twitched, and for a moment it seemed like he would lunge forward, when his lightsaber suddenly flew out of his hands, deactivating by the time Ahsoka snatched it out of the air.

“I said no,” she reprimanded, swatting Maul’s arm before giving the weapon back.  The Zabrak snatched it out of her hand indignantly, rubbing the weapon off on his pant leg like Ahsoka had cooties.  Aphra did not get the chance to snicker about it, as she soon found herself face to face with an irate Togruta, and that was somehow worse than the lightsaber.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, but there was another question hidden in her tone, one that asked without words, “Do you have any idea how pissed off he is at you?”

Yeah, she had a general idea, so she was glad it was left unasked.

“Okay, so this definitely wasn’t one of my better ideas…” she replied weakly, catching sight of her father and the droids along with a blue astromech coming down the ramp… but no Wedge.  Great, he probably got brain munched by a symbiote too.

Leia suddenly let out a weak noise, struggling to maintain her hold on the doors, only to stumble back as they suddenly burst open.  It was not just the menagerie behind the door anymore; they had been joined by the queen’s chamberlain and the royal guard. Laser fire suddenly filled the courtyard, lightsabers coming to life a moment later to repel the blasts as Aphra and Han returned fire.

“Fall back!” Aphra shouted, glancing behind them to a big set of heavy steel doors.  “Beetee, get us an escape route!”

BT blated at her, rolling for the doors and working to get them open as the rest of their group shuffled back in that direction.  The little blue astromech kept blatting at him, encouraging him to process faster, only to get rude metal screeching back at him in return.  The door finally opened, and the droids were the first to duck inside, followed soon after by her father and then Aphra herself. The others filed in, with Maul last, double bladed lightsaber whirling as it reflected blaster fire.

“Get the door locked down!” he shouted, and the astromech beeped, trying to go for the controls, only to clang loudly against BT.  The two of them argued back and forth, a rather colorful series of expletives about BT’s processing power coming from the R2 unit.  BT rocked back and forth, shooting back with his own series of expletives about the astromech’s inferior design, only to get something Aphra did not quite catch in return.  It must have been offensive, as BT’s eye glowed bright red, before his rocket and missile launchers popped out.  The R2 unit let out a screech, zipping across the room to hide behind Leia as BT let out a smug noise, closing up his weaponry before getting the door closed.

Maul let out a huff as he was finally allowed to relax, shooting BT a glare, before stepping away.

“We need to figure out a way back to the Falcon and get out of here,” Ahsoka said, turning her focus to Aphra, and she fought against a cringe, feeling the “this is your fault” in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure we can—”

“Chelli…”

Aphra paused at her father softly calling her name, for a moment worried they had just run into a worse situation than they had been in before.  Turning around proved that to be both wrong and so horrifyingly right at the same time. All around the room, on just about every wall, were incubation tubes, softly glowing green and lighting up the horrific contents within.  Aphra swallowed hard, following the data lines hooked up to the tubes to a computer on the farthest wall from the door to the courtyard.

“The hell are those?” Han asked as she carefully picked her way toward the computer.

“They’re bred Abersyn Symbiotes,” she answered softly, keying a few commands into the computer, only to get beeped at.  “Beetee, give me full terminal access.”

BT paused, shooting a look at the R2 unit, like he was daring him to try and upstage him again, before rolling over.  It was only a minute after BT plugged into the console that its secrets were spilling out before her, and Aphra felt her blood run cold.  She ended up taking a step back, glancing at her father, before turning to the others.

“These things operate on a hive mind system,” she explained.  “They feed by transferring the life energy of their victims up the chain.  Every case I’ve ever seen leads to viral-speed spread and death within a year.”

She let out a shaky breath, planting her hands on the computer, eyeing the data on the screen… keying a command in, before switching the view to something else.

“They’re so dangerous, even the Empire’s response is to ‘kill it with fire’,” she continued.  “No one is crazy enough to try and weaponize these things, but the queen here has been doing her thing for at least a hundred years.  That’s unprecedented… and unprecedentedly scary.”

She paused again, turning her attention to Ahsoka and Leia.

“I had no idea.  I’m sorry.”

Leia pursed her lips, resting a hand on the domed head of her astromech.

“Biggs had one of those things land on him,” she began.  “I’m guessing Wedge too, since he’s not here. Is there no cure?  Are they just gone?!”

Aphra grimaced, having trouble meeting the princess’s gaze.  She turned back to the computer instead, bringing up a map of the area.

“We’ve got multiple exits here,” she said instead.  “The blast doors should be sealed, but I can’t say for certain.  We need to check them all, quickly.”

She closed out of the area map, turning her attention to the princess.

“You with me, Leia?”

Leia looked like she much rather filet her with her lightsabers, and even Aphra had to admit she deserved it at this point.  She spared a glance toward her father one more time, taking in how lost and helpless he looked, before turning away, motioning for the princess to follow.  She heard Leia let out a frustrated sigh, before she stalked after her.

It was a silent walk down one of the adjoining hallways, and for a moment Aphra was sure the princess was going to make good on her unspoken threat, before she finally said something.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded.  “Whatever it is you really want, there has to be better ways of achieving it.”

Aphra let out a snort.  “Right now?” she asked, palming a little treat in her hand, certain the princess did not see it.  “Just making sure my dad doesn’t end up as jaded about the galaxy as I am.”

Leia shot her a look, not believing her for a second.

“I hardly think risking the lives of others is a good way to accomplish that.”

Aphra frowned, an old bitterness creeping up her spine as the reached on of the blast doors she indicated before.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t get to watch as your father threw everything away for an impossible dream,” she replied sharply.  “He can deal with it.”

The glare Leia shot back at her was so intense that it actually made Aphra pause.

“No, my birth father only tortured me before bringing me to watch the destruction of my home planet,” she shot back, fire in her eyes and icey venom in her voice.  Aphra flinched back, giving her an apologetic look; well, at least that explained why Vader got quiet every time Leia was brought up.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” she said softly.  Leia held her gaze a moment, before she let out a breath, letting out her anger with it.

“No, it’s fine,” she said softly.

Aphra let out a shaky breath, something like regret worming its way into her gut.  She really should not be feeling this; she knew what she was doing, and exactly how much hot water she was going to end up in for it.  She could handle it…

...so why did she still feel awful?

“No, not sorry for that,” she said, slapping the controls for the doors and immediately turning around.

Several things happened at once.  Aphra pulled the goggles attached to her cap over her eyes, registering the look of shock and betrayal on Leia’s face as the queen was revealed on the other side of the door.

“Kneel,” the queen commanded, and Leia’s eyes turned red as the mesmeric control Abersyn Symbiotes used on their prey took hold immediately.  She dropped to one knee as the queen commanded, but not before Aphra slipped her little treat into Leia’s pocket.

“Hey, I messaged you a good deal,” Aphra said, making sure her goggles were secure, before facing the queen.  “Trying to use your mesmerism on me is a bad way to negotiate.”

The queen narrowed her eyes.  “You will kne—”

“Oh no,” Aphra cut her off, grinning cheekily.  “Your little trick doesn’t work through polarized lenses, right?”

Aphra paused, her smile dropping as she pulled a detonator from her pocket, holding down the kill switch as she made sure the queen could see it.

“You double cross me again, I blow her up,” she continued, nodding toward Leia.  “I slipped charges into her pockets. One false move, I let go, and congrats!  You’ll be the owner of several liters of Jedi paint.”

The queen paused, looking like she was weighing her options against the serious look on Aphra’s face.  She finally took a step back, relenting.

“Very well.  I will show you how to reactivate your crystal.”

~.oOOo.~

Ahsoka was starting to not trust Aphra.  She knew Luke and Vader did, and she knew that Luke in particular strongly believed that Aphra would recover from whatever had been bothering her and return to helping them again.  She wanted to believe that herself, she really did, but the jumbled thoughts in the woman’s head, like she was not even sure what she was doing, made it hard to think she could still be trusted.

It was with those concerns in mind that made Ahsoka follow after Aphra and Leia, and because of those concerns, she was not at all surprised to see Leia kneeling and Aphra dealing with the queen.

“Leia!” she shouted, lightsabers coming to life in her hands, but instinct was shouting at her to back off, to not look the queen in the eyes.  One look at the young commander revealed why; even though the queen ordered the forces behind her to attack, Leia did not move, eyes wide open and staring sightlessly at the ground as she remained kneeling.

Ahsoka glared in Aphra’s direction, silently promising she was going to pay for this, before she ran back down the hall.  She turned a corner, only to bump into Maul and Han, both with weapons drawn.

“Don’t look at the queen,” Ahsoka warned, ducking around blaster fire, before she turned, reflecting a shot back.  “She has some kind of power.”

Han let out a snort.  “Yeah, sure; let’s see how fancy tricks work against a blaster.”

He rounded the corner as both Ahsoka and Maul yelled after him.  To the smuggler’s credit, he managed to kill one of the guards… before looking the queen directly in the eyes.  They both were able to see Han’s eyes turn red before he dropped to his knees, staring sightlessly up at the queen.

“How sweet,” she purred, petting his head like he was an animal.

Maul let out an irate noise, lightsaber whirling, reflecting blaster fire as he backed up.

“We need to retreat,” he hissed, and as much as Ahsoka wanted to rush forward and try her luck, she knew he was right.  She backed up with him, careful to avoid the queen’s gaze, before retreating through the door leading back to the symbiote room.  Thinking quickly, she ran a lightsaber along the door seam, just enough to weld the two together.

“That should hold them back for awhile,” she muttered, turning as R2 let out a worried warble.  She glanced at the droid, asking where Leia was, before turning away.

“Where’s Chelli…?” Aphra’s father asked, standing as he looked between them in concern.  Ahsoka was about to answer, but Maul was stalking forward, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll tell you where she is,” he hissed in his face as Aphra Senior let out an alarmed noise.  “She is with the queen, delivering my apprentice to her like some kind of trophy!”

“Maul!” Ahsoka snapped.  The Zabrak glanced back at her, before releasing Aphra’s father.  He trembled as he backed away, but Maul was already ignoring him, stalking over to Ahsoka, hovering over her, or at least trying to.  After all, she was not as small as she had been when they were on opposing sides.

“We are not leaving Leia here,” he hissed.

“I have no intention of leaving Leia here,” Ahsoka shot back.  “Nor can we just wait for Vader to arrive. He would come down here personally; do you really want to run the risk of him getting infected?”

Maul opened his mouth, the expected “I don’t care” about to come out of it, when he paused, seriously considering the ramifications of Vader being infected by a symbiote.  His mouth immediately clicked closed, conceding the point as he backed off.

“What is the plan, then?” he asked instead, though Ahsoka was not sure how to answer.  By all means, busting down the queen’s door and killing her before she could react seemed like their best option at the moment.

“If I may make a suggestion…” Triple Zero began.  “We came here with a Wookiee. Considering what we are dealing with, it is likely he is being held away from the symbiotes right now.”

“Why would they do that?” Ahsoka asked.  The droid’s eyes seemed to brighten in excitement, and she felt a bad feeling crawl up her spine.

“As I understand, the symbiotes don’t like to be implanted in certain species.  There is a… reason for that, one that would be advantageous to our situation.”

Ahsoka made a face, glancing over at Maul.  She was not sure how she felt about deliberately implanting someone with one of those things, but Triple Zero seemed to think it would help them.  Right now, she could not think of any options that would not put one or both of them at risk themselves, but… would listening to the murder droid be any better?

Probably not; she could already feel like she was going to regret this, even before she opened her mouth.

“All right.  Let’s do this.”

~.oOOo.~

Guilt was probably the most annoying feeling in the universe.  Aphra could feel it poking at the back of her brain, worming its way around her consciousness as she glanced around the room she had been brought to, taking in the various trinkets and machinery built over a human lifetime.  It was an impressive collection, and if it was not for one of those machines practically staring her guilt in the face, she may have been more interested. But it was, and it was annoying, and it was making her uneasy, and she did what she did best in such a situation: talked.

“So, you got any food around here?” she asked, eyeing the guards that came out then, standing protectively where the queen was hiding behind a curtain.  Yep, that certainly was Biggs and Wedge, because she totally needed to feel even more guilty.

“I mean, I know I blew up your dining table,” she continued, shifting in her seat so she did not have to look at them, “but all this running around and backstabbing works  up quite the appetite.”

The queen did not bother to respond, drawing a faint huff from Aphra, leaving her to try to look anywhere in the room but at the everything that was her fault.  It felt like forever before the queen finally emerged, handing over Rur’s crystal.

“It is done,” she announced as Aphra turned it over in her hands, her eyes slowly widening as she realized what had been done to it.

“This is… safety basel level activated!” she exclaimed, setting her guilt aside a moment to stare in wonder.  “I can work with this. How did you do that?”

The queen glared, as if being in her presence was physically painful for her to deal with.

“There are many dark secrets hidden in this citadel, my dear doctor,” she answered blandly.  “If you value your flesh and your sanity, I suggest you refrain from asking any more questions.”

Aphra glanced at her, an unsettled feeling churning in her gut.

“How about one more little question: what happens to her?”

She finally turned toward the Big Thing in the room she had been trying very hard not to look at.  Leia had been strapped down to some kind of chair, the kind found in the worst medical nightmare one could dream up.  She was trying to struggle against the thick leather straps holding her down, but she had been secured far too tightly, not to mention weighed down by everything else that was hooked up to her.  Tubes had been connected to various parts of her body, along with a giant mask that was strapped tightly over her mouth and nose. All the tubing collected together, going through various machines, before ending at a smoke pipe resting by the queen’s chair.

Given what symbiotes subsisted on, she could guess what all that was for.

“You gonna put one of those symbiotes inside Skywalker?” she asked anyway, just to say she covered all her bases.

The queen let out an amused noise, settling herself in her chair and taking up her pipe.

“No, I have other plans for your young ‘friend’,” she replied, taking a long drag from the pipe.  The queen’s eyes seemed to glow purple as she inhaled Leia’s life essence, drawing a muffled scream from her that gradually weakened the more the queen pulled in.  It was a moment before she finally released the pipe, a please sigh escaping from her. “I do so adore the taste of a Jedi…”

Her gaze flicked toward Aphra after a moment, eyes narrowing.

“Now allow me to ask you one question, Doctor: why are you still here?”

Aphra looked down at the crystal in her hands, knowing that she should be relieved.  After all, she accomplished what she set out to do.  She could grab her father and her droids and blast off this rock.

So why did it hurt…?

“Aphra…”

Leia’s weak sounding voice made her look up, regret churning in her gut as she took in that machine again.  That had to be painful… but at least she was not being implanted with a symbiote! That meant Vader could swoop in, do his Force thing, and swoop right back out.  So in the end everything would be okay; everything would be fine.

Maybe if she told herself that enough, she would start to believe it.

“Funny you should ask that,” she finally said, turning her back to the princess.  “I was just leaving.”

Chapter Text

Having been taken on as a padawan learner at fourteen, Ahsoka had seen her fair share of murder, death, and mayhem, more than most normal sentients of the galaxy had to witness.  What they had to do to Black Krrsantan and the results of that were still more than she could stomach.  It was bad enough that they had forced his infection while he was unconscious, with Triple Zero cutting him open to implant the symbiote directly, but what the Wookiee then did to the queen’s guard…

Ahsoka shuddered as she turned away from the bloody smear on the ground, not at all surprised that Maul had an utterly gleeful smile on his face at the carnage.  She fought against the urge to roll her eyes, instead turning her focus to the berserk Wookiee that was slowly making his way toward them.

“Goodness, I am registering a most… curious sensation,” Triple Zero began.  “Visual disequilibrium, arrhythmic palpitations in my chest cavity, an increased flow of lubricants throughout my extremities.  Is this… is this what love feels like?”

“Something like that,” Maul commented idly as Ahsoka groaned, smacking a hand to her forehead.  “More importantly, droid, how do we keep the super Wookiee from doing the same thing to us?”

That was a very good question, and Force or no, Ahsoka was not very confident they would be able to handle the brutal creature.  She reached for her lightsabers anyway as they all backed up, ready to spring to action when the opportunity presented itself.

“Oh, we don’t,” the droid replied, almost gleefully.  “If he wishes, he could murder us most spectacularly.”

BT blatted loudly in objection.

“Yes, of course except you, Beetee.  You’re like a Death Star on wheels. Regardless, all we can hope to do is point our feral friend in a different direction.”

The droid tottered forward as the Wookiee stopped, glaring red, symbiote infected eyes narrowing at him.  Ahsoka held her breath, clutching her lightsabers as she saw Maul do the same.

“Oh great and beautiful Wookiee-beast,” Triple Zero began, already laying it on thick, “we few feeble sentients and paltry droids are not worth the gory glory of your luxuriously savage touch!  The citadel! Many tasty, fleshy, symbiote-enhanced morsels await you in the Screaming Citadel!”

For a moment, it seemed as if the Wookiee was not going to listen.  Then, he threw his head back, letting out a bone chilling, feral howl, before throwing himself toward the doors leading further into the citadel, snarling the whole way.  Ahsoka finally let go of her weapons, hugging her arms to her chest instead.

“...did we do the right thing?”

Maul paused, glancing at her.  “You ask me that, when you yourself had a master that would move the galaxy itself to ensure your safety.”

Ahsoka took a deep breath, letting it out slow; he had a fair point despite being… well, him. Maul tossed her an amused smirk as the first shouts of battle came from where Black Krrsantan disappeared, followed by a sickening crunch.

“Besides, at least the Screaming Citadel is living up to its name tonight.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, before catching sight of Aphra’s father peering out of where he had been hiding.  He slipped out to join them, hazarding a glance at the bloody smear on the ground, before forcing himself to look at the two of them instead.

“W-where do you think my daughter is?” he asked weakly, and Ahsoka could not help but feel for the poor man.  He had clearly bitten off more than he could handle by following his daughter’s lead.

“Knowing her type?” Maul began, his disdain obvious.  “Likely halfway back to her ship by now.”

Aphra Senior bowed his head, and she could tell he wanted to be angry about how Maul said that… but he could not be, largely because he knew he was right.  His hands balled into fists at his sides, and he forced himself to take a deep breath before focusing on the two of them again.

“I need to find her,” he said, and Ahsoka glanced at Maul, knowing that neither of them could afford to leave the citadel to help Aphra chase down his daughter.  He seemed to realize that as well, before continuing, “I will go alone if I have to, but I must find her.  Chelli… I was a poor father to her, but I am still responsible for her.”

Maul returned Ahsoka’s glance, before he reached a hand out, calling a dropped blaster from one of the dead guards to it.  He was at least generous enough to attempt to wipe the blood off before handing it over to him, though that did not keep Aphra from looking entirely dismayed at it.

“At least take Artoo with you,” Ahsoka said, expecting to hear a cheerful beep of acknowledgement.  There was nothing but silence, and she turned around, worry immediately shooting up her spine. “Artoo?”

The droid was nowhere in sight.

~.oOOo.~

Leia knew better than to hate blindly; seven years of training under General Kenobi ensured that, and the last few months under Maul had enforced it.  Yet at the moment, letting how much she despised Aphra and the symbiote queen consume her was tempting to the point she could feel the chaos of the Dark Side bubbling at the edges of her consciousness.  She stubbornly ignored it; sure it would give her the power to escape, but giving herself over like that would cause lasting damages.

Besides, the queen kept taking “sips” of her life essence, and feeling that part of herself draining away was agonizing to the point that concentrating was impossible.

She struggled against another whimper of pain as the queen drank from her again, glancing across the way to where Han was strapped down to a similar machine.  He had not been hooked up like she was, and had largely gone ignored when he woke up, as the queen had been too busy talking with Aphra and then her courtiers.  The smuggler met Leia’s gaze, his worry obvious, just as was his desire to rip out of the restraints and save her. He tossed her a wink, before she could see him twisting a hand around, trying to slip his fingers under one of the restraints enough to get the buckle off.  She was not sure if he would be able to do much, considering how easily the queen had dispatched them both before she was feeding off of her, but Leia still tried to reach out to the Force anyway to help.  It felt slow and sluggish to respond, but she could still see the buckle on the leather strap moving before the queen took another drag from her pipe, stopping her effort cold.

“It seems I now have a vacancy in my ranks,” the Abersyn queen began, finally turning her attention away from her courtiers.  Han stopped what he was doing, turning a glare at her as she approached. “Are you prepared to fill that role, Captain Han Solo?”

“Go kiss a gundark, lady,” he snapped back at her.  An amused smile graced the queen’s lips as Wedge approached, holding a tube with a symbiote in it.  Han’s eyes went wide, and he struggled to get free even as the tube was set down beside him.

As soon as it was opened, the symbiote was immediately on Han, skittering up and jamming what could only be described as a “mouth” on its abdomen onto his neck.  Leia could only stare in wide-eyed horror as it worked its way under Han’s skin. His body jerked and spasmed the entire time as he screamed, trying to fight against it even as the creature was taking control.

For a moment, a very brief moment, the queen almost looked uncomfortable.  A pleased smirk came to her face quickly after, before she took a long drag from her pipe, to the point that Leia almost saw stars dancing before her eyes.  Her vision cleared just in time for her to see the queen bending over Han, putting her lips to his and forcing him to swallow Leia’s life. Slowly, his struggles stopped, his eyes near glowing purple, before settling on red as the symbiote took control.

The queen pulled away then, fingers absently trailing along his cheek.

“Are you ready to serve me, my pet?”

“Yes, my queen.”

Leia, for the briefest of moments, felt such hatred spike through her that she was seeing red.  An image of a fanged demon lingered in her mind even as she forced herself to calm down, grinning with an almost gleeful need for revenge, one that only widened when the queen glanced at her dismissively.  When she got free, she was going to tear that woman limb from limb with her bare hands and—

...well, if she got free.

Han was being released, standing up slowly as if getting used to walking again.  It had the others distracted enough that they did not hear the soft boop, nor see Leia craning her head around to see R2 had snuck his way in.  His arc welder popped out, trying very carefully and quietly to get her straps off. She took as deep of a breath as the mask on her face would allow, settling back and glaring daggers at the queen.  Hopefully they would be distracted long enough for the little droid to do his thing.

Then stars help them.

~.oOOo.~

Aphra let out a happy sigh as she finally made it back to her beloved ship.  It had not been an easy trip; she had tried to double back to find her father, but every turn she made that was not toward the exit was met with a guard forcing her back on the proper path.  Of course, once she got outside, she was met with a vibro-pike to the face. What resulted was a shoot out through the entire damn city, leaving her to make a convoluted run to her ship to get them off her tail.

It also meant that she had to leave her father and the droids behind… but it was fine.   She was sure Ahsoka would make sure they got out okay, and then she could meet up with them later!  It was fine.

She glanced back as she heard a blood curdling scream come from the citadel, pushing rain-soaked hair out of her face.  It really was going to have to be fine, because she did not want to know what was causing that.   She let out a breath, turning toward the ship and—

“Chelli!”

Aphra whipped around in surprise, eyes widening at the sight of her father running up to her.  There was blood splatter on his robes, and he was clutching a purloined blaster hard enough to probably leave dents in the metal, but despite all that he was holding himself together amazingly well.  She could not help but be impressed; her father was made of tougher stuff than she gave him credit for.

“Dad, glad to see you made it,” she said, motioning for him to hurry with her free hand, the other still clutching Rur’s crystal.  “C’mon, we should be able to blast out of here; I don’t think… the…”

She trailed off as her father stopped before her, his expression becoming harder with each word that came out of her mouth.

“What?”

“‘What’?” he echoed.  “You were just going to leave, weren’t you?”

Aphra opened her mouth to protest, but she found herself clicking it closed quickly.  It was clear trying to deny it would only make her father angrier than he already was, and she had never seen him this angry before.  Instead, she let out a frustrated sigh, scrunching her nose up as she tried to think of an appropriate response.

“What do you want from me, dad?  I learned how to best run away from my problems from you.”

That was not it.

Her father took a deep breath, probably realizing he deserved that — because he did — but that did not keep him from nearly turning red in his anger.

“Yes, Chelli.  I ran away,” he admitted.  “I ran away when you needed me the most, but I cared.   I cared so much that I kept running, hoping I was doing the right thing because I wanted so much for you to grow up safe and happy.”

Aphra opened her mouth to protest, only to get cut off as her father outright glared at her, pointing behind him.

“You know what’s going on in there?” he demanded.  “Leia and Han are wherever the queen took the three of you.  Ahsoka and Maul cannot fight in the open without making themselves a target for the queen.  We had to implant Krrsantan with a symbiote in order to cause enough of a distraction to move through the castle, and you don’t care.”

Aphra leaned back, staring at her father in numb shock.  She had never seen him like this before, and part of her realized she had done just enough to make an absent minded man like him snap.   It was almost refreshing to see, despite it being aimed at her.  More importantly, he actually remembered everyone’s name; he never remembered the names of people he just met, not even university professors.  He continued to shock her, hefting his blaster as he shuffled to the side, ready to turn back toward the citadel.

“Chelli, if you do ever actually learn something from me, let it be that it’s never too late to do the right thing.”

He turned away from her then, and she was left staring after him, alone on the landing platform.  She turned her gaze downward once he was out of sight, staring down at the crystal in her hands.

“...you’re right, I don’t care,” she murmured, turning to leave.

“You lie.”

Aphra flinched at the familiar voice echoing in her head, not at all surprised to see Rur’s Crystal had come alive, glowing a faint green.

“I am Rur, and I see through your veil of lies,” the crystal said, and she could almost see something like a face in the light.   “You are filled with regret.”

Aphra let out a frustrated noise.

“You just woke up after thousands of years, Rur.  You don’t know me,” she replied tersely. “Also? You’re a rock.”

“You betrayed someone, and now you are wracked with guilt.  This is an unusual occurrence for you,” Rur pointed out.  He paused, and it almost seemed like the sort-of face in the light would be pursing its lips if it had any.   “The guilt, I mean.  Not the betrayal.”

She fixed him with an annoyed look.  “Princess Leia? Why would I care? She’s spoiled and stubborn and…”

And Aphra faltered, feeling something wrench painfully in her gut.

“...and everything I’m not,” she admitted softly.

“You’ve faced tragedy and pain brought about by your own father.  It made you who you are.”

“Yeah, but so did hers.”

The crystal glowed brighter as it seemed like Rur was coming more and more to himself.  Aphra found herself letting go as the crystal began to hover on its own, lifting itself before her, like it remembered how tall he was supposed to be as a human.

“You are deeply frustrated, mostly at yourself.”

Aphra folded her arms over her chest, glaring up at the crystal like a petulant teenager.  “I went through a lot of trouble to activate you. I hope you’re more insightful than this.”

She swore the light just smirked at her.

“No matter what you do next, you are unlikely to leave this planet alive.”

Aphra threw up her hands in frustration at that one, pacing angrily away from the floating rock.  She knew that, of course. Considering none of the queen’s guard had caught up to her yet, she highly suspected her precious ship was rigged to blow, or had been planted with who even knew how many symbiotes.  She knew that, if only because that was the kind of thing she would do, and was prepared to deal with it.  Nevermind it would have ended badly.

“I’ve got no friends left except for a talking rock that likes to state the obvious,” she grumbled irritably.

“This is also untrue.”

She paused at that, glancing at Rur, before her eyes drifted toward the citadel.  As much as it would have been easier to try and cut and run, she could not help but feel the beginnings of a Skywalker-worthy plan coming to mind…

~.oOOo.~

The situation was getting steadily worse, to the point where Ahsoka’s confidence about getting out was starting to dwindle.  They were following the rabid Krrsantan’s bloody path through the castle from a safe distance, but he was striking out at random, killing anything that was not them if it so much as twitched in his direction.  It was not conductive to finding either the queen or Leia in the slightest, and she could feel the frayed edges of frustration starting to creep up her spine.

“There has to be some way we can direct the furball,” Maul grumbled beside her, looking steadily more and more annoyed.

“It would help if we knew where we were going,” she replied, before letting out a sigh, casting her gaze upward, where she could sense Leia’s presence.  “You know, other than up.”

Maul rolled his eyes, before he turned his attention to Triple Zero.

“Droid, find a terminal and download a map,” he ordered.  If it were possible, it seemed like the droid would have focused a bland look on him as BT let out a rude blat.

“I’m afraid I am not that sort of droid,” he replied balefully.  “However, if our furry friend can manage to not splatter a guard against the walls, I can extract the information that way.”

A pleased, sinister grin came to Maul’s face as Ahsoka fought against a groan.  Before either of them could say anything more, Triple Zero suddenly lurched forward, a smoking hole in one shoulder from where a blaster bolt hit him.  Ahsoka’s hands snapped out, keeping the droid upright as he huffed indignantly at being attacked.

“Destroy the droids,” a familiar voice ordered.  “Capture the Force users; they will make a fine meal for our queen.”

She probably should have seen it coming, considering what happened, but seeing Han bedecked in the armor of the queen’s guard was still a dismaying sight.  Ahsoka backed up as Maul activated his lightsaber, whirling it up to the ready, just daring the guards at Han’s command to come at him.

“Maul, don’t kill Han,” she hissed.  “There has to be a way we can save him.”

He shot her an annoyed look, about to snap at her, when he was shoved to the side, sent stumbling against the wall as Krrsantan went barrelling past them.  The Wookiee leapt out at Han, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat, but the smuggler crouched, before sprinting forward with an almost inhuman burst of speed.  He grabbed the Wookiee out of the air, slamming him down with enough force to crack the floor. Krrsantan let out a weak sounding noise, struggling to get back up, only to be pounced on by several guards.  Han smirked, nodding in satisfaction, before turning his attention to them. Maul took a step back as the smuggler approached, glancing sidelong at Ahsoka.

“Can we kill him now?” he demanded as Ahsoka let out a helpless noise, not sure what to do.

A shot rang out, before Han jerked, a hole suddenly opening up in his armor, revealing charred but otherwise undamaged skin underneath.  Ahsoka whipped her head around, surprised to see Aphra’s father on an overhead balcony, carefully leveling a shot at another guard. He jerked back as he fired, but still managed to shoot the man through his helmet.

“Hmm… not bad,” Maul murmured, before charging forward, ramming the hilt of his lightsaber into Han’s gut and knocking him clear off his feet.  He landed, bracing himself against the fall well enough to recover quickly, a foot snapping out to kick at Maul’s legs. There was a stressed metal crunch, and Maul went down with a yelled curse, a prosthetic leg crumpled and nearly landing on his own lightsaber.

Han climbed back to his feet as Ahsoka settled into a fighting stance, refusing to pull her lightsabers on a friend.  Han may have suddenly gained powers, but she knew she could handle herself well enough in an outright brawl...

~.oOOo.~

The guards and the queen herself were completely absorbed, keeping watch on a set of screens that showed Han engaging Ahsoka and Maul, leading to a knock down, drag out brawl.  It had them completely distracted, not noticing R2 was well on his way through burning off the last of the straps holding Leia down. Only one of them would be a real problem, the one holding down the arm facing the queen, but she was certain that she would be able to get herself loose before anyone could do anything.

R2 was just starting to finish up with the last strap holding down her legs, when a guard turned, shouting as he spotted the droid.  Leia’s hand immediately ripped at the strap on her arm as R2 wailed, blasting the last strap off and nearly overloading his arc welder in the process.  Leia moved as soon as she was free, ripping off hosing and that damn mask, before punching the nearest guard in the face.  She looked down in dismay as he went down, realizing it was Biggs; if they survived this, she seriously owed him and Wedge.

“Stop her!” the queen shouted, her near pupil-less gaze immediately snapping to her.  Leia jerked her head away, spotting her lightsabers as she did so. She called them to her hands, happy to see the Force responding to her without issue now.

She felled one guard, before turning around and clocking Wedge soundly over the head with the butt end of her short saber as he came after her.  She stepped over him once he was down, muttering an apology when she accidentally kicked his head, and managed to spear through another guard, when a warning through the Force had her ducking back behind the chair by R2.  The far wall exploded a moment later, and she could hear several people shouting in pain and confusion.

Leia was about to peer over the chair to try and see what happened, when a hand suddenly wrapped over her mouth.  R2 beeped out several swears and Leia’s eyes widened as she found herself face to face with Aphra.  She motioned for her to stay quiet, before removing her hand.

“Look, you’re rightfully pissed at me, and I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be,” she began.  “I deserve it, but right now I’ve got an idea that’s probably the only way we all get out of this alive.  But it’s going to seriously suck for you.”

Aphra turned slightly, and Leia could see she had pulled over one of the symbiote tubes, the bug inside staring back at her greedily.

“These guys run on a hive mind—”

“And the strongest mind in the hive takes control,” Leia finished, an uneasy feeling setting in her gut.  Aphra was right, if she took over the hive it was the best chance of them getting out.  She just hoped she did not lose herself in the process.

Aphra nodded, before she stood up, stepping away from Leia and calling out to the queen.

“Hey, you know what? I think I did leave something here,” Aphra said loudly, hiding the sounds of Leia opening the containment tube.  The symbiote immediately jumped out, skittering up her arm almost curiously, like it never expected anyone to willingly bond with it.

“Anybody leave a princess lying around?” Aphra continued, as the bug made it to Leia’s neck, and she bit her lip, forcing herself to relax.  The initial jab into her skin hurt, and R2 let out a worried warble as she struggled not to scream.

“You…” the queen hissed somewhere behind her as the symbiote started burrowing under her skin, and flares of pain shot through her as she could feel every new connection made to her body.  “How dare you go back on our bargain.  Bring me a symbiote!”

“Yeah, about that…”

Leia could not hold back the scream anymore as she felt something latch onto the back of her head, feeling it squirming as it settled within her, making that final connection.  For a moment she could feel its thoughts, how it marveled at her willingness to submit to it, before their thoughts joined as one, and it felt what she felt.  It could feel the blood pumping through her veins and felt the Force as she felt it, and it sighed with her breath, practically drunk on the sensation of just being her.

They rose from the ground, using the Force to do so just because they could.  They turned, taking in the fear on the old queen’s face as they hovered just above the floor, a smirk coming to their face.

“Bow before your queen!”

The old queen backed away, as did the annoying one — they would deal with her later.  Right now the old queen was more important; she was resisting against their will.  It was to be expected; it was newly implanted, with her new to the power that it granted, while the old queen had decades to master her power.  They were the stronger, however; the old queen would submit.

“I am queen here!” the old queen roared, her eyes glowing red in rage.  The display brought a smirk to their face, and they settled their hands on their hips, their lightsabers coming to life, hovering around them with an almost casual call on the Force.

“I would take you as my queen, but I already have a king,” they replied carelessly.  The annoying one let out a snort, but they ignored her, focusing everything they had on the old queen.  “You will submit! Your dominion is mine now!”

~.oOOo.~

The Togruta was pummelling him, evading him with such ease that it was starting to frustrate him.  Of course she was a skilled fighter and also a Force user, but he was part of the queen’s covenant; he should have been able to handle her with ease.  A growl of frustration tore from the back of his throat before he charged forward. His shoulder caught the Togruta in the gut, and he forced himself up, taking her with him, and—

Suddenly, everything in the hive felt like it shifted sideways, and he could feel the very moment when his queen — not the queen, but his — entered into the fold.  Her strength and her warmth buzzed right through him, and he swore he could hear her calling out for him, her king.

In the next moment, Han could feel himself again, and he blinked, before awkwardly setting Ahsoka back down on her feet.  For a moment, she looked like she was going to punch him anyway, but she held herself back, giving him a suspicious look.

“What are you waiting for?” Maul demanded from where he was sprawled on the ground.  “Do I need to bite his kneecaps for you?”

“Pipe down, shorty,” Han grumbled at him, wincing and pressing a hand to his forehead.  He may have been in control of himself again, but he was also in control of the hive. Hundreds of minds were at his disposal, and it hurt to process them all.  He did not know how his queen could handle it.

His queen…

“Leia, he breathed out.  “She’s fighting the queen for control.  We need to help her.”

The guards he was commanding held their blasters and vibro-pikes at the ready.  He knew they were waiting for his command, and Han very nearly gave it, when someone down the hall shouted in rage.  He turned in surprise to see the chamberlain running toward them, with some of the guards turning against them, and he could feel the disconnect as the old man took over their connection to the hive, trying to dominate the minds of the entire hive.

Han grit his teeth, fighting to keep control over some of the guards by him, not to mention himself; like hell he was going to be controlled by someone else.  Leia was his queen, and infinitely better than some damn old man.  He could feel it when the guards by him responded to his will, and they trained their weapons on the others at his unspoken command.

“Start shooting!” he ordered, before glancing back.  “And you know what? Unleash the Wookiee!”

Black Krrsantan sprang to life from where he was being held by some of Han’s wards, tossing a few of them aside like ragdolls.  A feral growl ripped through the hall as the Wookiee barrelled past them, breaking necks and ripping off limbs.

“Hunh… I think I got the hang of this hive king thing,” Han said, as Ahsoka focused a bland look at him.

~.oOOo.~

Leia was not quite sure what happened.  One moment she had allowed another mind to take over, to let her fall to the background as it fought against the queen.  The next she was aware of her Self as well as the symbiote. The queen and her symbiote were there as well, and she struggled to see with her own eyes — or at least what passed for them in whatever “space” they were occupying — what she was up against.  Her symbiote was not permitting it, trying to force her sense of Self to back down.

You are my host, its voice hissed in her mind.   You accepted me willingly!  Obey, and we will defeat the old queen.

And then what?  That question alone was enough to allow Leia to hang onto who she was, no matter how much harder the symbiote made it.

“This is wrong,” Leia protested.  “There has to be a better way to do this.”

“There is.”

Leia started at the new voice, a vision of a floating green crystal invading her mind.  That was… Aphra’s crystal, right? Why was it here?

“Rur, I presume?”

“Indeed,” the crystal replied.   “I must assist you in taming the alien parasite you’ve allowed yourself to be infected with.”

Leia frowned at that.  “I can do that?”

“Of course; for someone of your power, it will be simple,” the crystal replied, summoning up an image of the symbiote, key areas of it highlighting green.   “Concentrate your will at these points.”

“And then what?” Leia asked.

“Then you will have control of your parasite.  You will slay the queen and move on,” Rur explained simply.   “It is a powerful weapon.  A Jedi’s gifts together with the alien emotional drive and control of the parasite?  You will achieve power Jedi have only dreamed of, and your will could dominate the galaxy.  I am envious.”

Leia felt herself glaring at the crystal.  No… this was not right; none of this was right.

“You’re wrong.”

She felt the Force hum around her as the crystal seemed to bob in rage.

“Arrogant human!  I am wisdom from beyond time!”

“But you are not a Jedi,” she shot back.  “You just know what a Jedi knows, and that’s not enough.  In the Force, knowledge… even just being a Jedi isn’t enough.  Using the Force is about being.”

The Force hummed her song, resonating within her as she brought it close to her sense of Self, and she could hear the gods the nightsisters believed in singing in harmony with her as she divorced everything that was holding her down from her mind.  Rur’s crystal disappeared with an angry green fizzle, and the symbiote let out a weak cry as it withered within her, then screeched in pain as the queen ripped it apart.

“Hah!  Even with a Jedi’s Force, you cannot defeat me, usurper!”

Leia opened her eyes then, seeing the queen as she truly was for the first time: a decayed puppet, barely held together by the strings of her symbiote.  What skin was left on her was death-white, as if blood had never flowed beneath the surface. A storm of black and red swirled around her, making her look like the rotting corpse of an eldritch being.  Her sightless eyes fixed on her after a moment, widening in shock as Leia stood alone, alight with the Force.

“Wait…” she began, disbelieving.  “You separated yourself from the symbiote.  You are—”

“A Skywalker,” Leia cut her off, starting forward.  She could feel her lightsabers in her hands, feel them humming their own tune in line with hers.  She saw the vivid purple of their blades, and by the time the rest of the real world came back into focus, both of them were ripping through the queen’s body.

“...and I am free.”

Chapter Text

Han did not have a damn clue what he was doing.  It was to be expected, really; how was anyone supposed to immediately know what to do when suddenly finding themselves fighting for control of a hive mind?  At least Ahsoka was cutting him some slack, doing her part to defend all of them, but a certain snarky Zabrak was not. There was not much else he could do, given he only had one good leg — a fact Han was sure he would be ragged on about for months after this — but being a smartass over the fact he could not get anymore guards on their side was not helping matters.

A sudden jolt went through Han, to the point where it felt like his head was going to split open.  He knew the others of the hive felt it too, and he knew why: the queen was dead, and he could not feel his queen anymore.  That meant…

“Quick!  Kill the—”

He did not get to finish; a hole opened up in the chamberlain’s head, and he dropped to the ground as Han looked up to see Aphra’s father still up on an upper balcony, shaking fitfully.  Well, that solved that problem, which meant…

“Hunh… I guess I’m in charge now,” he said, watching as the guards filed in line, starting to hail him as their king.  King Han; it had a nice ring to it, and he could not help the lopsided grin that came to his face.

“Solo…” Maul began, a warning tone in his voice as he pushed himself up against a wall.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I—”

“You think you can just take over?” Ahsoka asked, a bit of a sly look on her face as she glanced at Maul.  “Be responsible for an entire world?”

“It’s not so simple, you know,” Maul picked up again, absently scratching at his chin.  “Your first obligation is to your people. You’ll never be free to do what you want to do ever again.”

Han blanched at that, taking a step away from the two crazy Force users.  Yeah, no; no way he was okay with anything like that.

“Uh, so how about…” he began, fumbling for the right words.  “All of you just… quit these people! I order it so! Okay?”

For a moment it seemed like nothing would happen.  Then the guards clutched at their heads, like their symbiotes were self destructing under an order they would have never otherwise been given.  Even Black Krrsantan looked like he was having a hard time, gripping at his furry head… but when the Wookiee finally lifted it again, the red of the symbiotic infection was gone from his eyes.  Cheers of freedom went up as guards started pulling off their helmets, finally free for the first time in who even knew how long.

Han grinned, soaking in the sounds of liberation, even as he heard Maul groan.

“Never thought one man’s inability to commit to anything would save an entire world,” he grumbled, earning himself an elbow from Ahsoka.

“Han!”

He turned, ignoring the two Force users in favor of the one he cared about.  It did not matter if she had a symbiote or not, Leia was still his queen, and he knew he would do anything for her.  Right now she was all he could see as she rushed toward them, never mind that damn Aphra behind her, or Biggs shambling over supporting Wedge, who was muttering about being kicked in the head by a dewback.

Only Leia mattered.

She stopped before him, and it felt like hours where they just stared at each other.  He drank in the faint pink tint to her face, how disheveled she was, and he could not help but feel his heart flipping over in his chest.  She was just so… her, and he knew she could tell what he meant by that, but he found himself fumbling, trying to find words for it anyway.

“Leia, I—”

“That’s quite enough of that,” a familiar electronic voice interrupted him.  He felt something jab him in the neck the next moment, and the world around him immediately turned black.

~.oOOo.~

Leia stood under the Falcon, which was now resting on a proper landing pad, watching through the hissing rain as the Screaming Citadel burned to the ground.  BT was making his way over to them, flamethrowers that were hidden on his body still smoking from their compartments thanks to the carnage he wrought.  He seemed rather pleased with himself, at least that was what she could gather from his strange means of communicating. The people of Ktath’atn, grateful for what they had done for them, provided some much needed supplies, which the others were busy loading up, while Triple Zero tended to Han, getting the last of the symbiotes out of his head.

In all the busy shuffling, she still heard Aphra as she meekly approached, clutching a containment tube that had Rur’s crystal in it.

“Princess, I…” she began.  “Look, there’s no excusing what I did.  This went bad and it’s my fault. But we still have this.”

