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Chapter Text

Prologue

The droid tried to warn him. “Master Luke, you’re standing on—” But somehow the self-proclaimed Jedi couldn’t sense the huge underfed predator prowling beneath his feet. The look on his face as the ground gave way beneath him. Mostly confusion, actually. The other dancers knew exactly what it meant and scrambled to get away, as usual. The key was to stay under Jabba’s radar, which I had managed so far.

The Gamorrean knew what was happening too. Lucky for Skywalker the rancor was distracted for another minute with starting with that particularly tasty appetizer.  I mean, who doesn’t like bacon? The Jedi, on the other hand, would likely be stringy by comparison.

Watching the rancor eat the Gamorrean, realization dawned on Skywalker’s face that he was in mortal danger. He was unarmed, of course. The Gamorreans or Fortuna would have taken anything he was stupid enough to bring in with him. He’d been wearing a lightsaber in that obsequious holo he’d sent with the two “gift” droids. (They were obviously advance scouts.) I filed a mental note to investigate the confiscated weapons armory. Another lightsaber could come in quite handy.

Meanwhile, Skywalker had jammed the rancor’s jaw open with the bone of a past victim. That was a first. Only effective for a few seconds, of course. I gave him points for creativity. It prolonged his life for another minute to find a place to hide. That was not a first at all. The rancor had pried other victims out of that same hole.

He made a break for it, then picked something up. A skull? Even as my heart pounded, I wanted to laugh out loud. The rancor would not even feel that. Could he not see how thick her hide was? Was this alleged Jedi not that bright? This was the guy Vader had a bounty on? This guy was my primary target? But he didn’t throw the skull at the rancor. He threw it at the door controlsright as the rancor’s head crossed the threshold, bringing the durasteel barrier’s teeth into the top of her head. Even the rancor’s skull was not thick enough to stop that. She lay still. Silence fell. Could she really be…dead?

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. The rest of the crowd was as shocked as I was. Jabba was enraged at losing one of his favorite entertainments. So he proceeded to the next one, the Sarlacc. I’d not seen it yet myself but had heard the rumors. No way Skywalker was going to defeat it with a fortunately aimed skull. Still, he stood there brashly making threats and cracking jokes with his buddy Solo. Honestly, you’d think he’d just killed a whole herd of rancors with the testosterone rolling off this guy.

But with the suns setting he would spend a night in Jabba’s dungeon to cool off and anticipate meeting the Sarlacc with his friends. He’d grown up nearby — he must have known all about Carkoon. Odds were good he would not be nearly so smug in the morning.

I felt drawn to check out the dungeon cell where they’d put him, just to see. Did they realize he could probably open the door, not to mention any chains, with the Force? If he really was a Jedi. If the whole thing wasn’t a grand bluff.

No one else had ever beaten the rancor, though. And it did look as if he’d summoned a blaster into his hand from several feet away, before his unfortunate drop through the floor. Maybe he really was a Jedi? Was that why the Emperor wanted him eliminated? Could he truly be a threat?

Chapter 1

Guards dragged Luke Skywalker out of the rancor’s pit and back in front of Jabba, who was still nearly speechless from the shocking display. The Hutt recovered quickly though, and issued a stream of threats about his next favorite pet, the Sarlacc. Skywalker struggled with the Gamorreans, but just for show.  

They chained his hands.

In person, he was different than Mara expected. She had expected the boldness, the brashness, and the boasting. But there was…something else. A calm that wasn’t consistent with an insurrectionist. An earnestness that didn’t quite befit a terrorist. She compared these impressions with past memories, flicking through quick glimpses and close encounters. He was not predictable from one appearance to the next, which made him all the more dangerous.

She found herself drawn to the tunnels that wound through the dungeon cells. The throne room had been noisy and crowded. She needed a quiet moment to study him. To decode this newest incarnation and solve its puzzle. Perhaps she could find the key that would allow her to return to her master in triumph to report she had eliminated him. He would be so pleased. He would laugh that rich, deep laugh, and call her “child”, and she would glory in his approval.

“Well hello there, dancer, are you lost?” She was startled from her daydreams and cursed. 

She’d allowed herself to be surprised by some spiced up lackey of Jabba’s who leered at her now even as his eyes could not quite focus. He came too close, pawing at her.  “Let me show you the way out of here.”

She circled his wrist with her hand, firmly pulling it away from her.

“Oh no thank you, I like it down here,” she purred. His other hand slipped behind her, seeking to grab a handful. She brought her knee up sharply between his legs. He grunted, swore, and fell back. As she turned, he managed to get one massive hand around her wrist and jerk backwards, spinning her. A fist caught her in the stomach, driving up toward her ribs and smacking her spine against the wall.

Abandoning her cover for a moment, she fought with the skills she’d been taught, using her flexibility and speed to counter his sheer size. She drew a small vibroblade from an ankle scabbard and held it behind her, waiting for her angle. He swung again for her face and landed a glancing blow on her cheekbone. With his arm extended, she took the opportunity to drive the vibroblade into the opposite side of his neck, as deeply as she could. He roared and stumbled, finally turning to flee, the knife still stuck in him.

She breathed heavily, angry she’d lost her knife. Angry at herself because she’d not noticed his approach. Angry at that terrorist down the hall who had distracted her so much. She limped down the hall to the self-proclaimed Jedi’s cell. She sunk down, tentatively reaching to her scuffed cheek, finding a bleeding abrasion. She took inventory of the rest of her. No head wounds, that was good. The cheek, bruising to a lower rib, various aches and pains. It was impossible to tell if the pain in her stomach was from the punch or from hunger. Jabba liked to keep his staff underfed.

She should heal quickly with no permanent damage. She sighed, closing her eyes. She breathed in the quiet. She focused on the space beyond the wall at her back. He must be asleep. Or perhaps just quietly contemplating his fate. She’d seen a Gamorrean following the guards carrying chains, the kind they used to secure a prisoner’s feet to a ring on the wall. She imagined him inside, his hands bound and chained. Again she mused that the restraints would be no match for a powerful user of the Force. If he was a Jedi, and permitted the chains for show, he was biding his time until he could throw them off. The simple though strong locks in the dungeon shouldn’t be too much of an obstacle either.