She patted the containment tube.

“I can give you access, and—”

“No,” Leia cut her off.  “It’s not a Jedi, not in any way that matters.  That thing will only make the fight against the Emperor harder, not easier… but nothing worth fighting is ever easy.”

“But—”

Leia cut her off with a glare severe enough that it made the other woman take a step back.

“If you take anything away from this, Aphra, let it be that there are no shortcuts to getting what you want.  You’re only deluding yourself by thinking otherwise.”

Aphra’s face scrunched up, only to take another step back as Leia approached, knowing that she was focusing a cold gaze on the other woman, and not really caring very much.

“Now stay the hell away from me.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but a hand absently went to her throat as she quickly changed her mind, instead slinking off toward her ship.  Leia narrowed her eyes, watching her disappear inside, before turning away to see Triple Zero tottering toward her, Han just behind him, holding his wrapped up head in pain.

“Well, your highness, this has been quite fun,” the droid stated.  “Your captain is back to his usual self.”

“‘Usual self’ and in a helluva lot of pain!” Han groused.  “This damn metal monster drilled into my head!”

Triple Zero paused at that, canting his body almost curiously.  He started slightly when he realized what went wrong, though Leia got the distinct impression he was not as apologetic as he was acting.

“Ah, I see what happened,” the droid began, “it seems my fastest acting neurotoxin was only a paralyzing agent.  Oh well; these things happen.”

It seemed like the droid would shrug if he were capable of it as he walked off, and Leia had to reach over to keep Han from pulling his blaster on him.  Their eyes met in that moment, and she could feel her heart twist oddly in her chest. He struggled a moment, lips moving, but no sound coming out.

“Leia, I—” he finally managed, but Leia reached up, placing a finger against his lips.  She searched his face a moment, feeling her cheeks starting to warm and knowing she had to be blushing about as bad as he was.

“...no one needs to know what happened, my king,” she whispered softly.  It felt ridiculous to say without a symbiote controlling their actions, and Han blushed even harder as a result.  It was a moment before he collected himself, a smirk coming to his face as he took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“As you wish, my queen,” he murmured.

There was a moment where they held each other’s gaze, where Leia wanted to do so much in response that she could not decide what… when the sound of someone clearing their throat decided for her.  They jumped apart, both of them trying to act casual as the elder Aphra glanced between them. If he heard them, he did not comment, instead focusing on Han.

“Might I get a ride with you, Captain Solo?” he asked as Leia slunk away.  “I feel it best my daughter and I go our separate ways for now.”

Leia cast a glance back, smiling faintly as Han gave the okay, before disappearing up the Falcon ’s boarding ramp.

~.oOOo.~

“Judgmental piece of bantha dung!  She’s lucky she’s hot, or I—!”

Mistress Aphra let out an annoyed screech, clearly still irritated by her conversation with Master Vader’s daughter, even as they blasted their way out of the planet’s orbit.  It was getting rather exhausting to listen to already, and Triple Zero, quite frankly, did not have the processing power to deal with it at the moment. Even Black Krrsantan was stealing the occasional glare at her from the co-pilot’s seat, definitely not amused by the fact that she was just going to abandon all of them, not that this was shocking.

He would have let out a sigh as he leaned over her chair if he was capable of it, but he knew there had to be a delighted gleam in his eyes when he spoke.

“Oh, she must annoy you so, mistress.  She went through an experience even more traumatic than yours, and emerged a driven, delightful person, devoted to a better existence for all sentient life.   And you realized how special she was too late to maintain her respect!  That must be such an awful reminder of your own failings of character.  To be honest, mistress, I’m not sure if I would be able to live with myself—”

Aphra abruptly stood, giving him a glare that promised to rip him apart, as if she could.  Sadly, she did not even attempt to make due on that, instead turning to the Wookiee.

“Take the controls, Krrsantan,” she said, before stalking into the back.  The cockpit was dead silent for a long moment, before BT let out a loud blat.

“Quite right; she is getting worse,” Triple Zero agreed, Krrsantan also rumbling his agreement.  “I believe we may need to start looking out for our own interests now…”

~.oOOo.~

Leia settled happily into a seat behind Han as the Millennium Falcon left the planet’s atmosphere.  She closed her eyes, listening to the familiar hum of the ship’s engine, the smell of oil that seemed to permanently cling to the walls, and the feel of Han’s mind as he plugged away at setting up the jump to hyperspace.  He gave the warning they were about to jump, and she could picture him reaching for the lever and pulling it back… and a whine echoed through the ship as the hyperdrive failed to engage.

“Oh you’ve got to be karking kidding!” Han shouted, and Leia opened her eyes just in time to see him pound a fist on the console.

“No lightspeed?” she asked, a touch of humor creeping into her voice.

“It was fine before we ended up on that rock,” Han groused.  “Probably all that rain got into something and—”

Leia just let out a sigh, letting him rant, before a warning from the Force had her pulling herself upright.  She jumped into the co-pilot’s seat, sensing something was coming and the Falcon needed to move.  Han let out a yelp as the ship jerked to the side, fumbling to get the controls back from her… when suddenly a massive ship appeared, cutting through the space before them like a knife.

She had heard about the Executor, of course; her brother had told her about it, and she suspected either he or their father had leaked the floor plans and crew manifest to the Rebellion, though they had no proof.  Still, knowing what it was and knowing that it was her family on there, and actually coming face to face with such a massively huge Star Destroyer were two very different things.

“Ahsoka!” she shouted, and the Togruta appeared almost immediately.  Her eyes widened a moment, before she dropped into the seat next to the communications panel.

“Why haven’t they fired on us yet…?” Han very nearly whimpered, clutching the controls in an iron grip and struggling not to accelerate for open space.

“There’s a blind spot in the Executor ’s sensor array that was ‘conveniently’ left unreported,” Ahsoka explained as she worked the console.  “We must have been in it when the ship came out of hyperspace.”

Han shot Leia a look, and she shrugged helplessly in response.  At least he was not complaining, not that he had a reason to; better to have avoided a confrontation than try to run away from her father with a busted hyperdrive.  That was certainly something that would not have ended well.

Silence fell over the cockpit as Ahsoka plugged away at the computer, waiting patiently for a response that felt like forever before it arrived.  Leia had to marvel at how calm the Togruta woman was during the whole endeavor, how she could easily stare certain death in the face every time she needed to make an in person report to her father.  She could only hope to have half the collected calm and confidence she did when she reached her age.

“Alright, we’re clear to land,” Ahsoka announced after a moment.  Almost immediately, the pilot’s console lit up with a projected flight path.  “Follow that to stay in the blind spot on the way to docking bay one.”

Han paused, giving Leia another look, before letting out a sigh as he eased his grip on the controls, enough so he would not be so stiff.  The flight to the massive Star Destroyer was tedious and unnerving, but Han made it look as simple as breathing.  It was not long before the shudder of a magnetic field passed through the Falcon, and not long after that they were settled next to her brother’s ship.

“I don’t like this,” Han said immediately, knowing it was pointless to do so, but he had to say it anyway.  Leia raised an eyebrow, an amused smile coming to her face, before she got up from her seat.

Concerned faces were turned her way as soon as she came out into the main hold.  Doctor Aphra seemed the most unsettled, almost like he expected something to go wrong the moment the boarding ramp lowered, if the way he kept taking furtive glances in that direction was any indication.  She put on the best reassuring smile she could manage, before explaining the situation.

“The hyperdrive isn’t working; it might have been because of all the rain on the planet,” she said.  “We’ve docked… on my father’s ship. With any luck, we’ll be able to get some assistance.”

Both Biggs and Wedge looked uneasy at that, the later more so than the former.  She suspected Biggs’ faith in Luke was the only thing keeping him from going the same level of sheet white as Wedge.  Aphra’s father, however, seemed absolutely delighted, and it took her a moment to realize why: he knew her as Leia Skywalker, and knew who her father must have been, not what he currently was.  She was not entirely sure the man could stand any more shock than he had already endured, and was not about to correct him on the spot like this.  She was going to have to think of another way to gently explain what happened, but for now she would need to deal with their current situation.

“Let me go first,” Leia assured them.  “I’ll smooth things over.”

She glanced at Biggs and Wedge, who in turn glanced at Doctor Aphra, before she started for the boarding ramp.

Leia could feel her father’s approach even before the ramp had fully lowered, his concern wrapping around her like a heavy blanket.  He had been scared, was still scared, and it was still difficult for her to imagine him as such.  Yet as she made her way down the ramp and caught sight of her father for the first time since that fateful moment on Cymoon, she immediately noticed that he was not at all like how she remembered.  Of course he was still armored, locked away in a black durasteel prison that he needed to survive, but he was not the towering monolith of fear and destruction she knew him to be. Instead, she saw a man that had lived the last twenty-four standard hours terrified for the life of his daughter.  She knew it was not a recent change that made this possible either; the reason for her father being able to express such emotion right beside him, jogging to keep up with his longer strides, face reflecting the emotions their father was giving off.

Leia smiled faintly, knowing that she had changed too, allowing herself to see such things.

While Vader stopped just before he reached her, wary of how he would be received, Luke had no such insecurities.  He ran past their father, grabbing Leia up in a hug that had her letting out an involuntary squeak.

“Thank the stars you’re all right,” he murmured into her shoulder, feeling like he would spin her if given the chance.  He finally pulled away from her after a moment, his hands going to either side of her head to make sure she was real, and Leia could not help but laugh.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, patting his arm.  “I’ve experienced things I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but I’m fine.”

Luke looked like he wanted to say more, but Leia reached up, gently easing his hands away from her head.  He took the hint, backing off as she turned her focus to their father.

“Maul’s leg is broken,” she began, “and most of the others had been infected with abersyn symbiotes.”

Luke’s eyes went comically wide, his mouth working but no sound coming out.  Vader seemed unphased on the outside, but she could feel him reach out for her, mentally looking her over.  He paused, almost as if he could sense what had happened to her, and a moment passed before he retreated, almost casually hooking his thumbs in his belt like nothing happened.

“I will see to it a medic tends to them,” he finally answered.  A soft smile came to Leia’s face in response.

“Thank you… father.”

The surprised sensation lasted only a moment, before a loving warmth and pride flooded the whole docking bay.  It was just as soon drowned out by a sudden jolt of shock, and Leia turned in surprise to see Doctor Aphra clinging to one of the support hydraulics on the Falcon ’s boarding ramp, eyes wide and face sheet white.

Well, this… definitely was not how this was supposed to go.

~.oOOo.~

Korin Aphra felt hopelessly lost.

By now, he knew, he should have been used to the feeling.  The truth of what the Ordu Aspectu had been was enough of a devastating blow — his life’s work, completely wrong in one of the worst ways imaginable.  To see his daughter take that and rub it in his face, nearly get people killed for it… it brought his own failings of character to an even more vivid light.  And now to know that one of the heroes of the Republic, a man that promised hope for the entire galaxy, had persisted as a monster after the purge…

He did not know what he was supposed to think, so he sat back, watching as medical droids tended to an ornery Maul, who sat on a crate with his arms crossed and a moody aura hovering around him.  Biggs and Wedge were not that far from him, also being tended by med droids, both fidgeting as they were scanned for symbiote infection. Leia had already been cleared, and now stood between her brother and Captain Solo, desperately trying to diffuse an argument between the two.  Apparently, Luke had offered to have the Falcon repaired, an offer Han had vehemently refused.  That led to a comment about the captain’s ability to maintain his own ship, which in turn led to the current, almost childish snapping back and forth.

Off in the corner, Lord Vader was speaking with Ahsoka, though it was clear he was only half listening.  His helmet occasionally slipped toward his children, and part of Korin had a sneaking suspicion the lord was hoping his son would win the argument.  After all, he doubted a proper father would approve very much of someone like Solo.

A proper father… Korin felt himself flinch at his own thoughts; it was probably bad that a man that ruled over and terrorized the galaxy could manage fatherhood better than he could.

The fight finally ended, with Solo storming off to his ship.  Luke managed to look smug for all of a second, before the glare from his sister made it clear he did not win that argument, despite the outcome.

“The boy has two on you now, Solo!” Maul sneered in order to make up for that, earning himself a rude gesture in return before Han disappeared into the Falcon.

Korin remained silent, watching still as the twins exchanged words before they parted, with Leia going after the captain and Luke going to the two Rebel pilots.  He sat beside Biggs with all the ease of a man comfortable with his company, and while Biggs was completely fine with his presence, it took a moment for Wedge to relax.

It was strange, really; despite the drastic differences, they all felt like one big family that had found each other…

Korin inhaled deeply, feeling a strange sort of resolve settle over him.  He stood in the next moment, making his way over to where Vader and Ahsoka were finishing their conversation — a debrief, from what snippets he could pick up.  The moment the lord turned to him, however, he could feel his insides freeze, even though his resolve had not wavered. It was a strange feeling, to be terrified of what one had to do and still go through with it.  He had done so before on Ktath’atn, and he frankly was not fond of it. Force willing, this would be the last time he would feel this way.

“Lord Vader,” he began, privately marveling at how he managed to keep his voice steady, “I feel there are no words that can make up for what my daughter has done — what I allowed her to do.”

Vader said nothing, folding his arms over his chest, and Korin swore he could feel his eyes bearing down on him through the mask.  He had to pause, carefully considering what he said next.

“I would like to offer what services I can, from one father to another,” he continued.  “I am a scholar, versed in ancient Jedi histories. I know that may not be of much use in these times, but I—”

“You,” Vader finally spoke, cutting him off, “are admitting to researching content restricted by Imperial decree.”

Korin clamped his mouth shut, eyes going wide as he felt the blood drain from his face.  Had he not thought this through well enough…? He received his answer from Ahsoka, as he caught sight of her rolling her eyes, before gently elbowing Vader’s side.

“Don’t let him intimidate you,” she said.  “His first thought went to how you could sort through the ridiculous amount of texts he’s gathered over the years.”

“Snips…”

Anyone else would have at least paused at Vader’s tone, but Ahsoka continued unhindered.

“Most of what he has is Sith documentation, though; teachings, history from their point of view, that sort of thing.  None of it is going to be pleasant. Are you up for it?”

Korin looked back and forth between them, and while Vader said nothing to confirm the offer, he realized he did not need to.  He let out a soft breath, feeling himself relax for the first time in days, before he bowed politely.

“It would be my honor.”

~.oOOo.~

She had been cut down, burned, and buried under rubble; and now certain death loomed low in the sky, threatening to make sure her demise was permanent.  Yet still she lived — without a host, her favored body lying hopelessly mangled and broken in the smoldering flames, but she still persisted.  She would continue on, pick herself up and ensure that she would have revenge, before restoring her precious hive, make it grander than it had ever been.

Fortunately, she had the means to accomplish this.

They were scavengers, her former subjects, looking to steal what little remained before the Empire blasted it all to hell.  It was not her first choice, creatures so plane they would hardly be noticed, but she could not afford to be picky. Besides, what was another hundred years of cultivating the perfect host?

The woman of the two parted from her companion, heading in her direction.  It was fortunate — she preferred such a host, to the point of taking on their method of address for herself.  Once the young woman was in her reach, she leapt at her, knocking her to the ground with barely a whimper and instantly taking her.  There was no time to waste in making this a pleasant communion, after all.  The ship above could fire any moment, ruining everything, and as soon as she could breathe with her new host’s breath, she rose, the single object of her focus tumbling from her lips.

“Skywalker.”

Oh yes… she would have the little girl as her own.  One way or another.

Chapter Text

Dear diary,

I know I’m not supposed to use you any longer. I still haven’t found my old ‘pad and Intel is worried it might be in the hands of the Imps, but I’ve missed you! That new account just wasn’t the same. What the code sniffers don’t know can’t hurt us right? It’s not like my private diary is full of confidential information.

Anyways, you won’t believe the code I just cracked. We sliced into an Imperial channel and got a bunch of encrypted documents and I cracked it! So now we know about military maneuvers on Quermia thanks to my language skills, and we didn’t even know they were in that system!

Danres let out a pained groan as she read over the datapad, trying to use it to take her mind off of the agony she was in.  It was the same ‘pad they had found at Vrogas Vas almost a year ago now, and for awhile it seemed as if it would just end up collecting dust in a bin somewhere.  They noticed the sudden update that was remotely uploaded by chance just after Luke left to assist his sister and her companions back to the Rebel base. She volunteered to report on what was being written; it was the least she could do, given the problems she was having.

She had been ill in the morning for a few days now.  At first, she thought nothing of it, especially since she was more or less fine for the rest of the day.  After the third day in a row, she was starting to get concerned, a cold feeling of something like dread settling at the base of her spine.  She knew at this point she should see a med-droid, but…

Danres cut the thought off as she felt bile rise in her throat again, hugging the basin of the refresher tightly as she retched once again.  A bone deep weariness overwhelmed her as she finally felt her stomach settle after that one, thumping her head against the wall. She could not afford to slow down, not for a second, but at the same time…

Stars, how many times had she daydreamed of having a family of her own?  She had lost count, had tried to bury the dreams behind thoughts of Rebellion and work.  Tanbris had not helped with keeping those dreams buried, though; stupid, perfect gentleman Gregory Tanbris who held doors open and pulled out chairs, who could make a semi-decent attempt at playing the valachord and was patient when it came to listening to her concerns.

She groaned at the thought of having to tell him; she was certain he would take it well, but there was that faint voice in the back of her head, whispering reminders that he was an Imperial that saw her as a Rebel first…

A chime distracted her before her thoughts could turn too gloomy, forcing herself to pull her head up and look back at the datapad.

Dear diary,

You won’t believe what I just saw in the control room. So I was working late on some Cheunh translations, because apparently no one else cares about what that karking Chiss bastard was up to, when the princess came in. Normally that wouldn’t be noteworthy, but she was acting a bit shifty, did a quick glance around (totally missing me in the corner by the way), and waved another in.

The guy who came in was an Imperial, and not like the typical low ranking defector, this one was in Imp greys and had Commander’s bars! Why was she meeting an Imp Commander in our base? I’m gonna keep a closer eye on her. I always knew she couldn’t be trusted.

The Imp was hot though. Gorgeous blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and an ass to die for. Kind of hope he’ll come back honestly.

“He’s only twenty!” she shouted at the screen, as if the person on the other side could hear her, before letting out a groan.  Nice to know this mouthy operative still had all the grace of a drunk used landspeeder salesman.

Danres sighed as she finished cleaning up, going over how she would word the report in her head.  She would need to focus almost entirely on the first, of course; Vader had been uncertain if the coded message leaked to the Rebellion had gotten through, but apparently it had.  They were going to need to keep an ear out for Rebellion strikes in the area, make sure they found the experimental bacta that was being grown out there and put it to their own use, not to mention freeing the “sentient merchandise” the Empire was making use of.

As much as she did not want to, she was still going to need to mention the second entry as well, if only to assure Vader his children were alright.  Luke forgetting to change out of his uniform was a bit of a concern, and she was still considering how to gently bring that up when she stumbled into someone as she left the ‘fresher.  An undignified yelp escaped from her as she fumbled back against the wall, an apology on her lips that got cut short as she caught sight of white armor.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said instead, a hint of humor creeping into her dismissive tone.

“You’re taking an excessive amount of time in the refresher, Ensign,” Kreel replied, his brick face barely twitching outside of his usual scowl.

Danres groaned, very nearly rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.  Of all the people on this gargantuan ship, Kreel was the last person she wanted to have this conversation with.

“Are you timing me, Sergeant?” she shot back, hoping it would make him mad and get him to leave her alone.

“Yes,” he replied bluntly.  “Over the past few days.”

She groaned again, covering her face with her hands.  Great; this was fine. This was so fine.  She did not think this could get any worse right now.

“You need to see a med droid if you’re p—”

“We are not having this discussion,” she hissed sharply, dropping her hands and giving the stormtrooper a glare that promised a messy death.  Kreel did not even blink. “I’m just not feeling well. That’s it. That’s all.”

Kreel did not look convinced in the slightest, keeping his gaze on her until she finally crumbled.

“...just don’t tell Gregory.”

“Don’t tell me what?”

Danres jumped, whirling as Tanbris approached from behind, raising an eyebrow at her.  She fumbled for a moment, trying to think of something to say, before her shoulders slumped.

“That… that Luke forgot to wear civilian clothes when he towed the Falcon back to the Rebel base,” she settled with.  Kreel, to his credit, managed to make it seem like he heard this already.  “Bad enough I have to report it to Vader, you know?”

Tanbris let out a sigh, shaking his head.  “There are days I’m not sure which of them is more of a handful to look after,” he said, none the wiser to what they were really talking about.  He leaned over, planting a soft kiss on top of her head. “Don’t stress over it; he’ll be mad, but he’ll yell at Luke, not you.”

A sheepish smile came to Danres’ face as Tanbris excused himself, continuing on with what he had been doing.  She managed to hold herself together for as long as it took him to be out of earshot, before she collapsed against the wall again.

What was she going to do…?

~.oOOo.~

Luke carefully picked his way through the intel section of the Rebellion base on Horax III, having snagged a poncho to throw over his uniform before parting from Leia.  He was never very cognizant of when he was wearing his off duty uniform. Most of the time he was either in his flight suit or his civilian clothes; he could count the number of times he had been in his officer greys on one hand.  But he had been in a meeting before Leia arrived on the Executor, and had not thought to change when he agreed to tow the Falcon through hyperspace.  It would not have otherwise been an issue, but he needed to touch base with someone else while he was here, leading to the poor attempt at a disguise.

It seemed to be effective, however; no one paid him any mind, even as he made his way through where intelligence personnel were working away at various stations.  It did not take long to spot the person he was looking for, and he walked right up to him, unhindered.

“Inspector, it’s good to see you again,” he said, earning himself a raised eyebrow and an amused look.

“That’s ‘investigator’ on this side of the fence, your highness,” Thanoth replied, dark eyes sparkling with mischief.  Luke flinched at the use of a royal title, glancing over his shoulder like he half expected the Emperor himself to appear and strike him down, before shooting the elderly gentleman a withering glare.

“‘Investigator’,” he corrected.  “You said you had something for me last we spoke?”

Thanoth let out a faint noise, leaning heavily on his cane as he stood, heavier than usual, and Luke could not help but frown.  Rebel life was not easy, he knew that; just because his father was doing what he could to keep the fleet distracted, did not mean their ships would not fire on obvious Rebel activity.  It was fragile work maintaining the shakey alliance they had with the few Rebels that would work with them, and such events did not help. Seeing so vividly the toll it was taking on Thanoth, though…

The investigator caught the concerned look he was giving him, before he waved it off.

“Don’t give me that look, Commander,” he began.  “When you reach my age, you won’t be moving around so well either.”

Luke managed a smile at that, though his concern lingered as he followed the elderly man through the base, coming to a small room stuffed full to bursting with various datapads and folders full of printouts.  It took him a moment to realize this was not so much a room as a storage shed, tacked on temporarily to look like a room. It also must have solely belonged to Thanoth, because he made his way through the mess like it was organized specifically for him.

“You’ve been busy,” Luke commented, his gaze travelling up a stack.  Thanoth barked out a laugh at that.

“Being ‘dead’ in the Imperial record has its advantages,” he replied.  “Speaking of, it’s good to see my ‘death’ has been effective, if the strongly worded communique from Tolvan was anything to go by.”

“You were her mentor,” Luke replied, a faint smile coming to his face.  “You probably should have expected that.”

“Indeed,” Thanoth replied, before he finally let out a triumphant noise, holding up the datapad he had been searching for.  He handed it off to Luke, and a frown came to his face as he thumbed it on.

“These are… floor plans?”

“For the Emperor’s old offices on Naboo, when he was only a senator,” Thanoth explained.  Luke shot a glance that was half alarm, half curiosity. “They have been used as a museum to his excellency’s greatness since Naboo became a protected planet.”

“Do you think anything would still be there?” Luke asked, the doubt in his voice obvious.  Palpatine may be the most arrogant, egotistical man in the galaxy, but he was not stupid. He had to have cleared out anything incriminating before allowing his old office to be turned into a public space.

...right?

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Thanoth replied.  “But if nothing else, you would be able to sense what others could not.  That alone is worth investigating.”

“True…” Luke replied softly, looking over the floor plans again.  It seemed the building was due for renovation in the near future; it would be the perfect time to sneak in and poke around, with no one else in the building to worry about seeing him.

But… Naboo was a protected planet.  That meant he would need to get special permission from his commanding officer to go.  Considering who his commanding officer was, he had a feeling he knew exactly how that conversation was going to go.

~.oOOo.~

“Absolutely not.”

Vader realized he let his son get away with a lot, far more than any Imperial officer ought to.  In public, they maintained the air of a professional relationship well enough, with the majority of enlisted and civilians alike believing the boy to be a favored officer, likely being groomed to take his place some day.  It was a true enough lie that allowed them to play their roles effectively; however, there were little things that showed through on Luke, from how he had not kept his hair to regulation cut since before Kuat, to the sharply diplomatic tongue he snapped at others that were loyal to the Emperor.  He allowed it, even though he should not have, purely because he was his son, and he loved him too much not to let him be himself.

This, however, was another matter entirely.

Luke opened his mouth, a clever protest there and waiting, but Vader cut him off before he could get it out.  A warning finger was jabbed into his face, and his son immediately clammed up, knowing better than to even attempt to talk over him.

“If you directly invade one of the Emperor’s personal spaces, he will be aware of what you are doing,” he warned.  “It will do you no good to put your life at such risk.”

“I’ve gotten better at hiding myself,” Luke protested, a bit of an indignant look coming to his face.  “Besides, I have a very good reason to visit Naboo.”

A tight feeling settled deep in Vader’s chest, and it had him snapping out a response without pausing to think about it.

“Out of the question.”

A stunned look came to his son’s face, and Vader suddenly found it difficult to look at him.  He turned away, intending to walk away and leave it at that.

“Am I not allowed to know her?”

It did not seem like Luke had meant to say that out loud, considering how softly it was uttered.  Vader heard, of course, and it stopped him in his tracks. He felt Luke’s surprise, followed by horror at himself, but he was too stubborn to back down; he was too much like his mother for that.

“A week,” he finally acquiesced.  “You will have a week of leave to take care of what you need, and report back to Mustafar.”

He paused, before glancing back, taking in the triumphant smile on his son’s face, the way his eyes shone… Luke may have looked like he had, but his manner was all Padmé; he had to wonder if he would ever know how much like her he was.

~.oOOo.~

“Naboo?”

Leia frowned to herself, staring out the cockpit of her X-wing and the swirl of hyperspace beyond.  She was back to work, of course; after a lengthy lecture on her responsibilities from Hera, she was thrown back into the thick of things thanks to a report cracked by one of their intel officers.  Imperial activity of a mass scale was rare on the outer rim that did not involve subjugating the masses, not to mention as far deep as Quermia.  They needed to scope it out, and what better way to start breaking the Rogues in than an easy scouting mission?

She was not to the communication blackout point yet; that was after the next jump in the long journey.  So when the call came in from her brother, she was more than happy to take it to alleviate the boredom. What he had to tell her, however…

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she found herself asking.  “The Emperor could have left any number of traps behind to keep his belongings out of the wrong hands.  He could even be baiting you deliberately.”

Luke let out a stressed noise, and Leia got the distinct impression he had been through this argument once before.

“Even still, it’s worth investigating,” he replied.  “This wasn’t an overnight thing; the Emperor was plotting his rise to power for a long time.  There has to be something left behind.”

Leia let out a breath, resting back heavily in her seat.  She did not want to rain on her brother’s optimism, but—

“Besides, I want to see her.”

The soft confession made Leia crumble on the inside, and she let out a faint noise, running a hand over her face.

“Do you remember her at all?” he asked, and Leia could imagine him peering over her like a wide-eyed farmboy.  It made her wonder if he realized how much of his old life still clung to him.

“Just… images.  Feelings,” she admitted.   An overwhelming sense of sadness, she thought, but was not willing to say.  “I’m not entirely sure if they’re real.”

Luke was silent, and across the stars, Leia could pick up on a deep sense of pain and loss coming from him.

“I have no memory of her,” he finally said softly.  “I have… recordings and holos, but I have no memories of her.  I just…”

“Want something real,” Leia finished for him, feeling the understanding pass between them.  It was not just enough when it came to images and videos; seeing what was left made it real, even if it was just a coffin.

Leia let out a breath, before a faint smile came to her face.

“Be safe, little brother,” she said.  “May the Force be with you.”

~.oOOo.~

The Force worked in ways that would continue to surprise and, at times, completely baffle him.

It was the same kind of morning as every morning had been since he smuggled himself onto Naboo, but today felt different.  This planet was supposed to be his prison; a gilded cage meant to be his constant reminder of how deeply he had failed the people he loved.  Today, however, the sun seemed to shine brighter, the people around him happier, and the air felt just a little bit cleaner. It was odd to see and feel, especially since the years since the rise of the Empire had been perpetually filled with gloom.  Now, even he could feel something like hope worming its way through him, and he did not know what to make of it.

He heard rumors buzzing almost as soon as he set foot out his door, whispered murmurings of a famed Imperial commander coming to the planet for shore leave.  It should have bothered him, especially since the Force seemed to jump and dance at the thought of this commander.  He found himself drifting through the excitable currents, his feet propelling him out of the humble community of poorer individuals he called home, out to the spaceport.  Stormtroopers patrolled the area as always, though he paid them no mind, and a suggestion from the Force allowed him to pass by to the landing platforms unbothered.

A crowd of young women had the same idea, it seemed, a few of them holding signs bedecked in glitter and hearts on brightly colored flimsy.  It reminded him of another time, and he could not help but smile faintly, his eyes drifting toward the pad as the ship coming in landed. The ship was much like the cruisers of old, though smaller, meant for the personal use of the pilot and perhaps a few guests.

And the pilot…

He felt like the ground would swallow him as the young man emerged.  He was in civilian clothes, black and clearly something from the higher end of Coruscant, though he wore it with all the casual ease of an individual that made clothing look good, not the other way around.  He saluted the facility commander that came out to greet him, speaking softly as he handed over some documentation, no doubt something detailing the purpose of his visit.

By the time the young commander turned to give a friendly wave to his fans, he had already gone from the spaceport, his mind racing over the thought of the boy that was supposed to be dead.

Chapter Text

“I think I got a target.”

Silence.

“...Telli?”

Silence.

“Telli!”

A soft groan finally came from the small apartment Mercy shared with the woman whose attention he was trying to get.  They were an odd pair: a Dathomirian Zabrak, one of the last of the Nightbrother clans, and a purple skinned Twi’lek, once a highly coveted slave for her exotic appearance.  A few years ago now, they had been part of the same group of degenerates, still even bore the mark of the man they had served, someone Mercy had considered a brother before his death.  That clan was long gone now, and since Telli had been his brother’s favorite for various reasons, Mercy swore to ensure her protection.

It did not make dealing with her inability to handle mornings that much easier.

“Been havin’ long nights…” she groaned from her room.  “Can’t it wait…?”

Mercy tried not to let the sigh that escaped from him sound as pained as he felt at the moment.

“Telli, it’s almost noon…”

A grumble escaped from the other room, followed by the sound of shuffling feet.  The door finally opened, revealing the Twi’lek… completely and utterly naked. She did not seem the slightest bit bothered by this as she made her way to the small kitchenette of the apartment, entirely focused on getting her morning caf and not even noticing she had a bed sheet stuck in the crack of her ass.  Mercy just let out a groan at the sight, wanting to bang his head against the wall.

“What were you even doing last night?” he finally asked.

“Oh, you know…” she mumbled, her eyes boring into the caf machine, as if it would produce her life giving liquid that much faster.  “Tempted a few Imperial bootlickers. Knocked them out. Robbed them blind. The usual.”

Mercy tried not to roll his eyes.  Yes, that was the whole reason they traveled the galaxy now; stealing from those they felt deserved it, usually from Imperial officers that thought she was just an object for entertainment.  Sometimes their actions ended in the death of their victims, but for the most part it just ended with a few embarrassed snobs trying to salvage their pride, which was much more satisfying most of the time.

“Might have found another one for you to hit up,” he said, glancing back out the balcony of the apartment, watching said Imperial.  He had noticed him when he first woke up, and tracked his movement as he was escorted around the main plaza by a man in uniform. Occasionally, the kid would come back, lingering at a statue of the Great Queen, though it was hard to tell why from this distance.  “Young guy; not wearing a rank, but getting escorted around by a commander. Clothes look like they could buy this building; genuine Alderaanian shimmer silk, I think. Might be a Moff’s son.”

Telli let out an interested noise, muffled around her cup.  She wandered over to him after a moment, having relocated the bed sheet so it was loosely wrapped around her chest.  She was mostly preoccupied with her caf, but she followed Mercy’s gaze, a faint smile curling around the lip of her cup.

“He’s so tiny,” she murmured.  “Look at him! He might be the shortest full grown human in the galaxy!”

Mercy rolled his eyes.  “He’s also probably loaded.”

“Probably,” Telli consented, scrunching her face up.  “What’s his fascination with that statue?”

“Dunno,” Mercy replied, “he stops every time he comes into the area.”

Telli let out a non-committal noise, before waving a hand.

“Well, you know the deal.  Hook him, reel him in, let me take care of the rest,” she said dismissively, before downing the rest of her caf.  She turned to get more, but not before letting out a belch that had Mercy taking a step back, a disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh… who the hell ever thought you were worth money?”

He was probably the only person alive that could ask that question and get away with it, as her laugh every time he did proved.  She swayed her hips as she headed into the kitchenette, exaggerating the movement to put emphasis on her slender figure.

“Because they’re too busy paying attention to this to notice anything else,” she replied, waving a hand dismissively.  Something crackled between her fingertips, and Mercy jumped, ready to shout in warning, but it was already too late. Tendrils of lightning, amplified by the static clinging to the carpet after the latest bought of humid weather, shot from her hand and hit the nearest electronic device in the room… which happened to be the caf machine.

Telli paused as the machine smoked a little before the emergency cut off kicked in, slowly sinking to the floor as the realization there would be no more caf for her today hit her.  A choked sob escaped from her a moment later, and Mercy could only let out a despairing sigh.

“...I’ll grab a new one after I rope in the kid…”

~.oOOo.~

It was not often she dreamed.

She could count the number of times she had in her life on one hand.  The first time had been the night before she had been deemed worthy of keeping by her fellow sisters and brothers, falling under the tutelage of one of the older brothers.  The second she ever had came later, showing her slaying her mentor, leading her to ultimately made it a reality, garnering the attention of their lord and master, whom she now directly served as his personal agent.  Where the others of those that served her master could only do so much, she could traverse the deepest pits of the galaxy, do what needed to be done, and leave without a trace. It was not a life, not a real one, but it was one she was satisfied with.

Until her dream last night.  Last night she dreamed of a man practically made of light, so bright in the Force she was afraid she might be burned.  Yet even as he reached for her, she felt calm, at peace, in a way she had yet to ever experience in her existence. Whoever he was, he was going to be an integral part of her future, and she would need to find him, that much was clear.

Such personal missions would need to be done on her own time, however.  At the moment, her master’s needs were far more important, and the reason why she was currently draped in Nubian garb, blending in with the local foot traffic of the capital.  She was sent here after a person her master described as an insubordinate officer, one that had egregiously insulted him to his face, and such things could not stand. She had a name of course: Commander Skywalker of Black Squadron, a ward of Lord Vader’s.

Her instructions were simple: capture or kill the boy, then return to her master before Lord Vader’s wrath reached her.  The last part was only necessary if she captured the commander, of course; it was not as essential for her to return immediately if he was dead.

She took a breath as she made her way through the crowded afternoon streets, to the central plaza.  This boy was supposed to be escorted around by another on duty commander; they should not have been hard to find, given the brightly colored clothes the people of Naboo favored.  Now if only the crowd would clear up a bit for her to see more than a few people in front of her. The crush of people made it just as hard to see anyone coming the other way, as she found out when a Zabrak crashed into her.  He stayed standing, of course — he was not the one she was warned to keep an eye out for, but he was still built like a durasteel wall — but she fell to the ground. The alien barely paid her any attention, and most of the people that were near just shuffled around her.  So typical…

“Are you okay?”

She looked up as a shadow fell over her briefly, before the owner knelt down, and she found herself face to face with the most brilliant pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.  More than that, though, the Force shone so vividly around him that he was almost hard to look at.

“Um…?” he began again, and she realized she was staring at him.  She turned away, trying not to seem suspicious.

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” she replied, glancing back at him to see a faint smile on his face.  He reached for her, and a moment passed where she felt like she was in the dream again, especially with how the sun reflecting in his blond hair made it seem like he was glowing.

Hesitantly, she took his hand, and as he helped her up, it almost felt like the Force itself was smiling.

“Commander Skywalker!” a voice called over the crowd, and a man in Imperial uniform broke through the crowd, looking relieved when he saw the young man.  “Oh, good, I thought I lost you.”

The boy, the commander she was sent to capture or kill, spared her another smile, making sure she was really all right, before letting go of her hand.

She remained standing there for a long moment, an unsettled feeling churning in her gut.  Seeing him in reality, like in the dream, felt right in a way she could not put to words.  For the first time since coming under her master’s direct command, she really felt and understood what peace was supposed to feel like.

And for the first time in her life, the Thirteenth Sister did not know what to do.

~.oOOo.~

It had only been a day to the hour since he landed on planet, and Luke was already starting to hate the Imperial idea of a vacation.  From the moment he arrived, his every move had been decided for him, from where he was staying to where he ate to where he was allowed to go.  If he did not know any better, he would swear his father allowed him this simply because he knew he would be under watch. He dismissed that thought quickly, however; his father definitely would expect him to find a way around regulations if he tried hard enough.

Which he had been tempted to do within the first few hours of arrival, if only to shed the obnoxious commander he had been saddled with as his “tour guide”.  The man had been annoyingly persistent in seeing to his every need, practically babying him like ensuring his comfort would get him promoted. It would not have been so bad if the commander was a decent person, but he was a typical loyalist to the Emperor: worried about his reputation and rude to anyone that was not a human.  He had been exceptionally rude to a Zabrak that was only trying to invite him to an entertainment den. It was not his sort of thing, but he was half tempted to sneak away and go out of pure spite.

His reaction to him stopping and helping the woman that had fallen had been too much, however; the comment made about how he was too high ranked to worry about civilians had hit the limit of his tolerance.  He respectfully requested to return to his hotel after that, ignoring how confused the other commander seemed.

It was why, in his frustration, he found himself sneaking out of the building, concealed in a dark cloak, with any means of tracking him left behind in his room.  Luke even went so far as to sneak out of his window into another room to exit out of, just to be on the safe side. It was not until he could not see the hotel that he felt at ease enough to push back the hood of his cloak, getting a better look at his surroundings.

Most of Naboo’s capital city of Theed was beautiful beyond words.  Like any city, however, there was an underside, a grimy area that was not usually seen in the light of day.  While Naboo’s side was best described as “tarnished,” it was still a side that the good people of the planet did not talk about.  It was the outskirts of that tarnish that Luke found himself, and near the entertainment den the Zabrak had told him about.

He paused, frowning to himself.  There were other things he should be doing, like staking out the Emperor’s former offices to see if he could find a way inside.  That would be the smart thing to do, the logical thing to do… but the Force was pulling him toward the entertainment den, like there was something there he needed to see, but he could not tell why.  The Force was being vague as always, and Luke blew out a frustrated breath, wishing he had a translation guide for how cryptic it could be.

With an annoyed shake of his head, Luke started toward the entertainment den.  It did not take much to find, and before long he was taking a deep breath as he headed inside.  His senses were immediately assaulted with the smell of smoke barely covered by sweet smelling incense, and he almost did a quick about face right then and there, if it were not for a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Ah, you’ve come, good sir!”

Luke paused as he was spotted by the Zabrak from earlier, his smile flashing a row of razor sharp teeth.  He let out a faint noise, resigning himself to the fact that he was going along with this now.

“Mercy, right?” he asked.  “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, sir,” he replied, bowing respectfully, before motioning Luke to follow him.  The sounds of drunken revelry were already drifting out from further inside, and he found himself hesitating.  This definitely was not the kind of place he should be at, but the Zabrak was looking at him expectantly, and he did not feel like he had much choice.

Luke reluctantly followed Mercy inside, the smoke and the noise increasing, making it hard to think.  His head already felt foggy by the time he made it to the bar area, where a number of patrons were lounging around on pillows surrounding the bar itself, which was sunk in the floor.  A small stage was set up at the head of the room, and a purple skinned Twi’lek was on it, barely clothed and dancing for the small crowd. It was not until the woman focused on him, a seductive smile on her lips, that Luke realized he was staring in awe.  He quickly turned away, feeling his face getting hot.

“Please, sir; have a seat,” Mercy said, making Luke jump in surprise.  Sheepishly, he ducked down until he was settled on one of the cushions, jumping slightly again as something alcoholic was slid his way.  He took it gingerly, not in the mood to tell them he was just a year under what was acceptable for drinking.

Luke found his gaze drifting back to the dancer before long, and he had trouble looking away.  There was something about how she moved that made it impossible not to watch.  It seemed that she certainly noticed his attention, as her eyes had yet to leave him.  Luke felt his face grow steadily warmer, the rest of him also starting to feel a little hot, to the point where he ended up tugging at the collar of his shirt, struggling to look away from her as he did so.

He was not sure when she left the stage, but suddenly she was right before him, giving him a personal dance as the other patrons whistled enthusiastically.  It was a legitimate struggle to keep his hands to himself, and that was perhaps the first clue that something was really wrong that got through his smoke clogged mind.  He was not like this; he was a true military man, respectful to a fault (usually), and he did not go around grabbing others just because he could.  While he desperately tried to figure out what was going on, however, she decided his lap was the next best thing to dance on, and his mind almost immediately when blank.  It was really hard to look at anything with the Twi’lek’s barely covered chest in his face, but somehow he managed to turn a wide-eyed gaze upward.  A pleased smile was on her face, exotic pink eyes focused on him, and Luke struggled to swallow around a lump in his throat as she leaned closer.

“Come with me?” she whispered in his ear.  He found himself nodding numbly, yet even before he did, she was pulling away, taking his hand and guiding him up to his feet.  Luke blindly stumbled after her, dimly aware of cat calls in the background as he tried to think. There had to be some reason this was happening; he did not want to think hormones were overwhelming him this bad at his age!

He was pulled out of the bar area, dragged backstage behind several heavy curtains, before she turned back to him, guiding his hands to her hips.  She leaned in close, so close that he could smell the faint scent of Nubian blooms from her perfume, enough to finally overpower the incense and smoke, giving him a brief moment of clarity.  He seized it, grabbing hard on the Force and pulling it tight around himself, and Luke’s senses gradually cleared, allowing him to finally pick up on just what was going on here.  He pulled away, relocating his hands to the woman’s shoulders and holding her out at arm's length.

“...you’re Force sensitive!”

It was an amazing thing to see; he was beginning to think that him and his sister were the only Force sensitives of their generation out there.  The Twi’lek woman clearly did not share his enthusiasm though; her eyes widened, fear crossing her face.

“Mercy!”

Before he could even get the chance to realize that maybe he should not have called out a person that had been actively using the Force on him, Luke felt something hit him soundly over the head, the world around him going black before he even hit the floor.

~.oOOo.~

The Thirteenth Sister stared at the young man sitting on the bed, arms folded over her chest and doing nothing to hide the disgusted look on her face.  This was the person that had insulted the Emperor enough for him to not care if he lived or died?  This was the boy she dreamed of that brought her peace?  A kid that fell for some of the oldest, dumbest tricks just about any con artist could come up with.  It was ludicrous to think about, and she had to wonder if he was the son of someone the Emperor favored, someone her master did not want to personally harm; why else go through the trouble of dispatching her to deal with him?

The boy let out a groan as he started to awaken, not yet realizing he was chained down to the bed he was sitting on, stripped completely naked.  She was not going to give him the chance to immediately realize this, either.

“You are an idiot.”

The boy blinked his eyes open, staring at her in utter bewilderment.  She could tell he recognized her, despite the fact that she had changed into something much more comfortable and obviously Imperial before she had set out to find his muddled presence.  He noticed his own naked body in the next moment and let out a yelp, shifting slightly in a vain attempt at modesty. Thirteen rolled her eyes, standing up and glaring down at him.

“Please, I’ve seen worse,” she said, before her gaze shifted downward, an unkind smile touching her lips.  “Seen better, too.”

An indignant look came to the kid’s face, and she might have laughed if the situation was not so ridiculous.

“Who are you?” he demanded, and she shifted on her feet, debating on whether or not it was worth telling the truth.  She shrugged after a moment, an action more for herself than him.

“The Thirteenth Sister.”

He paused at that, his eyes narrowing, suddenly on guard.

“You’re an Inquisitor.”

It was not a question so much as a statement, which meant this idiot boy probably knew more than he was supposed to.  She raised an eyebrow, expecting death threats or pleas for his life, but none came. Instead he kept a steady gaze on her, before he let out a soft breath.

“If you want to fight, I have to take a raincheck,” he said.  “They took my lightsaber with my clothes.”

Thirteen’s other eyebrow shot up, not expecting that kind of response.  Not many people would just openly admit they carried a contraband artifact on them.

“Has that ever convinced anyone?”

“I dunno; it’s my first time chained naked to a bed.  You’ll have to ask someone with more experience.”

The biting sarcasm drew an amused smile from her, and she sat down on the bed next to him, ignoring it when he shifted to the side, still trying to hide himself.  She observed him silently for a full minute, not sure what to do. This was definitely the person she dreamed of, the boy drenched in light and brought her peace, but she also had to follow her master’s orders…  She finally let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping, at a complete loss for what to do.

“My master ordered your capture or your death.”

“I’m not shocked,” he replied mildly, tilting his head curiously.  “It’s not like one of Palpatine’s to hesitate carrying out his orders.”

She shot him a glare at how frivolously he tossed out her master’s name without his title, not to mention feeling a little stung at being called out so casually.

“You shouldn’t be so disrespectful of the Emperor,” she hissed, almost as if she expected him to appear if she did not reprimand him.

“Why?” the boy replied casually.  “He’s only a man. Should he not prove himself worthy of respect like everyone else?

Thirteen stared at him, flabbergasted.  Of all the ways this could have gone, this was not something she expected.

“Who are you?” she finally asked, and he gave her a curious look, leaning away slightly.

“He sent you after me, and didn’t even tell you what to expect?” he asked, his bewilderment obvious.  She knew she did not need to shake her head for him to know the answer, but she did anyway, getting a sigh out of him.  He gave a tug at the chains holding him down, and they just fell off, like they had not even been secured properly.  Thirteen had sworn they had been…

“Tell you what,” the boy began.  “Help me find a change of clothes, and I’ll let you see who I am.”

There was a lewd joke just on the tip of Thirteen’s tongue, but she held it back as she was glared at, merely smiling instead.

Chapter Text

There was not that much in the galaxy that could really unsettle Telli.  When one spends their life thus far enslaved by one's own people, sold off to the Hutts, then under the care of an old man Zabrak that made sarcasm look like an art form, nothing really came off as shocking anymore.  Being called out as a Force user by an Imperial brat and then finding out he had a lightsaber on him the whole time?

That did it.

She flitted about the apartment, quickly packing away the things she wanted to keep.  Mercy, bless his heart, was doing what he could to attempt to calm her down, but there was no calm to be found, and no time to look for it.  They needed to pack, they needed to leave, and they needed to do it now.

“Telli, will you stop?” he finally snapped, just shy of shouting.  “He was just a kid; he probably doesn’t even know how to turn this thing on.”

He absently waved the lightsaber hilt around, the business end of it uncomfortably close to his face.  Telli paused her frantic packing to glare at him, reaching over to turn his wrist around so he would not end up accidentally doing something stupid.

“And you don’t know how to hold one,” she groused.  “And you are welcome to stay and take that chance. I, however, am not.  Not on the Emperor’s homeworld.”

Mercy rolled his eyes in exasperation, but Telli went back to packing, ignoring it.

“Telli, we’ve been here for years without a problem,” he protested.

“Years or not, I know what the Empire does when it finds Force sensitives,” she shot back, trying to stuff a luggage container closed.  “They even celebrate the time they killed just about everyone that was! Maybe you’ve heard of it: it’s called Empire Day.”

Mercy let out an exasperated sigh that time, though a knock at the door kept him from saying anything more.  Telli’s head shot up from the luggage, staring wide-eyed as Mercy went to answer it.

“Mercy—!”

“Relax,” he snapped.  “It’s just the customary take out.”

They always did order food in after successfully sticking it to someone, though the fact that Mercy did it this time, when she had been freaking out almost non-stop since last night, made her want to scream.  Still, her sputtered attempts at protesting went ignored as he walked over and opened the door… only to reveal the brat from last night, now in military dress, with some woman behind him.  There was an awkward moment where the two groups just stared at each other, before Mercy slammed the door shut.

“You’re right; time to leave!” he shouted, already making a break for the balcony.  Telli was immediately behind him, swearing as they made their way onto the outside ledge, pissed that she would have to abandon her things; she worked hard for some of that!

The only thing she managed to grab on her way out was her cane, strapping it securely to her back before vaulting herself outside, and none too soon.  The door to the apartment was flying open in the next moment, the old fashioned handle sailing over Telli’s head. She looked back briefly to see only the woman storming into the apartment, but she was not about to stick around long enough to wonder where the brat went.

She shuffled along the ledge just behind Mercy, her heart hammering in her chest, flinching every now and then as the rough stone brushed her lekku.  This was fine, they were going to be fine; it was not the first time they ever had to make an escape like this, they just had not needed to do it in awhile.

Mercy shuffled his way to the corner of the building, before looking down.  Telli let out a shuddering breath as she watched him, reaching out to make sure he stayed steady with one hand, the other practically digging into the wall.

“There, I see our speeder,” he finally said.  “Get ready to do your thing.”

Without much more warning than that, Mercy jumped.  Telli let out an annoyed noise, before she jumped herself and reached out to the Force, pulling it tight around them both.  She felt herself slow a moment later, Mercy dropping lightly into the driver’s seat, with Telli herself just behind him.

He moved to start the speeder up as Telli wrapped her arms around him, when they heard the sound of another vehicle revving to life.  She whipped her head around, not all that surprised to see the kid coming up behind them.

“Mercy, move it!” she yelped as he brought the speeder to life.

They were roaring off in the next moment, the blonde kid hot on their heels.  Telli wanted to relax; Mercy was the best flier out of any scoundrel she knew, and was more than capable of handling anything that tried to chase them.  That did not stop her from taking uneasy glaces back, watching as the boy kept steady pace with them as they ducked and waved through morning traffic.

“Kriff,” Mercy swore, “why is this kid so damn good?”

“He had a lightsaber and called me out as a Force user,” Telli reminded him.  “He must be able to use the Force too.”

“Telli, you and I both know there’s no correlation between piloting and Force ability.”

Telli let out a huff, poking at his side.

“Just because I can’t fly down a wide open plain, doesn’t mean—”

She cut herself off with a yelp as they were rammed into from the side, and she turned to see the woman from the apartment barrelling alongside them, trying to push them off course.  Telli reached out, pushing with the Force as hard as she could.  The woman struggled with her speeder, fighting against the pushing, before she allowed herself to fall back, coming up alongside the boy.

“We’re going to get splattered on the sidewalk or on a building with the two of them after us,” Mercy pointed out, and Telli could not help but agree.  She looked around, trying to see or sense something that could give them an out.

“Wait, the museum district,” she said, poking his side again.  “There’s a bunch of old buildings under renovations there.”

She did not need to say more than that; Mercy nodded, angling the speeder toward the museum district, the two Imperials hot on their exhaust.  Telli held on for dear life as weaving through traffic turned into ducking around construction droids and scaffolding. For a moment, it seemed like the plan would work, and their pursuers were falling back.  That was proven false almost immediately, as a sharp, invisible shove from behind sent them veering off their intended course.  Mercy struggled to keep control, but soon realized there was nothing he could do to save the vehicle.  He turned around, wrapping Telli tightly in his arms, and threw them both off the speeder.

They landed hard on solid ground a split second before the speeder exploded against a wall, Mercy taking the majority of the impact.  Momentum had them rolling a good distance into an open building, finally stopping with a light bump against a desk.

Telli let out a groan, tossing her lekku over her shoulder as she pushed herself up, looking down at Mercy.  He was scraped up from the rolling, and thankfully still moving after that hard hit on the ground. He let out a pained moan after a moment, his face curling up in a grimace.

“G’off, y’heavy,” he whined at her, and Telli let out a huff, punching his shoulder as she stood up.

“You must be okay if you’re making jokes,” she hissed at him, before pausing to look around.  She had never been in the museum district before, but the room they fell into looked more like an office than anything that could pass for a museum.  The floor creaked under her feet, almost sounding like it would give way any second, and it was not hard to figure out why it was under renovation.

Just as she was about to suggest they leave, the sound of speeders landing outside flooded into the room.  She glanced at Mercy, the two of them sharing a brief nod, before the two Imperials entered the office-like space.  Telli immediately backed away at their approach, clutching her hands to her chest fearfully.

“Please!” she exclaimed.  “He… he made me do all this.  Please, let me go!”

The boy paused, a confused look on his face.  His mouth opened, poised to say something, but Mercy did not give him the chance.  He bolted up from the floor with a loud battle cry, practically slamming the kid into a pillar.  It creaked dangerously, and the woman moved to help, but Telli whipped her cane off her back, stopping the woman in her tracks with a sharp blow to the head.

The woman stumbled back, her full focus on Telli now, and going by the glare she was receiving, she was pretty sure that was a bad thing.  The woman pulled some parts of something from her pockets, fitting them together, and in the next moment, two red blades were whirling to life in front of her.  Telli supposed that would be intimidating to just about anyone else; two red lightsabers from one lightsaber hilt? Oh, scary.

A shame for the woman she was already used to this.

Telli changed her grip on her cane as the woman charged for her, pulling off the end of it.  As the Imperial raised her lightsaber to attack, Telli raised her own, making her lightsaber come to life with the flick of a hidden switch.  Purple met red in a loud crash, before the woman backed off, practically prowling around her as Telli settled into a fighting stance, ready to take her on.

She could readily admit that her forte was not fighting; while her teacher had been a mountain of strength and power despite his age and injuries, he had never been able to get her close to his level.  But that was fine with her; she could hold her own well enough in a fight, as she quickly proving to the Imperial. She lashed out against her, forcing the woman to halt her prowl and defend, pushing her back along an increasingly stressed sounding floor.  She retaliated just as fiercely, striking her blade with quick, rapid strokes that felt like she was going to lose her grip if she was not careful. Telli held on, letting out a determined noise as she pulled away, gathering the Force around her, before lashing out with what she was best at.

Lightning danced from her fingertips, striking out at the woman.  For a moment, she saw her face turn sheet white, before she was suddenly yanked out of the way, and Telli found herself blasted off her feet.

There was a grunt as she landed on something soft, and she looked to see Mercy, his face scrunched up in more pain than he had been in before, apparently having suffered a rather humiliating defeat by an unarmed kid.  If they managed to get out of this, she was never letting him live that one down.

Speaking of the kid, he approached the two of them, his arms folded over his chest and an expression on his face that resembled a parent reprimanding a child.  Telli shrunk back, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Isn’t this a little too much effort for a nice pair of pants?” she asked.

“They’re my favorite pair,” the boy replied, sarcasm hanging off every word.

“Look—”

“Enough,” the kid snapped, and Telli immediately snapped her mouth shut.  “I don’t care what you did with my clothes. All I want is my lightsaber.”

Telli stared, boggle-eyed, and Mercy let out a groan as he pushed himself up.

“That’s all that was about?” he asked.

“That’s all,” the boy replied, before a gentle smile came to his face.  “Though it was worth getting to see you fly; you’re really good.”

Mercy let out a bewildered noise, before a bit of a smile crept up on his face.  Telli rolled her eyes, only to nearly flail as he reached into his jacket, pulling the lightsaber out.  She tried to reach over to keep him from just handing it off, but it was too late; the lightsaber flew out of Mercy’s hand on its own, landing in the kid’s outstretched palm.  Telli braced herself, fully expecting to get stabbed, but the kid just clipped the weapon to his belt.

“Thank you,” he said, the model of politeness, before he turned to leave, only to come to a swift stop.  The atmosphere seemed to change, and Telli peered around him to see the woman standing in his way, both ends of her lightsaber still lit.

“Thirteen…” he began.

“You said you would take a raincheck because you didn’t have your lightsaber,” the woman replied.  “Now you do, and I still have a mission to complete.”

“I do not want to fight you,” the boy replied, but he shifted his hand, ready to grab for his weapon if he needed to.  The woman moved as well, lightsaber humming as she settled into an attack stance, ready to strike.

“Then you come quietly, or you die.”

Telli had no idea what was going on, but it seemed like the kid was in a similar boat as the two of them at the moment.  She paused, looking to Mercy, who only shrugged helplessly. Their chances of sneaking out while the two of them were occupied were not that good, and even if they did, the woman would be on them after she dealt with the kid.

“What about a third option?” the boy asked, and Telli could not help but wonder if he was going to toss a bribe her way, and if that would even do anything.  Of course that was not what came out of the kid’s mouth next. “Come with me. Get away from the Emperor, and let me show you a better life.”

“You’re insane,” the woman snapped back, but Telli was not listening at that point.  Her thoughts had grinded to a stop at the mention of the Emperor, realizing they were in the middle of something far too deep for the two of them.  She nodded to Mercy, before moving to slink away as quietly as possible.

A loud groan shuddered through the building the moment she took a step, followed by the sound of something cracking.  Telli froze, looking down… before the entire floor gave way, sending all four of them plummeting into darkness.

~.oOOo.~

Luke groaned as the real world started to come back into focus, trying to differentiate the last moments before he blacked out from the vision that was still lingering on the fringes of his subconscious.  He had seen a different planet, a swamp, though not like the swamps on Naboo. Where the Nubian swamps were still fairly bright, this swamp had been dark and murky, with an untold number of strange creatures lurking within.  Something had been calling out to him wordlessly, encouraging him to find… whatever it was; he had not seen anything sentient in the vision, but…

His thoughts were interrupted as someone let out a snarl, swearing in a language he was not entirely familiar with.  Luke pushed himself up, bits of the broken floor tumbling off of him, squinting through the darkness to see Thirteen struggling with her lightsaber.  It was not turning on, and even in the low light, he could see that part of it was caved in, pierced wires clearly visible through the housing.

“Looks like you need to take a raincheck,” he quipped, earning himself a glare.  He was ducking to the side the next moment as the useless weapon was thrown at his head, and he turned as it clattered away somewhere in the darkness.

“Are you sure you’re not going to need the crystals at least?” he asked, turning back toward her when he heard her stand.  She was a bit shaky on her feet at first, taking a moment to gather her bearings, before approaching him.

“It’s not hard for an Inquisitor to get a kyber crystal,” she replied, offering him a hand up.  Luke grabbed it, leaning on her a little heavily as he pulled himself back to his feet.

“You’re not even going to think about my offer?” he asked.

“I think you’re an idiot,” she replied quickly, holding on to him until he was steady.  “Does that count?”

He shot her an exasperated look, one that she held for a long moment before she let out a sigh, rolling her eyes.

“You say ‘get away from the Emperor’ like it’s something that can be done,” she replied.  “He is my lord and master. I owe him my existence. Just ‘getting away’ is not a thing I can do.”

Luke frowned, shaking his head.

“The only thing any of us owe Palpatine is a swift boot off the throne,” he replied, ignoring her scandalized look as he peered off into the darkness.  Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, he could sense something… off. Something was not right; even the darkness around them did not feel natural…

“I think I might be able to show you what I mean,” he murmured, before glancing around.  “Did you see where Mercy and his companion landed?”

Thirteen opened her mouth to reply, only to snap it shut as a voice drifted down from above.

“Up here!”

“Mercy!”

Luke looked up, barely able to see a stone staircase above them.  He could see the purple Twi’lek though, her unusual skin color making her easy to spot, especially as she punched what had to be Mercy in the arm.

“Are you two all right?” he asked, and the woman let out a huff, folding her arms over her chest.

“We’re fine,” she replied sullenly.  “You can thank me for being good at cushioning falls after we get out of here.”

“Where are we even?” Thirteen asked softly, and a quick glance showed she was picking up on what he sensed as well.  Luke paused a moment, before taking his lightsaber off his belt and igniting it, bathing the area in a soft blue glow.

It looked like they were far below the city, far enough that water may have filled the area at one point.  A dampness clung to the walls, feeding into a warmth that was coming in from somewhere, making the air feel heavy with humidity.  He shifted the light, finding the line of the stairs and following it to the edge of the outcropping they were standing on, easily able to scramble onto them as he heard Mercy and the Twi’lek hurry down toward him.

“It looks like it goes further down,” he said after giving Thirteen a hand up.

“I would much rather go in the opposite direction of whatever that is,” the Twi’lek said, waving her fingers in the general direction of the uneasy feeling, and Luke could not really blame her.  He would prefer to head the other way himself, but he had a feeling he was close to what he was here for.

“We might find another way out if we head further in,” he finally replied.  “I’m sure the local police are already investigating where we were at.”

The Twi’lek made a face, before she let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.  He gave her a faint smile, trying to be comforting, before offering her his hand.

“I’m Luke.”

She looked at his hand as if it would bite her, before reluctantly shaking it.

“Telli.”

She let his hand drop quickly, but Mercy grabbed it up almost immediately.

“So, you really like my flying?” he asked.  Telli let out a groan before Luke could reply, pushing the two of them apart.

“I swear, Mercy, someone gives you one compliment, and you follow them around like a puppy.”

Mercy narrowed his eyes in annoyance.  “That’s not true; I follow you around, don’t I?”

Telli huffed at that, pushing her way past them and taking point on the stairs, her lightsaber blazing to life a moment later.  Luke and Mercy shared an amused look, before following after her, Thirteen taking up the rear.

“Yes, by the way,” Luke finally answered.  “I do think you’re a good pilot.”

The Zabrak beamed at that, and for a moment it seemed almost like his smile could light up the darkness around them.

“I learned all I know from my clan brother,” he replied, “and I just kept forcing myself to get better, especially after his death, so I could protect Telli.”

Luke glanced in Telli’s direction, almost missing it when she stiffened.  She kept moving forward, however, not offering anything to the conversation.

“You’re a Dathomirian Zabrak, then?” he asked, turning his attention back to Mercy in time to see him nod.  “My father said he visited Dathomir once, though he wasn’t sure if anything there had survived the Clone Wars.”

“Very little did,” Mercy replied grimly.  “I was the only one on world left of my clan after the droids were done, and only because at the time I was small enough to hide.  The brothers and sisters both were wiped out.”

Luke fell silent, knowing why; he had already found Palpatine’s image on a Separatist computer, and the speech he had given his father on the Executor more or less confirmed he had been playing both sides of the war, eliminating his enemies and giving himself more power.  He tightened his hands into fists, remembering the rage he felt when he heard the old man gloating about it. Many in the Rebellion still clung to the Separatists’ ideals, because they were the first to rebel against what the Republic was turning into.  They had no idea…

“Just tell the nice Imperials your whole life story, Mercy,” Telli finally spoke up again, not looking back at them.  “I’m sure that’s not going to come back to bite you later.”

Mercy fixed her back with an annoyed look as Luke smiled.

“Actually, I think it might be a good thing to know,” he replied casually.  “I’m looking for good pilots to fill in my squadron.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Telli replied, glancing at him over her shoulder as Mercy gave him a curious look.  “Last I checked, the Empire just loved aliens.  I’m sure he’ll fight right in.”

“I have the authority to recruit whomever I wish, so long as they prove themselves the best in the Empire,” Luke replied smoothly.  “Not a tall order to fulfill, considering most pilots stay in the air on pure arrogance.”

Thirteen let out a snort at that, and Luke glanced back at her, an amused smile on his face.  She tried very hard not to return the expression, only to fail miserably.

“You make yourself sound like some kind of hotshot,” Telli huffed, finally reaching the end of the stairs.

She stood to the side as the others filed off, raising her lightsaber to they could all see the massive ebony door before them.  Luke stepped toward it, pressing a hand against it and jerking back almost immediately. It was not cold, not physically at least, but it felt like it was.

“The Emperor used this place,” Thirteen said softly.  “I can sense him from out here.”

“He’s not in there, is he?” Telli squeaked, hugging her arms to her chest.

“No,” Thirteen assured her.  “He has not used this place for some time, though he used to, frequently.  His presence still lingers.”

The Inquisitor approached the door then, running the tips of her fingers along it.  She frowned to herself, before turning her attention to Telli.

“Shoot lightning at it,” she ordered, making the Twi’lek start in surprise.

“What for?”

Thirteen looked entirely nonplussed.  “The Emperor is a master of Force lightning.  He would use such an elaborate lock that required it on something like this.”

Luke kept his eyes on Telli as she took in that information, and did not even react in the slightest.

“You’re not surprised the Emperor is a Force user?” he asked, earning himself a glare from Telli.

“Brother Maul told us he was, not long before he died,” Mercy explained solemnly, getting Luke to turn to him in surprise.

“Maul is your clan brother?” he asked, bewildered.  “But… he’s not dead.”

Luke paused as he was met with confused, bordering on angry, stares.

“I saw him not all that long ago, after picking him up from Ktath’atn,” he explained.  “He’s travelling with the Rebellion, training my sister.”

“He’s what?!”

Telli’s outburst was enough to make him jump on its own, but the fact that it was accompanied by a spark of lightning even more so.  Luke jerked away as the blast hit the door, coursing over it in a complicated pattern his eyes could not follow, before the door started to slide open.

The four of them fell silent as the room beyond was revealed.  It was small, with a desk and a communication console being a prominent feature, but everything else was another matter. A small meditation chamber stood to the side, consisting of a pillow surrounded by pyramidal objects softly glowing red.  A white mask rested on a shelf, staring out at them with hollow, empty eyes, as if silently judging them. Another side room led to an old turbolift, and everything was covered in thirty years worth of thick dust.

Luke took a deep breath, stepping into the room first.  The air here was thick and difficult to breathe through, and not just because of the dust.  The Emperor’s presence was siffling now that he was inside, to the point where he could almost see him in the corner of his eye.  He forced himself to ignore it as he sat at the desk, the others slowly filing in after him as he pulled up the communication logs, his eyes scrolling over the data in disbelief.

“He kept everything…” he breathed, his eyes flicking over briefly to see Thirteen come around beside him.  He paused at one of the entries, the Force whispering faintly in his ears as he brought it up. An image of an alien species he did not recognize came up, bedecked in robes of state.  Palpatine’s voice, sounding slightly younger though no less menacing, flooded over the speaker, even though they could not see him in the outgoing call.

“With the new taxation in place, the Trade Federation will suffer.  Your profits will diminish. Your time as the sole proprietor of trade between worlds is at an end, my friend.”

“You were right, Lord Sidious, about everything,” the alien replied.  “What can we possibly do?”

“Set up a blockade around the planet of Naboo,” Palpatine’s voice ordered.  “Claim it is in protest of the unfair taxes that Senator Palpatine endorsed.”

“But we are not fighters, my lord,” the alien protested.  “We’ve only enough droids and ships to enforce protection on shipments, not to blockade an entire planet.”

“You doubt me still, Viceroy?”

The alien backed away from the com slightly, the fear easily seen on his unusual grey face.

“No… no, my lord.”

“Good.  I will provide you with the means to make the blockade possible.  You need only follow my instructions.”

The alien bowed before the call ended, leaving Luke and Thirteen staring at where it had been.

“Viceroy Nute Gunray, of the Trade Federation…” she finally murmured softly.  “He… I know he was using him, but… why his own planet?”

“To generate a sympathy vote,” Luke answered solemnly, earning himself a curious look.  “At the Academy, we were taught that the queen of Naboo at this time called for a vote of no confidence in the Chancellor of the Republic.  The vote was passed, and the strife on Naboo led to Palpatine being elected.”

Thirteen stared at him, incredulous, but there was no way she could argue about that conclusion; history itself proved it true.  Luke nodded, before turning his attention back to the console.

“I need to get my droid down here to make a copy of all this,” he murmured.  “This could prove the entirety of Palpatine’s political career was illegitimate.”

“And then what?” Thirteen demanded.  “After twenty years, do you think anyone is going to listen?”

“I’ll make them listen,” Luke replied softly, a hard edge of determination in his voice.  He shut the console down, before standing up. “For now, let’s get out of here.”

He looked over to the other two, in time to see Telli pull her head out of the meditation chamber, a freaked out look on her face as Mercy just sighed.

“We’re leaving?  Good, I’m so done with this place,” she said, practically zipping for the turbolift.

The ride up was long, and filled with an uncomfortable silence, as all four of them were occupied with their own thoughts.  It was almost a relief when the lift stopped, and Luke pulled an old steel gate out of the way to reveal a door like the one down below.  Telli hit it with her lightning, revealing a dark stone hall beyond. Everything was unnervingly silent, and they carefully made their way down, passing doors leading to small rooms with coffins inside.

“Are… we in the royal mausoleum?” Mercy asked.

“Seems that way,” Luke replied, peering into the rooms.  “He could go to that room from here or his office, and still look like—”

He cut himself off as they came to the last room and coffin.  This one was much more finely decorated than the others and brightly lit, an open balcony giving the perfect view of the Theed waterfalls.  Fresh flowers surrounded the coffin, indicating that this one was visited much more frequently than the others. A stained glass window showered a kaleidoscope of color into the room, depicting the painted face of the great woman he had seen all over the capital city.

“Could… you all go on ahead?” he asked softly.  “I need a moment.”

Curious looks were aimed at his back, but no one protested as he entered the small room.  He waited until he was sure they all left, before even daring to approach the coffin, hesitantly reaching over and placing a hand on it.  It felt warm to the touch, almost like he could feel the love the entire planet had for the woman within, and all the love she had given others in her lifetime.

Luke took a deep breath, feeling an agonizing emptiness in his chest as he wished he could have felt that love first hand, instead of in vague, lingering sensations and holovids.

“Hello, mother…”

Chapter Text

SUBJECT: Skywalker Unit 2.0-F
DESIGNATION: Leia
STATUS: Sleep mode…?

Artoo let out the faintest of beeps as he leaned up as far as his stubby legs would allow, ensuring that yes, Miss Leia was in fact sleeping.  She had been having a difficult time of it since coming back from Ktath’atn, and he was sure the last mission had not helped much. What was supposed to be a simple scouting mission turned into an absolute mess, with the Empire getting the drop on them almost as soon as they came out of hyperspace.  They had survived, for the most part, but they did lose a pilot, and Miss Leia always took those losses hard. She had made her report when they got back, fighting for hours on the validity of their info, before spending a few more hours drafting a condolence letter. Threepio made sure she ate at least — if there was one task for a fussy droid, it was fussing over a Skywalker unit — and Artoo poked in every now and then until now, where he finally saw her attempting to recharge.

He let out another faint boop to be sure she was in fact resting, before reaching out with his utility arm, fixing her covering as best he could.  He rolled out once he was satisfied, locking the door behind him to ensure her privacy.

Instead of going back to the hanger to work on the ship, Artoo found himself wandering the halls of the current temporary base, humming softly in thought.  He agreed with Miss Leia, of course; they both knew who the information had come from, and as much as the organic in question made his circuits cross, he believed in his wish to assist his succeeding generation.  The Vader (upgrade? Downgrade? He was not sure what to label it as, other than an insult to all engineering known to droid kind) package had caused a severe misfire problem in Sir Ani’s logic processing, but it seemed whatever patches provided by Sir Luke fixed those issues, for the most part.  There was no way the information they got from him was deliberately bad, so there was another problem.

After a moment of debate, Artoo rolled his way to Intelligence, pausing as he entered the stuffy room.  Most of the humans there ignored him — he was pretty recognizable as Miss Leia’s droid at this point, so no one paid him much mind — allowing him to scan for the human he wanted.  He rolled over once he located him, letting out a faint boop to get the elderly man’s attention.

“Well, hello there, Artoo,” Sir Thanoth greeted him, reaching over to pat his head.  Artoo could not help but trill at that; he may have been a bit of a sucker for such affections.  “What can I do for you?”

He let out a trill, before plugging into his console, aware that Sir Thanoth could not understand him as well as some others.

“I would like to communicate with Sir Luke’s DV-2 unit.”

Sir Thanoth frowned at the screen, before raising an eyebrow at him curiously.

“Why?”

“I believe Sir Vader’s team may be compromised.  He is in a better position to analyze the organics and constructs than we are.”

“Not surprising that it could be, considering…” Sir Thanoth replied, stroking his mustache, and Artoo understood what he meant.  Sir Ani may have run a tight ship, but even he could not get rid of everyone loyal to the Emperor without raising suspicions. Sir Thanoth turned back to his station after a moment, plugging away, before going back to him.  “All right, Artoo; comline secure.”

Artoo trilled his thanks, before getting to work. It was a moment before he could make a connection, and…

SUBJECT: #&(@@(& *DATA CORRUPTED*
DESIGNATION: DV-2
STATUS: Vacation mode; DND

Artoo let out a rude sounding blat that had Sir Thanoth struggling against a laugh, before the droid started rocking back and forth on his legs in his annoyance.  Vacation mode?!  Of all the… they were in the middle of a civil war! There had to be a rule about breaks during wartime in the Empire!

He let out another rude noise, before sending a series of ping requests at 0.005 second intervals, hoping to annoy a response out of the other droid.

“WHAT?!”

The expected response came after a full second of harassment, and Artoo had to give him congratulations for lasting that long.

“Confirming failure at Quermia; believe leak may be at source.”

There was a moment that passed as Artoo sent the mission log data from his memory banks over, waiting for Deevee to verify.

“Are you certain it’s our end?”

“Affirmative. Data was NTK on our end.  Miss Leia received order minutes before launch.”

A faint data stream, equivalent to a human humming, came from the other end.

“Acknowledged.  Will investigate on return to primary deployment.”

Artoo let out a curious noise at that, swiveling his head around.  Wait, where exactly had Miss Leia said Sir Luke was going again?

“You’re on my home planet, aren’t you?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment.

“Mister Luke is visiting family.”

Artoo let out a soft noise, sending over an apology for interrupting, before he disconnected.  He had not been back to Naboo in ages, fairly certain he would need to shut down in order to process the data dumps that would result from seeing Mistress Padmé’s resting place.  He could only guess how it must be for an organic like Sir Luke.

~.oOOo.~

Luke had not really been paying attention to the time, lost in his own thoughts as he gazed on his mother’s coffin.  It was definitely long enough that he memorized every detail of her face carved on the stone lid, made to look like she had when she laid in repose, floating down the rivers of Theed for all of Naboo to see and mourn her.  He had wanted to say so much, talk about himself and his sister and father, how much of a strange family they were, but they somehow worked. The words had stuck in his throat, however, and in the time that had passed, he eventually made his way over to one of the pillars on the open balcony.  He glanced out now, noting that the sun was slowly falling behind the horizon, painting a kaleidoscope of colors across the sky. Knowing Mercy and Telli, or at least the kind of people like them, they were probably long gone by now. Thirteen was probably still around, waiting outside for him, maybe even thinking of ways to drag him before the Emperor, though he doubted it.

He let out a heavy sigh, standing up and brushing himself off.  His gaze found its way to the coffin one more time, but it did not stay there long.  An old man had entered the room while he had been looking away, lines of stress and age having left their mark on his face, framed by near snow-white hair and beard.  He wore simple robes, brown and homespun, and reminded Luke so much of Tatooine that he felt a sudden jab of homesickness he had not felt since he was a child.

“Hello there,” the old man said warmly, bright blue eyes attentively focused on him.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Who are—” Luke began, only to cut himself off.  No, he did not need to ask who he was; he knew.  “...Ben Kenobi?”

Ben Kenobi raised an eyebrow, folding his arms within the long sleeves of his robes.

“You remember me, young Luke,” he replied.  “I must confess, I was not expecting that, nor was I expecting to ever see you again.”

Slowly, a delighted smile worked its way onto Luke’s face.

“It’s hard to forget someone uncle would chase off the farm on a regular basis,” he admitted.  “What are you doing here?”

The elder man’s smile faltered then, his gaze flicking down to the coffin.  “Oh… visiting an old friend.”

Luke’s own gaze returned to the coffin, to the carved face frozen in time, before it went back to Ben.

“You knew the late senator?” he asked cautiously.  Ben’s gaze took a moment to leave the coffin, and the pain there was clear to see.

“Yes,” he said softly, “a long time ago, now.”

It seemed as if he would say more, before a shudder wracked his body.  He started coughing violently in the next moment, and Luke hurried to his side immediately, walking him over to the balcony to sit him down in the fresh air.  An uncomfortably long time passed before the coughing fit subsided, leaving the older man shaking as he gasped in air.

“Are you all right?” Luke asked softly.  It felt like such an inadequate question, considering how long it had taken him to recover, but it got a smile out of Ben anyway.

“You know well how unkind the deserts of Tatooine are,” he replied gently.  “It seems being here has not alleviated such cruelty much, I’m afraid.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Ben paused at that, his blue eyes meeting his own, and for a moment, it felt like he was looking through him.  His eyes slowly widened as he understood why, and Luke almost exclaimed his surprise out loud.  Ben’s gentle smile and calm demeanor stopped him, however.  The elderly man shifted after a moment, gathering his cloak close about him, before reaching out to rest a hand on Luke’s knee.

“Do not look to the past for answers, young Luke,” he said softly.  “Take what you feel here with you; meditate on it. You will find you have more allies here than you realize.”

~.oOOo.~

Thirteen was completely still as she leaned against the outside of the mausoleum, listening to the gentle sounds of water flowing all around her.  To the casual observer, it seemed as if she were sleeping, but every sense she had was on high alert, made aware of even the slightest presence out of place.  She had picked up on when a Jedi had slunk in, but since it only sparked recognition from Luke, she left it be. If the Jedi meant him harm, she knew he would handle it; being unarmed at the moment, there was not much she could do against a lightsaber anyway.

Luke finally came out not long after she had picked up on the Jedi, looking tired and worn, but somehow more alert and aware than before.  He paused just beside her, taking a quick glance around the grounds laid out before them.

“Where are Telli and Mercy?”

“Telli was getting restless, so I sent them home,” Thirteen replied, not even opening her eyes.  Luke let out a faint noise, and she sensed his disappointment, as well as his conclusion that it was probably for the best.  She could feel his eyes focus on her after a moment’s pause, though she still did not open her own.

“What will you do?” he asked softly.

It was strange; she had never been asked that question before, not like he asked it.  There was the unspoken expectation that she was permitted independent thought there, and it just made him all the more exasperating to deal with.  On the other hand…

...it felt nice, not being treated like a pet for once.

“I still have a mission to do,” she stated finally, opening her eyes.  “And I still think you’re an idiot.”

He gave her an exasperated look that got her to turn up the corner of her lip a fraction.  She finally pushed away from the wall she was leaning against, starting down the stairs that would lead down a garden-like path, and she sensed Luke hesitate a moment before following her.  She half glanced back at him, but knew he was not following her because he was just going to quietly go off with her so that she could fulfill her mission.

Frankly, she was not sure if it would be in her best interest to try to at this point.

“What will you do?” she asked after a moment, nodding back toward where they came.  “Besides getting your droid down there.”

Luke was silent, almost pensive, at her question, staring off at some indeterminable point in the distance.  She did not need the Force to tell there was a lot on his mind, so she let him think, folding her hands behind her back as they slowly made their way down the path.

“You have more allies than you realize…” Luke finally murmured faintly, sounding like he was echoing someone else.  “I wonder…”

He glanced up after a moment, letting out a sigh as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared over the horizon, as if disappointed the day was done.

“I think I need to sleep before I can answer that question.”

“In your bed, or chained to someone else’s?”

Thirteen could not help herself; the question — or rather, heavy sarcasm — had slipped out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying.  It seemed she was not the only one with that problem, as Luke immediately replied with:

“Not unless it’s yours.”

They both stopped then, staring at each other in a mix of bewilderment and exasperation, smiles threatening to work their way onto their faces.

~.oOOo.~

“...this has been a weird day.”

Mercy looked up from the replacement door he was working on securing into place, glancing over to where Telli was curled up on the couch, a box of some kind of snack laying forgotten about on her hip.  She shifted, sending the box tumbling to the floor, but she hardly paid attention to it. Instead, she curled her arms under the cushion she was laying on, burying her face into it, her butt sticking up in the air.  Mercy shook his head, focusing on his work.

“Luke didn’t seem that bad,” he commented idly, only to get a groan out of Telli.

“Exactly, Mercy!” she exclaimed.  “Who ever heard of a nice Imperial? He’s not supposed to exist.  I swear he’s ripping the fabric of reality just by existing!”

Mercy let out a sigh, turning his focus away from the door long enough to give her a look.

“You like him too.”

“Yes, and I hate it!”

Telli flopped a little harder onto the pillow as Mercy shook his head, trying not to look as exasperated as he felt.  He paused after a moment, turning back to the door and frowning at it, as if it would provide answers for him.

“You know, he said something kind of funny before…”

“He said a lot of funny things before.”

Mercy plowed on, ignoring her interruption, “He said brother Maul was travelling with the Rebellion, but also that he picked him up.”

Telli bristled at Maul’s name, so much so he was half expecting her lekku to stand on end.  She did finally lift her head again when the full weight of what Mercy said hit her, a frown creasing her face.

“‘Pick him up’ as in arrest him, or…?” she began, but even as she did, they both knew that was not it.  The very idea of Maul getting arrested and staying in custody was laughable.

“He might really be a Rebellion spy,” Mercy suggested.

“No, I don’t think that’s it either…” Telli replied, that faraway look when she was listening to the Force coming to her face.  She snapped back to reality after a moment, pushing herself off the couch.

“We’re leaving,” she stated.  “Finish up with the door, I’ll get out things together.”

Mercy started after her, at a loss for words at her sudden change in demeanor.  She seemed to pick up on his confusion, offering him a bemused smile.

“What?” she asked.  “He liked your flying, remember?  Time to be recruited into Imperial service.”

~.oOOo.~

Knocking on the door woke Luke up with a start the next day.  It took him a moment of blearily staring at his pillow to understand where he was and why.  He peered over at the chrono after a moment, letting out a groan when he saw the time; he had way overslept, and he could even hear the reprimand in his head as he scrambled out of bed, rushing to pull on a robe before getting the door.

Instead of the babysitter he was expecting, however, Thirteen stood on the other side, her dark hair pulled back in a severe looking bun, almost as sharp as the military uniform she was wearing.  He stared for a long moment, at a loss for words.

“W...where’s the commander that was assigned to me?” he asked lamely, getting her lips to twitch up into a smile.

“He had an unfortunate accident,” she replied, moving to push her way in.  She paused halfway through, looking him up and down. “Nice robe.”

Luke, suddenly very self conscious, pulled the robe tighter around himself as he stepped aside for her, closing the door once she was inside.  Thirteen seemed content with making herself at home, glancing around, before plopping down on the chair. He turned to say something, but she held a finger to her lips, fiddling with something in her pocket, before she pulled it out.  She held the disruptor up for him to see, before setting it down on the table.

“This room is bugged more than the Imperial Palace,” she said, kicking back along the arms of the chair.  “Who knows how many different people were listening in.”

“I didn’t exactly plan to hold meetings here,” he replied, eyeing her, before slowly sinking onto the couch.  “What are you doing here?”

“You need to move around freely, don’t you?” she asked in reply.  “Besides, I doubt that little escape stunt you pulled before won you any favors.”

Luke let out a distressed noise as Thirteen shifted, sitting on the chair properly.

“I’ll play along with you for now,” she stated, a sort of strained tone to her voice.  It gave Luke the impression she was not making this decision lightly. “But you will need to be honest with me about what you’re doing.”

He paused at that, raising a critical eyebrow.  How naive did she think he was? Going by the smile he got in return, the answer was, “very naive,” and he let out a sigh, he shoulders slumping, and pretty sure if it were not for the Force, he would be throwing her out the door by now.

“You’re looking to remove the Emperor,” she began, as if offering him a starting point.  “Why?”

He hesitated a moment, searching her face as if to find any kind of deception there, never mind he had yet to sense it in her.  Another sigh escaped from him after a moment, and he leaned back against the couch, resigning himself to whatever would happen next.

“Because I believe in the good the Empire can do,” Luke replied.  “When it was established, it brought so many worlds under one government, allowed aid and much needed relief to get out to worlds that were suffering because the Republic was too big and too involved in its own self interest to care.  But I know that isn’t the norm; I know that Palpatine and his use of the Tarkin Doctrine means that the galaxy as a whole is controlled through fear and oppression. It doesn’t need to be that way.”

Thirteen did not look the slightest bit impressed, focusing on him with an utterly bland look.

“That’s incredibly optimistic,” she said flatly.

“I know,” Luke replied, only for her expression to flatten further.  “I know; I graduated from the same Academy Tarkin was alum to; the Tarkin Doctrine is practically pasted on every wall there.”

He could still recite it by rote, and he hated every part of it.  She continued to stare at him for a moment, almost like she could see the words floating through his head, before she leaned back, crossing her legs.

“Is this all Vader’s idea, then?” she asked.  “Seize the throne out from under the Emperor?”

“Not entirely his,” Luke admitted.  “We all have our own parts to play. I’m keeping the most attention on me, so the others can slip under the radar.”

“That’s stupid,” she stated bluntly.  “Force strong or not, you’re just one of Vader’s pilots.  Why would you ever throw yourself out there, when even if you succeed, you’ll probably die for it?”

Luke kept his gaze steady on her, trying to gauge what she really knew.  It seemed as if the Emperor had just told her to kill him, without supplying any information as to why.  He was not surprised, but… if things had been different, they could have fought.  He would have killed her, and she would have had no idea as to what she needlessly died for.

“Because I’m not just a pilot for Vader,” he stated, finally.  “I’m his son.”

He watched as his words slowly sank in, a variety of emotions flicking over her face as she leaned slowly back against the plush chair.  She finally sorted herself out after a long moment, her gaze focusing on him.

“Kark that,” she swore.  “How does that even work?”

Somehow, by some miracle, Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“He wasn’t born in that suit, you know,” he pointed out as gently as he could manage.

“That’s hard to believe,” she replied, though she also was not calling him a liar.  “What’s next? You’re going to tell me Vader’s been doing all this to put you on the thro—”

She cut herself off, as if becoming aware of Luke’s continued steady gaze.  Thirteen pursed her lips together, trying to call him out on a lie, refusing to accept that there was not one to be found.

“You’re crazy.”

“You keep saying that…”

“Because you keep proving it!”

“So I guess I shouldn’t mention the Emperor claiming me as his grandson, should I?”

Thirteen threw up her hands, standing up and starting to pace.  He shot her an amused look as she very nearly wore a rut into the carpeting before whirling on him.

“No one in their right mind would believe any of this,” she stated.  Luke kept his gaze on her, sensing something under her stubbornness.

“But you’re believing it.”