He hadn’t been wearing the lightsaber as he had in that ridiculous holo. A quick sneak into the armory had not revealed it either. Had Fortuna confiscated it and hidden it elsewhere? Or had Skywalker been smart enough to smuggle it inside somehow — perhaps sent ahead with an undercover guard or…those droids. That “gift”. She scoffed aloud. No one would think to search them, she was willing to bet.

She sharpened her focus on his cell and pictured it in her mind. She knew she was just imagining, but somehow being here, just on the other side of a wall that held him, was as close to satisfying her curiosity as she could get. For now. Who was he this time? Most importantly, could she kill him this time?

She saw him lying on the low bench that served as a bed in the cramped cells. His black outfit would be rumpled and dirty and possibly torn from the day’s adventures. All black on Tatooine — that was rich. And he was a native too. What was he trying to declare with that? That as a Jedi he could now transcend bodily discomfort like heat? It would be handy for him if he could, as being chained would get uncomfortable several hours in. In her mind’s eye, he breathed evenly, eyes closed in sleep. Dreaming of his escape? Dreaming of whatever plan he had to get himself and his team extracted?

Could the Jedi claim be just a bluff? Sure, he had killed the rancor, and that was extraordinary. But throwing a skull at the door controls didn’t require the Force—just decent aim and good timing. What if he was just a man on the other side of that wall? Chained and locked up and banking on his military experience and mission plan and a bit of luck to get out alive. Just a man asleep.

If he really couldn’t use the Force, it simplified her job immensely. Even if he could, it didn’t make him untouchable. She had the advantage of surprise; he did not know about her. If she found those droids, she could search them for that lightsaber, which he might know how to use even without the Force. She imagined the look on his face when he discovered his hidden weapon was gone. She grinned in the darkness.

Luke slowly swam up to consciousness, blinking his eyes and breathing deeply. As he had for the last few months, he reached out instinctively with the Force for his surroundings. Physically, they were dark, and cold, and hard. His hands were bound to a ring in the wall. He was lying on a bench.

In the Force he sensed someone nearby, just outside the door to his cell. He would expect a Gamorrean, but was surprised to find a human sense. A woman. She was standing up as if to leave. Not knowing why, he wanted to stop her. He shifted from his sleeping position, sitting up and crossing his legs.

“Are you here to rescue me?” he called out, just loudly enough for her to hear.

The woman hesitated, then made a sort of scoffing sound. “No, I’m afraid you’re on your own for that.” 

She turned to start back up the hall.

“Then why did you come here? Just looking for a quiet place to sit?” he stalled. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know why she would sit outside his cell, and then walk away when he tried to engage her.

“Something like that,” she replied, but she had stopped moving at least. “They say you killed a rancor with your bare hands.”

He smiled, just slightly. “And you wanted to know who would do such a thing.”

“They say you popped its head like a smashfruit and ate its brains.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything they say.” He shook his head.

“So you can’t tell me how rancor brains taste?” she asked. She was teasing him now? Taunting?

“Afraid not. Not that I’d want to. Would you?” His face twisted in disgust, contemplating eating rancor brain.

“That would depend entirely on how hungry I was at the time,” she replied, and he could feel then that she was hungry. He grimaced, regretting the privileged assumption that she had a reliable food supply. Maybe Jabba underfed his people. If she was one of his people. But if she wasn’t, what was she doing here? Who was she?

“I’m Luke,” he volunteered.

Another scoff. But she was leaning back against the wall now. “No kidding. I know who you are. I’m not telling you my name. Nice try, though.”

Why not? he wondered. He reached to the Force, looking for the right thing to say. Sometimes it was helpful that way. She’d come here out of curiosity.

“What else are you curious about?”

“Why come in undercover? Why not blast in with overwhelming firepower to take out as many of Jabba’s people as necessary, grab your friend in carbonite and run? You’ve got the team. You’ve got the firepower. But not the will to use it.”

Luke absorbed this. She wanted to know about his extraction strategy? What the…. He reached to the Force again.

“Is that what you would do?” he asked. He managed to keep the confusion out of his voice.

“Unless there were too many friendlies at risk. But the only friends you have here are the rest of your team,” she replied. “You can’t be worried about Jabba’s people? There are no innocents here, trust me. There were way more innocents on that battle station and you weren’t worried about them. It’s a little late now to get squeamish.”

Battle station. She hadn’t called it the Death Star, she called it a battle station. Imperial, then? Undercover? An informant? A double agent? Telling him that they knew he was here. Shavit. It had always been a risk that the Empire would find out about this mission. It didn’t change the plan—get in and out with Han with as little collateral damage as possible. No matter who’s shooting at you.

He wanted to defend himself about destroying millions of lives on the Death Star without a second thought. But that might scare her off. He focused.

 “You work for Jabba?” He tried gamely.

“Now who’s curious?” she mocked. “You haven’t answered my question yet. Why not just come in and kill everyone in sight til you have Solo and run?”

“Well, that would include people like you, wouldn’t it? Why do that?”

“To achieve your objective,” she said as if she thought he was an idiot. “Besides, you don’t know if I’d kill you first, given the chance,” she growled softly, almost to herself.

His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened at this. 

“Would you?” he asked, betraying more surprise than he intended.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

An assassin? Who liked to play head games before killing their targets?

 “Coming in with overwhelming force is messy and risky. Even if every being killed in collateral damage was guilty of something terrible, we’d make a whole lot more enemies. And if Jabba were smart, he’d use Han as a shield before we could get that far—coming in hard and fast makes a lot of noise. And there would be innocent collateral damage — there are plenty of slaves here.”

She grunted at that last, and he knew he had scored a point. So she did have sympathy for slaves, at the very least. And possibly rancors.

“See, that’s the problem in the first place. You were taught to be self-righteous and superior because you’re making a better choice, when really it just means you refuse to use all the tools at your disposal. It’s not about right or wrong or moral superiority, it’s just about getting the job done. There’s nothing wrong with using power.”

“That’s what you were taught?” Luke’s eyebrows arched at this. Was she talking about Force philosophy or more generally? Could she be Sith? Her sense felt nothing like his father’s, the only Sith he’d been in the same room with.

“Yes, and what my experience has confirmed. I’ve seen the use of….all levels of power. Sometimes it was effective, other times not. Just a tool to be selected when the time is right. To ignore it is intentionally choosing to be weak.” Her voice twisted in disgust on the last word.

Luke pursed his lips as he considered this. He could easily imagine Ben and Yoda’s energetic objections to this.  Would it do any good to object? Would it make her angry? Scare her off? How far did her honest curiosity extend? What if he met it with his own curiosity?

“So if the use of overwhelming power resulted in more collateral damage, say more slaves were killed that way than using an undercover approach, which tool is more effective, would you say?”

“If the undercover approach results in capture and not recovering your friend the carbonite brick, it is ineffective.” She laughed.

“But if both approaches result in recovering Han with fewer lives lost — our people, Jabba’s people, slaves, whoever — how do you judge which is more effective?”

“If both achieve the objective, they are equally effective. Minimizing collateral damage is all well and good but not a planning criteria. You plan with the approach that gives the highest probability of achieving the objective. Period.”

Cold. Sharp. Dark. He felt all this in her response and searched for words.

“Don’t pretend you’re shocked. First of all, you killed millions of innocent souls on that battle station without a second thought. Second, Jabba’s slaves would be better off dead. You’d be doing them a favor. And you know that.”

Now he was shocked. What did she know about slavery on Tatooine? What did she know about planning operations? What did she know about him?

He sank into the feeling of her sense. It was exhausted, hungry…desperate?

“Do you need help?” he heard himself ask.

A sardonic laugh came back at this. Even though it was sarcastic, he liked the sound of it. She didn’t make a move to leave. In fact, she had sunk back into a sitting position against the wall. “Well, that’s rich. From ‘have you come to rescue me’ to ‘do you need help’ in the space of one conversation.”

He was supposed to be offended by this observation but he was not. “That’s not an answer,” he observed.

“You can’t help me, Skywalker. No one can,” she said.

The despair in this statement pierced his heart.

She stood and brushed herself off.

“Wait!” he called out. He couldn’t let her go yet.

She froze, then rolled her eyes at herself for the reaction. “Just…watch yourself,” she advised softly. “Jabba’s not your only enemy here.”

“What am I looking for?” Luke asked.

She sighed. “There’s a human woman mixing drinks. Dark hair, light skin, taller than your princess, shorter than you. If she’s on the barge, she’ll be looking for her opportunity.” 

Her voice was so low he strained to hear her.  “She may realize you were wearing a lightsaber in that holo and could have hidden it here somewhere.”

Luke’s blood froze. If the lightsaber he’d hidden in Artoo was discovered and removed, he might not be able to get his friends out of this. Not that Artoo would give it up without a fight. The thought of losing Artoo and his lightsaber made him grind his teeth in frustration. Should he break out of the cell now and try to find Artoo to retrieve his weapon? “She may realize” the woman had said. She authentically didn’t know this other woman’s plans. Which would imply they were not working together? But at least one was aware of the other.

He heard her footsteps retreat back along the corridor. It felt as if something important were slipping from his grasp.

Who was this woman who had come to check him out, just out of “curiosity,” and ended up warning him about yet another enemy? She had been in turn mocking, judgemental, and hopeless. He reran the conversation in his head multiple times before giving up. He did not have enough information nor insight from the Force to figure it out. He decided against breaking out of his cell for the night. The layout of Jabba’s palace was too uncertain and the dark too penetrating to risk it. He would have to trust the Force and in his own abilities to use it to cope with this latest development. That had better be enough.

Chapter Text

A couch, or possibly a bed, nestled in a cove of the main room of Kenobi’s home. Mara sank down, breathing deeply. She was confident she hadn’t been followed, but all the same, she reached out as far as she could to sense any sentient presence nearby. She found none.

A sob rose in her throat. As always, she bit it back down. But it rose again, and she was too exhausted to maintain control. Her shoulders sagged as the sobs overcame her, and she stopped resisting. She was alone. There was no one to judge her weakness, her failure. If any spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi lingered in this space, he could keep his opinions to himself.

She had survived once again. She lived to consider what she had done right and what she had done wrong. She had not killed Skywalker. She still could not return to her master triumphantly. She had realized this particular assassination might not matter as much to the Emperor as she had thought before. For some time, Skywalker had been an auxilliary target. Take him out if she had the opportunity, but only in the pursuit of her primary mission at the time. 

Her last failure to kill him had been a detour after accomplishing her primary goal. That failure had become an obssession for her. If she had returned to her Master without volunteering anything about her failed attempt, he might never have asked. Even now, if she could create a clever enough cover story for her absence, he might forgive her and assign her a new mission. He had sent another to Jabba’s; the failure to get Skywalker there was that agent’s — not Mara’s. Perhaps she could go back. Perhaps.

Do you need help? Mara shook her head. Chained and imprisoned, Skywalker had offered her help. What kind of idiot was he? So different from the last time she’d seen him. He was calm and collected. What kind of game was he playing? And why had she played at all? She should have walked away. Before he’d said one word. As soon as she felt the first wisp of his waking consciousness, she should have beaten a path out of there before he’d even noticed. 

Rookie mistake. And then actually responding to his first question. Giving him control. Stupid stupid stupid. If her master ever found out about that conversation, she would be executed instantly. She’d revealed the Empire knew he was there. That there was an agent there to assassinate him. That Mara knew his lightsaber was hidden onsite somewhere. She may as well have stolen the keys and let him out of the cell. 

She had helped him. Helped him. Was she a Rebel now? Should she just switch sides? She laughed aloud at this. That was rich. 

And what had he made of her? Did he think she was a spy? A double agent? A third party serving her own unknown interests? 

Was she serving her own interests? Was she on her own side now? She’d served her master for so long, thinking of the Empire as “her side” for so many years. Was the Empire on her side? Was the Emperor? She used to believe he’d held…an affection for her, at least. But she now suspected it only lasted as far as her usefulness did.