Thirteen didn’t like being called out like he kept doing, maybe because the Emperor was the type to do the same.  She held a glare on him in retaliation for a long moment, before sinking back into the chair.

“I never said I was in my right mind,” she whispered.  “I’ve lived in the Emperor’s shadow since I was thirteen.  I know exactly what the Imperial court is like.”

Luke hesitated, wanting to reach out to her in sympathy, though he doubted it would be appreciated.  He leaned forward instead, resting his arms on his knees and bringing himself that much closer without actually touching her.

“I believe we can do this,” he said softly.  “I believed we can bring the ideals the Empire is supposed to represent to light.  The more people that are willing to try, the more it will become a reality.”

She kept her gaze on him for a long moment, as if judging his sincerity, before she nodded slowly.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she pointed out.  “Along with everyone that follows you, but…”

She paused, the barest hint of a smile coming to her face.

“I suppose nothing worth doing is done easily.”

~.oOOo.~

Thirteen had stayed with Luke the entire day, going over what him and his father had done so far in their effort to undermine the Emperor.  It was still hard to believe that Vader had a child, not to mention someone like the commander.  He was far too kind, willing to reach out with compassion and sincerity first.  Yet despite that, she did notice some similarities; the way he would hold himself when he was lost in thought or reaching to the Force, listening intently to its whispered wisdom.  He had a habit of hooking his thumbs into his belt as well — definitely something he picked up from the Dark Lord.

Most disturbing were the other habits she noticed as they talked; how he spoke of future events with such certainty, like they already happened.  There was a cool, calculating gaze to his eyes as he looked over information on possible allies, a look she had seen countless times in the last six years.

It made her wonder if he really was related to her master, as he said he claimed.

The moment she entered the apartments she was using on Naboo and locked the door behind her, the com station in the room flickered to life with an incoming message.  Thirteen took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dread that was crawling up her spine; she knew this would come eventually, considering how long it was taking for her to complete her mission.  She steeled herself, accepting the call, before sinking to one knee as the caller came to life before her.

“Report, Sister,” Traya’s harsh voice bore down on her, as if already condemning her.  “You’ve been gone far longer than expected.”

Thirteen raised her head, trying not to let her disgust for the Mirialan show on her face.  Of course, she had not felt the woman worthy of her current status as leader of the Inquisitorus; she was mad, occasionally prone to twitches left over from at least a decade of torture at the hands of their master.  She was a leftover of the Clone Wars, a former Jedi gone radical, made insane, and then rewarded for it.

She did not deserve a name.  She had not been the one to serve the Emperor personally, as Thirteen had.

“Apologies, Mistress Traya,” she replied, careful to keep her loathing of the woman in check.  “I have decided on a different approach for this one.”

Traya narrowed her eyes, a visible muscle twitching under one.  “Explain.”

Thirteen took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.  “The commander’s treachery toward the Emperor runs deep, beyond himself.  It would be prudent to—”

She cut herself off, struggling not to flinch as she felt something invisible enclose around her throat.

“Your mission is not to root out corruption,” Traya hissed.  “Your mission was to either capture or eliminate a single child.  If you cannot do that—”

The pressure at Thirteen’s throat suddenly abated, and she focused on the com in time to see Traya bow before stepping out of view, her image replaced by the Emperor himself.  Thirteen immediately cast her eyes downward, knowing better than to look directly on their master unless permitted. Silence hung in the air, and even through a holocall, she could feel her master’s hard gaze bore into her, through her, not at all unlike…

“I see…” the Emperor began softly.  “So, he’s opened up to you.”

“Yes, master,” Thirteen replied carefully, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that washed over her.  That was all but explicit confirmation that what Luke said was true. But why claim the boy as a grandson, then order his death?  What did Luke do?

Silence hung between them, before the Emperor let out a low, bone chilling chuckle.

“Continue as you are, my child,” the Emperor finally ordered.  “Bring all those that would betray the Empire to my feet, dead or alive.”

“As you wish, master,” Thirteen replied as the holocom clicked off, making a face at the cold feeling that decided to settle in the pit of her stomach.

Chapter Text

Thirteen was not terribly surprised to find that Luke had already left the next morning, and instead of trying to feel him out in the Force, she immediately went to the royal mausoleum.  Also not surprising, she found him in the resting place of Padmé Amidala again, this time in the company of a black astromech droid. It swiveled its head toward her, its beeps coming out in a low baritone.  The sound startled the young commander, and he quickly ran a hand over his face as if checking for tears, before turning toward her.

“Hey,” he greeted, a weak smile on his face, before resting his hand on the droid’s head.  “We just finished copying the files down below. It was a lot of data; it’s going to take Deevee time to sort through it all.”

The droid let out a confident whistle, as if assuring that he could handle it, before letting out a short string of beeps.

“Oh!  This is—” he began to answer the droid, before he stopped, faltering.  He stared at her for an overly long minute, before he asked, “What should I call you?”

Thirteen raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s your name?”

She stared back at him a moment, an uncomfortable feeling rising in her chest.

“I don’t have one,” she replied.  “Inquisitors are not given names.”

“But…” he began to protest, though his words died before he could get them out.  She shook her head, not surprised that he did not understand. The Inquisitors were a thing rarely talked about when under Vader’s command, and now less so.

“The numbers don’t matter,” she explained.  “We are tools, just like stormtroopers. Just because we are… specialized, doesn’t make us any less expendable.”

“I don’t believe anyone’s expendable,” Luke replied softly, and she could see the concern clearly etched on his face.

“I’m not surprised you feel that way, but it doesn’t make it any less true,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest.  “If you must, though… I’ve been using Celena on this mission. It’s as good of a name as any.”

The droid let out a positive sounding beep as Luke nodded, though he seemed sad by her revelation.  She did not know what to feel about his empathy; she hated being pitied, because it meant she was weak, that she had failed somehow.  On the other hand, this boy was so open and compassionate, that she already knew he did not give out such a feeling maliciously. A sigh escaped from her, deciding to let it drop.

“So, I take it you’re leaving now?” she asked, mildly surprised to see him frown in response.

“Not… quite yet,” he replied.  “I can’t help but feel there’s more to find…”

He trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes as he stilled and listened to the Force.  After a moment passed, he straightened, an idea lighting up his eyes.

“Naboo is still governed by a democratic monarchy, right?” he asked, sounding excited, though that changed almost immediately as Thirteen answered.

“Not anymore.  After the assassination of Governor Panaka four years ago, the queen of the time was directly blamed for the assassination and arrested.  The newly installed Governor Zabean has been in control ever since.”

Luke frowned at that.  “Assassination sounds a bit much for the queen of a sovereign planet…”

“That’s because it is,” Thirteen replied.  “The queen had been attempting to take power back for herself at the time, as most ruling decisions were made by the governor.  The Emperor had been looking for an excuse to quietly remove the queen under the claim of ‘stepping down’, and it was just fortunate that Saw Gerrera’s Partisans attacked.”

A dark look came to Luke’s eyes at the mention of Gerrera, and an unsettling chill crawled up Thirteen’s spine.  He shook it off quickly, but she still could not help but note a similarity to his family members.

“Is she still being held?” he asked.  “Was she ever executed?”

Thirteen paused, frowning as she folded her arms over her chest.

“I don’t believe so…” she replied.  “Though there’s only one way to know for certain.”

A slow smile worked its way onto Luke’s face, and she could see the clear workings of a plan forming in his head.  She could not help but be concerned at that; so far, her observations showed his plans ran from the, “not that great,” to, “that should not have worked.”  That look on his face alone meant this next plan was probably falling under the latter category, and it left her with a bad feeling…

~.oOOo.~

Naboo was a boring planet if you wanted anything resembling action.  The most that happened was someone was brought in for speeding or public intoxication, nothing worth getting up for.  The Imperial lieutenant that stood guard over the lock up barely looked up as a stormtrooper brought in yet another gutter trash, managing somehow to stumble drunkenly even as the man held onto her.  The lieutenant waved them along, raising an eyebrow as the woman threw her arms around the trooper, and he caught a faint sigh coming out from under the helmet.

The pair waited until they were in a turbolift, before the woman dropped her act, pulling herself off the trooper and running a hand through her frazzled hair, smoothing it.  The trooper watched her, and if anyone was bothering to watch the security cams, they might have been able to imagine the lopsided smile on the man’s face.

“Don’t,” Celena stated before a word could come out of the trooper’s mouth.

“What?” Luke replied from under the helmet, unable to keep the hidden grin off his face.  He could tell it was heard in his voice, because Celena shot him a dirty look.

“The only reason you’re the one wearing that helmet is because your face is on file,” she reminded him.  “Besides, I doubt you even know what being drunk looks like.”

“I’m not that naive…” he muttered grumpily, adjusting his helmet.  It was not like he was enjoying the bucket over his head, and he could almost hear Kreel sneering at him for being too short to wear the armor.

Celena let out a snort, patting the side of his helmet patronizingly, before pulling a blaster off his belt just as the turbolift door opened.  An officer was on the other side of the door, looking incredibly bored, but not bored enough not to jump up in surprise at the sight of a prisoner wielding a blaster.  He went down to a stun blast, and Celena was moving before the man even hit the floor, though Luke paused, staring down at him in dismay. Well, at least he was not dead; that was something.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Celena asked, already focused on one of the computer banks.  Luke let out a breath, before stepping around the fallen man, standing guard as Celena continued to run through the data in front of her.

“Found her,” she declared, just as the sound of feet pounding down the hall drew Luke’s attention away from her.  He was soon pulling the trigger of his borrowed E-11 blaster, stun blast shooting out and downing a stormtrooper as he appeared around the corner.  He shifted as the other one shot at him, avoiding the blast, and was about to return fire, but Celena beat him to it.

“Hurry,” she ordered, and Luke followed quickly after her, heading deep into the cell block.  It was not as secure as a cell block on a Star Destroyer, and they only encountered one other duo of troopers before they reached the former queen’s cell.

Celena went at the lock, slicing it open with a hidden palm unit so quickly it made Aphra look inexperienced, and the door sprang open immediately.  Luke stood guard again, keeping half an eye on the inside of the cell, a dismaying feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He could see the former queen, slumped unconscious on the metal seat in the room.  Four years of imprisonment… she must have been left there to rot, as there was no way for them to even silently kill her without raising attention, not on the Emperor’s homeworld.

Celena came out after a moment, carrying the former queen in her arms.  Luke took point back toward the turbolift, but they were unaccosted on the way back, carefully stepping over the people they had stunned.  No one bothered them until they returned to the upper levels, where the man that had mindlessly waved them on was. He stumbled up to his feet, fumbling for his weapon, but Luke almost idly shot the man unconscious.

“That was too easy…” Luke murmured as they settling into the speeder they had stolen before coming to the prison.

“You’re not used to small detention centers like this, are you?” Celena replied as she made sure the former queen was secured before they roared off.

It did not take long before they were followed, and Luke grit his teeth as they were fired on from behind.

“Well, now it feels like normal,” he muttered, banking hard to the right to avoid another blast.  He heard Celena let out a yelp at the move, clearly not strapped in yet, and he could feel the glare aimed at the back of his head.  The sound of her returning fire came a moment later, and he knew that the stun was off now, not that there was much choice this time. 

Luke grit his teeth, holding the controls tight and letting himself just breathe as he sunk himself into the Force.  Possibilities were spread out before him, and he picked the one that led to them staying alive and plowed down it.  Behind him, Celena’s blaster flashed, striking the speeder immediately behind them, and it careened off and into a building in a perfect arc, mimicking what he had seen, and he had to fight against an uneasy lurch in his chest.  Focusing on the moment was more important, and he turned sharply to the left to avoid another strike against them.

“Can you fly a little straighter?!” Celena demanded.

“Do you want to die?” he shot back, gritting his teeth, before flipping the speeder on its side.  He heard her yelp, followed by a thump as he saw in the Force that her blaster fell away, tumbling off to hit the driver of the last speeder.  The hit was enough to knock the driver’s hands off the controls, and as they evened out, the other speeder veered off into the ground, exploding into a plum of flame.

He drove off into the city and out of it, flying over the wide open plains outside.  It was not until the capital city was a small speck behind them that he slowed, finally allowing himself to breathe.  The speeder rocked slightly as Celena vaulted herself up to the front seat, and he did not need to look to know he was being glared at.

“What kind of flying was that?” she demanded, giving him a curious look.

“The kind that saved our lives,” Luke replied, grateful for the helmet at the moment.  It was the best way for him to hide his expression, as he was certain he could not keep his feelings off his face.

Since the Emperor’s revelation that he had given rise to his father through the Force, Luke’s own powers had shifted.  Or, perhaps more accurately, something had awoken inside of him. When he focused, truly focused, or in moments of quiet with no one else around him, he caught glimpses of events and scenarios that could happen.  In the months since, that power had steadily grown, and those glimpses would last longer, or even leave afterimages behind as they actually happened. It was a power he never wanted, and he tried so hard to deny he had any kind of foresight, having no desire to possess anything that made him similar to the Emperor.

The Force had other ideas, however.

He did not stop until they were on the outskirts of the nearest swamp, and Luke finally looked back to the former queen.  She was still alive, that much he could sense, but why she was unconscious, he could not tell.

“She’s going to need medical attention,” Celena pointed out, and Luke nodded absently.  He knew that, of course, but he was not sure where they could go to help her. They needed to stay away from the city until things cooled down, but he had not thought that far ahead.  He let out a breath at his own stupidity, trying to think.

“I think we can do some first aid here,” he said finally.  “We should make camp until tomorrow at least.”

~.oOOo.~

It was rare that Theed was in a state of martial law.  The only other times it had happened was during the Trade Federation occupation, and again four years ago, after the assassination of Moff Panaka.  Now, like then, stormtroopers roamed the streets, blasters at the ready, prepared to arrest or shoot anyone they came across that was violating curfew.

Anyone, except him, of course.

He slipped through the streets like a shadow, the troopers unaware of his presence.  Age and the weight of a thousand failures may have taken its toll on him, but there would never be a time that he was so weak he could not slip around the Empire’s mindless troops.  He knew he was not the only outcast here that could, and finding that person was the sole reason he was daring to even be out at all.

Said individual spotted him first, never one so easily fooled by a Jedi’s tricks despite how foolish he acted.  His long, fin-like ears lifted like a loyal pet, and he almost shouted out his name, before he stopped himself, slapping his gangly hands over his billed mouth.  He looked around, eye stalks peering about the corners cautiously, before he quickly made his way over to his hiding spot.

“Obi!” the Gungan whispered happily, grabbing him in a tight hug.  “Mesa so happy to see yousa.”

“As am I, Jar Jar,” the old Jedi returned, the warmth in his voice a match for the just as old Gungan’s happiness.  “I’m afraid this reunion is for the purposes of asking for your help, however.”

“Yousa can always count on mesa,” Jar Jar replied with a solemn nod of his head.  “Mesa not forgettin’ what da Jeedai really are. Notten like da rest of da galaxy did.”

A warm smile came to his face.  “I wish this were an easy request, but I’m afraid it’s not.  I need you to help a young friend, caught in the middle of a Skywalker plan gone awry.”

Jar Jar’s eyes widened almost comically, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had to fight against a laugh.  It seemed his old friend had not forgotten what sort of plan he was talking about either.

~.oOOo.~

She was Dalné.

The memory of the name she had taken as queen was what had kept her going in the innumerable years since her imprisonment.  She was Dalné, the name taken in honor of the great queen and senator, in hopes that she would be able to take charge as she had, but the one time she did…

She could still smell the smoke, sometimes, but this time it was overwhelmingly powerful, and Dalné half expected her cell to be on fire.  It took her a moment to realize she was laying on something soft, and her eyes sprang open, staring up at the starry skies for the first time since her imprisonment.  A vaguely sweet smell registered in her mind, and she could hear the occasional shuffle of feet and the crackle of a small fire.

“Stop looking at it like it’s going to eat you, Skywalker,” a woman’s voice said, followed by someone letting out a faint huff.

“I know it’s not, but…” a man’s voice began.

“But…?”

“...are you sure it’s actually food?”

There was the sound of a scuffle, and the man let out a high pitched yelp.  An arm pinwheeled into Dalné’s view, covered in a black compression gauntlet, before the man finally surrendered.

“Alright, I’ll eat it!  I’ll eat it!” he exclaimed, his tone making it clear he was still questioning the woman’s cooking skills.  “But if her highness wakes up, we probably shouldn’t feed her this.”

“Of course not,” the woman replied, sounding like she was sitting down.  “After four years in the Empire’s ‘tender’ care, she’ll need nutrition packets to get her strength back up before attempting proper food.”

There was a pause, and before Dalné could properly process that it had been four years, the woman continued around a mouthful of food:

“By the way, she’s awake.”

There was a scrambling noise above her, and after a moment, the man hovered into view.  Though perhaps “boy” would have been more accurate, given his soft, youthful features and almost fluffy head of hair.  He reached for her, gently helping her sit up, before offering her a canteen of water.  Dalné eyed it warily, looking past him to the dark haired woman and the sight of the swamp beyond, not missing the fact that both of them were in clearly Imperial garb.

“Please, your highness,” the young man said softly, offering her the canteen again.  Dalné gave him another wary look, before finally accepting it, cautiously sipping at it.  The water was cool on her throat, and after a few minutes of nothing, she dared to take a few more sips.  The young man settled down beside her, clearly grateful for the excuse to put off eating his meal for a little while longer.

“We’re at the swamps closest to Theed,” he said, volunteering information without prompting.  “We escaped with you earlier this morning.”

“Why?” Dalné challenged, eyeing their clothes again, as well as the discarded stormtrooper helmet the woman was using as a seat.  If this was some sort of trap, it was an elaborate one. The man seemed too open and earnest though, and as guarded as she was, his honest expression made her feel at ease.

“I’m looking for allies across the galaxy,” he replied.  “People who believe the Empire can function without the need for fear and oppression.  I believe you can be one of them.”

Dalné’s first thought was that he was incredibly naive.  Her second was to wonder how often she had thought the same.  The hope that sense and democracy could return to the galaxy was the reason she clung to the idea of helping the miners on their moon four years past.  It was a small thing, but even small things could be the building blocks for something bigger. After four years… she wondered what became of the miners, or the young Alderaanian princess that had come to their relief.  They too could well have been imprisoned, or worse, in retaliation.

“And why would an Imperial want for such a thing?” she challenged once again.

His expression softened, a sad look coming to his eyes lined with determination as strong as durasteel.  In that moment, she almost felt as if she recognized him, like she had seen his image so many times that it was ingrained in her memory.  But she knew very well this was their first meeting, and he certainly never came to her cell before now, so he could not have been a prison guard…

“My mother believed in and loved democracy,” he replied softly.  “Being on this planet has reminded me of that.”

Behind him, the woman looked like she was putting things together in her head.  Her eyes widened after a moment, and she had to set her plate of food down, covering her eyes with a hand in exasperation.  The young man did not seem to notice, but Dalné filed the strange behavior away for later. Instead, she shifted slightly, smoothing out her prison greys like they were one of her dresses, and folding her hands over her lap, looking ever much like she was holding court.

“Perhaps you should inform me as to the state of the galaxy,” she began, a wan smile coming to her face.  “After all, I have been out of touch for a long time.”

~.oOOo.~

Thirteen was starting to get used to Luke and his incredibly dumb plans that somehow seemed to work, to the point where she did not question it when he proposed sneaking back into the city via the space port.  She knew it was not supposed to work, that there should have been guards and people monitoring equipment, but if his lineage was what he claimed it to be, she had little doubt now that powers of foresight would see him though, allowing her and the former queen to follow.  Her faith was well founded when they arrived at the outskirts of the space port, and could hear the sounds of a scuffle near the entrance. A quick glance in that direction showed a Gungan trying to get in, protesting that no, really, he had a ship waiting for him, even though he did not have an ID.  She shook her head as the three of them slipped into Luke’s heavily modified Corvette-class ship, resolutely deciding she just was not going to question anything when it came to him anymore.

DV-2 was already waiting for them as they slipped inside, whistling low as he swiveled his head toward Luke.  She did not catch what was said, but judging from how pale he suddenly went, she could guess.

“Oh.  Right.  I only had a week…” he murmured, before turning his attention to Thirteen.  “Could you help her highness to the medkit in the back? I need to… make a call.”

A slow smile came to Thirteen’s face, but it was the queen who spoke, setting herself down in a chair.

“I am well enough,” she said, even though it was a clear lie.  No amount of injury could keep the mischievous glint from her eyes, though.  “I would very much like to bare witness to this conversation.”

Luke’s mouth worked, and he cast a pleading look in Thirteen’s direction, as if she would help.  She smiled sweetly instead, leaning against one of the bulkheads and watching as he slowly wilted.  DV let out what could only be the droid equivalent of a laugh, earning himself a glare, before Luke ordered him to bring up the com.  Barely a moment later, Vader’s image appeared as a small hologram, though still large in presence, with his arms folded over his chest and looking like he was glaring through that mask.

“What have you done?” the Dark Lord demanded, and to Luke’s credit, he managed to only flinch, standing his ground.

“Father, I can explain…” he began.

“Really?” Vader replied, and Thirteen got the distinct impression were it anyone else, they would be gasping for breath right now.  “You can explain why your handler has suddenly disappeared? Why there was damage in one of the districts under renovations?  Why there was a jail break involving a stormtrooper?”

Judging from the way Luke flinched at each of his crimes, he had been hoping the Dark Lord had not been informed of some of his exploits.

“Okay, it doesn’t sound like I need to explain…” Luke mumbled, and Thirteen let out a sigh in spite of herself.  Yes, this would be the point someone would be dead on the deck; if she actually needed proof Luke was who he said he was, the fact that he was still breathing fine would have been enough.

Vader pointed an accusing finger at Luke instead.  “You were supposed to investigate the Emperor’s old offices and visit your mother’s resting place,” he reminded him sharply.

“And I did all that!” Luke replied, somewhat indignantly.  “But there’s more here than just proof of Palpatine being corrupt.  I’ve found someone I want to try and recruit, and the last Queen had been held in prison for something she didn’t do!  I need another week to make things right.”

Judging from the sudden irregularity in Vader’s ventilator, he had needed an extra breath to process his son’s ridiculousness.  The queen stepped forward into the com’s pickup field before he could reply, and Thirteen ended up scrambling into view herself to help support her.

“My Lord,” she began, “I believe your son has the noblest of intentions.  I must strongly urge you to allow him to stay, if there is to be any hope of Naboo returning to its former glory.”

Vader was silent, though Thirteen got the distinct impression he took the occasional glance at her, as if trying to puzzle out who she was.  He seemed to realize after a moment, as she could feel a sudden chill run down her spine.

“Luke, I question the company you keep,” he finally said, a cautionary warning in his voice.

“I had a feeling you would,” Luke replied, a soft smile coming to his face, “but I trust her.  I believe we can do this.”

Vader unfolded his arms, his hands coming to rest on his belt.

“You are far too reckless,” he replied, though even Thirteen could tell his resolve to call Luke back was waning.  The smile that Luke flashed him showed he knew it too.

“I am your son,” he replied, and Vader almost looked like he let out a huff.

“No, you get this from your mother,” he replied, resigned.  The finger came back up after a moment. “You must hide your involvement in this.  The Emperor will suspect you regardless, but the less proof he has, the less likely he is to openly act against you.”

Luke’s expression dropped at the seriousness of what he was being allowed to do, a hard look coming to his eyes.

“I understand,” he said softly, and Vader nodded, knowing his son was taking this seriously.

“One more week,” the Dark Lord reminded him.  “Stay safe, my son.”

The call ended with Vader’s image winking out, and Luke let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Well, the hard part’s over,” he quipped, and Thirteen gave him an exasperated look even as the queen smiled fondly.

Luke grinned himself, about to say more, when he suddenly tensed, his hand going for his lightsaber.  Thirteen heard it a moment later, a shuffling sound coming from the cockpit. Luke held up a hand, motioning for her to look after the queen, before he edged himself forward and out of sight.  A thump followed soon after, followed by the sounds of a scuffle and a yelp. Luke was letting out a surprised noise a moment later, and another moment after that he was returning to the common area of the ship with Mercy and Telli in tow, the latter of which was rubbing at one of her lekku with a pout on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Luke stressed, actually sounding both concerned and exasperated at once.  “Most stowaways don’t exactly hang out in the cockpit.”

Telli continued to pout, as if laying on the guilt as thick as she could get it, before flicking her not-at-all-that-injured lekku back over her shoulder.

“Well, we wanted to be sure we got your attention,” she replied, settling her hands on her hips, and it was hard to miss Luke’s eyes following her hands, causing him to blush and yank them back to focusing on her face.  Thirteen had to fight not to roll her eyes at that reaction. “Besides, we expected you to be back sooner than this, seeing as you seemed to accomplish what you wanted to do. Did you realize just how amazing your caf machine is, by the way?”

Luke’s mouth worked, completely at a loss for words, and the queen let out a soft laugh at his expense.  He finally let out a sigh, casting his eyes skyward as if something in the stars above would be able to help him, before he turned toward Mercy.

“Well, this does save me from hunting you down,” he admitted.  “I did want to try to recruit you.”

“To work with you, under your father, right?” Mercy replied, flashing his sharp teeth.  “Sounds… well, not fun.  Terrifying, actually.  But I look forward to the challenge.”

A smile briefly came back to Luke’s face before he was back to being serious.  Thirteen had to admire how he could make himself focus so quickly, if only a little.

“Re-establishing Naboo’s democratic monarchy takes first priority,” he continued.  “I’ll need as much information on the governor as I can get.”

The queen looked as if she were about to speak, but Telli beat her to it, her nose scrunching up as she let out a disgusted noise.

“That chauvinistic Hutt slime?” she asked, and they all stared at her, with Luke slowly raising an eyebrow.  Mercy seemed to catch on after a moment, letting out a groan as he pressed a hand over his eyes.

“Right; that was him, wasn’t it?” he asked, waiting for a nod from Telli, before he explained for the others, “One of our first jobs here was on the governor.  It was supposed to be an easy one, but he showed up drunk already, and got real handsy.”

“He also showed up with his personal guard, who were also hands-on,” Telli picked up, hugging her arms to her chest.  “We had to break off, almost needed to leave planet, but they were all drunk; I don’t think they even remember what happened.”

Thirteen almost felt a twinge of sympathy, understanding very well what could happen if a job of that nature went really bad.  She glanced over at Luke, catching a calculating look in his eyes and nearly tensing.  Oh no, she had seen that look a couple times before; he was coming up with another plan.

“Your highness…” he began slowly.  “Do you happen to know the official narrative behind your disappearance from office?  Specifically?”

The queen tensed at that, taking a deep breath, before she answered, “Yes.  They announced it as I was being arrested. They said I was stepping down to allow the governor’s office to better protect the people.”

Telli let out a rude snort, rolling her eyes, but Thirteen could see where Luke was going with this, and she had to smile.

“What better way to restore someone back to their old position than to make the lie a reality?” she offered, folding her arms over her chest as Luke nodded slowly.  “We’ll need to embarrass the governor, and I mean really embarrass him.”

An amused sparkle came to Luke’s eyes as he glanced at Mercy and Telli.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that…”

It took a moment before the two of them realized what he was getting at, Telli making a disgusted face as Mercy grinned maliciously.  She shook her head, elbowing the Zabrak as if she could tell he was getting ideas.

“That guy is dangerous and a sleemo,” she snapped, before looking at Luke.  For a moment, it seemed like she was going to shoot him down, but she faltered fairly quickly, her nose scrunching up again as she tried desperately to say no.  She finally threw her hands up after a moment, letting out a frustrated noise.

“Okay, fine ; we’ll put something together,” she relented, before stabbing a finger at him.  “But you are going to make absolutely sure that nothing happens to me!  I don’t care if we have to dress you in drag so you can be right there next to me!”

Telli looked like she was just going to leave it as a threat, when she paused, the tips of her lekku twitching as a slow, slightly evil look crept up on her face.  Luke’s own face paled, and he took a step back, like he was going to run for it.  Thirteen clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Don’t worry, commander,” she assured him.  “You’ll be the loveliest lady on the planet.”

Thirteen realized that, as Luke glowered at her sullenly, she was rather enjoying just how chaotic a Skywalker plan could be.

Chapter Text

Mercy would never admit out loud that he was enjoying this plan way more than he probably should.  He knew that two of their number would unquestionably murder him if he did so, and that was enough to keep the smile off his face, but he made sure to watch every moment Telli sat in front of Luke, brushing on makeup and giving him very specific instructions and occasionally yelling at him to stop blushing, at least long enough to apply foundation properly.  The young commander was absorbing the information without question at least, though it was clear he would have much rather been assisting Mercy and keeping any part of his face — painted or not — away from immediate view like his father demanded.

“No one will ever get close enough to know it’s you,” Telli pointed out, finishing up his face.  “And if they do, they’ll be too drunk to recognize you.”

Luke balked at that, mouth open to protest, but Telli whipped his chair around before he could get anything out.

“Besides, who’s going to expect a commander of the Imperial navy doing this sort of thing?” she asked, starting to fit hair extensions in.  “You’ll be fine; just shake your hips and follow my lead.”

Luke turned an even brighter shade of pink at that, and Mercy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud.  Telli was definitely right; if he had not watched Luke’s little transformation, he would not have been able to recognize him either. Originally, they were just going to use some of Telli’s old things, but while Luke was shorter than her, he was just buff enough that they — hilariously — did not fit.  Thankfully, they had other options; their time on Naboo had enabled the two of them to make a broad range of friends and business associates, and one of the professional ladies was able to relinquish some of her hand-me-downs from during her transition time for the young commander. The outfit was slimming and made him look even more petite than he already was, with long gloves that allowed them to hide his prosthetic arm, all in pale hues that complimented his eyes.  It made him look rather appealing for a human, despite how much he was squirming over it.

“Is he still whining?”

Mercy turned, and had to stop and stare despite himself. Celena did not look bad at all, with a slinky, form fitting outfit that seemed designed to show off every curve.  Lace and gold drop jewelry hung off every point that needed to draw a person’s attention, and it did its job very well.  Everything on her seemed to shimmer just so when she moved, catching light just enough to make her look like she was glowing.  Celena paused where she was standing just inside the doorway, raising an eyebrow, before walking right past Mercy. He turned in time to see her reach over to Luke, pushing his mouth closed, letting her hand drift toward his chest as she pulled away without quite touching him.

Mercy honestly did not know humans were capable of turning the same shade of red as Dathomir’s crimson sun rise, but Luke was definitely proving him wrong.

“Are we going to be ready for this?” Celena asked as she moved away, double checking her makeup in the mirror.

“We’ll be fine,” Telli replied, a smile on her face that was a clear indication she was struggling not to burst out laughing.  Luke remained silent, probably having trouble thinking straight with all the blood rushing to his face. “As long as you two follow my lead, he should ask for me once we’re done.  You two can follow behind, and we’ll get the drop on him. Easy.”

“And if he brings goons like the last time, we take care of them while Mercy is your backup,” Celena finished.  “Should be done and onto the next phase of the plan in an hour at most.”

Luke let out a small breath at that, though his worry about all he was being dragged into was obvious.  Mercy frowned, trying to think of something to say that might have been comforting. Besides, this was the man that was going to be his future commanding officer.  There had to be something he could do to help comfort him in this situation.

“Don’t worry, commander; you’re not the prettiest girl here.”

The glower that was aimed at him as Telli and Celena busted out laughing was a pretty clear indication he had missed the mark with that comment.

~.oOOo.~

Governor Zabean was a very simple man with very simple desires: money and women.  It was the reason why Telli had found him the perfect target for their schemes when they first arrived on Naboo — easy tastes meant easily exploitable, after all.  Unfortunately, she had not known at the time that he was a coward that liked to drink when he was nervous about something, and as much as he enjoyed them, women made him very nervous.  She had barely gotten out from under his hands and the hands of his cronies the last time, and she was not in any rush to repeat the experience.  The only reason why she was going through with it now was because she understood the urgency of the situation.

At least this time she was not alone.

They were well into their first dance set when the governor stumbled in — drunk already, as were the four guards that wandered in with him.  Mercy sat them as always, and gave the usual signal.

Time to get to work.

The incense they had was designed to cloud the mind, to make a victim more susceptible to her use of the Force.  Add being drunk already in, and it was laughably easy for her to slip into the governor’s disgusting mind, giving just the right amount of encouragement; look at me, look at us, you want us.  It barely required any kind of effort, and the governor was so completely focused on the stage and what they were doing that he could not see when things fell off script, like when Luke took a wrong step in nervousness.

Stars bless him for going along with this, even if he was absolutely terrible at it.

Telli kept an eye out for the signal from Mercy; with him able to just focus on the patrons, he was in a better position to know when they were ready for a more personal introduction to her charms.  Once she had it, she made her way over to the governor, hips swaying to the music as she went, settling herself on his lap. A disgusting grin spread out on the man’s face, and Telli was pretty sure she would have gagged if she had not done this before.

“See something you like, master?” she purred at him, keeping her voice light and airy, like her only purpose in the galaxy was to be a stupid plaything.

The governor leered at her… before his gaze shifted over to the stage.

“The pretty blonde,” he replied.  “I’m in the mood for the shy type tonight.”

Telli felt her mind ground to a halt in surprise, her eyes widening as she turned back toward Luke.  Oh… kriff; they had not prepared for this possibility!  She had been so caught up in the fact that she would be the one chosen, that she had not even given much thought as to what would happen if he chose one of the others.  Luke seemed to know what was going on too, as he had stopped, an absolutely petrified look on his face.

Telli took a deep breath; no, this was fine, this could still work.  They could not lose this right now!

“Of course, master,” she replied, managing to keep her tone the same, though she was still worried for Luke.  He seemed to catch on, somehow keeping himself steady as he approached, offering the governor a hand up with a very forced smile, and Telli was pretty sure that if they got through this, she was going to find out how much like dear old dad the kid was.

“Oh ho, shy and strong,” the governor cooed, giving Luke’s arm a squeeze as he steadied himself on his feet.  “Oh, I’m gonna have fun with you, little lady.”

Luke looked like he was going to gag, but he managed to keep himself back.  He motioned for the governor to follow him, not trusting his voice, and he barely got two steps before the disgusting man got an arm around him, crushing Luke against him possessively.  He still did not outwardly react, but an unnatural chill settled over the room, enough that even Zabean shuddered.

“Turn up the heat before you let my friends play with you, will ‘ya?” he slurred, disappearing into the back with Luke.

The room fell very still, and Telli was tempted to just wreck everything right then and there.  This was a terrible mistake, and she actually felt something akin to guilt creeping up her spine.  Thankfully, Celena was keeping to the script, and the sight of her moving toward one of the governor’s guards snapped her out of it.  They could still handle this quickly without tipping anyone off. They had this.

At least they did, until Telli felt a familiar surgance of the Force, before the power went out.

“Mercy!” she snapped, and she saw well enough in the darkness to see the Zabrak leap over the bar, knocking one of the men out cold.  She heard the one Celena had been going for yelp, and surmised that the two of them would make quick work of the group on their own.

Telli bolted for the back, grabbing the door that led to the private room and giving it a hard tug.  It did not budge, and Telli let out a frustrated growl, slamming her shoulder into the door, to no avail.

“Luke, are you alright in there?!” she yelled, moving to slam her foot into the door next, when she paused, eyes widening at her own stupidity.

They had a damn entry card hidden behind a false panel for this specific reason.

She swore under her breath, prying off the panel to get the card and swiping it over the lock.  The first thing she saw once the door sprang open was Zabean, flopped over on the ground like a fish out of water.  The next thing she saw was Luke, staring in wide-eyed horror even as it looked like he was trying to disappear into the wall he was huddled against.  One of his extensions had been ripped out, and he was clutching his real arm to his chest.

Telli bolted over to him immediately, kneeling before him, and that close, she could see the tips of his gloved fingers were black, with ugly white lines peeking out from under the fabric on his arm.

“I…” Luke began, his voice shaking as bad as he was.  “He grabbed… I just… reacted.”

Telli glanced back at the governor’s body, noting he was still breathing, before noticing the charing on the wall, arcing like lighting toward where the other man had been standing.  Clearly, the Force-generated lightning Luke had used on reflex was a lot more powerful than her own “happy” accidents.

“How do you do this?” Luke asked, drawing her attention back to him.  “How do you willingly go through things like this?”

Telli felt herself wilt a little at that.  It was a perfectly reasonable question, one that she often asked herself.  Finally, she let out a soft breath, pushing a lekku behind her shoulder before reaching up and gently soothing Luke’s hair.

“Because when I first learned how, I didn’t have a choice,” she said softly.  “Hutts have very specific tastes, after all.”

His expression changed then, like his own, still fresh trauma was nothing compared to hers.  If she could allow herself to be bitter for a moment, it really was; he only got grabbed, when there was any number of things that could have happened that were much, much worse.  No matter how much she wanted to be that person, however, she knew well how much that first violation could leave its mark.  The fact that he was setting it aside for her sake made her more uncomfortable than she cared to admit, and she waved his concern off, determinedly keeping herself in front of Luke.

“We use the terrible things we’re taught to fight back against those that try to control us,” she added softly.  “It’s the only way you survive this kind of life.”

~.oOOo.~

Dalné did not want to admit how much she was looking forward to her part of the plan, and it was fortunate that Telli and Celena both were talented enough with makeup to paint her face with the queen’s visage, otherwise she was sure her smile would have given her away.  The weight of the makeup, however, reminded her of the seriousness of the situation, that there was a solemnity to her voted appointment she had taken for granted. She never would again, and she was sure to inspire those that came after her not to do so either. Naboo was a democracy, not a dictatorship, no matter the fact their planet had spawned the Emperor.  It had also brought to them Queen Amidala, a woman who had inspired many, including her.

It seemed that the people had not forgotten the office of the queen.  As she walked on foot toward the governor’s offices, people stopped what they were doing and stared, murmuring about the queen returning.  It was not long before crowds started to gather around the streets, cheering for her and welcoming her back to the public eye. It made her heart flutter, and despite how weak her body still was from her long imprisonment, she felt like she could hike around the entire planet.

She knew it was not all good fortune and people happy to see her, however.  She spied a number of stormtroopers on the fringes of the crowd, trying to get to her, but either the crowd itself kept them from advancing or one of the others carefully diverted their attention.  She even occasionally caught sight of a Gungan and an old man doing the same, though she was not certain if that was intentional or not.

“Your highness!” a voice called out from the crowd, and Dalné spotted someone that was clearly a reporter, complete with cam droid.  Perfect; they were exactly who she needed. “It’s been four years since you’ve appeared in public.  What made you return now?”

Dalné smiled gently, all the stately training she had received coming back to her immediately.

“It is the anniversary of the time I stepped down to allow the Imperial governor full command of the planet, for the sake of the safety of the people,” she intoned, the queen’s voice coming to her easily, even after all this time.  “I thought it best to visit the governor, and see to the state of affairs.”

She moved to continue on, before she paused, seeming to consider, and finally returning her attention to the young reporter.

“You are welcome to accompany me,” she said.  “I am certain you would like an exclusive look into the story that will come from this.”

The young man’s face lit up with excitement, and Dalné felt a little bad.  Hopefully what he was about to see would not scar him for life.

She continued on her path, picking up a few more reporters as she went, to the point that by the time she made it to the governor’s offices, she had five total, following behind her like loyal handmaidens.  It was certainly a surprise for the receptionist, who seemed at a total loss as to how to respond to the sudden entourage of people and droids.

“Y-your highness?” she stammered out, and an absent part of Dalné wondered if she knew what had really happened to her.  Either way, there was little she could do, not with so many witnesses, a couple of which were broadcasting live. “H-how can I help you?”

“I wish to speak with the governor.  Is he available?” Dalné asked, knowing what the answer would be.

“I’m… sorry, Governor Zabean hasn’t reported in this morning,” she replied, and Dalné narrowed her eyes.

“It is approaching noon, and the governor has not come in?” she asked.  The receptionist worried her lip, at a loss as to what to do. Clearly, she had never been trained on what to do when a supposedly “retired” monarch came to call.

“I’m sure he’s just running late,” she managed to get out.

“Then he will not object to us waiting for him in his office,” Dalné announced, turning and heading toward the door with the abruptness of someone at the end of her patience.  The woman tried to protest, tried to stop her, but she was already opening the door wide…

“Oh ho… kriff,” the first reporter murmured, and Dalné once again found it hard to resist a smile.

She knew what to expect, and yet she had not quite expected Luke and others to be quite so explicit with how they placed the bodies of the governor and his companions.  It was certainly very clear what kind of activities were to have “happened” the night before, just from the lack of dress alone. The various paraphernalia and questionable stains littering the area left very little to the imagination.  She heard a gasp from behind her, followed by a thump as the receptionist fainted, and Dalné paid her no mind, instead marching forward to turn the governor over, exposing the toad-like man in all his “glory”, and taking a step back so the droids could get a good look.

“Governor Zabean,” she snapped harshly, and the man let out a groan, blinking his eyes open and staring blearily up at her.  He looked spiced on top of everything, and she really did not know how the others managed to accomplish that.

“Queen… Dalné?” he asked, his voice muffled and slightly slurred, like he was talking through a wad of cotton in his mouth.  It made it easier to glare down at him with all the condemnation she could muster.

“Governor, I stepped down because I believed you and your Imperial support would be enough to protect and serve the people of Naboo.  Clearly, my trust was misguided and naive.”

She turned sharply then, the layers of her dress floating around her as she did so, making it almost seem as if she were hovering.  The governor behind her struggled to sit up, making even more of a fool of himself for the cam droids.

“Queen, wh-where are you—?” he struggled to get out, and Dalné turned sharply on him once more.

“I am returning to my appointment, governor,” she answered, her tone leaving little room for argument.  “It is clear the services of the queen are still needed.”

~.oOOo.~

It had not taken much to reinstate Dalné as queen.  It seemed those in government had been anxious for the return to normalcy, pulling out ancient laws that had not been called on for generations to ensure she could take the throne once more, continuing her reign from where she left off.  The celebrations in the streets could be heard inside the palace even now; it seemed the people had not forgotten what democracy was, but merely had been too afraid to mourn its absence. The only truly difficult task left was to have the queen consult with the Emperor on the matter of his governor, and at first Luke had been worried.  Palpatine could have easily killed her and all those present through the com — though he had yet to see it done, he believed the Emperor powerful enough to make it so. Yet with the recorded evidence playing over and over again on the Holonet, not to mention locally, any attempts made on the queen’s life now would have only incited rebellion on his own home planet, a fact Palpatine knew, if only from the barely restrained rage Luke could feel through the holo.

Good, Luke could not help but think with something close to vicious satisfaction.  Let him be mad.

“I am exceedingly sorry for this insult to my home, your highness,” the Emperor was saying, though he did not seem focused on the queen.  His eyes seemed to be staring directly at Luke, even though he was nowhere near the com’s pickup field. Luke glared back, just daring him to even attempt to call him out.

“The fault is my own, Your Excellency,” Dalné replied.  “I should have seen the error in diverting from Naboo’s most sacred of traditions.  I, and those that follow me, will not make this mistake again.”

If there was anything to admire about the Emperor, it was his ability to keep a straight face when things were not going his way.

“Of course,” he replied.  “I will appoint a new governor, one I have thoroughly vetted myself, in the coming days.”

“If you would, Your Excellency, please provide the credentials for all who would receive the honor of governing your home world,” the queen requested, not missing a beat.  “The people will vote based on their merit, as they always have.”

The Emperor said nothing, his expression speaking volumes for him.  Despite it remaining neutral, there was a darkness to his face that made it seem as if he were glaring as the holocall ended.  Luke let out a breath he did not realize he was holding, his shoulders sagging slightly, before he stepped forward, bowing respectfully to the queen.

“Your highness, may I be the first of the Empire to congratulate you on your return to office,” he said.  Dalné held the serious expression of the queen for a moment, before the makeup shifted as she smiled warmly.

“All thanks to you, Commander Skywalker,” she replied.  “When the time comes, the Naboo will stand side by side with you in the defense of peace against tyranny.  Even should this time come after my rule.”

Luke bowed again, almost feeling lightheaded.  He had never gained the respect of someone of such a high appointment before, not to mention have a whole planet pledged to their cause.  It was a lot to take in.

“Commander, if I may,” the queen continued, motioning to one of her handmaidens.  The cloaked young woman approached, holding an ornate wooden box, clearly hand carved.  “I spoke with Celena before; I believe this should be returned to you.”

“Returned?” he asked, staring at the box.  He had never owned anything like this, and opening it only revealed scraps of flimsy scrawled with handwriting he did not recognize, along with an out of place thin lock of braided hair.

“These were left in the care of the office of the queen twenty years ago,” Dalné explained, her expression softening.  “They are the documents left in the desk of Senator Padmé Amidala after her death.”

Luke felt his breath freeze in his throat, his heart flipping over in his chest.  He was looking at his mother’s handwriting, at notes and proposed bills that had mattered to her.  It was a simple gift, but so powerful at the same time that he found it difficult to speak for a moment.

“I thank you, your highness,” he finally managed to get out.  “This is… most generous.”

The queen smiled once more, her expression softening.

“If you were not aware, Commander, the royal tombs is a public place.  Anyone may visit whenever they wish.”

Luke bowed once again.  “Thank you, your highness.  By your leave.”

The queen nodded, dismissing him, and Luke made a quick retreat, clutching the box tightly.  He walked quickly, just shy of running and did not stop until he made it to the royal tomb, and the room where his mother was interred.  He paused once he got there, taking a moment to rest a hand on her coffin, before settling down beside it, opening the box again and pouring over the contents.  There was so much to take in, but the bills were of particular interest to him; a bill to end the Chancellor’s emergency powers, a bill to give citizen’s rights to the clones of the Republic army… and a bill to end slavery galaxy wide.  That one sharply drew his attention, and reading over it revealed it was very specifically aimed at Hutts and other Outer Rim slavers, something that would make the lives of so many people better.

His mother was a kind and amazing woman.  He could understand now why his father said he took after her.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice came from behind him, and Luke jumped slightly, whirling around to see Celena behind him.  She favored him with a faint smirk, glancing briefly at the coffin like she was asking permission, before she stepped forward.

“Telli and Mercy are already on board your ship,” she said, before raising an eyebrow at him.  “By the way, I want to know how you came into possession of the Carrion Spike?”

“Was that the name of it?” he asked, getting a doubting look in return.  “I honestly didn’t know; the transponder had already been wiped by the time I ended up taking possession of it.”

She shook her head, before sitting down beside him, hovering at his shoulder as he read over the slavery bill once again.  They were silent for a long moment, before Luke finally spoke.

“I’ve been naive.”

“You’re just figuring this out?”

Luke shot her a bland look, met with a cheeky grin in return, before continuing.

“I thought that just removing the Emperor would solve the galaxy’s problems,” he began.  “But it’s not that easy. Palpatine is just one symptom in a long suffering disease, and I’m worried that nothing we do will fix it, since many of these issues existed before the Clone Wars, and no one did anything.”

Celena was silent a moment, before she reached over, resting her hand over the one holding the flimsy.

“Not no one,” she reminded him softly.  Luke tensed, part of him wanting to argue, but he felt his will to do so quickly fizzle out.  He let out a soft breath, letting his frustrations out with it, slowly lowering the bill back into the box and closing it.

“That box is pretty,” Celena commented, before holding out a hand.  “May I?”

Luke handed it over, watching as she ran a hand over the scrollwork, before carefully tipping it over.  A faint smile came to her face.

“This was your mother’s as well?” she asked.

“I would assume so.”

She handed it back to him the way she was holding it, so he could see the maker’s stamp on it, the name “Naberré” clearly visible.

“I think we need to make another stop.”

~.oOOo.~

It was not the first time Jobal Naberré had sat on the porch of her house, watching the neighborhood children play and thinking that she should have been able to see Padmé’s child do the same.  It was an old wish now, as at this point her youngest’s child would have been grown by now, but the pain it brought still made itself known, especially in her old joints. Padmé was long gone, along with her unborn child and that handsome young Jedi she had been fond of.  Ruwee had died not all that long ago as well, and she knew she herself could not have that long left either. Perhaps it would be a relief; as much as she loved Pooja and the light Ryoo brought into all their lives, Padmé’s tragic passing had been a heavy shadow over their whole family.

“Excuse me?”

Jobal started at the young voice, looking down from the porch to see a young blonde man in Imperial blacks, blue eyes looking up at her curiously.  For a moment, she was reminded strongly of the young Jedi Padmé had brought home, and she smiled sadly.

“Yes, young man,” she said.  “How may I help you?”

The young man hesitated, before he held out a box over the gate.

“A friend of mine insisted I come here,” he explained.  “She said I might find who made this?”

Jobal squinted at the box, before carefully standing and shuffling over to the gate, gently accepting the box.  It looked familiar, and turning it over, revealing her husband’s mark on the bottom.

“Yes, this is my husband’s work,” she replied.  “I’m afraid he died some time… ago…”

She trailed off; now that she thought about it, this boxy was very familiar.  Part of her could remember the sight of Ruwee carefully carving and sanding, delivering it to… when she…

Jobal swallowed thickly, keeping her composure somehow.

“May I ask where you got this?”

The young man looked at her curiously for a moment, as if he could tell how shaken she was by this box.

“The queen gave it to me,” he answered.  “It belonged to my mother.”

Jobal nearly dropped the box.  It could not be; it was impossible!  She had seen her daughter’s body, floating down the river during her funeral procession, had seen that she still appeared to be pregnant.  But the more she tried to think it impossible, the more she realized that it had to be true; as much as the young man reminded her of the Jedi, she could see bits of Padmé in his soft features.  Her nose, her chin… but how…?

“Is…” she began, her voice trembling.  “Is your name ‘Luke’?”

Padmé had always said if she had a boy, his name would be Luke.  A name that meant “light” was all the more fitting for a tiny being that would bring it to her life.  Jobal knew the answer before he spoke, tilting his head like she would do, eyes widening like hers would in surprise.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.  “Luke Skywalker.”

Jobal shook, clutching the box tightly in one hand so as not to drop it as she pressed her other hand to her mouth in an effort to keep the sobs at bay.  Luke, her daughter’s light; she did not know how, but there was no question.  Even his last name made it clear; she knew Padmé had been fond of that Jedi, that if she would be with anyone…

She was crying freely now, yet through her tears, she could see well enough that he was starting to understand why she was crying.  She fumbled for the gate latch, flinging it open and letting him inside so she could properly envelop her grandson in a tight hug.

Chapter Text

Jedha.

Leia knew the name intimately for a number of reasons.  Master Kenobi had mentioned it a number of times in her training, how it had been a holy site that Jedi that had lost their way would travel to for pilgrimages.  Many would even answer the call of a kyber crystal there instead of the temple at Ilum, as Jedha was just as rife with them.  It was a beautiful world… until the Empire came; no one for the longest time could understand why they had been so interested, outside of maybe trying to eradicate all evidence of the Jedi, as their only interest seemed to be the kyber that dwelt below the surface.  That was, of course, until Galen Erso had delivered his message to the Rebellion via a cargo pilot, leading his daughter, Jyn Erso, to take action.  That team was lost to them now, even their remains lay unable to be recovered on the now broken planet of Scarif, and that and Alderaan’s remains were not the only grim reminders of the Death Star’s legacy.

“Cracked right down to the core…?” Han asked as he read over the mission document.  He had had his feet propped up on the briefing room table, but had soon dropped them back to the floor once the seriousness of the situation hit him.  He stared over the document again just to make sure he was not going crazy, before his gaze sharply turned to the head of the table, where Mon Mothma stood beside Hera.

“This is crazy,” he protested, shaking his head.  “How can anyone even still be living on that rock?”

“The atmosphere is stable for now, though perhaps a little thin,” Mon Mothma replied.  “We cannot get close enough to do a proper survey, not with the Imperial presence in the area.”

Leia pursed her lips together, flipping through her packet.  The Empire was still there at Jedha; apparently destroying half the planet was not good enough for them.  They had doubled the effort to harvest kyber crystals from the planet since the Death Star was destroyed.  She had no idea where they were getting the funding for this, and she highly suspected the work was being done on a, “do it or else,” contract.

“How do we even know for sure the message we received is legit?” Wedge pipped up, frowning at his own packet as Biggs hovered over his shoulder.  “The Partisans were supposed to have been hit dead on.  Now a year later we’re getting a call for help?  And since when do they call us for help?”

That was the other issue; the Partisans, Saw Gerrera’s men.  Her father, Bail, had been at odds with the man for a long time, and the terrorist attack on Naboo that led to the death of Moff Panaka had not helped matters.  Governor Panaka had been a decent man, one that the fledgling Rebellion could have worked with.  She had been visiting him when the attack happened, nearly got caught up in it herself, and it was her first exposure to the fact that rebellion meant different things to different people.

She also knew that the Partisans had been responsible for an attack at Prefsbelt Academy, one that had cost the lives of many students; students her brother was supposed to have graduated alongside.  Her hand shifted slightly, sliding over to the next set of information, detailing their “assistance” on this mission.

There was no way she could predict how Luke was going to react to this mission.

“It is legitimate,” Leia answered softly.  “The Partisans were stationed all over the planet, and the continued subjugation of the people would have led more to join their cause.  They’re out there, and we need to help them.”

Han glanced at her from across the table, almost like he could pick up on her thoughts.

Luke, please forgive us for this…

~.oOOo.~

“I can't do this.”

His declaration was out of the blue and out of character for him, and Luke knew it. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, from his father down to Captain Piett, like they were not sure if he really was Luke Skywalker or some creature attempting to mimic him. Telli, new to their planning sessions on the Executor, sat in her seat, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and his father. She kept her expression neutral, but he could sense the nervous energy escaping from her, her fingers falling still against the conference room table. 

Luke let out a breath, allowing himself a moment to collect himself. 

“I can't support the Partisan rebels, father,” he clarified. “Even acting in this capacity,” he added, waving to the datapad before him, detailing his mission assignment. “They're terrorists; they’ve terrorized and killed innocent people for the sake of their cause. You can’t ask me to participate in this mission.”

Silence fell over the room, as all eyes turned toward Vader, who stood in place, staring down his son.  A cycle of breathing passed, like he was deliberately allowing the tension to thicken in the air before he spoke.

“I am not asking you,” he stated.  “I am ordering you.”

Luke went rigid, missing it when Danres caught the eyes of the others as the temperature in the room dropped.  She gathered up her things, including wrapping an arm around one of Tanbris’, and hurried everyone out of the room as fast as she could, leaving the two of them to whatever explosions were about to happen.

By the time he (vaguely) heard the door slide closed, Luke could feel his anger practically boiling over, trying to understand his father’s logic and failing miserably.  He knew his father was not exactly the best when it came to common sense, but this was beyond lack of sense.  Did he not remember how he came to Imperial service?  Did he not remember how many people died when the Partisans attacked?

“Father—”

But that was how far he got before he was interrupted, his father waving a warning finger in his face.

“You need to remember your place, commander.”

Luke froze, eyes widening and feeling like it would have hurt less if his father had just punched him in the gut.  He clicked his mouth closed, leaning away in spite of himself, not sure how to even reply to what felt like a demotion.  That definitely seemed to be what his father wanted, because he lowered that finger at his silence, tucking it into his belt.

“You are not even acknowledged as my son by anyone outside of the individuals allowed in this room, let alone as Imperial royalty,” he reminded him.  “Your actions as of late have nearly gotten you accused of dissension, and I may not be able to continue to protect you if your attitude does not improve.”

Luke hesitated, feeling his stomach twist itself into a knot; he had not even realized how much his attitude had changed in the last few months.  He probably should have figured it out, considering how much he butted heads with Admiral Ozzel, never mind he was incompetent.  A moment passed before he took a breath, pressing his hands together as he bowed his head.

“But why this?” he asked softly.  “I can barely tolerate the smuggler; how am I supposed to support people that killed so many?  Even beyond what they did to my school?”

Luke thought for sure his father would scold him again, especially as he allowed another breathing cycle to pass.  Instead, his father’s posture relaxed slightly, and he stepped over to him, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Better you to learn this lesson now,” he began softly.  “You will need to work with people that you do not agree with, that you cannot tolerate anything they stand for.  But you will need to work with them, and you will need to support them, especially as their end goals line up with yours.”

Luke flinched at that; his father’s logic was sound, and it made him feel bad that he questioned his lack of it before.  He still hated this, knew it would be the worst thing he was going to have to deal with, but… his father was right, and it was going to be a responsibility he needed to take on.

“I understand, my lord,” he finally replied.  “I won’t fail you.”

~.oOOo.~

The holy moon of Jedha had been a peaceful place once, back in the days when the Jedi were prominent and traveled freely about the galaxy.  It was situated on the border of the Mid and Outer Rim, and a frequent stop for travelers heading out into deeper worlds.  Despite the cold temperatures and endless sands, it had been a beautiful place once, and a wonderful place to live.

And then the Empire came.

As soon as the Empire declared themselves protectorate of the holy moon, everything had changed.  The temples were shut down, pilgrimages stopped happening, and travelers were redirected elsewhere.  The cities started to decline after that, and soon families that had relied on the business that travelers brought struggled to feed themselves while being forced to serve a regime that rarely compensated people for their work.

The Partisans had arrived then, working hard to bring some kind of relief to the people.  Their methods steadily got more and more extreme, and back then Ubin Des had not been sure if their way was the right way.  It was why, when she decided that she needed to do something against the Empire, she joined up with the main branch of the Alliance instead.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, and she knew she did good work, but the indecision she heard when talk of a Death Star came around made her question that.  She knew if she had not been sick in med bay, she would have gone to Scarif with the others that decided to do something.

She would have died there.  Now, it seemed, fate was giving her another chance at death.

Ubin ducked behind the downed speeder that was her cover, clutching her blaster tight to her chest as bolts battered the damaged hull above her.  Just beyond the ridge before them, troopers decked out in snow gear were settled in for the long haul, prepared to keep shooting until they were dead, and the way things were going, it seemed they would get their wish.  Two of their number were already laying dead in the sand, and from the cry that just ripped through her ears, she suspected another just joined them.  Carefully, she hazard a glance in the direction the scream came from, feeling her heart break at the sight of another companion staring blank-eyed at the doomed sky.

“Saurval’s down!” she shouted to her companion over the sound of his returning fire, his blaster firing so rapidly it almost seemed like it would overheat.  He did not turn toward her, but she could still hear the sadness in his voice as he replied.

“None of us shall fall.  The Force lays us to rest exactly where we are meant to be.”

Ubin gave him a bland look at that, not that he would be able to see it around his ceremonial garb.  More than once she had been tempted to remind Chulco Gi that the Jedi were dead and gone, and so too the Guardians of the Whills with them, but she did not have the heart.  Even though he was just barely an acolyte, the belief he had in the Force was so strong she could almost believe in it herself sometimes.

This was not one of those times.

“No offense, Chulco, but I don’t think the Force is out to do us any favors right now,” she pointed out, before she let out a sigh.  Honestly, she should have expected this would happen when she came back to Jedha.

Chulco suddenly stiffened beside her, and Ubin could see his eyes widen through the slit in his headdress.

“Ubin, do you feel that?” he asked, like he did not dare to speak.  “The chill of the Dark?”

“It’s always chilly,” she grumbled blithely, but… he did have a point.  For some reason, it felt colder than usual…

The sound of something clomping on the sand reached her ears, and Ubin turned in time to see a dark skinned rider on a long-limbed mount, barreling toward them, his features highlighted with bold red, though she was not certain what part was tattoo and what part was skin.  A malicious grin was plastered on his face, beady yellow eyes intent on whatever prey he was after.  The horns that adorned his bald head just completed the look of a demonic entity from the dark, and Ubin was not sure if it was better to die by stormtroopers or whatever that was.

The second before steed and rider could plow into them, the creature leapt, carrying its master over them.  Twin, blood red blades sprang to life in his hand, and the man started cackling maniacally as he swept the blade around, deflecting blaster fire with practiced ease as his mount landed.

Chulco fell back as their supposed savior charged for the stormtroopers.  His eyes were still wide beneath his headdress, visibly shaken.

“The devil of the Dark,” he whimpered, sounding like he was in the middle of a religious crisis.  “The grinning fiend who brings nothing but chaos and destruction…!”

“Yeah… we mostly just call him a sadistic bastard.”

Ubin jumped; in the chaos caused by the rider’s sudden appearance, they had failed to notice a second rider come up behind them.  This was female, and though she was wrapped in garb to protect her from the sands, she seemed human.  She reached a hand down to them, offering to help them onto her mount.

“Leia Skywalker,” she introduced.  “We’re with the Alliance, looking for the remains of Saw Gerrera’s Partisans.”

“You’ve found them,” Ubin replied, taking the woman’s hand first and pulling herself up.  She reached to help Chulco next, who took a furtive look at the “sadistic bastard” first.  The man had made it to the stormtroopers, and the sight of a head flying off into the wind was enough to send him quickly scrambling up the mount.

Leia glanced back at them, making sure they were secure, before she nodded.

“Great,” she said, and turned back to the other rider.  “Maul!  Let’s go!”

He did not seem to hear her, too intent in his slaughter of the Imperials.  Nor did he seem to hear the troop transport that lifted itself from behind the nearby mesa.

“Maul!” Leia shouted, just as the troop transport opened fire, obliterating the horned man from sight, kicking up dirt and sand in all directions.  It was a moment before they could see the telltale signs of the man’s red lightsaber, and Ubin held onto Leia tight as she spurred her mount forward.  Maul still looked like he was shaking sand out of his ears by the time they caught up to him.  He motioned for them to keep moving as he broke out into a run, leaping on as soon as they passed him and landing heavily behind Chulco.

The acolyte tensed, clinging to Ubin painfully tight and drawing a grimace out of her.  She almost elbowed him, but part of her could not blame him for that reaction; being that close to Maul felt like she was watching what was left of the life around her wither and die.

Ubin did not have long to dwell on it, because they were barreling off immediately, leaving her clinging for dear life as their mount tore through the desert sands, the transport ship hot on their trail.  Shots lanced out from the ship, and either by dumb luck or mystical will, Leia managed to duck and weave around them while spurring her mount on.

“We’re not going to outrun them!” Ubin pointed out as one blast came uncomfortably close.

“We don’t need to!” Leia shouted back.  As if on cue, a saucer-like ship seemed to appear out of nowhere, laser fire tearing through the troop transport.  Their mount pounded on through the sands as the transport went down in a ball of fire, and the other ship zipped ahead of them.  It finally came to a hover a short distance away, allowing Leia to bring her steed up alongside the loading ramp as it was lowered.  Maul vaulted himself off first, very nearly grabbing Chulco and throwing him inside.  Ubin was next, and Leia jumped in just after, smacking the steed on its hind quarters and sending it bounding off to its own freedom.

As soon as the ramp was closed, Ubin felt the ship accelerate, blasting them away from the Imperials.  Leia was already pulling off her face wrappings, heading for the cockpit, and as much as she probably should have stayed with Chulco to make sure he was okay, curiosity had her following the other young woman.  She could not help but marvel at the sight of the ship as she did so; it was an utter piece of junk.  Were they going to need rescuing again when it inevitably fell apart?

“You were almost too late, Han,” Leia was saying as Ubin entered the cockpit.  There was only a pilot, lounging almost casually in the seat and looking about as scruffy as the rest of the ship.  He turned slightly, shooting Leia an annoyed look.

“Hey, in case you missed it, I’m short my copilot,” Han grumbled.  “The Falcon ’s temperamental without an experienced person in the second seat.”

Leia smiled faintly.  “The Falcon is temperamental on the best of days,” she replied, before leaning over, planting a kiss on his cheek.  “And I wasn’t trying to talk down to you by saying that.”

She plopped down into the co-pilot’s seat, and Ubin had a perfect view of Han’s ears turning red at the affectionate gesture.  There was little time to dwell on just who these people were , however; she soon found herself staring out the cockpit viewport as they broke the atmosphere, heading away from the surface… and giving a clear view of Jedha and the massive exposed mantle, glowing angrily in the darkness of space.

~.oOOo.~

Far above, far below.
We don’t know where we’ll fall.
Far above, far below.
What once was great is rendered small.

Maul could not help but find himself dwelling on the mantra that had governed his early life.  Back then, it had been a lifeline, a reason for him to be angry at the galaxy and everything in it.  Anger was the source of his passions, and anger would eventually lead to his chains being broken, to his inevitable freedom.  Freedom from what, he had not known, not back then.  It was only through his life and experiences that he realized he was the only thing keeping himself back, that his anger was the source of pain, not freedom.  It and old age, and the loss of so many that had mattered to him… it had not quite pulled him away from the dark; he knew he would always be dark.  It had shaped him though, and with Ezra and then Leia, he better understood just what the Force meant for him.

Yet even knowing that, Maul could not help but look up at the moon of Jedha, and feel that it was so incredibly wrong.

“What great passion you have given the galaxy, my former master,” Maul murmured, watching as another “tear” of broken mantle streaked through the atmosphere of NaJedha, crashing somewhere on the crystalline surface, perhaps even breaking a tower like the one he stood on.  “I wonder if your chains are broken?”

He became dimly aware of a shuffling behind him, and did not have to look to know it was the skittish priest.  Normally, he would have taken great joy in tormenting the man, but there was nothing normal about this situation.

“Does even a devil of the Dark understand the sadness of the maimed holy moon?” he finally asked, something like a challenge in his voice.  Maul let out a snort, glancing over at the veiled man.

“I am not so lost that I cannot see a travesty for what it is,” he replied.  It seemed to be enough of an answer to satisfy the man, as he sensed his tension relax a little, and Maul almost grimaced.  People being comfortable with him was still something too new for him.  “And what of you?” he continued.  “You are a Disciple of the Whills, are you not?”

“Only an aspirant,” the man replied, casting his eyes downward sadly.  “The last aspirant; the only way to complete my training was to meditate for a month in the sacred temple.”

Which was hit dead on by the Death Star’s blast; Maul pursed his lips bitterly, his gaze returning to the broken moon above them.  The exposed mantle seemed to pulse angrily in the darkness of space, as if the holy moon was enraged at the travesty that had befallen it.  Part of Maul wanted to say it should be angry, that nothing deserved to be ripped apart like this.

Part of him… just…

“As terrible as this is,” the aspirant priest murmured, “I know this has happened for a reason.  I believe that everything happens as the Force wills it.  I must believe.”

Maul blew out a breath, feeling a part of himself deflate.

“I know what you mean.”

~.oOOo.~

“You’re Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan.”

Leia paused midway to pulling open a supply crate to fetch something Ubin could eat, glancing back at her in surprise.  They had retreated into the small staging area they had set up before slipping under Imperial radar and striking out where they could on the broken holy moon, trying to find anyone that answered to the name of Partisan.  It was fortunate they ran into Ubin’s team — or rather, what was left of it — when they did.  What Leia had not been expecting was being recognized as the princess by one of them, but Ubin merely smiled at her reaction.

“Don’t worry,” she assured her softly.  “I recognize you because I used to be part of the Alliance’s main force.  I was at Yavin.”

That was all that really needed to be said; quite a few people had left the main force after the Death Star scare, some to return home to loved ones, others to different branches of resistance.  She herself had left for a time to ensure what remained of her people had a future safe from the Empire, with a strong leader that could guide them.

“I abdicated the throne not long after that fight,” she explained, finally locating something to eat and drink, and handing some off to Ubin.  “I set aside my adopted name not long after that.  House Organa were the most reluctant to bear arms in the defense of people against the Empire; it’s best their name remain a peaceful one.”

Ubin paused, halfway to taking a drink, raising a curious eyebrow.

“And ‘Skywalker’ is…?”

“My birth name.”

Ubin paused at that, holding onto her drink, tapping her fingers against it thoughtfully.  It was a moment before she finally smiled faintly.

“I think you and Chulco should talk,” she replied.  “Then again, the fact that you’re working with that Dark one might give him a religious crisis.”

“I don’t think he needs another one,” Leia agreed, feeling a little bad for the other man on Ubin’s team.  She had not missed how exceedingly terrified he had been at the mere sight of Maul.  “But we all do need to work together.  Now, more than ever, the Rebellion needs to be a true Alliance.”

Ubin seemed to withdraw at that.

“And you want the Partisans to be part of that,” she stated, not needing an answer.  “It’s not that simple, you know.  Saw Gerrera may be dead, but his spirit lives on in us, and Rebellion main never saw eye to eye on our methods.”

Leia paused at that, remembering when she was sixteen, and how scared she had been when Governor Panaka’s mansion had been destroyed, how fear had gripped everyone in the area, how she had clung to General Kenobi and begged him to explain the senselessness of it all.

“I know,” she said softly, “our methods are very different.  But as the Empire grows and learns how to combat us, we too must grow and learn from each other.  Only united can we hope to stand against what the future holds for us.”

Ubin paused again, a distant and thoughtful look on her face, as if she were bringing up a painful memory.  She finally lifted her drink to Leia in a small toast.

“Your words are good, Princess, but I don’t think you’re prepared for the kind of brutes you’ll be dealing with.”

~.oOOo.~

As far as Trios could see, Captain Befa was not having a good time being in command of the mining forces of Jedha.  She had read up on the numerous difficulties on the way over — contract disputes, actually trying to make sense of the broken, exposed mantle, worsening climate as the planet slowly fell apart, and of course, the natives that either could not leave or refused to, fighting desperately against an all consuming force that had taken everything from them.  She had to give the poor man credit, he was trying, but trying did not count for anything in the Empire.

Especially so for Commander Kanchar.

Kanchar was an aging brute of a man, with a missing eye concealed by a patch and an arm replaced with a prosthetic clearly meant to tear apart anything he grasped.  He had smacked the captain soundly across the face when Befa attempted to be courtly with her (a poor attempt, but she appreciated the effort), and reacted even more poorly when the captain revealed that he barely managed to obtain a carton of kyber in his time on Jedha.

Trios watched dispassionately as Captain Befa’s corpse hit the deck of the Star Destroyer, his neck broken by Kanchar’s prosthetic hand.  Beside her, she felt Aiolyn Astarte tense, as if ready to act if the commander so much as thought to turn his rage on her, and Trios could not help but smile faintly.

“Charming, commander,” the queen commented.  “So good to see another graduate of Imperial etiquette school.”

Kanchar turned his one-eyed glare to her.

“You forget who I am, advisor,” he sneered, and Trios managed to keep her expression neutral at his disrespect.  Though she had to admit it was tempting to just allow Aiolyn to rip off his other arm.

“And you forget who I am, commander,” she replied, stepping boldly past him to gaze out the viewport.  Jedha loomed before them, the massive crack in the mantle making it seem as if the whole moon were crying rivers of lava.  “I have been intimidated by Darth Vader himself.  You’ll forgive me if I find other attempts lacking.”

Kanchar let out a derisive snort, but a voice cut him off before he could comment.

“And Lord Vader would appreciate it if those in his care remained undamaged.”

Queen Trios turned to see a young man approach, commander’s bars adorning his black uniform.  A navy serviceman then, and judging from the narrowing of Kanchar’s eye, someone he did not want around.  Good; Trios liked the young blonde already, her opinion of him increasing as he stopped before her, acknowledging her first with a polite bow.

“Your Highness, please forgive my tardiness,” he apologized.  “I was reassigned as I was returning from shore leave.”

“No apologies needed, commander,” Trios replied, her gaze flicking to Aiolyn.  She gave a small nod, one that Trios expected the moment she saw the boy.

This was Lord Vader’s son.

“Your tardiness would be unacceptable under my command, Commander Skywalker,” Kanchar growled, looking for a moment as if he would do to the boy what he had already done to Captain Befa.  The young man merely favored him with an amused look, which clearly did nothing for Kanchar’s mood.

“Then it is fortunate that I do not answer to you,” he replied simply.  Kanchar looked like he may well explode, but he held himself back; killing subordinates that did not perform to expectations was one thing, killing a favored officer was something else.  “But we still must work together,” the young man continued.  “You may trust that now that I’ve arrived, I will give the issue before us my full attention, and protect the Emperor’s interests.”

The young man turned his attention back to Trios, an almost mischievous glint in his eyes.  Yes, they would protect such interests… from the Emperor, not for him.

“Forgive me, Your Highness; Commander Luke Skywalker, at your service,” he introduced.  “I’ve been assigned by Lord Vader to see to your needs.”

“I appreciate the lord’s concern,” Trios replied, offering her hand.  He accepted it, bowing low to place a polite kiss on it, and Trios caught Aiolyn rolling her eyes at the display.

Luke straightened after a moment, and Trios studied him as he turned his gaze out to the cracked moon, a sadness coming to his eyes.  For a moment, she could not help but wonder if planets themselves had their own presence in the Force, and if Luke or Vader could hear Jedha screaming in pain.  It certainly seemed that way, just from the look on the young man’s face.

“How do you feel about the situation, Your Highness?” he asked softly, and Trios turned her gaze back toward the once holy moon.

“It is a difficult situation for anyone not of Shu-torun,” she replied.  “The ruptured mantle and lava flowing to the surface is much like home.  We will persevere.”

“Good,” Kanchar slipped in before Luke could reply.  “You will allow us to finish what Tarkin started.”

Trios felt, more than saw, Luke tighten one of his hands into a fist.  Not wanting him to suffer consequences from the easily set off commander, she shuffled herself closer, covering his hand with her own.

~.oOOo.~

Han absolutely hated this. 

It was not the whole acting like captives thing that really bothered him. This was not the first time he had been tied up with a bag over his head, and he doubted it would be the last. However, it was the first time he was like this and letting someone else fly his ship, and that had him more upset than he would ever admit out loud. 

Especially since Ubin was handling the Falcon like a drunk bantha herder. 

“Easy!” he shouted through the bag, looking toward what he hoped was the pilot's seat. “You gotta be delicate with the Falcon. Bring her in gently!”

“What do you think I’m doing, Han?” Ubin shot back, her annoyance clear in her voice. Not that Han cared; this was his baby, dammit! He would be fussy if he wanted to!

“Look, just let me bring her in, and—”

“Han,” Leia's muffled voice interrupted, and he felt her bump into him gently. “We can’t do that. We need to do this the Partisan’s way, or they'll go to ground, and we’ll never be able to contact them again.”

Han let out an irritable grumble; he knew she was right, and he still hated it. Instead of continuing his protest, however, he sat back on his heels and glowered, knowing the next thing Leia would hit him with if he continued to complain was that Maul was handling this better than he was, and he refused to deal with that comparison. So he continued to keep his mouth shut, biting back another irritated grumble as he felt the Falcon thump hard against the sandy ground. Leia must have picked up on his annoyance anyway, because he felt her bump into him again. 

They were ordered up a moment later, and Han could hear others in the Falcon, more than just Ubin and Chulco. Someone grabbed his arm roughly after a moment, and he was left to stumble along deck plates until his feet met sand. He yelped as his boots skid on the unsteady ground, and yelped again as his arm was nearly wrenched out of its socket. 

“Be gentle, please,” he heard Chulco plead to whoever it was that was holding him. “These people are not prisoners!”

Not prisoners; right. If this was how they treated guests, he really didn't want to know how they treated prisoners. Thankfully he did not have to blindly stumble very far before he was forced down to his knees with a painful thud, and Han heard the others being forced down as well. 

“We know you follow the ways of Saw Gerrera,” he heard Leia speak up, and even through the bag, Han could tell she was in diplomacy mode. “We have come here honoring those ways and your secrecy, so that we may—”

“Leia…” Maul interrupted, a warning tone in his voice. “They have every intention of killing us.”

Han did not need to see Leia to know she was gritting her teeth. 

“I'm aware of that, Maul,” she bit out. “Will you let me handle this diplomatically so they can decide not to?”

The sound of heavy footfalls on sand prevented either of them from saying more, and Han caught the sound of a breathing filter working to compensate against the harsh climate a moment later. A filtered voice speaking Tognathian came a moment later, and Han felt his stomach drop, knowing exactly who they were facing, despite their brief interaction in the past. He never forgot an ugly face that pointed a blaster at him, after all. 

｢You are both right,｣ Benthic proclaimed.  ｢We do continue Saw Gerrera's ways. He would have killed you; we should as well.｣

Chapter Text

An uneasy silence settled over the group, and while Leia had trouble getting a read on Benthic’s alien mind, the others that surrounded them were far easier to interpret.  A few of them seemed uncomfortable, unsure about the presence of those that claimed to be part of the Alliance.  Others were more inclined to just kill them and go on with their lives; all she could do was hope that Benthic would listen to her and not his men.

She was familiar with the man, of course; she had known the names of all of Saw Guerra’s top men, in the event she would ever need to communicate with them.  Part of her was grateful one had survived, another part was worried at what the toil of working under these conditions, after seeing what he had seen, did to the man that had once been second in command.

In the next moment, she picked up on Han’s restlessness spiking, and he was running his mouth off before she could warn him against it.

“Look, you’re either going to trust us and take the hoods off, or you’re going to shoot us,” he snapped.  “So it doesn’t matter if the hoods are on, off, or anything else, so take the damn things off!”

Silence fell again, broken only by a low chuckle escaping Benthic’s filter.  In the next moment, Leia’s hood was ripped off, and she blinked rapidly to force her eyes to adjust.  Benthic himself came into clear view, tall and imposing, his bare, alien head almost looking like it was molded around his breath mask.  His dark eyes were focused on Han, and from his tone, Leia could imagine whatever passed for a smile was on his face.

｢I should have known it was you, Solo,｣ Benthic finally replied.  ｢Is there another one of your armies on your ship?｣

“Oh yeah,” Han replied, a halfhearted attempt at a smirk on his face.  “Loads of people, ready to come to our aid.”

Leia could see Ubin and Chulco exchange confused looks, but considering the chuckle that came from Benthic, she imagined some in-joke between the two of them that no one else was in on.  At the very least, the familiarity seemed to make the alien at ease; his gun was still aimed at them, but she noticed the finger on it was not as close to the trigger as before.

“Benthic,” she began.  “How did you survive?”

He turned his attention to her, the light in his dark eyes dimming somewhat.

｢The ground rolled.  A scramble for a snubfighter.  An eggmate left behind; another life to be avenged, but the dream we all share will not die as this moon does.｣

Benthic paused, before he finally pulled his gun away from them, letting it hang at his side, pointed at the ground as his finger finally drifted completely away from the trigger.

｢Why have you come to dying Jedha?｣

“The Death Star,” Leia replied, and she allowed an unsettled murmur to travel through the men gathered before she continued, “We have no idea what the Empire is planning next, but if they’re continuing to mine on Jedha, then we can only assume the worst.  We will support anyone that will try to stop their mining efforts.”

Benthic’s reply was almost immediate: ｢We will not follow your orders.｣

“And we don’t want you to,” Leia replied.  “We want you to continue what you’ve been doing.  But in order to do that, you need supplies that we can provide.  Our ship has the first of such: equipment, food, medicine.  We also offer the use of our talents while we’re here.”

Benthic let out a derisive snort at the last part, his gaze drifting between the three of them.  It lingered on Maul, almost as if he recognized him, and Leia peered over at him as well.  Her mentor had been unusually quiet since they arrived here, and while fighting the stormtroopers the other day had brought some of his old self back, it did not seem to have stuck.

“Benthic,” Ubin began, “I’m from Alliance main, and you know how useful I am.  Two of those before you are Force users, and Leia herself is not only the Princess of Alderaan, but the woman who destroyed the Death Star.  And Han… helped.  I think.”

“Thanks…” Han grumbled irritably, but Leia’s attention was on Benthic.  He stared her down, his alien expression just as hard to read as his mind.

｢You can retaliate when you need to,｣ he began, ｢but are you willing to strike first?  Saw Guerra once attacked a school to prevent more mindless drones from becoming part of the Empire.  Can you honestly say you would do the same?｣

Leia flinched, knowing she could not answer that question.  Fortunately, it seemed Benthic expected as much; he motioned with a hand, and three of his men stepped forward, cutting their bonds.

｢Fortunately for you, we need your supplies more than we need your corpses,｣ he continued as Leia stood up, rubbing at her wrists.  Men were already heading to the Falcon, and Han scrambled after them to get the loading ramp down.  ｢Come, Princess.  We have much to discuss.｣

Leia let out a soft breath, feeling part of herself wilt in relief.  She moved to follow Benthic, when she paused, spotting Maul speaking softly with Ubin and Chulco.  She had not exactly expected him to gravitate toward them, as he barely spoke to anyone outside of herself, Hera, and Ahsoka.  Once she caught his eye, she gave him a curious look, silently asking if he was all right.  He seemed reluctant to even lie, casting his eyes away from her, before walking off with Ubin and Chulco.

~.oOOo.~

Luke was grateful that anyone Force sensitive was far away from the Star Destroyer orbiting Jedha.  He could keep his facial expressions well maintained, for the most part, but he knew he was an open book in the Force when faced with something that went against what he believed in.  Being forced to aid the Partisans, even in the limited roll he had, definitely fell under that.  If that were not bad enough, but his sister was down there, probably contacting those terrorists at that very moment, and it made his gut twist.  He was aware of the fact that she was using their family name now, as much as he was aware of his own notoriety.  Would they just kill her the moment the name “Skywalker” left her lips?

If they so much touched her…

“You’ve gotten moodier since the last time I saw you.”

Luke started at the voice, blanking the screen of the datapad he was staring at blindly as he stewed in his turmoil, turning toward the voice that came from behind him.  Aiolin stepped up beside him, though she did not turn toward him.  Her gaze stared out into the docking bay they were in, watching as armored Shu-torun crews worked to prep one of their deep core drills, before finally turning toward him, an amused look on her face.

“You are still short, though,” she added, getting Luke to roll his eyes.

“I am the perfect height for a pilot,” he replied, a bit of defensiveness creeping into his voice.  Aiolin let out a snort, turning her attention back to the preparations, and although her presence in the Force was as dim as it always was, he could still sense it when her mood shifted.

“Have you heard anything of Morit?” she asked, and it was Luke’s turn to let out a faint breath.

“Nothing,” he admitted softly.  “Not even rumors.  If he’s still out there, he hasn’t shown his face.”

Aiolin was silent a moment, before shaking her head.  “He is.  I know he is,” she replied, before treating him to a small smile.  “It must be a twin thing.”

Luke smiled tightly at that, part of him half tempted to poke Leia through their shared bond, but he thought better of it.  He did not want to interrupt her if she was in the middle of negotiations, and there was a chance they would see each other soon enough.  Best not to disturb her and let her focus.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls approaching, and Luke turned to see Kanchar, with Trios by his side.  Though he towered over her physically, Trios was by far the larger presence between the two of them, and Luke could not help but smile faintly, wondering if the man realized how much she out classed him.

“I see the Shu-torun miners are ready for the task at hand,” Kanchar commented, shooting Luke a fierce, one eyed glare that he refused to react to.  He may have been young, fairly green as far as Imperial service was concerned, but he was not going to allow this man to push him around.

“Surviving on our world is as much a custom as the Shu-torunite Minute,” Trios replied, catching Luke’s eye, and the expression that he saw there spoke volumes.

The man was insufferable, and it was taking all her courtly grace not to say so.

“What is more unbelievable is the people that call the moon home,” she continued.  “Surely they must realize that the moon will break apart in our lifetime.”

Luke remained quiet, well aware of what Trios was trying to do: bait the commander into making a foolish mistake that could cost him his life.  It was a dangerous gamble, baiting people while hiding your own involvement, but he was confident Trios could handle herself.

“Their loyalty to their dead moon is an irritation,” Kanchar growled.  “It makes it much harder to find Rebels when civilians are in the way…”

The commander trailed off, a slow, calculating smile appearing on his face that sent a cold shudder down Luke’s spine.

“Such a problem is easily solved,” he continued.  “Jedha is hereby a prohibited moon.  Any non-military personnel found on the surface is ipso facto a Rebel, and will be dealt with accordingly.”

Luke felt the rest of his insides go cold; with an order like that, troops could just start firing indiscriminately into towns and encampments.  It would be devastating to the innocent lives that had already suffered so much, and were just trying desperately to survive.

“Sir, you do not have the authority to make that decision,” Luke said firmly.  “The people below have done nothing but attempt to—“

That was as far as he got, before the front of his uniform was grabbed.  He was hauled off his feet in the next moment, brought right up to Kanchar’s snarling face.

“Listen here, boy,” he growled.  “You may have Lord Vader’s favor, but I am the one with seniority.  While I am here, you will do as I tell you, and I want you to stay by the queen’s side and out of my way.  Do you understand, Commander?”

Luke met his glare with one of his own, especially as he spat out their shared rank at him like it was a curse, the Force reacting to his spike of anger with a biting cold strong enough that he heard one of the Shu-torunites by the drill comment on it.  He very much wanted to act on his anger, to turn it into invisible hands at Kanchar’s throat and squeeze the life out of him.  It took more strength of will than he cared to admit to push it aside; now was not the time.  Not now, but soon; he could not imagine Kanchar living for very long after this.

“Yes sir,” he growled out through gritted teeth.  Kanchar sneered  at him, before dropping him by the queen, and he felt her discreetly place her hand against his back to steady him, with Aiolin slipping next to him to brace him if he needed it.  He waited until Kanchar’s back was turned before he glanced their way, giving them a grateful look in silent thanks.

“The Rebels are already willing to take such drastic actions,” Kanchar began.  “Saw Guerra was a brilliant man.  Misguided, yes, but brilliant in his methods.  More officers in the Empire’s armed forces should be willing to do what he did.”

He paused, turning back to them, though his focus was on Trios, as if Luke was not even there.

“Don’t you agree, your highness?”

Luke felt Trios’ fingers curl at his back, and he could sense her disgust as easily as if she had allowed the emotion to reach her face.

“Please, commander.  Call me Trios.”

~.oOOo.~

Al-Jed had been one of the more thriving cities, once upon a time.  Maul remembered visiting it in its prime once, what felt like ages ago now, when he was lost and trying to find his way.  It had been easy for him to disappear into the crowded streets, to be just another traveler on the road, there and gone with no one else the wiser.  That would not have been the case now; now the streets were a ghost of what they once were, tattered banners and wind torn tapestries flapping listlessly in the breeze.  Very few people were out and about, most of them huddled in the broken remains of buildings, giving the three of them a wary eye as they passed.  Still many others seemed too broken themselves to even acknowledge they were there, milling about like they were waiting for their inevitable end.

When he was younger, Maul would have thrived on the despair that surrounded him.  When he commanded the Crimson Dawn, he would have happily ordered this kind of devastation and not cared.  Now…

Now…

The cries of Jedha rang through the Force.  Leia seemed not to notice just how loud it really was, but to Maul it was almost unbearable.  The sadness and pain of an entire planet leaked into his sub consciousness, and he felt a part of himself cry with it; a part of him that was almost primal, that he did not even know existed before now.

“You’re troubled.”

Maul glanced back at Chulco, sharing the mount he rode, raising a brow.  There was a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue, but he did not have the heart to let it out.

“I am not one for charity,” he admitted, “but I believe even I would send ships to get these people off this rock.”