She sank into a restless sleep. Hours later she rose from the couch and prowled around the place still exhausted but uneasy. It was a familiar feeling. In some ways, it felt like a constant companion. 

She opened cabinets, rifled through drawers, and looked under furniture. She was good and finding and analyzing information. Kenobi’s name had always been mentioned in whispers, like a ghost. It had to be somebody’s fault that Skywalker was the way he was. Perhaps Kenobi was the key.

And then she felt a presence—him. 

She instantly reinforced her shields and realized she may have been just a moment too late. She was getting lax, she scolded herself and needed to keep her shields stronger at all times. She looked around the room. He would be familiar with the layout, of course.

She considered hiding and discarded it quickly. Hiding was already getting old, though she’d probably just begun. Might at well get this over with.

Luke was exhausted. The fight out of Jabba’s had been hot, dirty, and more improvised than he would have liked. Fortunately, Artoo still had his lightsaber when he needed it. The warning about the bartender was either a lie or mistaken—according to Leia, the bartender was a male Twi’lek slave. 

He climbed toward Ben Kenobi’s old hut, craving its coolness and the rest he could take there. Just for a second, he felt a flash of something in the Force. Something difficult to define. It was gone before he could examine it. He raised his eyes to the hut, scanning. Seeing nothing with the bare eye, he raised his binocs for a closer look. All was still.

He approached carefully with renewed alertness. He entered the front door and stopped, listening. Someone else was there. Not that he could see or hear but feel in the Force. Barely. The mystery woman who had sat outside his cell. Their conversation had been so strange he’d wondered later if he could have dreamt it, of maybe he’d been slipped a drug by Jabba’s people that made him hallucinate. She was real after all. Why was she at Ben’s old place? 

As he entered the home, he stopped, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. He moved slowly, lightly, through the space, letting the onslaught of memories slide off his senses while he maintained readiness.

He found her in the front room, crouching on the couch that doubled as a bed, back toward the wall, a weapon in each hand. Her left hand held a vibroblade, and her right hand gripped a lightsaber hilt. A lightsaber. Was she Sith after all? 

As he stepped over the threshold, she ignited the lightsaber and a purple blade came to bear. The light of her saber illuminated her face. She was as pretty as he’d imagined. 

Luke inhaled deeply and suppressed a sigh just as deep. He did not want to fight today. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fight this woman at all. He found his lightsaber in his hand but did not activate it. 

He tried to think of what to say.

To her, Skywalker looked tired and dirty and battle worn but relatively uninjured. He had gotten out of that cell, escaped a Sarlacc, and likely rescued all his friends. His plan had worked. Or they’d improvised. The smug Rebels were all annoyingly good at improvising their way out of dangerous situations.

“Was your lightsaber in the astromech or the protocol droid?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“The astromech,” he said. “Fortunately for me, it was still there when I needed it.” He couldn’t resist adding, “The bartender wasn’t human, or a woman.”

She nodded. She already knew that. “She made me. I had to take care of it.”

Luke felt exhaustion threatening to overtake him. He sat, just inside the door. His saber was still in his dueling hand, and he was confident he could still react if she sprang at him. But he was also increasingly confident she wouldn’t. Though she was difficult to read in the Force, all he sensed was uncertainty and possibly fear. And that same despair she had voiced before.  

Her stance was defensive. For now.

“If you’re here, does that mean the Sarlacc is dead?” she asked.

“The Sarlacc is fine. Well-fed, in fact. Jabba, however, is dead. Along with everyone on the barge and the guards on the two skiffs.”

She considered this. Jabba was dead. Many had tried over the years and failed to take out the crime lord. But now that he had interfered with Luke Skywalker and Friends, he was dead. “You lose anybody?”

He shook his head. “Minor injuries. We were lucky.” He kept his injured hand turned away from her so the seared synthflesh and exposed wire didn’t show. She didn’t need to know everything.

“Lucky,” she scoffed. She had not expected false modesty, nor charm. At this point she did not know what to expect.

“The man who lived here felt the same way — used to say there was no such thing as luck. Are you curious about him too?”

“Maybe.”  Maybe Kenobi wasn’t the key, after all.

“You know, I’m too tired to play games today,” he sighed. “Who are you and what do you want?”

His lightsaber was off. It was still in his hand and she was sure he could strike whenever he chose. “My name wouldn’t mean anything to you.” It was true. “And I just want….” She stopped short. What did she want?

“What do you want from me?” Luke clarified.

“Well, if you were dead that would solve a lot of my problems,” Mara replied wryly. If he had died in the Sarlacc, she could have returned to the Emperor with the triumphant news that Skywalker was no longer a threat, and resumed working for him as his Hand. She could have gotten her life back. 

But once again Skywalker had survived when he should have died. She could spring, right from where she was, attack with the saber and then follow with the vibroblade. She’d either get her life back or die in the attempt. She should attack. 

But she knew she would not. Not because she was afraid. Well, she was afraid. But not of Luke Skywalker injuring her. Or of Luke Skywalker killing her. She was afraid she would discover she’d made some very poor decisions. And been mistaken about a great many things.

He laughed. “Yeah, a lot of beings would prefer me dead. Yet here I am.” He kept careful watch on the lightsaber and vibroblade for any changes. He monitored her body language for signs of an imminent attack. He monitored the Force for any warnings. No warnings came.

“Who do you work for?” he asked her.

“No one.” That was just the trouble. She was on her own now. “My turn. Why did Kenobi hide here? Was it to train you?”

Luke shook his head. “He lived here for years but never trained me until I ran off to join the Rebellion. He came with me and started showing me how to use a lightsaber.” He gazed at the new saber in his hand, that he’d built himself in this same place just days before. The lightsaber that Ben had shown him how to use was lost, along with his right hand, on Bespin. And now the prosthetic was injured, wires visible where skin should be. 

“So he just dragged you off to the Rebellion one day? Why?” A line  in her forehead descended between her brows. The resulting expression was distracting.

The silence stretched on as memories enveloped him. Those brows rose expectantly.

Luke returned to the moment. “We got a distress call.” Luke considered what he could say without risking anyone’s safety. The events were history, and much of it was already known. “I didn’t want to go with him at first but stormtroopers burned down my family’s farm and murdered my aunt and uncle.” His voice took on an unintended edge. Lars and Beru didn’t deserve what had happened to them. “After that, there was nothing to stay for.”

“Looking for the stolen plans,” she said, mostly to herself, her eyes cast down, thinking. The information leak had ultimately led the farmboy across the room from her to blow up the entire station with a pair of torpedoes.

Luke grunted. 

“Which they knew nothing about. They were collateral damage.” He looked up at her and she met his eyes. He still missed Beru and Owen, especially here.

“That was stupid.” She shook her head. “They shouldn’t have killed them.”

He shrugged. “That’s what overwhelming force will get you.” His logical side was appalled that he was antagonizing the doubly armed woman. For all he knew, she could have had more training than he did. It was possible she could kill him whenever he chose. Still he felt convinced she would not strike first.

“New enemies,” she murmured. “Dangerous ones.” Her eyes remained on his. 

He surveyed the lightsaber and vibroblade in her hands. “I’m not particularly interested in being dangerous today.” 

She considered this. Slowly laying down the vibroblade, she shifted to a sitting position cross-legged on the bed. They both looked into the purple light of the saber. 

“If I shut this down, I won’t be able to see,” she pointed out.

The corners of Luke’s mouth curved up. He closed his eyes and focused on the light switch on the opposite wall. In his exhaustion, it took more effort than it should have, but a moment later, with a quiet sound, a dim light came on, flickering slightly.

For just a moment, the woman’s sense seemed…envious? But then vanished again behind a well-maintained shield. She was experienced at hiding her feelings from Force users.

“Are you Sith? Or training with a Sith?” his brow furrowed.

She laughed. “No, I’m not…like you,” she replied. 

What does that mean? He wondered.

“Was Kenobi the only one who trained you?” she asked next.

“Try again,” Luke responded. He would not reveal anything about Yoda’s whereabouts or even his existence. Luke was overdue to return to the dimunitive Master as it was. He had questions for Yoda he needed answers to.

She considered. “You really think the use of some power is … morally inferior? You think it’s wrong?”

“Yes,” he replied. He considered leaving it at that but yearned to have an actual conversation with her instead of this turn-by-turn interrogation. “Using the dark side of the Force out of fear or anger or hatred leads to suffering. Innocent lives lost. It’s wrong.”

She made a sound. Almost a scoff but not quite. As if she tried to scoff at this but could not. The mention of Owen and Beru’s murder still felt palpable in the air.

“Who was your last employer?” he tried gamely.

“You’ve figured that out by now,” she replied. He felt her tears before he could see them.

“How can I help?” In a way, it was the only question that mattered.

She made another sound — this one as if she wanted to sob but would not permit herself. “I said—”

“I don’t accept that no one can,” he interrupted.

“Well, learn to accept it,” she growled, and with that, she hopped off the seat and stood.

“Am I free to go?” she asked.

He was taken aback by her admission that she was his prisoner if he so chose. 

“From ‘I haven’t decided if I’m going to kill you’ to ‘Am I free to go’ in the space of one day?” he smiled. The corners of her lips twitched at the reference to their previous conversation. She gazed at him with raised eyebrows.

“Any other advice?” he queried.

Her eyebrows arched. “Even though the bartender was neither human nor a woman?” 

Luke shrugged.

She shook her head. “I don’t know anything current enough to be helpful.”

“I doubt that.” Luke closed his eyes and shook his head.

“You’re playing with fire. You and your friends don’t seem to get that. He’s always ahead of you. You’ll never surprise him. If you ever think you have him, you don’t. He just wants you to think he does.”

“Palpatine? I don’t think he’s quite that omnipotent,” Luke scoffed at her.

She scoffed back, imitating his sound. “Oh, right, that explains why you’re winning. How you were able to hold Hoth so easily,” she mocked. “How you were able to prevent your friend from being handed over to the Hutt.”

He opened his eyes. She’d struck a nerve. “That was not Palpatine!” he snapped. Han and Leia were the bait in a trap set for him. By his very own father.

“Wasn’t it?” she looked at him, wide-eyed, feigning innocence. She sighed and shook her head, her features settling back into the scowl he’d seen several times now. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you don’t even realize what you’re dealing with. You can’t take anything at face value. You always have to assume you’re looking at a carefully constructed illusion. He’s been perfecting this technique for years.”

Luke pressed his lips together. For someone who had apparently left the Empire, this mystery woman still believed the brainwashing they had applied. There didn’t seem much point in arguing Palpatine’s competency with her. Especially as he had asked her advice in the first place.

“Okaaaaaay, I will keep that in mind.”

She shrugged. “Fine. Keep underestimating him. You’ll learn the hard way if you have to. If you live to.”

“How would we use that advice, anyway?” he replied in exhausted frustration, knowing he shouldn’t engage. “If we assume what we’re seeing is an illusion, what can we plan for?”

“Yes, exactly, now you’re getting it,” she nodded and brought her hands together in a small, silent, rapid gesture of applause.

He grunted, his frustration growing. He breathed and focused on centering himself to allow the emotion to bleed away. 

She wanted to leave. He felt as if she was slipping through his fingers again.

“Hold on,” he said. He stepped into the next room and rummaged for a moment, then returned with a small piece of flimsi. He held it out. “Contact me here when you decide how I can help.”

She rolled her eyes, but stepped forward and took it from him. He held it a fraction longer than necessary, and their eyes met. Hers were the same shade of green he had imagined when he’d listened to her voice outside his cell. His were more startlingly blue than she had expected.

He let go, and she tucked the flimsi into a pocket. She nodded as she passed him, and left the room. He heard the front door slide open and shut, and her presence in the Force receded as she got farther away.

Luke crossed to the couch and sank down, grateful to be able to rest at last. He inhaled deeply and her faint scent filled him. It reminded him of lavender and warm spices. He fell asleep smiling.