“And where would they go?” Ubin asked from ahead of him, keeping her focus on the beasts they were using to help haul the heavy hover cart weighted down with supplies.  “Many of these people have nothing.  There are a few that still go to the mines for what little ore there is to strip, but only the lucky can make a profit off of it.”

Maul pursed his lips beneath the wraps that covered his face.  Lucky; it did not seem luck or the Force favored anyone here.

They brought their beasts to a stop in front of a building as worn down as the others, and men emerged from the inside.  Greetings were exchanged, and the two groups worked together to unload the filtration units the Rebels had brought to the moon.  It was not until they were safe inside that Maul felt he could breathe easy and remove his coverings.  Still, the suffering that surrounded him made his skin crawl, and he let out an irritable hiss as he tried to shake it off.

“The pilgrims have abandoned this moon,” he growled, aware that Chulco was still hovering at his shoulder.  “You would think the Force would as well.”

“The pilgrims have not abandoned this place,” Chulco corrected him.  “The Force is still wild here.  They still answer its call, but only the truly driven.”

Maul gave the aspirant priest a bland, disbelieving look.  “And what do they do, stare at a hole?”

“Yes.”

Maul started at the simple answer, at a loss for words.  Chulco’s headdress bobbed slightly, the amusement in his eyes clearly seen through the slit.

“What was a travesty for me was a blessing for others,” he explained, his expression quickly turning solemn.  “A temple was built near the crater, and the Cult of the Central Isotoper remains there, contemplating the abyss.”

Maul let out a faint noise, folding his arms over his chest in contemplation.  The Force was probably at its strongest at the point of the impact.  What he found there would be dark, but… he understood the darkness more than he did the light.  Perhaps…

His thoughts were interrupted as Ubin rejoined them, adjusting her face wraps.

“We’re done here,” she announced.  “They’ll see to distributing the filters to those most in need.”

“Then we should return,” Maul replied.  “I imagine Leia and Benthic have made their peace by now.”

He moved to leave, when a sudden warning from the Force had him stopping dead in his tracks, flinging his arms out to keep Chulco and Ubin from moving forward.  A brilliant light erupted from outside, momentarily blinding them as screams ripped through the silence.  Ubin pushed past him, pulling back the curtain that separated the building from the street enough to reveal stormtroopers beyond.  Some were armed with flamethrowers, torching buildings indiscriminately, while others were dragging people out into the street before shooting them dead.

“We have to notify Benthic,” Ubin uttered, horror etched in her voice.  “Chulco, you—“

She cut herself off as Maul pushed past her, leaping toward the stormtroopers as both blades of his lightsaber came to life in his hand.  The first few fell to his frenzied onslaught without even knowing what had attacked them.  The first two that raised their blasters died to their own fire, before the rest managed to collect themselves enough to form something like an offense.  By then, Chulco and Ubin had set themselves up in the doorway, providing cover fire.  Ubin was a fantastic shot, often shooting troops down before Maul saw they would be dying.  Chulco less so, but his fire was a good distraction, allowing Maul to get in close and send bodies to the ground.  In the end, he stood alone in the middle of the street, white armored corpses at his feet and breathing heavily as he came down from his blind frenzy, not sure how many of them he killed, but still feeling like it was not enough.

He felt more than heard the other two approach, Ubin keeping herself together while Chulco was in awe of the power he displayed.

“We need to leave,” Ubin announced.  “The Empire will be back with greater numbers, and Benthic needs to know.”

“Yes…” Maul began, feeling himself still trembling.  “I must speak with him as well.”

~.oOOo.~

Queen Trios left Kanchar at the viewport, allowing him to bask in the power of commanding a Shu-torun sub orbital drill to drop.  He did not know that she fully expected to never see it again, that the crews aboard were former retainers of the now dead previous generation of royalty and therefore expendable, and he did not need to know.  All he needed to “know” was that she was allowing him the illusion of power, to make him think they were allies, when nothing could be farther from the truth.  The man was disgusting and detestable in the worst way, and she sincerely hoped she would get to see his demise.

Clearly, she was not the only one; as she turned away, she saw Commander Skywalker just behind, glaring at Kanchar’s back with his arms folded over his chest.  His stance reminded her very strongly of his father, and part of her wondered just how alike they were.  Perhaps she would not need to wait for long to see Kanchar gasping for breath, clawing at invisible hands.

“Commander?” she asked softly.  “Walk with me, if you would.”

Luke’s hard gaze softened the moment it shifted over to her, and he nodded slightly before turning to follow her off the bridge.  They were silent a moment as they traversed the halls of the ship, idly observing the business around them as they walked.  Eventually the activity around them dwindled, and it was not until the halls were emptied that Trios felt safe to speak.

“How fares your father?”

He paused, glancing at her briefly.  “He is well, or at least seemed to be, in the brief time I had with him before coming here.”

She glanced back at him, an amused smile playing at her lips as she picked up the edge of irritation in his voice.

“You are uncomfortable with this assignment?”

Luke hesitated a moment, before deflating slightly.

“Forgive me, your highness, it’s not your doing,” he answered.  “I have a… history with the Partisans, I suppose you could say.  I have been exposed to their idea of ‘justice’ before, and many I considered friends died for it.  I understand my father’s reasoning, but I find myself wishing the Death Star had completely wiped them out.”

Ah, a personal grudge; that was not something she expected from someone with such a gentle demeanor.  She reached for him, placing a hand over his.  He stopped then, turning to face her, and Trios could not help but marvel at how blue his eyes were, to the point it was hard to look away from them.

“Such is the nature of our subterfuge,” she replied.  “We must often associate with those we would prefer not to.  By aiding the Partisans now, they will continue to protect their doomed moon, until the core finally burns itself out, and the moon finishes breaking apart.  They may even continue to protect its corpse, which only continues to benefit us.”

He hesitated a moment, before reluctantly nodding in agreement.

“Anything to stall whatever the Emperor is planning,” he said softly, before a faint smile came to his face.  “You are very good at this sort of thing, your highness.”

“I had a good teacher,” Trios replied mildly, absently placing a hand on Luke’s chest, over his heart.  “One who believed I could impart my experiences on to you.”

She felt his heart beat pick up under her fingers, the faintest hint of pink coming to his face.  He reached up after a moment, placing his hand over hers; it was rough, the hand of a career pilot, but his touch remained gentle as he kept his gaze on her.

“I look forward to learning from you, your highness,” he finally said, his voice soft, as if he were more afraid someone would hear this than their earlier talk of treason.

“Please,” she replied, finding it difficult not to match his tone, “call me Trios.”

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement.  “Trios,” he repeated, and she felt her heart flip in her chest at how her name just seemed to roll off his tongue.  For a moment, words failed her, the reason for pulling him so far away from the eyes of others leaving her mind, and she found herself unable to look away, as if the Force itself forbade it.

Someone suddenly clearing their throat broke the spell, and the two of them sprang apart like magnets whose polarity were suddenly matched.  Trios turned, absently smoothing her dress as she took in the sight of Aiolin standing there, her arms folded over her chest as she stared the two of them down.  Luke shifted nervously, absently fiddling with the cuff of his uniform.

“W-well, I should… I should return to my duties,” he murmured, before bowing to Trios.  “Your highness.”

“Commander,” Trios returned, discreetly slipping a small disc into his hand as he moved to retreat quickly.  He spared her a quick glance, before disappearing around the corner, and Trios found something like disappointment churning in her gut.  She waited until she was certain he would not be doubling back for any reason, before shooting as fierce of a glare she could at Aiolin.  The other woman seemed unaffected by it as she stepped closer.

“I know you’re baiting one of them to slip up while under the power of your charms,” she said, something close to amusement in her voice.  “Are you sure you know which one?”

Trios shifted, putting on a disaffected air to hide her embarrassment at being called out.

“Of course,” she replied, sounding dismissive.  “I have no interest in either.  They’re merely a means to an end.”

Trios did not need special powers to know that Aiolin did not believe a word that came out of her mouth.

“Kanchar I understand,” she replied.  “But Luke?”

“Of course Luke,” Trios replied, finally turning back to her, the faintest hint of a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes.  “You don’t really believe that Vader would sit on the throne once this is all over, do you?”

Aiolin paused at that, like she had not been expecting so frank an answer.  She pursed her lips soon after, her disapproval clear.

“You want to be an empress?”

Trios paused, before turning her back to Aiolin, so as to hide her expression.

“What I want is to never feel helpless again.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia stared down at the report on her datapad, trying not to let her despair show on her face.  An agent of Luke’s had made contact with their base on NaJedah and passed on the first communique from him: that the commander in charge had declared the moon prohibited, and everyone not of the Imperial military would be shot on sight.  Luke was doing what he could, and she knew that was true, but she almost wished he could do more, like strangle the man that outranked him.  Such an outright act of Rebellion would not do them any good, and so they were on their own against the Empire, with hundreds of civilians stuck in the middle.

Benthic had taken the news about as well as expected, and was silently staring out the door of their shelter, arms folded over his chest.  Han had not said anything, had drifted by her shoulder for a good minute before he finally dropped his hand on it, providing a physical touch to ground them both.

The grim atmosphere was broken when Maul entered the room, the look on his face reminding her of a predator that had just been routed by its prey.  He did not pay attention to her, instead approaching Benthic.  The alien turned, appraising him coolly.

“You know who I am, Benthic,” he stated, and worry started to creep up Leia’s spine as Benthic continued to say nothing for an uncomfortably long moment.

｢I do,｣ he finally replied. ｢Maul of the Crimson Dawn.｣

Leia’s eyes went wide, her head snapping toward Han to see he mirrored her expression.  The Crimson Dawn was one of the largest criminal organizations in the galaxy, as well as one of the most prolific.  The only groups that could compete with them were the Black Sun, though the two worked together more often than not these days, and the Hutts, largely due to how long the species had run themselves as gangsters.  It was ridiculous to think Maul of all people ever worked for them.

｢I should kill you just for the problems you caused Enfys,｣ Benthic continued, though his hand did not reach for his blaster.

“You should,” Maul agreed, stepping forward so the two were bare inches away from each other.  “But you won’t.  Our world doesn’t consist of scrambling for the same resources anymore.  We have a common enemy now.”

Benthic let out a derisive snort, turning back to the door and pulling the curtain back all the way.

｢We always did,｣ he replied.  ｢Your greed just would not allow you to see what our common enemy could do.｣

Maul stepped forward, and Leia knew well what he would see outside.  It had fallen from orbit hours ago, not that far from the Partisans’ shelter, and buried itself deep into the earth: a sub-orbital drill of a make neither of them had ever seen before.  Now it was just about completely set up, with crews toiling around it to finish the last steps before drilling began.

“What’s the plan?” Maul asked softly, his expression neutral, but Leia could feel the anger simmering just under the surface of his outward calm.

｢You are with the Partisans now,｣ Benthic replied blandly.  ｢We destroy it.｣

Maul smirked, and Leia could see a little of his old battle lust returning to his eyes as he turned toward her.

“Fortunately for you, Benthic, you have two Rebels here that are very good at destroying expensive Imperial equipment.”

Chapter Text

Shu-torun mining crews were used to the overwhelming sound their drills made, not to mention the harshness of the environments they worked in.  It was the reason why their helmets were specially insulated against outside noise, dulling it down to the point that even the loudest of clanging and banging were just the faintest of thuds in their ears.

So, naturally, the guard keeping watch over the top-most entry into the sub-orbital drill did not hear the lightsaber that pierced through his chest.

Maul kicked the lookout’s corpse off his weapon, sending it in a ragdoll spin toward the sand below.  He turned in time to see Benthic vault up onto the ledge with him, and a nod was exchanged between the two of them before Maul plunged his lightsaber into the hatch leading to the inside, cutting around it with more difficulty than he cared to admit.  Gravity took over once he completed the cut, and he caught the sound of a scream as the heavy metal hatch crushed someone on the inside.

Maul and Benthic were dropping in on the remaining troops in the next moment, Benthic providing cover fire as Maul rushed in, cutting down the armed forces in his way.  Golden armored bodies soon laid at his feet, and he managed to curb back his battle frenzy enough to leave the Imperial officer that had been standing behind the bantha fodder alive.

｢Lower the shields,｣ Benthic ordered the Imperial, who stiffened, glaring between the two of them.

“I will never submit to the demands of alien sc—“

That was as far as he got before Benthic shot the man point blank in the face.  A startled yelp came from nearby, and the smoking corpse falling to the ground revealed a man in an unmarked black jumpsuit that had been cowering behind the officer.

“P-please…!” he begged pitifully.  “I’m just a technician!  I’m not even an Imperial!”

Benthic merely trained his blaster on the cowering man.

｢Lower the shields.｣

The man scrambled for the shield control, starting to work at getting it down.  Benthic kept his weapon trained on the man as he glanced at Maul, giving him a small nod.  He pulled out his comlink at that, signaling to those waiting to begin the next stage of the plan.

~.oOOo.~

The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.

It was an old mantra, one the Guardians used often in prayer and when they would fight to defend their home.  Chulco was old enough to remember that the times they had needed to fight were once few and far between… before the Empire came, before they sullied holy Jedha with their mining work and their disregard for life.  He knew hate had no place for a Disciple of the Whills, but surely the Force could forgive him for hating that which took and took, until there was nothing left to take anymore.  Surely a thing that thrived on life could forgive him for hating a thing that disregarded it.

As the signal came, and he felt Ubin clutch tightly to his waist as he rode their mount into battle, Chulco could feel the doubt worm its way into his mind.

The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.

Their mount cut through the sand drenched winds that surrounded the drill, barreling ever closer to the infernal Imperial technology.  Cannons were coming alive on the machine, aiming at the Partisans as they approached, but Chulco held no fear in his heart, for the Force would surely guide him to where he was meant to be.

A blast shot out from one of the cannons, and Chulco felt the world explode around him as he was sent flying.

He landed roughly in the sand, the grunt from behind him indicating that Ubin had also survived the rough landing.  Their mount was not so fortunate; he saw its long, thin legs spasm as the life bled out of it, and Chulco could not help but stare in shock.

Why…?

“I… forgive me, Ubin,” he murmured, knowing he was just barely heard over the roar of the wind.  “I thought I rode with the Force.”

The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.

But that was not true.

The Force had abandoned him.

He was dimly aware that he was still staring at their dead mount in shock as Ubin dismissed his concern, yelling into her comlink.  Awareness returned to him fully as the Millennium Falcon soared overhead, its drive glow mixing with the sands, sending sparkling light flying wildly in the wind.  A torpedo of some kind escaped from the ship, and just before it hit, he caught sight of two shadows leaping from the drill.  Benthic was first, landing on the ground below roughly.  Maul, easily distinguishable by his crown of horns, leapt just as the drill erupted into flame, landing with an unnatural grace in the sand, before taking off into a run, catching up with Benthic easily.

An ugly feeling rose in Chulco’s chest, one he recognized and immediately fought to quash.  Still, it loomed within him, almost like it was its own separate entity that could emerge from within and sit beside him.

Why was it that a hate filled creature such as Maul could be favored by the Force, and not him?

~.oOOo.~

There was a young man standing where Captain Befa had stood not all that long ago, struggling to deliver his report without stammering.  It was not hard to see why; clearly he thought he was about to meet the same fate as the late captain, and Trios expected it herself.  Kanchar had surprised them both by allowing the man to live, though with the warning that he had a finite number of mistakes to make, unless he did something truly incompetent.  Trios suppressed a smile as she returned her gaze to the bridge viewport.  Clearly, Kanchar thought that by acting like Vader, he would earn himself the same loyalty that Vader commanded.  It was laughable, really; Kanchar lacked one thing that Vader had, and she could not help but wonder if the commander would ever realize what it was.

“Your people are weak, Queen Trios,” Kanchar began after he dismissed the officer.  “Your drill fell easily… to…”

The commander trailed off as he came up beside her, following her eyes to what she was looking at outside.  Trios allowed the smile to come to her face that time as he stared, slack jawed, at the machine that Shu-torun took the most pride in.  It very nearly was the size of the Star Destroyer they stood in, and while it was bug-like compared to the pointed elegance of the warship, it more than made up for it in terms of harvesting power, clearly displayed in every nook of the beast.

“The drill was merely a prologue, Commander,” she announced, a hint of pride in her voice.  “May I present our continent-class crawler, typically used when harvesting low gravity moons.  It peels the mantle most beautifully.”

She spared Kanchar a glance, and saw a familiar lust in his eyes, one she was growing far too accustomed to seeing.  But the Empire was filled with such men as him, men that would see the whole galaxy burn if it meant they could have all the power they could muster.  His gaze remained outside, basking in the mere prospect of that power, even as he addressed her.

“How do you hope to get that back in orbit when we’re done here?”

Trios’ smile remained, pleased at how easily she could pull the commander’s strings.

“I don’t expect to,” she answered.  “Consider it a sign of our dedication to the cause.”

Kanchar turned slightly at that, raising a bemused eyebrow at her answer.  But he still took it as truth, if the satisfied look on his face was any indication.

“I’d like to see how a few torpedoes fair against that monster,” the commander said, finally pulling himself away from the window.  She spared him her own bemused expression, stepping forward.  She stopped just bare inches from him, reaching up, her fingers idly playing with his rank plaque.

“I don’t believe it a monster, Commander,” she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his.  “But if it must be, then it is a most beautiful one.”

~.oOOo.~

Maul wanted off this damn moon.

He should just leave.  It was not the first time he had just up and left, and he was certain it would not be the last.  There was no one in the Rebellion he still owed anything to, so there really was no need for him to stick around and go off on missions like these that, ultimately, would only do so much good.

And yet…

Maul found his gaze drifting over to where Leia was, beside Han, who was trying to talk her into sharing a drink with him.  A smile came unbidden to his face, and though he tried to shove it away, he found he could not.  Despite all his rage, all his hate, he found himself inexplicably attached to the young Jedi, a deep part of him wanting to join with the others in orbiting around her, longed for it even.  He took a deep breath, remembering the few he had felt that way about in the past…

And how he failed them.

A familiar presence filtered into his awareness, and he turned to see Chulco, but… something was different.  The aspirant priest seemed withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts, to the point where he had to call his name twice to get him to snap out of it.  Even then, his eyes seemed lost as he gazed at Maul through his headdress.

“Forgive me, I…” he began, casting his eyes downward, getting Maul to raise an eyebrow.

“If you got hit before, go see a healer,” he stated bluntly, like this should have been obvious.  The statement only seemed to trouble Chulco more, and he shook his head.

“I was not struck, but my steed…” he began, trailing off.  He let out a shuddering breath, looking away.  “I should have been able to dodge.  I used to be able to see… but now, all is dark, and I have never felt so lost.”

Ah… Chulco must have had some Force sensitivity in him.  Not really surprising, considering how strong in the Force the moon itself was.  It almost seemed he was in tune with the Force because of the moon, and since it was suffering, so too was he, in ways he was not equipped to deal with.

Chulco was silent, but the Force felt like it was slowly starting to stir around him.  He finally lifted his head after a moment, determination shining in his eyes.

“It is time for me to finish my pilgrimage,” he stated.  “Maul, I wish for you to join me.”

Maul very nearly blanched at that.  “Why?  To go stare in a hole?”

“Yes.”

Maul’s mouth was poised to tell him to forget it, only to pause, a feeling of doubt lingering in the back of his mind.  Chulco seemed to sense it as well, as he stepped forward, continuing to press the issue.

“The Shrine of the Central Isopter is built on the ruin of the crater,” he said.  “It is a place of the Dark.  Perhaps with both you and the priests there, I may come to understand what the Force truly means for me.”

The chasm of doubt in his mind only widened at the aspirant’s words, and he realized he understood how he felt more than he cared to admit.  He was lost as well; he had been for the better part of his life.  Since he had been discarded and left to die in the garbage wastes, he had been adrift; there were times when he had moored himself, but ultimately, he never felt he was meant to stay.

Perhaps Chulco was not the only one in need of a pilgrimage.

“Ready a mount,” he ordered, and the aspirant priest hurried away just as Maul became aware of a presence waiting behind him.  He let her wait, his eyes on Chulco for a long moment, before he finally turned to Leia.

“You’re leaving.”

It was not a question, and Maul did not attempt to respond.  She held her stance for a while, hands on her hips, before she shifted, folding her arms tight against her chest.

“Will you come back?”

Some long buried part of Maul felt like it broke at the question, but he stubbornly set it aside.

“Perhaps,” he replied vaguely, knowing it wasn’t a very satisfying answer.  Leia shifted on her feet, looking like she wanted to say something, but she was coming up empty.  Maul nodded, turning to leave, when he paused.

“Leia, if you learn nothing else from me, let my last lesson be that you are never too old to lose your way, just too bullheaded to know that you did.”

He gave her one last, long look, before he started toward Chulco and the mount they would take to the Shrine of the Central Isopter.

~.oOOo.~

“What is Trios doing?”

Aiolin took a deep breath at the question she had been expecting to come from one of the two men on the ship for a while now.  She let the breath out with a slow sigh, before finally turning to Luke, not entirely surprised he was the first to ask.  His expression was unreadable, but it was fairly easy to imagine he was annoyed, possibly even angry, never mind how hard it was to imagine the young men truly angry.

“She’s doing what she can to ensure the protection of her people and the alliance with Lord Vader,” she replied as if she had rehearsed what she was going to tell him.

Luke was silent, gazing at her as if he could see right through her, and if he were judging if her soul was as manufactured as the rest of her.  She wished it did not hurt to question if it was or not; before, with Cylo, it had not mattered.  She was to be a servant of the Emperor, and that was all she would be.

Now…

He finally turned away, glancing out at one of the many viewports that lined the hall they were in, and the crawler that would soon be dropped on the suffering moon.  For a moment, she almost wished she had access to his Force, just to know what it was that was clearly troubling him, because as simple as it was on the surface, there were many layers to all of this, some more confounding than others.  Any one of them more than the other could be why he was so deeply concerned.

“Aiolin…” he finally began softly, “if things went wrong, really wrong, what would you do?”

Aiolin stared at the back of his head, not sure where that came from, but… perhaps it was because she was around humans so frequently now, but it felt important.

“What I needed to, to make it right again,” she answered simply, having her mental processor save the sad smile she received in return, if only so she may understand why later on.

~.oOOo.~

Maul began to regret agreeing to this almost as soon as he and Chulco left civilization.  The Force was wild the further away from Al-Jed they went, the winds whipping the sands around them to the point even he could not see, trusting in their mount to keep a straight path.  Lightning crackled, blood red and angry above them, and more than once did it strike the sand before them, kicking up superheated shards that cut through flesh as the Force screamed to stay away.

Maul spurred their mount further.

It felt like ages before the air around them began to warm, and then not long at all before Maul started sweating profusely under his protective wraps.  Chulco clung to him tightly, and after a moment, he could sense why.  The feeling of pain and loss, the injustice and fear spawned from the Death Star’s attack reached its peak here.

And the Dark Side thrived.

But it did not feel as he knew the dark to feel.  It was almost… hollow, a barrenness to it that could engulf a man and leave nothing behind.  It was painful to behold, and even he felt himself shrinking back, not willing to continue into the very heart of darkness.

Yet still, he spurred their mount on.

“Maul!” Chulco shouted over the wind, and the Force blared in warning a moment later.  He yanked back on the reigns, bringing their mount to a stop, just as the sand mound to their left suddenly exploded.  A bestial roar echoed through the air, and Maul felt his eyes widen as a worm rose up from the sand, bearing many, many rows of sharp teeth.  A curse escaped from him as their mount reared back, trying to throw them off in fright, which only served to catch the creature’s attention.  It lunged for them, and their mount succeeded in tossing them off then, running off and disappearing into the swirling sands.

Maul pushed himself up from where he landed, feeling like he would be shaking sand out of his ears for the rest of his life.  He barely had a chance to look for where Chulco landed, before the worm was on him, its guttural cry echoing through the angry sky.  Maul had his lightsaber in hand in the next moment, both ends blazing as he struggled to force the creature back, but the sheer size of it on top of the poor conditions left him floundering.  It jabbed at him quickly, the rows of teeth coming uncomfortably close, the only thing keeping him from being impaled being the spinning of his lightsaber.  For a fleeting moment, Maul thought the creature would be too dumb to realize its methods were not working, giving him an opportunity to attack, but just as the thought came to him, the worm proved him wrong.

It reared its massive bulk up, with every intention of slamming down on top of him, something that would surely crush him despite the soft sand.  Maul grit his teeth, knowing he did not have time to run, and instead raised his lightsaber, spinning it around like a propeller over his head as the creature came down on top of it.  The smell of burnt flesh hit his nose before the creature’s bulk came to rest around him, the rotting of half-digested food hitting him next.

Maul fought against the urge to gag as he walked up the creature’s esophagus and out of its mouth, finding himself nearly face to face with Chulco as he emerged.  The aspirant priest reached out to help him, and Maul could already feel sand starting to stick to him, thanks to all the wetness of various types he just had to walk through.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted, waving Chulco off as he fussed over him, before glancing back at the dead creature.  “Certainly not the most glamorous kill I’ve done.”

Chulco paused, gazing sadly at the fallen creature.

“I don’t understand,” he said.  “Sand worms are herbivores; to see one so distempered…”

Chulco trailed off, and it was then that Maul noticed the wind had died down, leaving a stillness in the air that felt entirely unnatural.  He narrowed his eyes, expanding his senses, but the Force felt strange; even worse than it had before.

“The Force flees from this place,” he murmured.  “It is a hollow nothing.  We should not have come here.”

“On the contrary, pilgrims, you are exactly where you are meant to be.”

Maul whirled, still activated lightsaber before him defensively.  Behind them were two… beings, he supposed, entirely covered in robes that looked more like coffins than something made of cloth.  Ceremonial staves hung loosely at their sides, somehow held in place upright, their ornamentation glinting in the light of the pulsating core behind them.  There were T-shaped slits where their faces were supposed to be, but either there was a black screen set within, or it was just too dark to see whatever face lay beyond.

“Priests of the Central Isopter, I assume,” he said, slowly lowering his weapon, before turning it off.  Chulco remained by his side, but he could feel the other man’s tension.  These beings made him nervous, and Maul could not blame him.

One of the two enshrouded beings bobbed slightly in what Maul assumed to be a nod.

“Welcome to the Shadow of Death, pilgrims,” they said.  “Walk with us.”

The two beings turned then, the ornamentation of their staves tinkling like tiny bells as they started off, breaking the unnatural silence.  Maul glanced at Chulco, but there was no way they could walk away at this point, and so he started forward first, the aspirant priest just behind, close enough that he could hear the fearful noise he let out.  They continued on in silence, the heat and the light of Jedha’s core steadily increasing.  It was not until they mounted a slope that he felt Chulco stop behind him, letting out a shuddering gasp.

“The Three Faces…”

There was only one “face” left, something carved of rock who knew how many millennia ago, and left to be worn down by the desert sands.  The only one that remained was human-like, with a huge chunk missing, no doubt broken off by flying debris.  Just behind and to the side, a structure almost as tall as it stood, looking like it was cobbled together from the husks of various starships.

The Shrine of the Central Isopter.

And here, the Force felt like it was in agony.

Maul clutched at his head, nearly jabbing a finger on his horns as the Force screamed through his ears.  He had sensed disturbances in the Force before, felt the death of Alderaan from lightyears away, and was the cause of plenty of destruction himself.  Where Alderaan was a gaping hole and his own wrath were spikes of despair, this was an open, festering wound, gathering all that was the Dark Side like moths to a flame.  It echoed loudly in his ears; all the pain, fear, and loss, all the hatred and passionate rage more potent than anything or any being could muster.

He dimly became aware of Chulco’s voice, begging him to push through it.  Maul took a deep breath, and instead of gathering the Force to him as he always would, he pushed it away, forcing a barrier between himself and the stars awful sensations that surrounded them.  Slowly, his head cleared, the screaming quieted, and he finally felt like he could lift his head without pain once again.

“This is the worst place in the galaxy,” he growled out.

“That, Maul, is your first lesson.”

Maul snapped his head toward the priests, glaring.  He had not introduced himself, and he was fairly certain Chulco had not called him by name.  Before he could say anything, though, he caught sight of something streaking through the sky, falling with all the weight of a meteor, yet all the control of a ship.

“What is that?” Chulco asked softly, noticing it as well.

“While you are here, pilgrims, it is none of your concern.”

The Central Isopter’s priests turned then, heading toward a path that led closer to the core… and the Dark.

~.oOOo.~

“Okay.  This is going to be hard.”

Leia lifted her gaze away from her macrobinoculars, sparing Han a glance.  Part of her probably should have been grateful that someone could remain flippant in this situation, but she could not find it in her at the moment, nor could she muster the ire to snap at him for it.  Instead, she returned her gaze to her binoculars, a heavy feeling of despair churning in her gut.

｢What is that thing?｣ Benthic asked from behind them.  He was not using binoculars, not that they were much needed in the first place.  Even with as far away as they were, on a mesa that once overlooked empty desert, they could see the abomination clearly.

“Stupidly huge, that’s what,” Han replied.  “It’s the size of a damn city!  What do they need something that big for?!”

“Strip mining, on a massive scale.”

Leia lowered her macrobinoculars to see Han had done the same, staring at her in alarm.  She paused a moment, swallowing past the disgust stuck in her throat, before she continued.

“It’s Shu-torun technology we’re dealing with,” she announced.  “I suspected as much when you said the forces inside that drill had gold armor, but I couldn’t be certain.”

She glanced back at Benthic, an apology in her eyes, before she continued, “I knew they had continent-class crawlers, but I had no idea they would deploy one without the possibility of retrieving it.”

Leia turned her focus back to the crawler, feeling her heart ache.  Had this moon not been through enough?  Could no one else feel the pain it was in?  How much it cried in agony as its life slowly withered away?

｢Ubin has taken a group ahead,｣ Benthic announced.  ｢She intends to lay bombs on the crawler’s tracks, and blow it out from the bottom.｣

Han glanced back at Benthic, an alarmed look on his face.

“That’s suicide, Benthic!” he exclaimed.  “There’s not enough bombs in the galaxy to make a dent in that thing!”

｢We shall see,｣ Benthic replied simply, and Leia could not help the dread that crawled up her spine, having a feeling Han was right.

~.oOOo.~

Jedha was a barren wasteland of despair.  Luke could feel it the moment the crawler breached the atmosphere, to the point he had to excuse himself for fear of being sick on the bridge.  Commander Kanchar assumed it was because of the drop, sneering at his back as he departed, and he did not care enough about him to be bothered by it.  He needed air and space, both of which felt in short supply at the moment, and ages seemed to pass him by before he felt alone enough to let his agony over the moon show, sagging against the wall.

Alderaan was a tragedy, of that he would never say otherwise.  This was somehow worse.

Luke forced himself to take several deep breaths, struggling to push past the sadness and despair, but it did not work.  He could feel the lives that died here, that haunted the moon, that continued to suffer; a whole moon’s worth of the devout raising their voices in pain as one by one they were killed, and…

It hurt so much.

Luke clutched at his chest, aware of the tears falling from his face as he slid down the wall.  He couldn’t stop it; the suffering was just too much…

“Father, please…” he whimpered.  “Help me.  I can’t…!”

A strangled sob escaped from him; no matter how hard he tried, he could not push through Jedha’s darkness enough to find his father’s own dark presence.  He let out another pained sob, feeling utterly lost…

And suddenly, a soft glow hummed to life within the darkness, bringing with it the same gentle presence he had felt at the Fortress of Garn.  Luke let out a shuddering breath, mentally reaching for that light, hoping against hope that it would allow him to.  It stayed still for him, growing brighter as he got closer, until he felt at peace enough to let out a sigh of relief, thumping his head back against the wall as he allowed the light, and the distantly familiar presence that accompanied it, wash over him.

Understand, do you? a strange voice asked, echoing gently in his mind.  Hard to see the dark in the darkness, yes?

Luke let out a breath, something akin to guilt crawling up his spine.  Now that he was able to focus, he could clearly see Leia’s light somewhere nearby, shining brilliantly with determination.  It was silly of him to reach for his father first, when she was right there, and he gave her a gentle nudge.  Her presence nudged back, a hint of guilt that she could not do much more than that filtering in along with it.  Still, the small acknowledgement helped him breathe easier, chasing away the shadows of Jedha.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly to the presence, and he felt amusement ripple through the Force in response.

Understand your path, in time, you will, the voice replied.  On that day, find me, you shall.

The presence faded away, leaving the peace it had brought him behind.  Luke allowed himself one more deep breath, before he climbed to his feet.  He was about to turn and head back for the bridge, when a dull, thudding noise echoed through the hall, bringing a frown to his face.  That was not the sound of the crawler landing; had something tried to hit the technological monster?  He reached out to Leia again, but this time he could tell she was too focused on flying to give him a response.

~.oOOo.~

Han realized, as he gripped the firing controls of the air speeder he was in, that Leia was the only person in the galaxy (other than Chewie, of course) that he would tolerate flying him around.  It made his face turn a brilliant shade of red, the warmth making it hard to concentrate for a moment, to the point that Leia was shouting at him to keep focused.

“Yeah, yeah!” he called back to her, intimately aware of their joined seat in the small speeder as he adjusted the targeting reticule on the tow cable controls.  Laser blasts from the crawler lashed out at them, but Han ignored them, knowing that Leia would not get hit.

The speeder looped around, close to the crawler, and Han caught sight of the sand tunneler Ubin’s team had been travelling in, at least until they were shot.  The team had successfully planted the bombs, even detonated them, but Han could not see where it had even scorched the metal paneling of the monster crawler.

Not that it mattered at the moment; they needed to get Ubin and her team out of there before the crawler ground them up along with the sand.  Han grit his teeth, aiming the tow cable and firing, sending out a cable with a powerful magnet on the end.  It latched onto the sand tunneler, and it was lifted up as Leia flew away.  He let out a breath he did not realize he was holding, and he glanced up into the cockpit mirrors to see that Leia was glancing back at him, her mouth set in a grim line.

They had saved one team today, but would it even matter in the end?

Leia landed them in a safe spot, far away from the crawler, and Han was the first to jump out.  He marched over to the tunneler as Ubin pulled herself out, and from the stillness within, the battered, useless vehicle, he got the feeling she was the only one that was going to leave it.  A weird sort of anger bubbled inside of him, and he felt his hands curl into fists, like the only way it would calm him was if he could punch something.

“Ubin!” he shouted once he was close enough.  “What the hell were you thinking?”

He felt Leia’s eyes on him, felt the reproach and concern in her stare, but did not turn toward it.  Instead, he kept his focus on Ubin as she shambled toward them, a hand on her head, clearly struggling against the shock of what happened.

“We… we have to be able to make sacrifices,” she managed to get out, and that only made Han’s blood boil hotter.  Maul, Leia, hell even her bratty brother; all of them were willing to make the dumbest sacrifices for the stupidest reasons!  How many more sacrifices did they have to make before everyone was satisfied?

“We only give ourselves up when we have nothing else to lose, got it?!” he snapped.  “You’re worth more than throwing yourself away on a fool plan!  You want to save the galaxy, right?  Not getting yourself killed saves the galaxy!”

He felt Leia’s eyes on him again, but he still did not turn toward her.  His focus remained on Ubin as she shook, struggling to get out a response.

“What would you have me do?” she demanded, a weak sort of anger bubbling into her voice.  “These are desperate times; what else are we supposed to do?”

“Not act desperately,” Leia replied before Han could say anything.  Ubin did not look like she understood, but did not say as much.  Instead, her focus shifted from them as another speeder approached, and she started toward it once it landed, sparing the two of them a glance before jumping in.  Han blew out a breath, forcing himself to relax as the speeder took off, only to tense again when he felt Leia’s hand on his arm.

“Han…”

“I’m not apologizing for going off on her,” he said stubbornly, finally looking down to her.  To his surprise, there was no annoyance on her face, merely a small smile.

“I wasn’t going to tell you to,” she said softly.  “I just wanted to say you sounded like a leader just then.”

Han felt his face warm all over again as Leia pulled away, starting back for the air speeder.

~.oOOo.~

The priests of the Central Isopter led them as close to the core of the planet as the path would allow, but it was still uncomfortably close.  The heat was overwhelming to the point Maul very nearly tore off his shirt, least the heat actually set it on fire.  Discomfort radiated off Chulco as well, and glancing over at him, he could see lines of sweat rolling down around his eyes.  This place was likely as close to any kind of Hell a living person could get to, and the Dark clearly relished it.  It was strong here, stronger and more wild than Dathomir, more potent than Sidious, and beyond anything he had ever witnessed or committed combined.  Maul could imagine a younger him would have relished this place; would have sat and basked in the dark for hours, letting it become part of him through meditation.

Now he just wanted it to stop.

“Death is the ultimate teacher,” a new voice intoned, and Maul turned to see a third priest had joined them.  “We all live at the edge of existence.  Once step, and we are gone.”

Far above, far below…

“This is why our shrine is here,” one of the others said.  “The existence of the exposed core makes our philosophy concrete; real.”

We don’t know where we’ll fall…

“It will be your teacher, not us,” the last intoned.  “We can show you nothing.”

Far above, far below…

“Death has brought you here,” the first spoke again, and Maul got the distinct impression he was being spoken to directly.  “The death of unnecessary enemies, the death of your family, the death of your way of life, the death of unrecognized allies.”

What once was great is rendered small…

For a brief moment, the present melded away to the past, and he was standing behind Ezra and Hera again, holding them back as Kanan held the explosion threatening to swallow them at bay.  He saw the Jedi see again, the sad, peaceful smile coming to his face as he watched the three of them… before he used the Force to shove the ship clear, pushing them away from the fires that he soon disappeared in.  Maul let out a low growl as he shook the images away, but the memory of Hera crying and Ezra screaming still echoed in his ears.  Maul clutched his lightsaber tighter in his hand, longing to ignite it and cut the priests down, but he held himself back.  Lashing out would do him no good and he knew it.

“Maul…” Chulco began, his voice wavering.  “I want to be a Disciple, but… this path…”

Maul spared him a glance, half daring him to get cold feet now, the other half not finding it in himself to blame him if he did.  Such deeper philosophies were meant for the true masters, the ones that had an almost symbiotic bond with the Force.  He may have taught others like Ezra, like Leia, but he was no master.

“It is a path,” he finally replied, “perhaps the only path to what you desire.”

Chulco shuffled back, but Maul could sense the resolute determination slowly solidifying in his mind.  He looked up to him through his headdress, before he slowly nodded.

“He is right,” one of the priests intoned.  “The old ways are gone; this is all that remains.”

“Sit.  Meditate,” another encouraged.  “Listen to the call of the chasm.”

“It is wisdom, it will teach you,” the last added, before chuckling faintly.  “Perhaps you two will understand the abyss instead of being swallowed by it.”

Maul fixed an irate glare on the priests as they turned to leave, his annoyance simmering uselessly.  He finally turned to Chulco, nodded once, before settling down on the precarious ledge, mechanical legs folded carefully beneath him.  For a long moment, he gazed down into the heat of Jedha’s core, feeling the moon’s hate and rage, before closing his eyes and allowing the Force to flow through him once again.

Far above, far below…

“Aren’t you a little too old for nursery rhymes?”

Maul’s eyes sprang open at the familiar voice, a voice he had not even thought about in well over thirty years.  Gone was the heat and the sand; instead of the light of the exposed core, they were bathed in the faintly purple light of a setting sun.  Sand was replaced with rock, and Chulco was replaced with…

“You didn’t expect to see me again, did you, Sith?”

Something akin to a sad, tired smile touched Maul’s lips.

“The Sith has a name, Jedi.”

“The Jedi has a name, Sith,” Eldra Kaitis shot back, amusement reflecting in her eyes as she turned to him.  The setting sun on the moon of Drazkel turned her blue skin almost purple as well, though he remembered its true shade well enough.  The lekku with the wrapping that was substitute for a padawan braid was draped almost casually over her shoulder, and her lightsaber rested on her lap, her hands over it, though she clearly had no intention of turning it on him.

“I have not thought of you in a long time,” Maul finally answered her question.  “At least, not consciously.”

“I know,” Eldra replied.  “You never forgot your first Jedi kill, though.  I’ve been with you this whole time.”

His first dead Jedi… he had been a fool back then, so desperate for the need to kill that he thought he could slip off to kill a Jedi under his master’s notice.  Of course, he had set up the whole thing; a test of his loyalties, a test to see if he was ready, if his hunger could be satiated.

“Were you satisfied, back then?” she asked softly.

“You know I wasn’t.”

“Are you satisfied now?”

Maul hesitated, knowing that he still was not, even though his rage and bloodlust had long since dimmed.  He looked away, feeling as if saying so and having no idea why was useless.  A moment passed, before he felt her shift beside him, placing a hand over his.

“You are constantly doing the same thing over and over again, hoping for a different result,” Eldra said softly.  “Revenge against the Jedi, revenge against Master Kenobi, revenge against Sidious.  When does it end, Maul?  When will you stop trying to get something that will never satisfy you?”

It was the first time she had ever called him by name, and it struck a chord in him he could not describe.  He did not know why, nor did he know the answer to her question, so he remained silent.  That did not stop her from curling her fingers around his hand, and he surprised himself by allowing it.

“I told you once you could turn away from your path, remember?” she asked.  “I did because even back then, I saw a bit of light in you.”

“Did you squint?” the sarcastic remark slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  It still got a laugh out of her.

“Not as hard as you think,” she replied, eyes bright with happiness.  Her other hand came over, settling over their joined hands.  “Especially now.  Maul… you are dark, nothing will change that.  But in order for darkness to exist, there must be some light to cast it.”

Maul let out a sigh at how much credit she was giving him, closing his eyes… and then he felt the heat on his face once again as his consciousness was returned to his physical body.  There was an ache in his neck that made him wonder how much time had passed.  Opening his eyes offered no clues; the crater around them and the core below were still the same, and it did not seem like Chulco had moved.  There was a shuffling behind them however, and he glanced back to see the three priests had returned.

“Welcome back, pilgrim,” one greeted him.

“You have gazed into the abyss and returned,” another intoned solemnly.  “What have you learned?”

Maul paused at that, not sure if he truly had an answer to that question just yet.

“I… need to contemplate on my vision,” he replied, turning away from them.

“Very well,” the third said.  “And you, Chulco?  You have also gazed into the abyss.  Will you heed its call?”

Chulco shifted beside him, and even in the midst of so much Dark, Maul could sense something was wrong.  The aspirant priest reached up, grasping his headdress, and with a strength Maul had not seen from him before, ripped the fabric clear off the collar it was attached to.  His revealed face was younger than he expected, but Maul was more focused on his eyes, and how they had turned completely white.

He did not know much about the Disciples of the Whills, but he was fairly certain that was not supposed to happen.

“I will,” Chulco declared, pulling a knife from within his robes.  With a guttural cry, he lunged for Maul, knife flashing in the light of the core.  He cursed, reacting on instinct as he brought up his lightsaber, and…

He did not even realize he had ignited one of the blades until Chulco let out a pained wheeze.  For a moment, Maul could do nothing, feeling horror crawl up his spine; that was not necessary, Chulco had done nothing to deserve this!  It took time before he could get himself to turn the blade off, catching the aspirant priest’s body and laying him on the ground.  By then, sanity had returned to his eyes, and he gave Maul a weak smile.

“Forgive me, Maul,” he gasped out.  “This place… I thought with you beside me, I could find my way through the dark.  But I took one step, and I was lost.”

He fumbled for his hand, and Maul had to be the one to grab him.  Chulco’s strength was draining quickly, Maul could feel as much, but he still held on with all he had left.

“You… are no devil… this path… not… w… worth…”

Maul felt his grip go slack as his body relaxed, breathing out one last, pained breath.  It was a moment before he could set his hand down, an old, familiar ache hitting his chest.