Luke and Leia sat, leaning against the low wall behind them, listening to their friends and comrades planning the most exciting op of the war so far. A shot at the Emperor! 

Unbidden, the mystery woman’s warning came to him. A carefully constructed illusion. Perhaps it really was too good to be true.

He had just returned from Dagobah. He was still reeling. Yoda was gone, faded into the Force alongside Ben. He’d confirmed what Luke already knew in his heart to be true — Vader was his father. But Yoda’s dying words had been a bombshell — there was yet another Skywalker that Luke had never been told about. 

And right now, she was grinning at him. He knew he had to tell her. But that revelation would wait for another time.

“Hey, look, have you seen the contingency plan? Did it look solid to you?” Luke asked Leia.

She frowned. “No, this has all happened really quickly. I’m surprised they’ve announced it already. But of course they’ll be working out contingencies. I just haven’t seen them yet. Tell me why you’re asking. Is this a Force thing?”

“No, no, just….running possible scenarios.”

“Have you heard something?” her voice took on a sharp edge.

“Not—no….” He trailed off, knowing she wouldn’t believe him. Rather, she wouldn’t believe the word of a woman he’d just met who had supposedly stopped working for the Empire. “Look, it’s not anything solid enough to take to Ackbar or anyone else. Just a suggestion that Palpatine’s always ahead of us. So even if we think we have him, we might not. I mean — a chance at an unarmed second Death Star and the Emperor himself all at once? How can there not be a catch?”

“A suggestion from whom?” Her head cocked.

Luke just shook his head. She wouldn’t believe anything the woman had said, he was sure. Logically he knew he shouldn’t believe her himself but the Force whispered that it felt like truth.

Leia sighed but nodded. “I’ll find out about contingency plans.” She looked around. “I’m glad we’ll all be together on the command ship. I’m always glad when we’re all together on ops.” Luke knew “all” referred to the two of them, Han, Chewie, and probably even the droids.

“Yeah, me too,” he murmured. Yoda had judged him for his attachment to his friends, but Yoda didn’t understand what they’d been through together. He and Ben had tried to persuade Luke to resist the bait luring him to Bespin. It’s you and your abilities the Emperor wants, Ben had warned. And Luke had run headlong into the trap anyway, determined to rescue Leia and Han. And failed miserably. Still, they all survived. Eventually. They were good at improvising.

Leia was watching him, her expression serious.

“Don’t listen to me,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“It’s not like you to be pessimistic,” she murmured. “That’s not nothing.”

He smirked. “Maybe all my optimism was stored in my hand.” He wiggled his prosthetic fingers at her.

Leia gasped in horror at his joke and grabbed the waving fingers. “No way! I mean, sure, you may have had more optimism in your little finger—” Her hand curled around his smallest robotic digit. “—than the rest of us in our whole bodies, but trust me, your optimism could not be contained in a single limb.”

He laughed and pulled his hand from hers. He moved it to her shoulders and squeezed her in a sideways hug. “C’mon, let’s find Han and Chewie,” he suggested, pulling her easily to her feet.


Chapter Text

Dead. The Emperor is Dead. Her master. Dead. She turned the word over in her mind, whispered it out loud, trying out the sound and the shape of the word. 

Could it be? Did this mean she was safe now? Could he hurt her from….wherever he was now? She had heard crazy stories of Jedi being able to communicate with the living once they had “passed into the Force”. But she’d never heard the same for the Sith. Even if he could communicate with her, could he hurt her? Again? Still? Could his disappointment crush her? Could his sneer or scoff cut her to the quick? Certainly, he couldn’t physically reach her to deliver the pain and the punishments of the past. Could he send someone to do so for him? 

She cast her questions to the universe but all she could feel in response was peace. 

Over. Could it be over? Was it even possible?

If so, what did that mean? Mara took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling of Kenobi’s home. She noted the colors shifting in the light as they did this time of day, and she drifted to the entrance, looking out at the suns setting. If it was truly over, if she was safe, from the Emperor at the very least, what could she do? Where could she go? Who could she be?

She stood while the suns dipped lower, lost in thought, lost in time. Finally, the sounds of diurnal predators creeping through the twilight as darkness fell drifted through the air, one skittering close enough to attract her attention. She stepped back inside and worked the controls to close and lock the door. She was used to having answers. At the very least, she always knew how to get answers she didn’t have. These questions were even more unsettling for not having clear paths of investigation.

Luke stepped into his quarters and sighed in relief, grateful for the quiet. The celebrations of the victory at Endor seemed endless. He was back from the surface aboard the Mon Cal cruiser Home One and the parties continued. He was happy, of course, or maybe more accurately relieved, that it was “over”. He knew there was mop-up and probably more work than any of them wanted to think about still to do. Still, the destruction of another Death Star along with the death of the Emperor and Vader delivered blows the Empire could not recover from.

Vader….when he was alone he remembered the burning funeral pyre and their final moments together. He wondered about what could have been. If he’d attempted to turn his father earlier, would it have made a difference? Would they have had more time? Could he have brought Leia around?

A comlink chirp brought his thoughts back to the present. He stepped to his communication station and pressed a button. “Luke here,” he answered as always, trying to keep the weariness and slight irritation out of his voice.

There was silence, and then the chirp repeated. Luke reached for the button again, his annoyance growing, when realization dawned. A different comlink was chirping. An old comlink with a private frequency that very few people had and even fewer used. The frequency he had last given the mystery woman on Tatooine.

He grinned as his weariness evaporated. He reached out his prosthetic hand and called the older comlink through the Force. It hit his palm with an audible smack, and he flicked it on. “Luke here,” he repeated, thinking of those green eyes.

“Do you know who this is?” her voice, low and throaty, flowed from the tiny speaker.

“You wouldn’t give me your name,” he reminded her, as he stretched out on the well-appointed couch in his quarters. The promotion to general had come with perks.

“You can call me Chiara,” she replied. 

“Hello, Chiara,” he smiled. He tested the name in the Force and found no resonance. It was an alias. Still, she had kept the frequency he gave her. And used it. An alias was better than thinking of her as the Mystery Woman.

“Yeah,” her voice sounded tired and uncertain. 

“How can I help you?” he asked, still smiling.

She scoffed. “They are saying a lot of things. I’d like to know what to believe.”

“Shoot,” he invited.

“Well, I would, but you’re not in target range,” she replied wryly.

And yet you’ve passed up two opportunities already, he thought. He decided not to voice the observation.

“Lucky me,” he replied instead. “What are they saying now?”

She hesitated. “Can we meet?” She asked finally.

Luke sat up from his lounging position. “Yes. Of course. Where?” He was sure no one would object to his taking a few days. They might not even notice if the party was still going on.

“Same as last time?” she suggested. 

He recalled her crouching on Ben’s bed. Saw her laying down the vibroblade and finally deactivating the lightsaber as the light illuminated her lithe form and glistened in her hair as she repositioned herself.

To think there was a time he never wanted to return to Tatooine. He was grinning again. “You bet.”

“Three standard rotations from now?” she suggested.

“I can make that,” he agreed.

“See you then.” She clicked off.

He was still grinning.

The next day he watched Leia return to talk to him across the expansive room after Mon Mothma had dragged her away to meet more VIPs. This celebration was more formal than the ad hoc parties that had been ongoing since the destruction of the second Death Star. Diplomats, high ranking officers, and various officials, all dressed in their finest, strolled around the room, enjoying their drinks and laughing at nothing.

“What is with you?” Her voice reached him. Luke’s eyes focused on his sister’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

She scoffed. “Please. You know exactly what I mean. What are you so excited about?”

Luke leaned toward her. Leia leaned toward him.

“We won the war,” he whispered.

She scoffed again, lifted her hands to his shoulders, and pushed him away.

“That’s not it! C’mon!” she laughed.

“I’ve got to take a quick trip for a few days. I’ll be back soon.” 

Her expression dissolved to one of suspicion. “More Jedi training? We need you here.”

“No more training. Yoda and Ben are gone. No one to train with.” He meant to be flippant but she felt the edge of grief that lingered in his words.

He tried again. “I’ll be right back, I promise. They’ll still be celebrating. No one will even notice.”

“I will notice. Is it related to whatever’s got you so happy? As if…as if…oh stars, Luke, did you meet someone?”

“No! Not exactly, I mean…,” he hesitated. “Look, I don’t even know her name. The one she gave me is an alias. She used to work for the Imperials but she doesn’t anymore. She won’t tell me much. I think she must have been ISB.”

Leia nodded, grinning, through this tumble of words. “So you’re going to see Ms Alias Former ISB?”

“She wants to talk in person. I’m hoping I can help her, get her to come back with me, maybe now, maybe in the future.”

“What does she need help with?”

He shrugged. “That’s the problem. She claims no one can help her.”

Leia laughed. “And you could not resist that challenge. OK, I’m beginning to understand.” 

“No, no, it’s not that. I think she can touch the Force. She’s...she’s…” He didn’t have the words.

“You’re speechless! Wow.” Leia smiled. “So tell me. Is she smart? Optimistic? Pretty?” Leia’s warm brown eyes danced above her grin. 

Luke glared back at her.

“You will be careful, though? I don’t have to tell you about the risk of talking to a Force-sensitive woman using an alias who might be former ISB, do I?” Leia’s brows knit together.

“Seriously? I am not the same naïve kid fresh off the farm that you first met. Too much has happened since then.” A shadow fell over his normally sunny expression.

“I know, I know,” she nodded and hugged him in apology. “Of course, I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do.” She pulled back. "I hope I get to meet her someday,” she added.

Luke wondered briefly if the woman calling herself Chiara would threaten to kill Leia as well. Or more accurately, make a fake threat to kill her. And whether Chiara’s threats would seem as empty to everyone else as they did to him. She may not be ready to be around the other Rebels. They may not be ready for her.

A few standard rotations later, Mara was realizing she’d stayed out too late. She’d been in one place long enough that she was letting down her guard, forming routines. It had to stop. It was time to move on. She’d been telling herself this for days. Something about Kenobi’s place resisted her habit of short-term stays, tugging on her spirit like gravity. 

As her steps quickened and blood rushed in her ears, she berated herself. She’d leave as soon as she’d met with Skywalker. She’d remember this feeling of being just ahead of the Tusken Raiders who had caught her scent, out alone in the twilight. Keep moving keep moving. They were gaining on the distance that separated them.

She focused on a rock outcropping ahead. At least she could use it for cover while she picked them off with her blaster as fast as she could. The blaster rested comfortably in the holdout holster beneath her sleeve. A pair of vibroblades nestled in scabbards ready for use. And the lightsaber hung hidden at her hip. She called on all the strength and courage she would need for the fight. She was confident in her abilities. In the end, it would likely come down to numbers. She couldn’t tell for certain how many there were.

Mara reached her destination and crouched behind it, throwing off her poncho behind her for easier access to her weapons inventory. She harbored little delusion the Tuskens would pass by. She sharpened her senses and reached for binocs to scan the path behind her. There, growing shapes in the distance. Three, four…six. Six of them. That was feasible. Probably. She waited for them to reach the range of her holdout blaster, reaching deep for control and accuracy of aim.

She gave a fraction of a minute more thought about whether to shoot and give up her position. But their excitement already seemed to be growing, as if they knew she had stopped and a fight was imminent.

“All right, let’s go,” she growled to herself. Aiming at the chest of the trailing Tusken, she fired. The sound pierced the air, and her target slumped to the ground, twitching. The others squawked and whistled, enraged. They honed in on Mara’s position and doubled their speed, whooping war cries. While Mara adjusted her aim, she noted in the back of her mind that none checked on their fallen comrade. She fired again and again and again. 

The falling dark made it harder to see if she was hitting her targets. She felt as much as heard that their numbers were shrinking but some still came for her. Possibly enough to split up and flank her—

A sound behind her made her whirl around, grabbing for the lightsaber and igniting it as her thumb landed on the switch. She swung blindly at first, and then with more precision as she gained understanding of her attacker’s position. With her third slash, a head separated from its supporting shoulders and landed with a thud on the sand. She breathed out quickly but whirled again to face whatever she’d turned her back on.