“Rest easy, Disciple of the Whills,” he said softly as if it were a prayer, reaching over to push his eyes closed.  “Force guide you to where you will fall.”

He stood after a moment, turning his attention to the priests, who had stood there, patiently waiting for the lesson to play out.  It was a harsh one; not the worst Maul had ever experienced, but certainly a painful one.

“I understand,” he stated.  “Continuing to dwell on the past, on the wrongs that I imposed on myself and blamed others for, will only bring me to ruin.”

He paused, his thoughts drifting to Leia.  Even though he had helped her, he had harmed her as well; because part of him had hoped for revenge through her.  She deserved better.

“To be better, to be a better teacher and survive this conflict, I must set aside that which has brought nothing but suffering to myself and those around me.”

The priests bowed as one.

“And so it is.”

“The path you and Chulco were on was a path of self-destruction.  You have taken your first step off of that path.”

“And now, pilgrim, you must leave.  Your companions need you.”

Maul nodded; he needed to get back to Leia.  He needed to apologize to her and help her move forward properly.  He moved to leave, but the priests still blocked his way, as if sensing his thoughts and disapproving.

“No, pilgrim.”

“You misunderstand.”

“We mean that literally.”

Chapter Text

Telli let out a yelp as the old freighter shook around her, clinging to her seat and really wishing she was in Luke’s Windsor right now.  That ship was fast, and she had overheard Celena talking about some upgrades that were exceptionally nonstandard and just shy of the wrong side of legal.  They could definitely use something non-standard right now, instead of the slow-as-a-Hutt clunker they were trying to outfly a TIE fighter in!

Her first actual mission as part of the Vader team was supposed to be easy; all she had needed to do was hang back on the freighter her pilot flew them in on, pretend that they were an automated supply ship, and then wait for Luke to pass off any major data that could not be transmitted via secure channels.  Part of her had been hoping they would just be on standby all mission long and not have to worry about doing anything, but the all-important data disc that weighed heavily in her pack soon sent them out, departing the Star Destroyer and looping around the moons like they were heading out, only to circle back and try to fly under the radar to where the Rebels and Partisans were hanging out.  They had not anticipated an overzealous TIE pilot to pick them up, not to mention start shooting at them.

Another yelp escaped from her as the ship was hit again, and Telli angled herself toward the back, as if she could take out the TIE with the mere force of her glare.

“Can’t this thing go faster?” she urged, only to get the wookiee pilot to let out a snarl at her, as clear of a bark not to side seat fly as there ever was.  “Well, what am I supposed to do!?”

Telli turned her gaze back up front as the wookiee let out a grumble that he seemed to think she would not hear.

“No, I can’t do better,” she protested, only to get a curious woof back at her as he sent the clunky freighter into a dive.  “No, I can’t do that!  The Force doesn’t work like that!”

Before either of them could say anything more than that, an instrument panel by the wookiee’s head suddenly exploded thanks to another impact, showering the big guy with a hail of shrapnel.  The smell of burnt fur filled the cockpit, and Telli leapt from her seat as the wookiee slumped against the controls, letting out a pained noise.

“W-whoa!  Stay with me, please!” she yelped, whipping off her travelling cloak and trying to press it against his furry head.  “I wasn’t kidding when I said I can’t fly!”

The wookiee let out a baleful moan, holding onto the controls and doing what he could to straighten the ship out, but even Telli knew it was a lost cause; they were sitting mynocks for a TIE just itching to pull the trigger.  A distant rumble came from somewhere behind them, and Telli clung to the wookiee, burying her face in his soft fur and thinking of the countless apologies she owed Mercy, and…

…and… nothing happened?

Telli snapped her head up, frowning when she saw they were not a quickly diminishing fireball in the vacuum of space.  She squinted out of the viewport, seeing nothing, before looking down at the thing that showed objects around them – the scanner thing, whatever it’s actual name was.  She only saw one dot behind them, but it was marked as a friendly?

The com crackled to life in the next moment, making her jump, though her surprise quickly turned to rage as a familiar voice flooded over the speakers.

“Infiltrator to freighter, you lost an engine in that attack.  Is everyone still alive onboard?”

The wookiee let out a faint rumble in answer, thought Telli was much louder.

“You two-bit karking son of a Hutt!” she yelled into the com.  “What took you so damn long to get here?!”

Silence answered her, though she could see the broad smile full of sharp teeth in her mind’s eye.  She was not sure if that was the Force reminding her what it looked like, he was projecting, or if she was still that familiar with the malicious bastard after all these years.

“Telli,” Maul’s smooth voice purred, the same way he had heard it purr a thousand times for a thousand different missions.  She hated how much she missed hearing it.  “How ever did you get dragged into this mess?”

Despite the situation, Telli could not help the small smirk that came to her face.

“I did a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ on the right person, depending on your point of view,” she answered, before shifting her stance slightly, glancing at the wookiee.  “Never mind that now; my pilot is really hurt and I can’t fly this thing.”

The wookiee let out a baleful stream of groans, and Maul was silent as he listened.

“You sound hurt, Chewbacca,” he murmured, and Telli frowned.  Was that actual concern in his voice?  What was that about?  “I’ll try to guide you in,” Maul continued, and Telli looked up to see that old as hell ship of his settling into position in front of them.  “Try to stay conscious; Telli is the absolute worst when it comes to flying.”

Telli folded her arms over her chest, sticking her tongue out in Maul’s direction.

~.oOOo.~

It was like getting ready to take on the Death Star all over again.

Granted, it was not exactly the same; they still had plenty of time to escape if they wanted to, and stars above did Han want to at this point.  He drew the line at crazy plans that involved his best friend getting hurt, never mind it was lucky that Chewie was flying and not Biggs or Wedge; that kind of shrapnel rain probably would have killed them.  Still, it hurt to see the big guy slumped tiredly against the wall as Leia briefed the assembled Partisans; he would have to see about getting him that really high class shampoo he liked next time he went on a supply run.

“So, here is our problem,” Leia was saying as Han turned his focus back to the meeting.  A crude projector had been set up, and was currently displaying the information Chewie and that twi’lekki woman had risked their lives to bring to them.  “The Leviathan is armed like a fortress, and has the population of a small city.  We need the fire power of a Star Destroyer to even dent it, and that may not even be very effectives.  Fortunately, we have the plans.”

Chewie let out a happy, if pained sounding, trill at that, and Han reached over to pet the fur on his good shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m sure Leia’s thankful, buddy,” he murmured.  “Rest up, you’re hurting.”

He really did not want to know what kind of painkillers they had him on either; he seemed out of it.  His gaze went over to Leia again, and he saw the gratitude in her eyes, before she turned away to focus on the mission before them.  The display shifted, showing the interior schematic of that unnecessarily huge crawler.

“This is the core security system,” she announced, pointing to a highlighted portion of the schematic.  “We will need a small team to infiltrate with an astromech that can slice into the system, and a protocol droid to deal with Shu-torun’s unique courtly customs.”

A faint murmuring went through the crowd, yet over it, he could still hear the nattering of Leia’s gold-domed pain in the rear.

“Oh my, I do feel sorry for whatever poor droid that needs to do that.”

From beside 3PO, R2 let out a rude sounding noise that had Han rolling his eyes.

“…wait a minute,” 3PO continued, alarm coming to his electronic voice.  “I am the only protocol droid here!  Oh dear…”

Leia gave the droid a bemused look, before her expression dropped, reminding everyone of the seriousness of the situation.

“The goal is to take down their anti-air missiles, and seal off the bridge from the rest of the ship, though we should not count on the bridge remaining sealed for long.  We will need to cause a distraction to keep the bridge from retaking control.”

Oh, that was the problem; her so-called brother was on that thing.  He was probably the one that got the twi’lek with the plans to them, but Han was not willing to give the brat too much credit, especially since he would still need to play the “good little Imperial” during all this.

“They can still reboot the system from the bridge, but with Artoo in the system and our distraction in place, it will take them time,” Leia continued.  “Time enough to allow us to insert a second team to take over the bridge.  At this point, our man on the inside should be able to assist with getting access to the drive controls, and we can send the crawler into the hole the Empire blasted into the planet.”

Another murmur went through the group, and Han caught Benthic with what he guessed was supposed to be a thoughtful look on his face.

｢Ironic,｣ he said finally, focusing on Leia.  ｢You will lead the first team, I will take the second.  I will need a good pilot.｣

Han knew what he was getting at; they would need to fly right into the docking bay of that thing in the middle of a swarm of stormtroopers and officers trying to get the thing back up and running.  That would take more than just a “good” pilot, and a lopsided grin came to Han’s face as he leaned forward.

“You need a great pilot, Benthy,” he pointed out.  “Lucky for you, I’m right here.”

Benthic stared at him, before his gaze flicked over to Chewie.

｢Please tell me he’s not still bragging about the Kessel Run.｣

Han’s mouth worked, indignation all over his face, as Chewie growled out a laugh.  The meeting broke up soon after that, with the Partisans shuffling off to get their assignments and their gear ready.  Leia waited until the room started to clear before she approached him, a small smile on her face.

“Thank you for backing this up, Han,” she said warmly, and Han did his best to pretend his face was not turning red.

“Ah… you know I prefer a straight fight to sneaking around,” he replied dismissively, waving a hand as he leaned back in his seat.  A yelp kept him from saying anything further, and he turned just in time to see the twi’lek smack Maul upside the head with her cane as curses started flying.

“Besides, it’s probably better for us to split up and look after the kids,” he muttered, and Leia let out a sigh as Maul extricated himself from the enraged woman, running to Ubin and disappearing with her down a hallway.

~.oOOo.~

When the priests had said his companions needed him, Maul had not exactly expected to be reunited with one of his old apprentices.  Telli was an especially gifted young woman when it came to the Force, with a natural affinity for lightning he had never seen in one so young, not to mention her ability to deceive.  He suspected she would have been able to hold her own in the galaxy, but he had not seen or heard of her since the last time he had needed to fake his death, and had written her off for dead, or so gone that he would never see her again.  That being disproved brought on an emotion he was not exactly used to.

So, naturally, he had to let her know just how much her presence meant to him… by yanking on a lekku.  It was the number one thing you were never supposed to do to a twi’lek – those headtails were part of their brain, after all – and he absolutely deserved getting smacked with her cane for that one.  It was still worth it.

He was still rubbing his head where he was struck as he and Ubin came to a stop a fair distance away.  Maul glanced back, half expecting Telli to be in hot pursuit down the hallway, but there was no one.

“Chulco’s… gone, isn’t he?”

Maul turned at Ubin’s voice, noticing she was having difficulty looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and he surprised himself by realizing he meant it.  “Chulco was a good man, but it is easy to stop being a good man.  In the matter of the Force and the dark, that is a difficult lesson to learn.”

And it took him his entire life thus far to learn.  If he had just realized it sooner, maybe he would have been better off.  Maybe his brother would have lived, or never needed to be pulled into this mess in the first place.  Maybe…

“That darkness isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Maul dislodged himself from his downward spiraling thoughts, looking up to see Ubin quietly excusing herself, shuffling out of the way as Leia approached.  She nodded to Ubin in acknowledgement, before turning her focus to him.  He did not see pity in her eyes, thankfully, just a silent assurance that she understood his conflict.

“Master Kenobi taught me that we all shed light, even if it’s only a little,” Leia began, and Maul fought against a flinch at the echo of Eldra’s words.  “It was his way of telling me that light and dark exist together, I think, but at the time, I thought of it as a warning.  To always stay in your flickering light.”

She paused a moment, before reaching up, cupping the side of his face in her hand.  Maul twitched in surprise, but found himself leaning into her touch a moment later.

“It’s okay to slip into the dark,” she said softly.  “We test ourselves there, in the darkest places, and we realize what we’re truly capable of.”

He met Leia’s gaze for a long moment, searching her eyes.  Perhaps he had not damaged her as much as he feared; she was certainly wiser and more capable than he had ever given her credit for.  Hesitantly, he reached for her, wrapping an arm around her, before pulling her against him.  She returned the embrace, holding him tight, and just for that moment, Maul, former Dark Lord of the Sith, dared to feel like he could stand in the light.

~.oOOo.~

The ways of the Shu-torun mining life were dangerous in the best of circumstances.  They had perfected their craft to be sure, but it did not lessen the danger, leading to droids being left to handle the majority of the mundane work as the human workers devoted their attention to more serious tasks.  That was why, when automated transport ships bringing in goods and equipment arrived on the Leviathan, they were immediately set on by simple loader droids that picked up and brought the cargo into the hold of the crawler, before returning to their charging stations.

There was not a living soul around to see the two blades of purple light jut out from one of the boxes that had been recently unloaded, coming around in a circle, before the cutaway portion of the box fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

“I didn’t think that would actually work,” Maul commented idly as Leia slipped out of the container first, turning back to help him get the droids out, before he exited as well.

“That’s the thing about being overly reliant on droids,” Leia said softly, checking her gear, before swiftly making her way around the rest of the cargo.  “Once you have the security codes, you can get anywhere.”

3PO let out a huff as he tottered along just behind her.

“Well, really, Mistress Leia!” he fussed.  “I assure you, not all droids are of such simple programming that—“

“I know, Threepio,” Leia hissed softly, cutting the loud droid off.  “I was speaking in general terms.”

“Oh… oh, I see,” the golden droid replied sheepishly as R2 let out a rude sounding blat.  Leia paused, tossing an amused look to Maul, before slipping out of the cargo hold.

The halls of the Leviathan were quiet, unnervingly so as Leia led the charge into the behemoth, keeping the Force tight around her and her senses on high alert.  Occasionally, they could hear the clomp of boots on metal flooring in the distance, though only once did they come close enough that they had to hide.  The familiar sight of stormtroopers marched by them a moment later, a stark reminder that while this was not an Imperial vessel, their presence was strong within it.

“I wonder if this is what sneaking onto the Death Star was like,” Leia commented absently.  She could feel the sly smirk at her back almost immediately.

“I’m not sure,” Maul murmured.  “As Solo tells it, there was this stubborn princess that found the worst smell known to man—“

Leia elbowed him sharply in the chest, cutting him off.

Once the troopers were out of sight, they slipped out from their hiding place, ducking through the halls once again.  They only had to hide from passing stormtroopers once more before they made it to the control nexus.  Maul and Leia surrounded R2 as he worked on popping open the door, the two of them sliding inside as soon as he succeeded.  They paused, looking around at the various, overly complicated computer towers and load outs, before Maul turned to leave.  Leia followed his movement, reaching out to grab his arm.

“Maul…”

He hesitated a moment, before reaching over and placing a hand over hers.

“I need to get to the bridge,” he reminded her.

“You have the hardest job of both of us,” Leia replied.  “Are you sure—“

“You cannot fight your brother like you mean it,” Maul cut her off.  “You… should never have to fight your brother.”

Silence passed between them, before Maul gave her fingers a squeeze as he nudged her hand off.  For a moment it seemed as if he would just leave, standing in the door frame with his back to her.

“You should know,” he finally began again, “I wanted to use you.  I wanted you to be my instrument of vengeance.  I thought… I knew I no longer had the strength to see to my master’s own destruction, but if I could train another to do so…”

He trailed off, looking down at his hands.

“Even now, I still want to see him suffer as I suffered,” he hissed.  “But… as helpless as it makes me feel… I know I can’t.  I know there are other things I need to focus on – to protect – and my vengeance pales in comparison to those things.”

Maul finally glanced back to her, the tormented expression finally eased from his face.

“Thank you… for your part in helping me finally see that.”

Leia smiled softly, before reaching for him again, hugging him tight.

“Force be with you, Master Maul.”

She felt him smile fondly as he rested his head atop hers.

“With you as well, my little apprentice.”

~.oOOo.~

The bridge of the Leviathan was far more elegant than any Star Destroyer, and it made Luke very conscious of how much he and the rest of the Imperial troops stood out.  Shu-torun lines were smooth and flowed, moving from one to the other with barely a separation between them.  Imperials were rigid and stiff by comparison, each shape clearly defined.  Even Luke knew he looked like a block in uniform, despite his smaller and slight frame, though Kanchar was a heavy brick in comparison.

They both looked completely out of place next to Queen Trios, resplendent as both Queen and Minister of War at the moment, her golden armor shaped to her body, with robes of brilliant blue flooding around her like water.  She was casually sipping from a golden teacup, watching the destruction wrought by the crawler like she was taking a pleasant walk through the park, and not peeling the crust of a planet apart.

Her attitude, frankly, was starting to become unnerving for Luke.

A lieutenant approached, standing at attention, waiting to be acknowledged.  Luke glanced over at him, nodding to proceed, but the man completely ignored him, his eyes focused on Kanchar.  He huffed out a faint, annoyed breath in response, having a feeling the other commander deliberately told his men to ignore any and all orders from him.

“Give me good news,” Kanchar finally spoke, making the lieutenant jump slightly.  “Say, ‘Yes, Commander Kanchar.  After we managed to trail that piece of junk freighter enough to get the vague location, the Queen’s seismic resonators managed to find the glorified hole in the ground the Partisans call a base.’  Tell me it worked.”

“It… it worked, sir,” the lieutenant forced out as Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Kanchar turned then, resting his prosthetic arm heavily around the other man’s shoulders, and Luke imagined he would have jumped in fright were it not for the weight of the arm.

“There, was that so hard?” Kanchar sneered, before his tone became serious.  “What are the Partisans up to?”

“They… they seem to be preparing some sort of raid, sir,” the lieutenant managed to get out.  It prompted a sly grin from Kanchar that was somehow more menacing than his scowl.

“A raid!” he exclaimed.  “That sounds like a fantastic idea.  Ready the assault drills!”

He finally released the lieutenant, the skittish man quickly fumbling away, looking entirely too relieved.  Luke let out a half-hearted sigh as he passed, frowning bitterly at Kanchar.

“Commander, I again request you consider the civilian life at risk in this endeavor,” he deadpanned, knowing his request was going to fall on deaf ears.

“Civilians?” Kanchar asked, his tone mocking.  “I seem to recall there not being any civilians on this moon.”  He paused, turning to Trios with a mild smile.  “What say you, your highness?”

Trios’ expression remained neutral as she sipped at her tea, her eyes never leaving the destruction outside.

“I say, ‘kill them all,’ always had a nice ring to it,” she finally answered, raising her tea cup in toast to the chaos beyond the viewport window.

~.oOOo.~

Han was already fed up with this mission, and he had not even taken off yet.  The Partisans were handling their own thing well enough, and that Telli woman was not half bad at pulling things together for being one of the brat’s people, but everything felt so damn slow.  Something was scratching at the back of his mind, telling him he needed to move and be up in the air before something bad happened, and he needed people to stop fussing.

Especially his co-pilot.

“No, you can’t come with us,” he grumbled at the still half delirious wookiee.  “You’re hurt, and—“

Han cut himself off, noticing the sound of the wind whipping around them had changed.  It was a subtle thing, and if he was not already high keyed to something being off, he may well have missed it entirely.

It was fortunate for him, because when he turned around to look, it gave him an extra few seconds to avoid the blaster bolt that had been aimed at his head.

“Take cover!” he shouted, just as the familiar sight of white armor started to emerge from the swirling sands.

And there was definitely way more of them than there were Partisans.

He heard a lightsaber ignite over the sound of the wind and ensuing firefight, but did not pay it much mind, firing blindly as he reached back and shoved Chewbacca up the Falcon ’s loading ramp.  The wookiee fumbled, letting out a confused warble.

“Yeah, yeah; I know I said you’re staying, but now you’re coming,” Han growled.  “And don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so’.”

He managed to shove the wookiee up the ramp, and turned back in time to see a blast take Benthic down.  He swore under his breath, especially as the Partisans around him seemed fit to start panicking.

“Don’t just stand there gawking!” Han shouted.  “Grab him and get on the Falcon, now!”

Another swear escaped from him as a blaster bolt came way too close for comfort, punctuated by the sound of lightning striking somewhere nearby.  They were all going to end up dead if they stayed out here much longer.

“Sooner than now!” he snapped.  “I don’t plan on dying here today!”

The Partisans finally started moving it, the people that grabbed Benthic heading up the ramp first, with the others slowly following behind.  It gave Han the chance to see Telli was the one that ignited the lightsaber – because of course she had one – the purple blade spinning around in a brilliant flourish, sending blaster fire back on the advancing stormtroopers.

“Go, Solo!” she shouted.  “Get this rust bucket in the air!”

Han let out a growl for the sake of his precious ship, but stormed up the ramp as soon as the last Partisan that was still alive scrambled on board, dimly aware of the twi’lek just behind.  He bolted for the cockpit, skipping the preflight check – she would be fine as long as he said she would be – and getting the Falcon up in the air in record time.

It was not until he stopped hearing the pang of blaster fire on the shields that Han felt it was safe enough to leave the Falcon to cruise, heading into the back to take in the damage.  The crew quarters had been turned into a makeshift infirmary, with Chewie tucked safely away in his bunk, and Benthic laid out in Han’s.  Ubin was hovering over him, making sure they had patched him up as best they could, while Telli hung in the doorway, a grim look on her face.

“How bad?” Han asked softly, getting the twi’lek’s attention.  She glanced over at him before she turned back, letting out a faint noise.

“He’s alive,” she replied, “but if he wasn’t already breathing through a tube, he would be now.”

Han fought back a flinch; yeah, that was… not great, and the chances of him making it were probably not that great either.

“So, what now?” he asked her, but Ubin must have heard him.  She straightened herself, squaring her shoulders, trying to make herself bigger than she actually was.

“I will lead the mission,” she stated, walking past him.  “We will continue as planned, and get our vengeance where we can.”

Han watched her back as she left, turning away once she disappeared down the hall.

“She is brave as hell, but she’s going to get everyone killed,” he said, only to have Telli let out a scoff.

“There’s a point where bravery turns into stupidity, and she’s long past it,” she pointed out.  After a moment, she sighed, pushing herself away from the doorframe.  “I’ll go attempt damage control, I guess.  Be ready to fly out.”

She left then, leaving Han frowning after her.  Geeze, where did she get off telling him what to do?  He let his shoulders slump after a moment, turning toward his co-pilot.

“Don’t tell Leia, but I really wish she was here right now,” he said, rolling himself off the doorframe to go sit next to him.  “Someone needs to stop these blaster happy idiots from shooting their own damn feet off.”

Chewie let out a woof of amusement, before rumbling out something so ridiculous that Han almost fell off the edge of the bunk.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” he demanded, only to get an indignant woof in response.  “You are delirious if you think I have any kind of shot in hell at being a leader.  I just fly the ship and collect the credits.”

Chewie let out a whining growl, grabbing his arm and giving it a shake.

“No, you fluffbucket!” he grumbled back, reaching up to shove his hand off.  “We’re partners.”

The wookiee growled back a reminder, his voice still sounding pained, but managing to slip in some irritation over Han not picking up on what he was trying to say.  He sat there in numb silence after Chewie spelled it out, not really sure how to respond.

“…oh.”

~.oOOo.~

These people were going to die.

Telli tried very hard to keep a straight face as Ubin spoke to the remaining Partisans.  She did not want to say the plan she was coming up with was bad; bad was not a strong enough word for it.  Ridiculous?  Suicidal?  Those were a few better words.  She almost wished Luke was there to get a hold of this situation.  He may have been a grandmaster of terrible ideas, but at least there was a chance of them surviving, even if it was slim.

She shifted, about to say something, anything to keep this from going completely off the rails even if she would have been ignored on account of being an outsider, when Solo appeared at her shoulder, making her jump.

“This isn’t how we’re doing this,” he announced, drawing attention to himself.  “Sorry, Ubin, but you’ve made too many bad calls in the last week.  Follow me, and the Imperials will pay, and we may even get out of here to tell tall stories about it afterwards.”

An awkward silence fell over the group, and it did not even remotely seem like anyone was taking him seriously.  Telli just stared at him, at a loss for words.  This person next to her was Solo, right?  The former Hutt slime that conned everyone he came across?  The creep whose mere mention got Luke to turn moody and grumble under his breath?

“But, you just fly the ship,” one brave Partisan spoke up, and Telli thought for certain that would be enough to get Solo to back down.  Instead, he stood a little straighter, settling his hands on his hips.

“No, I’m the Captain.”

~.oOOo.~

There was a tension in the air on the bridge of the Leviathan so thick that Luke swore he could taste it on his tongue.  He absently licked his lips as he stood in the corner he was ordered to occupy, trying not to fidget as reports came flooding in.  Was Leia okay?  Had she made it to the crawler?  Had she been stuck on the ground still when Kanchar made his attack?  He did not know; he could sense her, rather closely at that, but there was a buzzing over her presence in the Force, almost like there was an improperly tuned signal filter between them and he did not know if it was his own nerves, or Leia or someone else was trying to block him.

“Commander Kanchar,” a lieutenant began, breaking Luke out of his thoughts.  “The freighter that escaped from our assault on the Partisan stronghold is appearing on our scopes.  They seem to be approaching at ramming speed.”

Luke pursed his lips, both relieved and annoyed by that statement.  After his sister and perhaps a handful of others, that damn smuggler was the best pilot the Alliance could hope to have on a mission like this.  Of course he was going to be here, and of course he was going to have to work with him; what was one more person that grated on his nerves for this mission?

“Excellent,” Kanchar nearly purred, and Luke had to resist the urge to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time.  “They’re saving us the trouble of hunting them down.  Ready guns, fire at will once that ship is in sight.”

There was a pause as a flurry of activity started around the gunnery stations, but no blasts of firepower came.

“Sir, our guns have shut down,” the lead gunnery officer announced.  “We’ll need to reboot them.”

“Then do it, you miserable man,” Kanchar growled dangerously, and Luke fought against the urge to smile.  Leia was here with her droids.  She was okay, and whatever plan they had must have been going off on schedule.

As if to confirm that, the gunnery officer suddenly let out a gurgling noise, and Luke turned in time to see the man’s head, separated from his body, land on his station with a heavy thump.  A red beam shot through the air as another gunnery officer let out a pained death cry, before the lightsaber spun around in a tight arc, returning to its master’s hand.

“I’m going to have to ask you to belay that order, Commander,” Maul practically purred, holding out his weapon before him, ready for a fight.  Several officers backed away from the demonic-looking zabraki, unnerved by both his appearance and weapon.

Kanchar, however, merely turned and smiled.

“So nice to see so much generosity amongst the Rebels,” he sneered, hefting up his mechanical arm.  Luke cast a worried look at Kanchar, side eyeing Maul as he did so.

“Commander,” he began, “I would advise against engaging a Force user.”

Kanchar let out a scoff, activating something on his arm that had it crackling with energy.

“An ancient religion is no concern of mine,” he sneered.  “Be thankful we have no need to go hunting these fools down, commander.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia wanted to start pacing, a tight knot settling in her gut and refusing to go away.  On one monitor, she was able to watch as the Falcon easily slid into one of the docking bays on this monster crawler, Partisans pouring out and shooting anything that so much as twitched, with Han leading the charge.  She was not sure what happened that led to this, but it made her both pleased and worried at once.

On another monitor, she got to see Maul arrive on the bridge, excessively violent as always.  The plan was to have him engage Luke, to make a show of a fight that would lead to him “slipping up” and allowing Maul to escape safely.  Instead, it seemed her brother had been relegated to warming a corner, and while he was trying to step in, an older man was not allowing him, shoving him back rudely before engaging Maul himself.  Part of her wanted to say it was his funeral; after all, even if he survived against Maul, he certainly was not going to survive a report back to her father.

Still…

“If Captain Solo is coming and Master Maul is presently engaged, might we move elsewhere?” 3PO asked, fussing where he stood by R2.  “These Shu-torun machines are so tediously formal.  I much rather be anywhere else, Mistress Leia.”

Leia blew out a breath, wishing she could go running off.  Han was definitely outnumbered, and Maul was in the middle of a fight with an unknown.  Any one of those fights with her in it would help even the odds significantly.

“No, Threepio,” she replied reluctantly.  “We need to stay here and counter any reinforcement requests they try to send.  They’re relying on us.”

A flair of warning suddenly shot through the Force, and Leia snapped up her shorter blade on instinct, just in time to intercept the blaster bolt aimed at her head.  The shot went wide, splattering against something that let out an electronic hiss on impact.

“What a shame that they’ll all die if you were to turn away for just a moment,” said the woman in golden armor that had slipped into the room, keeping her blaster trained on Leia.  “I’m well aware of the pains of trying to find good staff these days.”

Chapter Text

Han hated being told the odds.  Leia’s goldenrod liked to spout them off like just knowing made him super important, and every time Han just wanted to kick him down a garbage chute.  The fight to get on board the monster vehicle was a good example of what would have been an obnoxious show of flailing and wailing that may have led to him shooting the damn droid in the head.  Not that it was not a hard fight, and the chances of him dying had been astronomically high, but he definitely did not want to know how high. 

Now it did not matter; the stormtroopers that greeted them were dead, and they were in the clear to split off and capture the bridge, while ensuring their escape was secure.  He led the bridge capture team of course, using hand signals to let the others know when to move and when to wait.  Tension was thick in the air, but not because the Partisans were resenting his leadership; a small silver lining, he supposed. Mostly, they were more preoccupied with trying not to run headlong into stormtroopers that had no idea what was going on, and were scrambling around like packs of spooked tooka cats.

When they finally got to the bridge, they surrounded the door first, Han counting off before they swarmed inside, blasters ready for a fight. 

“Hello, bridge!” he announced.  “This is a Rebel raid.  Step away from your consoles so we can drive this thing straight into the—” 

Han finally cut himself off after a moment, eyes going saucer wide as he stared around.  Everyone on the bridge was dead, either in pieces or burned beyond recognition.  Someone definitely had a party in here, and something made him grateful he had not gotten an invitation.

A groan coming from one of the fallen tapestries caught his attention, and he was mildly surprised to see a familiar head of blonde hair poking out from underneath.  He hesitated a moment, before he hurried over to help Leia’s brother, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet.  The kid had a nasty bruise forming on the side of his face, and a cut somewhere up in his hair was bleeding freely, a line of blood trickling along the path of his chin. 

“Damn, kid,” he muttered.  “What the hell happened?” 

The kid shook his head, wincing and pressing a hand to his head as he swayed unsteadily, gripping his hand a little tighter. He had to be more than a little out of it, because he was not having any issue leaning against him.

“Maul showed up; I’m guessing he was supposed to pull me off the bridge and give you a straight shot to the rest of the crew?” Luke managed to get out.  “Kanchar lost it; wanted to take out a ‘Jedi’.  Maul didn’t like that.”

Han made a face at that; yeah, he could imagine how Mr. Tiny Bad Used To Be A Sith Lord would take to being referred to as a Jedi.  Before he could say anything, the kid suddenly jerked up, yanking himself away from him.  He stared at the younger man, about to be annoyed at him for his delayed reaction when he was clearly just trying to help and not be an ass about it for once, when he became aware of a blaster starting to power up.  Han snapped around, immediately moving to stand in front of the kid as several weapons were pointed in his direction. 

“Hey, cool it!” he ordered.  “He’s one of ours!” 

“That’s Commander Skywalker,” one of them hissed, and Han saw Ubin flinch, glancing back at her comrade.  “He’s well known as Darth Vader’s right hand man.”

Han let out a faint noise; oh boy, he really did not sign up for Skywalker family drama today…

“Yeah.  Well.  That’s because—”

“Forget it, Solo,” the kid cut him off, and Han glanced back to see him glaring daggers over his shoulder.  “I don’t expect people that would murder children in an effort to curb future Imperial troops to understand.”

Han paused, about to ask what that was supposed to mean, only to want to eat his boot; right.  Benny had mentioned Saw shooting up an Imperial Academy for that specific reason.  Of course it had to be the one Leia’s bratty brother went to. 

“We don’t have time for this,” the kid continued, moving over to one of the fallen bodies, blasters trained on him the whole way.  He knelt down, riffling through pockets, before pulling out a keycard and tossing it to Han.

“Where are we moving this thing?” he asked, standing and moving toward what had to be a control podium, before motioning to its twin nearby.  Han scrambled over to it, shoving his card into the slot and grabbing the controls as Luke produced his own card to do the same.

“Straight into the crater the Death Star left behind, kid,” he answered, and he caught a grim smile come to the kid’s face as they maneuvered the massive crawler into position.  The kid spared him a glance and, with a shared nod between them, jammed the controls forward, sending the Leviathan toward its ultimate doom.

~.oOOo.~

Leia kept her hands up, her lips pursed as she stared down the barrel of the woman’s blaster.  Her gold armor identified her as Shu-torun, but she was not quite sure who she was supposed to be – she knew the War Minister was a woman, but the need to track the royalty of other planets fell off in the middle of her many other responsibilities since becoming a squadron leader and finding her place in the Alliance.  The woman seemed to know that, a confident smirk gracing her painted lips.

“Princess Leia Organa, I presume?” she asked.  “It is an honor to meet you; I am quite the fan of your work.  How unfortunate that my private security was able to track you so easily.”

“Don’t gloat, it’s tedious,” Leia replied dryly, her eyes narrowing at the woman.  What was it with people like this and their obnoxious need to brag?

She expected something witty tossed back at her, to hear some declaration of how the Rebels would never win.  Instead, the woman gave her a faint smile, her gaze flicking to some point behind her, before Leia understood, the Force quietly whispering what she needed to do.

Never mind it was not what the woman expected, as indicated by the cry she let out as Leia sucker punched her in the face. 

Her blaster went off as she fell, a perfectly aimed shot taking out the remaining camera in the room that Leia missed, hidden just behind a secondary computer.  She glanced back at it as the shards fell, letting out a breath she did not realize she was holding, before turning her attention to the woman as she struggled to stand, gold armor hindering her somewhat.  Leia hesitated a moment, before reaching down to help her up. 

“Well struck,” the woman commented.  “Was pugilism part of your education?  Most Shu-torun nobles encourage target shooting.”

“So I noticed,” Leia commented dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yes, well,” the woman continued, fingers gently probing her cheek as it already started to bruise, “given your family line, Commander Skywalker, I must confess, I expected an attack a little less direct.”

Leia narrowed her eyes, ignoring 3PO as he let out an alarmed noise in the background.

“You… know my father,” she murmured faintly, slowly starting to put two and two together.  “You’re the one that contacted the Alliance, not the Partisans.”

A small, genuine smile graced the woman’s lips.

“Indeed; Lord Vader and I agreed it was the best way for me to safely establish contact with the Rebellion, as well as put me above suspicion in the Empire,” she explained, before pressing a hand to her chest.  “Forgive my lack of manners, Commander.  I am Queen Trios of Shu-torun.  Your father was sent to place me on the throne as a puppet for the Emperor, but he has fostered and inspired me to be much more.”

Leia started at that, trying to process everything she just said.  Her… father had essentially sent this woman to bridge the gap between their groups, because… she frowned, glancing at the crawler around them.

“Are you offering something?” she asked softly, a well of hope bubbling up in her chest.

“Indeed,” Trios replied.  “In retaliation for the greed induced rebellion of my predecessors, the Empire has increased the tithe we are to fulfill, but the Emperor is unaware of our true production capabilities.”

It was a moment before a slow, happy smile worked its way onto Leia’s face.  While she questioned the need to go this far in staging the queen’s loyalty, the fact that they could readily have the resources to make a fleet sent her heart soaring.  She reached out, trying to find the dark supernova that was her father’s presence in the Force.  Jedha’s own darkness was drowning it out, but she hoped he felt her gratitude all the same. 

“It seems, Queen Trios, that you’re in need of an Alliance,” Leia finally replied, offering her hand.  Trios flashed another smile, grasping it in a tight grip.

~.oOOo.~

Maul hissed under his breath in annoyance, the blades of his lightsaber spinning about as he knocked away blow after blow from the aging commander that had dared to interrupt the duel he wanted to have with the other half of the twins.  The thought of throwing the boy around for a few minutes had been an enticing one, and he greatly disapproved of having to settle for a different opponent.

Especially since said opponent insisted on calling him a Jedi.

Maul was forced to back off as a particularly violent blow came uncomfortably close to cutting an arm off.  The large man stalked after him, the large blade extension of his prosthetic arm crackling loudly with energy through the empty corridor they had fought themselves into.  He grimaced, spinning his lightsaber into a defensive stance and stalking to the side, trying to find a way to give himself more room to maneuver.  The old Imperial seemed fine with allowing him to do that, grinning dangerously as what looked like a cannon appeared in place of his hand – because why not, apparently.

“The lightsaber is such an elegant weapon,” the man sneered, “almost feminine, even.  And the ability to reflect blaster fire makes it a formidable weapon.  Why anyone would fire one at a Jedi is beyond me.”

Maul growled, about to snap at him for continuously referring to him as a Jedi, when the impending sense of danger struck him silent.  He was throwing himself to the side, just in time to avoid the torrent of flame that emerged from his arm.  He swore violently, ducking down an adjoining hallway, slapping at a part of his tunic that had been too close to the heat.

“It’s a shame some of your kind survived!” the man shouted over the roar of the flamethrower.  “If I had any say, I would have ensured every clone trooper had been equipped with a flamethrower!”

“If you keep thinking of me as a Jedi, I’m going to take great delight in correcting you,” Maul hissed, barreling down the hall, knowing the obnoxious Imp was just behind him.

He tore out of the hallway, coming to a hanger bay blissfully devoid of troops, though there was not much around that he could make use of.  Or so he thought; on his second scan of the room, he spotted a rack of torpedoes left out on the floor, the clear marking of ion charged weaponry displayed on their sides. 

And Maul just grinned.

He ducked into an alcove, keeping his senses out for when that Imperial would come into the hanger.  He forced up his tunic, feeling around for the release on his prosthetics, before pulling it as soon as he found it.  He hissed as his lower half disconnected, using the Force to brace himself as his legs lost the power to hold him up.  With a grunt of effort, he shoved them into the alcove as best he could, before moving hand over hand toward the torpedo rack.

The Imperial emerged from the hallway just as he got to the rack.  Maul paused, barely daring to breathe, before reaching up, grabbing the lowest rung of the rack. 

“Hiding, are you?” the Imp hissed as he patrolled the hanger, trying to find him.  “Not very Jedi-like, is it?” 

“It’s fortunate I am not a Jedi, then,” Maul sneered, poking himself out from the rack to make sure the man saw him.  His one good eye snapped to him immediately, stalking toward him.  Maul allowed himself a smirk, one hand keeping him up on the rack, with his other settling on the release control for one of the torpedoes.

“Prosthetics are nice, aren’t they?” he sneered, waiting until the man was close before yanking down on the release.  The torpedo released its ion charge immediately, causing a cascading effect that led to all the other torpedoes setting off their charges as well.  The Imp stopped cold, twitching violently to the point it seemed he had more cybernetics on him than just his arm.  Maul grinned dangerously, grabbing the rack and swinging, the connecting joint of his prosthetics that was grafted onto his torso slamming into the man’s face.  The Imp went down in a heap, blood trickling from his nose as he laid still on the deck.  He stared down at the limp body, before he let out a scoff.

“Maybe next time, you’ll learn not to be so needlessly reliant on them,” he growled, before hobbling back to the alcove to collect his legs.

~.oOOo.~

Reports from Ubin and the other Partisans flew back and forth as the hulking crawler got closer to the crater, but Han was only keeping one ear on it.  His focus was on the kid, not because he did not trust him – which he totally did not, but that was not the point here – but because he could not help but worry about the brat a little.  Maybe because he was Leia’s brother, maybe because even at twenty he was still a kid – as fresh and baby faced as a draftee’s first day out of the Academy.  He could not help but wonder if the kid was older, if they would have met up, would have been friends without certain issues in the way.  Maybe; maybe they could have balanced each other out, kind of like how he and Leia were now. 

“Attention, all Imperial troops,” a feminine voice over the intercom announced, “I have regained control of the command cluster.  All troops, to the bridge.” 

The kid looked up, frowning like he recognized the voice.  A few of the Partisans glanced his way as he stepped away from the navigation controls.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he announced, turning on his heel and starting for the door out.  Han hesitated, not knowing what to say, or if he even should say anything.  It was a moment before he turned, letting out a huff as he did so.

“Hey, kid,” he began, and he was genuinely surprised when the kid actually stopped.  “We did the right thing here.  All of us.”

The kid fell silent, tensed up and waiting for a sarcastic comment that never came.  Luke finally deflated a little, glancing back at him.

“…I know,” he said softly, and for the briefest of moments, he seemed lighter, like a normal kid.  The uptight Imperial was back quickly, but Han could not help but grin, feeling like he accomplished something.

Bare minutes later, so soon after Luke left that Han was sure they ran into each other in the hall, Leia and Maul came running into the bridge.  Han offered her a lopsided grin that drew a raised eyebrow out of her, like he was being given permission to make a sarcastic comment. 

“Cutting it a little close, Leia?” he teased, getting her to roll her eyes.

“Not close enough; we could hear the troops not that far behind us.”

Right.  They still needed to get off this thing, and with troopers coming down there was no way they could all escape to the Falcon and make sure the troops did not hit the brakes on the crawler.

“You’ll need a rearguard to cover your escape and ensure the crawler falls,” Ubin was saying.  “I’ll lead them.  Go and remember us.”

Han felt himself twitch, getting really tired of her first response being suicide.  A reprimanding finger shot up into her face. 

“I’m not letting you do that,” he grumbled.  “There’s always an alternative to throwing your life away.” 

He paused a moment, his gaze turning to the massive viewport at the head of the bridge, an idea worming its way into his head.

“Leia, hold the line,” he said, motioning to Ubin.  “You’re with me; I’ve got an idea.”

He caught Leia’s eye as he started off, could see the worry that he would not make it back in time, and could only offer one of his cocky smirks, a small assurance that he had this.  Both him and Ubin were bolting down the hall in the next moment, away from the sound of dozens of approaching boots, and Han tried not to flinch as he heard the first blaster shot go off.

It did not take long for Imperial troops to catch up to the two of them as they bolted down the hallways toward the Falcon as fast as they could run, and Han forced Ubin ahead of him, just to make sure she did not do anything stupid.  She kept taking glances back anyway, trying to get in whatever shots she could at their pursuers, but Han kept pushing her forward, and very nearly shoved her up the Falcon ’s boarding ramp once they got to it.

“What are we doing?” Ubin demanded as Han bolted down the corridor to the cockpit, half dragging her along with him.  She let out a squeak as he forced her down into the copilot’s seat, stabbing him with a betrayed look as he started to pull up the ship’s systems.  “You’re not just leaving them?!”

“Pipe down,” he growled; why was it people always assumed the worst of him?!  “I need a living copilot to pull this off, so stay sharp!”

The crawler was dangerously close to the edge of the chasm by the time they brought the Falcon around to the main viewport.  He held the ship steady as Ubin grabbed control of the guns, finally catching on to what he was trying to do.  She was firing in the next moment, shards of glass crumbling away to reveal their previously trapped team, holding their own against a veritable wall of stormtroopers.  Leia was ducked down behind cover, a wide-eyed look on her face as she gazed up at them, and Han could not help but toss a cocky smirk back, not that she would have been able to see it.

“I know our piloting’s amazing, but now’s not the time to catch flies,” he announced over the outside speaker, angling the Falcon so people could jump onto the open loading ramp.  “Get moving!”

It did not take long for the Partisans to start moving at that, and the stormtroopers – now with a clearer view of the crawler’s inevitable demise – made a break for it, with only a few taking potshots at their retreating backs.  Leia was the last one on, of course, making sure everyone was on safely before jumping onto the ramp just as Han was forced to pull the Falcon away when the crawler started to tip.  He flew off as the front started to fall, dipping below the rim of the chasm.  The rest of it was quick to follow, segment by segment, with few ships retreating from the doomed craft, and Han found himself peering out, not relaxing until he spotted the needle-like shape of the kid’s modified Corvette- class ship.

“Looks like your brother made it,” Han said as he heard Leia come into the cockpit, turning just in time to have his face grabbed and a kiss plopped generously on his lips.  He could feel his face burning as she pulled away, and could see Ubin being absolutely careful not to look at either of them, as if that were enough to give them privacy.

“Nice work on your command, Captain,” Leia said, the hint of a playful tease in her voice just making Han’s face burn hotter.

“H-hey, don’t get used to it,” he stammered out.  “Command isn’t my style.”

~.oOOo.~

Luke had a carefully impassive look on his face as he watched Kanchar wake up, his flesh and blood hand immediately trying to move toward his head, no doubt trying to rub away the headache he likely had, if the massive bruising on his face was any indication.  His hand did not get very far, however, but for the moment, he seemed too dazed to realize exactly why.  He was together enough to shoot Luke a glare with his one eye, and he forced his expression to remain as passive as it currently was.

“Congratulations on surviving against a Force user, Commander,” he began.  “So few normal servicemen can say they did the same.  I’m sure Lord Vader will be interested in how you managed to do so.”

Kanchar’s face twisted into a snarl as he moved to stand… only to come up short.  From the look on his face, he quickly realized several things at once.  The first being the reason he had not been able to move before was because his flesh and blood hand was cuffed to the bunk, and the second was that his prosthetic had been removed.  That he was further strapped down to the bunk he was resting on, bonds carefully arranged to ensure he could not get enough purchase to use his strength to escape, followed immediately after, leading to the odious man sputtering in indignation.

“I’m sure he’ll also be interested to know why you left your post, Commander, and in doing so, allowed a continental-class crawler under the ownership of the Shu-torun nobility to fall to a Rebellion attack.” 

Kanchar paused at that, his words settling in his head, and his eye slowly widened as he realized they were no longer on the Leviathan.  Luke allowed himself a small, pleased smile then, not at all trying to hide how much he would enjoy what was coming next.

“I promise you, commander,” he began, his tone casually pleasant, “I will be very thorough in my report.”

Luke turned on his heel, ignoring the sputtered protests coming from the commander as he made his way out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him, before nodding to the stormtroopers on guard.  There were not enough words for how grateful he was that this mission was over, and he managed to keep himself from showing it as he made his way to the cockpit, intent on dropping off the survivors and making a beeline back to the safety and familiarity of the Executor.

“Commander, a word?”

Luke bit back a sigh; it looked like he would not be doing that just yet.  He turned, inclining his head politely to Trios as she approached with Aiolin in tow.

“Hopefully not a private word, your highness,” he replied, a note of caution in his voice.  “I’m afraid my ship is too full for such things at the moment.” 

She laughed faintly, shaking her head.  “I only wished to thank you for coming to my rescue.  So unfortunate the Rebels got away.” 

He allowed himself a faint breath at that; he had sensed his sister leave the crawler safely, but hearing confirmation of that helped, if only because he could not immediately run to where she was.

“I’m certain we’ll get them next time, your highness,” he replied.  “They can’t run from the Empire for long.”

Trios let out a soft, contemplative hum, the look on her face the kind that usually was followed with a question.  She did not say anything, however; instead she offered him her hand, which Luke politely kissed.

“I hope we will see more of each other in the future, Commander,” she began, “without the worry of traitorous forces interrupting us.” 

An uncomfortable sensation crept up Luke’s spine, vaguely reminiscent of the last time he had been in the Emperor’s presence.  It was not as… violating, but as Trios held his gaze, for a mere moment, he felt less like a human being and more like a prize set out for someone to win.  He managed to keep himself from squirming, at a loss as to what he was supposed to be a prize for, before excusing himself as politely as he could, immediately ducking into the cockpit, closing and locking the door behind him.  DV swiveled his head toward him from where he was plugged into the navigation terminal, booping out a question.

“No, that’s okay, DV; you can keep flying,” he replied, before letting out a heavy sigh, thumping his head back against the door.  He was silent for a moment, his thoughts wandering in circles, before finally coming around to a point:  “Hard to see the dark in the darkness, hunh…”

DV booped at that, rocking slightly on his legs.

“Oh… nothing,” he replied.  “Just… starting to wonder if our allies are really our allies.”

~.oOOo.~

Maul was leaning against one of the Falcon’s landing struts, watching as Leia and Benthic said their goodbyes.  They had done an impressive amount of work here, to the point where he was fairly certain the Empire would not be returning to this place.  Not only that, but even with the devastating losses Shu-torun’s planetary wreckers had caused, the people here had hope again.  It was a step in the right direction, even though it had been a difficult one to make. 

And, as for him…

Maul glanced up, around the ship, where dying Jedha continued to shed tears of its mantle.  The holy moon would never recover, but that was not necessarily a bad thing.  All things of the past eventually broke apart and needed to be laid to rest.  Jedha’s time would come in his lifetime, and his own past… his own past he could lay to rest as well, taking with it the fear and hate he held for so long.

Now, he truly felt like his chains were broken. 

“Maul?” Ubin’s voice broke him out of his reverie, and he turned a curious gaze down to her.  “I wanted to thank you again, for everything you did to help us.  And Chulco…” 

She trailed off a moment, taking a deep breath, before she plowed on.

“You gave Chulco his belief back,” she blurted out.  “Not in a way he expected, I think, but… I think in the end, he was happy to know his beliefs weren’t meaningless.”

Maul nodded solemnly, still feeling the regret from not being able to help Chulco through his own darkness, but he knew that, too, would heal in time.  Ubin hesitated a moment, before reaching for a hug he gladly reciprocated.

“Your beliefs are not meaningless either,” he replied as they pulled away.  “Just remember you need to be alive to share them.”

She ducked away, a sheepish look on her face, before she said her goodbyes and joined the rest of the Partisans as they made use of the shelter they made on NaJedha.  Leia was soon to take her place, sliding up to his side to lean against him, with Han following not that far behind, coming to lean against a landing strut.

“Are we done here?” he asked, though it was Han that spoke up.

“We better be,” he groused.  “I have sand in places I didn’t think sand could get into.”

A vaguely amused, almost sly smile came to Leia’s face at that.

“Oh, you’re not going to like where we’re going next then,” she began.  “Word came in from High Command; we need to rendezvous with Admiral Ackbar over Mon Cala to assist him in securing his people’s aid.”

Han let out a despairing groan.  Mon Cala was a water world for the most part, and what few land masses existed were either dangerously rocky, or covered in sandy beaches.  Maul could not help but smirk as the smuggler smacked a hand to his forehead.

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it,” he mused.  “Perhaps I could take some time to work on my tan.”

Han slowly turned a withering death glare toward him as Leia very nearly fell over in a fit of giggles.

Chapter Text

To say it took ages for Luke to get to the point where he was satisfied with his choices for squad members was a bit of an understatement.  He wanted his squad to be perfect right from the start, so that no one would question why he was getting preferential treatment from Darth Vader, and also why he was permitted to allow non-humans on his team.  It was to the point where he settled on an undersized squad for now, determined that everyone on Black Squadron would be the best the entire Empire — maybe even the whole galaxy — had to offer.

So, naturally, their current mission had them stranded with no easy way off planet.

The first mission they had as a squad was supposed to be an easy one: fly in to this planet in the middle of nowhere, take out a group of pirates masquerading as Rebels, and go home proud of their success.  Their intel had missed one, very crucial detail, however: the pirates had a surface to space ion cannon, and they were lured right into its path.  The only reason they had not been picked off was Luke’s quick thinking, using the Force to hurdle their ships into the atmosphere, betting on the pirates thinking they burned up or were killed in the resulting crashes.  Thankfully, Black Squadron TIEs were better built than the normal ships, but everyone’s ships were still unflyable as a result, and Luke himself had worked himself to the point he knocked himself out.

It was why they were in their current predicament, huddled around a campfire in the middle of the woods, nursing various injuries and bruised egos.  Moral was low and Luke, feeling wholly inexperienced at the moment, had no idea how to improve it.

“Al’ight, ye’ lot,” Jax, an Ardennian former smuggler, suddenly spoke up, looking like he startled a few of the others out of their self loathing. “I say we do sommit productive.”

He paused, squinting over the fire at each of the others in turn, before his eyes settled on Luke.  He tilted his head questioningly, especially as Jax snapped the fingers on two of his four hands.

“I kno’!” he declared, waving another hand toward Luke, “Why dinnah we share ho’we got roped inte joinin’ this team because ‘o ‘im.”

Tula let out a rude noise, absently turning a ration on a stick over the fire.

“Not all of us needed to be dragged kicking and screaming, Jax,” she stated.  She paused a moment, testing the ration with her fingers, before taking a bite.  “I bullied my way in.”

“Same, sort of,” Mercy replied, showing a grin full of sharp teeth.

“When you weren’t trying to run away from us, you mean,” Celena replied, looking vaguely amused.  Mercy gave her an indignant look, but did not get the chance to comment as Anya pipped up.

“Rescued!” she said happily, bouncing slightly and looking pleased at being able to follow the conversation.  Jax looked between the four of them, not looking all that surprised over Celena offering nothing on the topic herself, before he let out a put upon sigh.

“Your reasonin’s cannah be all that borin’!” he exclaimed, unable to keep the dismay from his voice.

“I’m sure your story is just full of excitement,” said Iden Versio, one of the two career Imperial navy men on the squad.  She gave the alien a severe look, as if challenging him to come up with some ludicrous story.

“As a matter ‘o fact, it is!” Jack replied, folding one set of arms over his chest, as the other set waved exaggeratingly.  “So it all start’d deep in th’ outer rim, y’see…”

It was supposed to be a routine job: pick up the cargo at location A and drop it off at location B.  It was the same work he had been doing every day since taking command of The Raven, and he planned on this run being just like any other.  He had not expected the early drop out of hyperspace, let alone the bang of something hitting the shields, loud enough to wake him up from a dead sleep.

“Dammit, Seesohtoo!” he snapped, both sets of hands flailing over the console before him.  “Why dinnah you wake meh—”

He was cut off by another bang, followed by a TIE fighter flying past the cockpit.  A number of swears in his home language escaped from his mouth as he reached for the coms switch, currently blinking with a number of missed messages, no doubt from the Star Destroyer hovering behind him.

“Ach, ‘ello there, Imperial Star Destroy’a!” he called into the mic, hoping he sounded more friendly than he felt at the moment.  “Noh need for violence.  Ye’ jus’ caught meh snoozin’ is all!”

A stern voice replied after a too-long heartbeat, “Unidentified vessel, scans indicate you are carrying illegal materials.  You are to power down and prepare for boarding.”

“Like heel ye’ picked up meh cargo,” Jax growled under his breath.  The Raven had excellent scan proof cargo containers; there was no way in hell they had picked up what he was smuggling.

“Ach, ye’ gonna hafta give me a moment, lad,” he said into the com, “Yeh attack caused a’ we bit o’ problem in the power lines.”

He ignored the com when the demand to power down was repeated, instead focusing on checking his shields and weapons systems.  The shields had taken one hell of a beating while he was snoozing, but nothing had made it through as far as he could tell.  He quickly rerouted power into the shields, and an electronic squeal of surprise came from somewhere behind him as the gravity turned off.

“Well, ye’ shoulda woke meh up when we came outta hyperspace too soon,” he snapped back to his droid, too focused on what he was doing to really look at what the contraption was doing.  “Better latch yerself to sommat.”

That was the only warning Jax gave before he forced the ship into a downward spiral, evading the blaster fire with ease.  He may have been the type of smuggler to snooze between stops, but he was by no means a slouch in the cockpit.  His four arms did the work of two people, steering the ship while returning fire, angling deflector shields while calculating the jump to lightspeed.  He already knew there was no way the typical rank and file Imperial bootlicker could keep up with him.

So it was nothing short of surprising when he realized a TIE with angled wings was matching him turn for turn.

“Eh… an ace, ehhh…” he muttered, drawing the words out as a grin spread across his face.  He would take that challenge.

He readjusted power, putting a little more umph in the thrusters as he ducked and weaved, trying to shake the TIE off like it was a bug that landed on him.  The TIE clung tight to his tail, only firing warning shots when they had a clear shot to do so.  It made Jax grumble under his breath; count on him to find the one Imp that was actually good at his job.

“All righ’, yeh askin’ for it,” he groused, before shouting, “Seesotoo, get yeh mettle arse up ‘ere!”

A grumbled beep answered him, before his trusty droid trundled into the cockpit.  He was something he built himself; the shell of an old R2-series droid, C-S02 had the brains of the best navigation and combat droids packed into him.  No one certainly expected an unassuming droid to pull a blaster on them, nor would they expect one to be able to fly and navigate in the same processing moment.  He was proud of his little contraption, even if he acted like he had a few screws loose sometimes.

“Take over; time teh get rid ‘o th’ mynock behind us,” Jax said.

C-S02 let out a chirp as he maneuvered over to his spot, clamping his leg treads in before jacking into the ship’s control cluster.  It responded to the droid immediately, and Jax abandoned his seat, leaving it to look like the ship was flying itself to anyone that got close enough to the cockpit.  He floated to the back of the ship, heading down into the lower blaster turret to take matters into his own hands.

Secure in his seat, Jax swiveled the gun around, top set of arms making micro adjustments while the bottom set gripped the controls.  He waited, eyes narrowed, on edge and ready to spring the moment he saw an angled wing…

“Got’cha!” he whooped as he started firing, blasts hitting the ship dead on, waiting for the ship to explode…

…only to see his shots splatter harmlessly before reaching metal.

“Shielded?!” he growled, swinging around to follow it.  It did not look like it even had a scratch, and he let out another annoyed noise when he fired again and got the same result.  Whoever was on his tail was important on top of being an ace pilot, and that just was not fair, especially as the pilot continued to loop in and out of his sights, teasing him into taking another shot.

“Why yeh—!”

That was as far as he got, as all of a sudden the pilot maneuvered his ship away.  Before he could wonder what was going on, a bang shook the ship hard, nearly making him hit his head on the firing console.  A sheepish beep came from over the internal coms the next moment, and Jax almost threw his headset off.

“Wot d’yeh mean they heard’d yeh in’ta a tractor beam?!” He demanded.  He pushed himself out of the seat in the next moment, floating back to the cockpit, only to see the Star Destroyer looming ever closer, his precious ship moving toward it against her will.

“Feck!” Jax snarled, pounding one of his fists angrily on C-S02’s dome, getting a beep of protest from the droid.

“...’n once on board, His Not-So-Royalness used his powers ‘o persuasion ta talk me inta joining up,” Jax finished, looking only slightly sour at that.

“Let me guess,” Iden began, a slight smile breaking through her severe expression. “‘Join Black Squadron or go to jail’.”

“Bingo.”

A round of laughter went through the group, and Luke could only smile and shrug slightly.

“I have to give the commander credit where it’s due,” Iden continued once the laughter died down.  “If he wasn’t a remotely good negotiator, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Absolutely out of the question!”

Iden paused outside the door to her father’s quarters on the Star Destroyer Eviscerator, having been summoned there by the man himself to discuss something important.  She hesitated before the door; she was invited, but it still felt like eavesdropping to just listen as a calm voice responded to her father’s outrage.

“This is why I wished to discuss this with your daughter present, Admiral Versio,” a voice she did not recognise said.  “Her and Agent Meeko have the best track record on land and space out of anyone in the Empire.”

“Precisely why she deserves her own command,” her father hissed back in clar irritation.  “She deserves to thrive on her own, not languish behind someone else.”

There was a pause, before the other voice responded, “‘Languish’?  Are you implying my command doesn’t allow for individuals to come into their own, Admiral?”

“With all due respect, Commander, you already have two aliens on your team,” her father bit back.  “They alone will—”

“They alone have more experience and skill in a cockpit than any one TIE fighter squad,” the calm voice interrupted, though there was a slight edge to it now.  “Black Squadron demands the best of the best, hence why we are not limited to just human pilots.”

Black Squadron; Lord Vader’s personal squad was something spoken of in hushed whispers of awe among pilots.  You had to be beyond skilled to even be considered, and maybe a little crazy to even get your foot in the door.  If he was talking to a commander, then it had to be Luke Skywalker, a living legend in the Empire.  She never met the man, never even seen a holo of him, but she still felt the need to straighten her uniform and brush off invisible lint, before finally announcing her arrival and entering the room.

The young man with a youthful face and shining blue eyes was far from what she expected as Lord Vader’s squadron commander, to the point she almost tripped on the way in.  She maintained her composure through sheer force of will, snapping off a salute to both men.

“Agent Versio, reporting as ordered.”

“At ease, Agent,” her father replied, and she did not miss the sidelong look Commander Skywalker gave him as she settled into parade rest, almost like he expected him to treat him like a daughter first and an agent of the Empire second.

“This is Commander Skywalker, of Black Squadron,” her father continued.  “He wishes to recruit you.”

“It’s an honor, sir,” she replied, only to be met with a genuinely gentle smile that threw her off.

“The choice is yours, of course,” he began, like her father was not the one that had any say in the matter.  “I know you and Agent Meeko are set to start Inferno Squad, but I would be remiss if I didn’t at least try to recruit someone with your talents.”

“You flatter me, sir,” she replied, but internally she felt the desire to scream in delight.  Even if Skywalker was not even remotely like any other commander she had come across, the fact that she was skilled enough to get Black Squadron attention was enough for her.  She wanted to jump at the opportunity to say yes, but as both her commanding officer and her father, it was ultimately his choice, despite what Skywalker seemed to believe.

Her father glanced at her, and he must have been able to see the excitement she was doing her best to bury, as he let out a stressed sounding sigh in the next moment.

“Must it be both Versio and Meeko, commander?”

“Yes,” Skywalker replied.  “The two of them are a matched set; they both thrive when they can work off each other.”

Iden was not sure how Skywalker came to that conclusion, but it made some sort of sense.  Meeko was always at her side when it came to missions, now that she thought about it.  They really did seem to work together; plus it would be nice to be side by side with another human that she knew.

Her father glanced at her again, before letting out an irritated sigh.

“Far be it from me to deny my daughter an opportunity just because of my own misgivings,” he said, and Iden found herself shifting slightly in surprise.  It had been years since her father had spoken of her by anything other than her rank.  They were professionals of the Empire; things such as family got in the way of doing what needed to be done in order to serve.  As he held her gaze a moment longer, however, she truly felt like this was the decision of a father that wanted the best for his daughter, rather than an Admiral that wanted to hold onto an asset.

“Very well, Commander.  Agents Versio and Meeko are yours.”

“He didn’t need that much convincing,” Del Meeko pointed out, poking at the fire with a stick.  “He saw you were excited and couldn’t say no to you.”

Iden shrugged slightly, sparing Meeko a small smile that Luke could not help but notice.  He smothered a smile of his own, before his senses suddenly lit up with warning.  He motioned to the others, glancing to the trees behind him, only to see everyone had gone into hiding in that brief time.

“Hello?” he called out.  “Is anyone there?”

He felt the danger coming behind him before the blaster was pressed against the back of his head.

“Don’t move, blondie,” a voice growled.

“I’m not moving,” Luke said, even as he raised his empty hands.  “Look how still I am.”

“Not still enough,” the voice growled, pressing the blaster harder against the back of his head.  “Now why don’t you—”

That was as far as he got before he let out a choking noise, the blaster pulling away from Luke’s head.  He took his time standing up, brushing off his flight suit, before turning to see a man with mottled skin clawing at the whip around his neck.  Anya was behind him, holding on tight as she beamed.

“Got you!” she exclaimed happily.

“Good work, Anya,” Luke said, before giving the man a pleasant smile that did not reach his eyes. “Now, why don’t you tell me where your fake Rebel base is?”

It only took a little encouragement from Anya before the pirate was spilling everything they needed to know.  Said base was a smoldering crater within the hour, and their extraction not long after that.

As their troop transport hit the upper atmosphere, Luke looked back on his little squadron with pride, feeling like things were finally ready to start taking big strides in the right direction.

Chapter Text

The Rebellion base at Mako-Ta was alight with a well deserved celebration.

With the resources provided by Queen Trios of Shu-torun and the mercantile fleet provided by Mon Cala after the entire planet rebelled against their Imperial overlords, the Rebel Alliance had a true fleet now, one that could actually stand against the Empire.  Members of High Command — many of them former senators — were mingling with high ranking officers, enjoying champagne and discussing future plans, where their funding could go next, and how the future seemed just a little more hopeful now.  It was a grand affair, but most had not dressed for it; many officers were still in uniform, while High Command members wore their planets’ equivalent of casual wear.

Even still, Luke and his Imperial uniform stuck out like a sore thumb.

He ignored the stares he was getting, instead pushing his way to the viewport where the new fleet was laid out before them in the void of space, hulls burning bright from the light of the system’s sun.  Leia was there, and the moment he called for his sister, she stopped her conversation with Mon Mothma, practically jumping on him when he was close enough.

“Oh Leia, you should have heard the reports coming in when Mon Cala defected!” he exclaimed, hugging her tight.  “I’ve never heard so many angry voices screaming at once.”

Leia was practically beaming as she pulled away.  “I can’t wait to see how angry they’ll be once the fleet that served as merchants comes back to attack them.”

Luke returned her smile, hard pressed to fight against her enthusiasm.  He turned his attention to Mon then, offering her a formal bow.

“Mon Mothma,” he began as Leia moved on from her spot, going to where Queen Trios was standing by the viewport like a wallflower.  “It’s an honor to finally meet face to face.”

“You flatter me with such formality, Commander Skywalker,” Mon returned, a warm smile on her face.  “I assure you, Imperial etiquette is not necessary here.”

Luke let out a faint chuckle as he straightened.  “Forgive me; some habits just can’t be broken.”

He paused for a moment, glancing to where Leia and Trios were.  The two women looked like they were deep in discussion, so he opted to keep his focus on Mon.

“My father sends his congratulations as well,” he began, hoping such sincerity would not be taken poorly.  “The Alliance has sorely needed real warships for some time.”

Mon’s expression softened, as if she were remembering something from a time long past.

“Congratulations from a military man as revered as Anakin Skywalker is a welcome gift,” she said softly, before she turned her gaze to the viewport.  “Ah, look, Commander; a show you’re sure to enjoy is about to begin.”

Luke followed her gaze curiously, watching a squadron of x-wings fly in formation outside.  They split apart, and streams of color began to pour from the rear of the fighters.  Streaks of pink, blue, and green filled space as the ships danced through the void, and Luke could not help but grin broadly; the Empire would never celebrate like this.  Everything was too rigid, even in get togethers like this one, to allow for such splashes of color.  When this was all over, he would make sure that was the first thing that changed.

“Biggs is having far too much fun out there,” Leia said, suddenly appearing at his shoulder.  She pointed out the x-wing that had a blue streak following behind it, spiraling as the ship rolled.

“I’m surprised you're not out there with them,” he replied, nudging her playfully, drawing a small laugh out of her.

“I wanted to, but I wanted to see the commencement first hand more,” she began, before excusing herself, raising the arm that had a com unit strapped to it.  “I think we’re ready for action, General Dodonna.  Better pull my guys in before they get too showy.”

“Acknowledged, Leia,” came a voice he did not recognize, and Luke watched a bit mournfully as the x-wings retreated to one of the bigger ships.  One of these days, he was going to ask Leia for a spin in one of those, just to experience what it felt like.

Confirmations came through that ships were ready for the commencement ceremony, and Leia gave the signal for Mon Mothma to begin her speech, before retreating back with Luke.

“You never told me how you were able to convince the Mon Calamari to rebel,” he whispered softly, the both of them keeping their focus on Mon so as not to miss Leia’s cue.  “I thought they were too afraid to rise against the Empire.”

“They were,” Leia replied.  “We were able to speak with King Lee-Char, who rallied his people.” She paused, a pained look coming to her face.  “He died in the attempt.  He was already dying, but…”

She trailed off, and Luke found himself frowning slightly.

“How did you get the prison codes to see the king?” he asked.

“Oh, Trios was able to get those for us.”

Alarm bells immediately went off in Luke’s head.  Those were codes even he did not have easy access to.  How could Trios have…?

A cold feeling of foreboding settled in his gut, and he opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late.  Leia was already giving the command to begin the dispersal to hyperspace, where the fleet would break up into four separate groups and hide in designated sectors so it would be harder for the Empire to find them.  A very pregnant pause passed as nothing happened outside the viewport, and the gathered members of the Alliance started to murmur amongst themselves in concern.

“What’s wrong, Leia?” Mon asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Leia replied, glancing at Luke in worry, the same dread he was feeling mirrored on her face.  She tried to raise the ships outside multiple times, only to be met with silence.  Luke was more preoccupied with the crowd, trying to find Trios, but she was already gone.

“We’ve been set up,” he murmured softly, only to suddenly inhale sharply as a familiar icy cold presence appeared, coming from outside…

…coming from the familiar Star Destroyers that just appeared before the Alliance fleet.

“It’s a trap.”

There were many sensations around that were enjoyable to Emperor Palpatine at the moment.  Chief among them was the rage coming from his deluded apprentice.  Oh, he hid it well enough, redirected it toward something else, but he knew Vader well enough by now.  The man had been seething the moment he co-opted his precious “Death Squadron” for his “little” surprise; a plan he had set in motion months ago to assure the demise of the pitiful Rebellion.  Vader’s anger increased by the moment, and he knew the true reason why:

He was as utterly helpless as the insects before him.

“Hold, Admiral Ozzel,” he ordered, a smile leering out from beneath his hooded cloak.  “Give them time to understand the gravity of their situation.”

“What the hell is he doing here?!”

Maul could not keep back the outburst at the familiar presence, looming over him like the Star Destroyers outside were looming over the Alliance fleet.  He turned a look over to Hera, her own dread on her face, a look he had not seen her make since Kanan died.  He grit his teeth, determined to make his former master eat his own teeth for doing this.

“Call down to fighter bay two,” he ordered one of the com techs, “have them prep the Scimitar for battle.”

“I can’t,” the twi’lek responded before he could go running out the bridge doors.  “Internal coms are down too.”

“We can’t launch anything,” another announced.  “The bay doors… they won’t open.”

A prevailing sense of fear filled the bridge, and Maul found himself turning to Hera again.  Her expression was disturbingly blank, as if the dread she was feeling had robbed her of the ability to show just how terrified she was.

“Coms, artillery batteries, hyperspace and propulsion engines; all down,” she murmured, a hand pressing against her forehead.  “And now we can’t even launch fighters.”

She turned to the viewport, and the angular Star Destroyers that pierced through the void before them.

“All that work… just to become target practice.”

The sneering smile on Palpatine’s face grew all the more pleased.  The Rebels had been afraid before, but now?  Now the hopelessness had settled in.  Now they knew they were nothing more than broken toys for him to destroy at his leisure.

“The nearest cruiser, Admiral.  Destroy it.”

Trios was taking her time making it back to her ship.  After all, the Rebels would have enough to worry about right now; she was but a footnote in the catastrophe they had on their hands.

At least, she wanted to be a mere footnote.

She thought she would feel shame over her actions.  After all, she had convinced Vader that she was supplying the Rebellion with parts and materials to help them.  She had deliberately sacrificed her own people to sell the con, and she had even sold off an entire planet just for this moment.  But as she paused by a view window, as she watched one of the ships the Rebels had been so proud of get ripped to shreds by the Executor’ s turbolaser batteries, she felt nothing at all.

She did this.

She did all of this.

And she could not find it in her heart to feel ashamed.

Terror.

It ran through the pitiful Rebellion like wildfire, and Palpatine drank it in, basking in it like it was a warm morning glow.  Now the Rebellion understood just how insignificant they all were, and nothing could save them now.

“The next target, Your Excellency?”

“It matters not, Admiral,” he replied, well aware of the stressed creak of metal as his apprentice balled his hands into fists.  “Fire at will, but be sure to destroy them one at a time.

“Let them know that their hope dies here.”

Leia was going to murder Trios.

She did not think she had ever been this angry before.  She believed in her, trusted her with all the help she had provided; had assured Mon Mothma and all of High Command that she was someone that could make the Rebellion thrive.  Now, as she stormed down the docking hall with a lightsaber in each hand, she wanted nothing more than to tear the woman’s throat out.

“Get ready!” she shouted to the company of troops that came with her, and they crouched down, shields and blasters at the ready, as she stabbed both lightsaber blades into the airlock.  With three swift slices she had a molten edged door cut into the lock, and one good shove from the Force had it blowing open.

Blaster fire answered her rude entrance almost immediately, but she was ready.  Her blades spun as she countered, dimly aware of the blaster fire from her own troops and the third lightsaber coming to life near her.  All she could focus on was marching through the opposition to get to Trios.  She had to pay for what she did.

They made it to the bridge, only to encounter more troops, but Leia was too laser focused to bother with them.  All she needed to see was the flicker of a white and blue dress, and she was storming through the middle of battle, casually flicking her lightsaber up when a blast came too close.  She stalked after Trios, breaking out into a run to make sure she would catch up to her.

“Stop, traitor!”

To her surprise, Trios did stop… only to close the airlock to the escape pod she entered.

“I suppose this is a good thing,” Trios said.  “We get to say goodbye.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Leia bellowed, stabbing both lightsabers into the door.  As soon as they touched whatever metal the airlock was made from, the blades immediately shut off, not even leaving a mark behind.

Great.

“Why betray us, Trios?” she demanded, pounding a fist uselessly on the door.  “Why sabotage the whole fleet?!”

“Oh Leia,” she began.  “I told your brother once that your father was a good teacher.  From him, I learned not to make such a hubristic mistake, putting vain idealism above the lives of my people.  That is how one survives when the Emperor himself comes to call on your services.”

She leaned away from the escape pod window, as if to make certain Leia could see the pleased smile on her face.

“Shu-torun will never become another Alderaan.  Today, I ensured that.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Leia snarled, but she soon found herself glaring at empty vacuum as Trios ejected the pod.

They were sitting ducks.

Biggs always thought that was a weird phrase, mostly because he grew up not knowing what a duck was, at least until he went off of Tatooine for the first time.  Sure, ducks looked like they were sitting on the water, but they were not helpless, at least, not as helpless as they were at the moment.

General Dodonna was down with them in the main fighter bay, trying to help dock control get the bay doors open.  From his vantage point, the screens looked like they were still filled with too much red, meaning they were not having any luck.

“Look!” Wedge’s friend, Hobby, suddenly exclaimed.  Biggs turned to see him and Zev, one of the older pilots in Rogue Squadron, huddled close to one of the viewports, watching as another one of their new ships went up in quickly dispersing flames.  “That’s going to be us next.  We gotta do something!”

Zev did not look as determined as Hobbie; rather he looked more like a leaf in a hurricane about to fly off his branch.

“That’s going to be us next,” he murmured.  “It’s like we’re being culled.  I-I feel like a farm animal.”

Biggs reached over, planting a firm hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him.

“Keep it together, man,” he said. “We survived the Death Star, we’re gonna survive this.  I bet our princess already has a crazy plan in her head.”

Biggs managed to hold back a grimace as the ship started to shake from blaster fire.  Leia better not make a liar out of him…

Luke was huddled with General Draven and his slicer team before one of the stations on the Shu-torun vessel, watching as they tried to get the ship’s system to cough up the information they desperately needed to get the fleet mobile, when he sensed Leia was coming back.  He looked up just as she appeared, and could tell just from the look on her face that Trios got away.  He made a face, clenching his fists; he had a bad feeling after Jedha.  If he had just acted on it then…!

“General Draven, please tell me you’ve found something we can use,” Leia said as she joined them.

“We’re still slicing the Shu-torun databank,” Draven replied, his focus still on the screens before them.  “Not much yet outside of what we already knew.  The only crucial system on our ships that are still live are the shields, only because we didn’t let Shu-torun tech anywhere near them.”

He pulled his gaze away from the screens then, turning to her.

“There is one small thing,” he continued.  “We can’t directly control the bay doors, but as long as a ship broadcasting Rebel codes approaches, the proximity alerts will still work.”

Luke felt himself sag slightly in relief.  Finally, some good news.

“So we fly a ship at the doors, they’ll open,” he said.  He did not have any of his usual ships with him; they were too identifiable, and neither of them had Rebel codes installed for obvious reasons.  “Do we have any fighters here?”

“No,” Leia replied grimly, “only shuttles.  Even with one of us flying, it will take a miracle to make it through.”

“And the two of you shouldn’t have to risk yourselves on a chance,” a man spoke up behind them.  Luke recognized him from his wanted posters: Bandwin, a skilled pilot from the days of the Clone Wars, now one of those responsible for training the pilots of the Rebellion.  “I’ll go.  I’m the best chance after the two of you.”

Luke opened his mouth, ready to protest that they would be at just as much risk staying on Mako-Ta, but Leia rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him cold.

“Do what you can, Bandwin,” she said, nodding as the man hurried off.  Luke stared at her, about to ask what she was thinking, before he clamped his mouth shut.  Regret was clear on her face, knowing she had just sent a man off to his potential death… only because if something that needed a true miracle came up, they were the only ones that could pull it off.

They were the last line of defense, before hope truly perished.

Chapter Text

By the time they made it back to the main audience hall where all of High Command was still huddled together, Bandwin was dead.

Leia stared out the viewport at the explosive cloud of debris that was his shuttle, an overwhelming sense of dread filling her.  The Force itself felt like it was drowning in fear, coming from everyone around her and the ships beyond; fully staffed war vessels all filled with people waiting to die, and there was so little they could do.

“We have to do it again,” she murmured as the explosion vanished into a small, sparkling cloud of metal.  She felt her brother’s eyes on her, his own dread palpable.  Her focus turned to him, about to tell him that she was going out here, when her com chirped with the first message she got since this nightmare began.

“Hello?” a familiar prim voice began.  “This is See-Threepio, protocol droid in service to Commander Skywalker and company.  Can anyone hear us?”

Leia felt her heart leap into her throat.  3PO had gone off with Han earlier to barter for some information to benefit the Alliance.  If the droid was contacting her… she rushed to the window, hoping to see the familiar sight of the Millenium Falcon, but she could not find it; wherever they were, they were too far off for her to see unassisted.

“Threepio, am I glad to hear you,” she finally answered.  “Is Han there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Han’s gruff voice answered.  “What the hell is going on?”

Leia took a deep breath, before laying it all out for him: how Trios betrayed them, how the ships were all crippled with no way of contacting them, how she could feel the Emperor was there, probably supervising this whole attack.  Han was silent a moment after she finished, and she could picture him sharing a look with Chewie, before he finally spoke:

“What do you need me to do?”

Leia smiled softly, a warm feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“The manual control for the docking doors may be sealed, but the proximity sensors should still work,” she explained.  “If you fly at them broadcasting Rebellion codes, they should open.”

“‘Should’, hunh?” Han echoed.

“If I may say,” 3PO cut in, “the odds of this succeeding are four thousand, seventy—”

“Can it, gold dome,” Han snapped, and Leia had to bite back a laugh. “We’re on it, princess, hang tight…”

“...and hope they don’t blow us up.”

Han cut the coms then, gripping the controls so hard his knuckles turned white.  This was not exactly the homecoming he had been hoping for; he had hoped to make it back in time to see the x-wing lightshow, maybe get a little kiss from Leia for a job well done with very little fuss.  Diving headfirst into a squad of Star Destroyers gunning down their broken fleet was definitely no on his to do list.

“The things I do for that woman,” he muttered, before letting out a breath.  “Chewie, get on the top turret.  Goldy, you’re on shields.”

“Sir, I’m skilled in six million forms of communication,” the droid began to protest, but he still took Chewie’s seat as the wookiee vacated it, “but I am not programmed in shield management.”

“Well, here’s some good motivation to learn!” Han replied, diving toward the nearest Star Destroyer.  “Just keep them up and balanced.”

With any luck, the droid would not need to do much.  Getting as close as he was planning to the Star Destroyer’s turbolaser batteries would make them hard to track, with the Falcon being faster and more mobile.  He dove in once he had confirmation from Chewie he was ready, deftly weaving around turbolaser fire as the wookiee shot back, destroying two of them before a set of TIE fighters appeared to chase them off.  It was exactly what he had been hoping for; with fighters on his tail, there was no chance of one of the big ships firing on him while he ran for one of the Rebel ships, lest they accidentally hit one of their own guys.

At least, he hoped they would not fire on their own ships.

Vader wanted to strangle someone.

He had been so proud of his daughter and her mission at Mon Cala.  It had not been an easy task and he knew it, having been involved in the imprisonment of King Lee-Char ages ago.  But it was his daughter that tried to free him, his daughter that brought his message to his people, and his daughter that rallied the Mon Calamari mercantile fleet into a fighting force.

Now he had to tear it all down, all because of the filth standing before him, smiling in utter glee.

“Your Excellency,” Ozzel began, “a light vessel is active in the area.  We’re having difficulty hitting it with turbolasers, but TIE fighters are engaged.”

As if on cue, a familiar saucer-like junkheap of a ship buzzed by the bridge, causing Ozzel to reflexively duck in alarm.  The Emperor remained standing upright, unperturbed, and Vader did not need to see his face to know he was still smiling.

“Why, Lord Vader,” he began, “that looks like the ship that attacked you over the Death Star.”

Vader turned without comment, grateful for any excuse to get off of the bridge and away from his hateful master.

Even if it meant he had to kill Han Solo.

Once they were far enough away from the Star Destroyers, Chewie started firing back at the TIE fighters.  One went down easy, but the second one was proving to be a pest, hovering just out of reach of the turret gun.  Han flipped the Falcon in retaliation, giving Chewie a clear shot the wookiee was more than happy to take.

“Good shooting, Chewie,” he crowed over the com.  They had only a few seconds before turbolaser fire started coming their way, and he dived for the nearest Alliance ship, determined to make every second count—!

A massive hit to their rear suddenly sent the Falcon careening end over end, leaving Han clinging desperately to the controls.  The rear stabilizers were burning from that hit, forcing him to switch to manual in order to pull his precious ship out of the death spiral it was heading into.

“Oh no! We’re doomed!” 3PO wailed, though Han ignored him in favor of what Chewie was growling over the com.

“Yeah, they came out of nowhere,” he agreed.  “Who the hell can fly like that?”

Chewie’s answering growl was the opposite of what he wanted to hear right now.

“Alright, let’s not panic,” he replied, before he let out a breath, muttering to himself, “Why would I panic? It’s only Darth Vader.”

And if good ol’ Dad Skywalker had no choice but to play by the Emperor’s rules, they were well and truly screwed.

“Sir, I believe by your demeanor, you are somewhat panicked,” 3PO pointed out.

“Shut it, Goldy,” he snapped back.  “Chewie, get back down here, you’re not going to hit him.”

He sent the Falcon diving and twisting, trying to make it to the nearest Rebel ship.  Vader was tight on his hail, refusing to let them go.  The only advantage they had right now was speed, and he lined up with one of the bay doors on the closest ship, gunning it as Chewie appeared in the cockpit, letting out an alarmed growl.

“I know trying to land at this speed is dangerous,” Han snapped.  “You wanna know what’s even more dangerous? Being out here with Darth Vader!”

He turned his focus entirely on flying, ignoring the shouts that missiles were on their tail, ignoring as Chewie bodily lifted 3PO from his seat so he could take over.  Just… had to land…!

No, the missiles were too close!

He pulled up at the last minute, just barely missing the missiles, but still close enough they lit up his rear.  That, and with the Falcon scraping along the hull of the Alliance ship, they were in bad shape.  The Falcon was sent careening again, giving them all a good view of one of the other ships going up in flames, expelling escape pods as it did so.  They also got to see the TIE fighters launch, picking off pod after pod until there were none left.

“Oh, those poor people…” 3PO murmured.

“Yeah…” Han agreed.  The Emperor was really out to make sure they were all space dust…

Wait.

“I have an idea,” he began.  “Chewie, get the professor into the escape pod!”

3PO let out a wail of protest as he was picked up again, but Han ignored it, aiming for the fire cloud the exploded ship left behind, even as Vader scored another hit on the Falcon ’s rear.  He ignored it, keeping a tight grip on the controls as he weaved through shrapnel and bodies, putting some distance between them and Vader.  He let out a woop once they made it through the other side, but celebrating was short lived; they had one shot at this and they needed to make it count.  A growl came over the coms that 3POwas secure in the pod, and Han angled the Falcon so the pod would have a clear shot at the nearest ship…

…and fired!

Wedge’s fist slammed helplessly against the view window, silently conveying how they all felt.  Vader was tearing up the Falcon, and there was not a damn thing any of them could do to help.  Biggs wanted to scream, to jump out an airlock with a blaster; it would not do any good, but at least he would be doing something.

A beep suddenly came from behind him, and he turned in time to see Leia’s R2 unit trundling toward an airlock.  Biggs frowned at his strange behavior, watching as the droid jacked into the lock, opening the door…

…to reveal 3PO?!

Well, part of him, anyway; the droid had somehow lost his legs.  Biggs found himself racing over, picking the droid up.

“How in the hell did you get here, Threepio?”

“Oh, Master Biggs, it was awful!” the droid wailed.  “Master Chewbacca shoved me into a pod and fired it as a projectile!  It crashed on the surface, and I had to crawl to the airlock!  This is not in my programming at all!”

Biggs paused, turning a confused look back to the other pilots.

“Okay…” he began.  “Why would he do that?”

“Oh… oh, yes!” 3PO said.  “No doubt Captain Solo wished for me to inform you that the bay doors will open if you simply fly at them.  The fail-safes should still be active!”

Biggs stared, utterly gobsmacked.  Just fly at the doors; no one would have thought to do something that crazy after the manual release failed!

He set 3PO back on the ground, running for his ship in the next moment, shouting for the others to do the same.  It was not until after he breezed through the preflight check that he heard an objection to what they were doing.

“Darklighter, stand down!” General Dodonna’s voice came over the com.

“General,” he replied.  “Han Solo got a message through.  The bay doors will open if we fly at them.  There’s no time to waste!”

“Perhaps they will, but we need to test first,” the general warned.

“Understood; testing the doors now,” Biggs shot back, lifting his ship off of the deck.

“That is not what I—!”

Biggs ignored the com, flying straight for the doors.  His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, and as he got closer he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping against hope that he was not about to become a splatter against the doors…!

His own droid let out an excited beep, and Biggs flung his eyes open to see the welcome vastness of space before him.

He made it.

“All Rogues, with me!” he called into the com.  “Time to spread the word to the rest of the fleet!”

Dodonna’s ship had launched fighters, and had gotten the word out to the other ships.  They were all deployed now, and Luke would have felt relief if it were not for the fact that Death Squadron had also launched all fighters.  Black Squadron would not launch without him, and he knew Tula would come up with every excuse not to, but it would not be long before it drew unwanted attention.

“General Draven,” one of the techs announced, “I’m in Trios’ files.”

Leia, Draven, and Mon Mothma all crowded around the tech, barely giving Luke enough room to squeeze in next to his sister.

“There is an override code.  If we can input it into a cruiser, the systems will reboot.  The code isn’t in her files, though.”

“Where is it, then?” Leia asked.

“One moment,” the tech replied, typing away, before their expression fell.  “It’s… on the Imperial flagship, the Executor.”

Luke let out a frustrated noise.  “Bad enough the Emperor is forcing us into this situation, now he has to make it look like this was all our idea!”

“And how are we sure it wasn’t?”

Luke felt his blood run cold as he pulled his attention away from the screen, leveling a hard gaze on Draven.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Skywalker,” the general shot back.  “Awfully convenient, you can just ‘sense’ the Emperor here.”