A gaffi stick struck her wrist solidly, causing the lightsaber to go flying, extinguishing the blade in midair. She already had a vibroblade in her other hand and stepped closer to her attacker to catch them in the neck where their cloth wrappings stretched and gapped. The Raider cried out and fell, but still managed another vicious stab with the gaffi stick, connecting with Mara’s ribs and knocking her back. She struggled to refill her lungs, inhaling more sand than she cared to. The vibroblade had slipped from her left hand in the fall. Her fingers stretched into the sand, feeling around, but came up empty. She reached her right hand for the other vibroblade. Another Tusken advanced on her. A vibroblade—the vibroblade she’d just had in her left hand—caught the light in the Tusken’s hand. 

She was still regaining her balance when a blade caught her left side. Pain lanced across her. She grunted. As she raised her right arm, a kick caught her in the chest. The Tusken whooped and whistled, confident in its victory. Her own vibroblade bit her again. Again. Her mind slid toward overwhelm. No. Not like this. Eyes closed, she saw her attacker clearly. She stayed down and kept her eyes closed. They approached, savoring the win. As the vibroblade touched her throat, she moved. She clutched the neckline of the rough garment, pushing them to a stiff arm’s length. Her other hand regained her holdout blaster and shoved it into their chest, pulling the trigger. Her opponent slumped over her. She grunted and rolled with all her strength. The Tusken fell to the sand and she fired another shot into their head, just to be sure.

She didn’t feel any other imminent danger now. She breathed hard and looked around. She could just make out outlines of bodies on the ground. She found the Tusken she’d stabbed in the neck and also delivered them a last shot to the head. It seemed unlikely they could recover and shoot her still but she was professional enough not to leave an enemy at her back.

By her count, that left three that hadn’t made it to her location. She lifted the binocs and wished they had better night vision capabilities. She saw no movement through them, at least from anything as large as a Tusken Raider. Dead or fled, she couldn’t say, but she couldn’t risk looking for them now.

She considered for a moment searching for the lightsaber. A dizziness answered her. Not now. Need shelter. Need to lie down. She was fairly sure none of her injuries were life-threatening but she had to get to safety. There might be more of them in the darkness. She’d been warned about the dark. 

She moved as quickly as she could, knowing the adrenaline lighting up her system would recede and leave her exhausted. She could just make out the outline of Kenobi’s home over the next dune. She focused on the next step. Then the next.

She lost track of time. Eventually, the door stood in front of her. She keyed the lock and found the answering chime the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. She stumbled the final distance to the bed, the door sliding shut behind her. She collapsed, feeling safe for the first time in hours. She allowed herself now to cry out to the empty room for the pain in her wounds, the relief in her escape, the desperation in her heart. No one would hear her loss of control but the three moons whose light moved slowly across the floor.

Luke took a deep breath as he approached Ben’s place. It was a different experience with her there than when Ben had lived inside. He reached out for her sense and was surprised it was as well-hidden as it had been when they first met. He’d thought he built some trust with her. Just then her sense flared, and he felt pain and dizziness from her. He crossed the remaining space quickly and hit the door chime. “Chiara?” he called out for good measure.

He heard no answer and the door did not move. He hit the switch, expecting it to be locked but to his surprise, it slid open. He hit the control on the inside to close it swiftly and started a rapid search. It didn’t take long.

She lay on the couch that had doubled as Ben’s bed, the same spot she’d been the first time he’d met her there. But instead of crouching with a weapon in each hand, she lay curled on her side, her breathing ragged.

“Chiara, hey,” Luke said softly, as he reached for her. She moaned in pain at the contact. He gently nudged her over and started inspecting. Her clothes were torn.  She had many bleeding wounds though none looked deep or arterial. He recognized the impression of a gaffi stick on her bruised wrist.

“Tuskens,” he sighed, and set aside his anger for now. It would not help. The important thing is she had escaped alive.

He moved to her head, looking for wounds. His fingers traced her scalp, running over silky hair that had pulled loose of its usual braid, and matted and tangled in places from the fight. He sighed in relief at not finding any sign of head injury.

Satisfied she wasn’t in imminent danger, he moved to the ‘fresher to find first aid supplies and was relieved to be rewarded with a fresh stash of them. She must have stocked up. Had she done something ill-advised on purpose?

He returned to where she lay. She was muttering. As he cleaned and dressed her wounds some words became comprehensible. “Sorry…I’m so sorry…I tried…I couldn’t…I wasn’t strong enough…forgive me…I’ll do anything…” The desperation of her words reminded him of listening to her voice from inside Jabba’s cell. He ached to help her. And not just with her physical wounds.

“It’s OK, I’ve got you,” he soothed as he made his way from one laceration to the next. “You’re OK.”

“He doesn’t answer…can’t ever answer again…he never cared….” Tears spilled down her cheeks in her delirium. “I cared so much…it was all a lie…why didn’t he care?” Her words degenerated into unintelligible sounds once more.

He knew it was none of his business. She was a very private person who had carefully guarded her identity with him. He could not help but wonder who she was talking about. Someone she cared deeply about who had betrayed her, leaving her feeling ashamed.

Raw anger burned in him at whoever made her suffer this way, wounding her more deeply than the Tuskens had. With his Jedi training, it would be so easy to find the Tuskens. Make them pay. For her, for his grandmother, for all the innocents, for all the fear they’d instilled in him as a boy. The ways in which he could make them pay..... He let the thought form, pass, and dissolve, knowing it was of the dark side and that resisting too hard too fast would just lend it strength in the fight to survive. Best to let it die of lack of attention.

He’d had to loosen most of her clothing to get to the wounds to clean them sufficiently. All there was to do now was monitor her condition, let her rest, and let the bacta do its work. But she needed to rest comfortably and without infecting the wounds. He removed the torn clothing, preserving her dignity as best he could. Her undergarments were full of sand and dirt. He sighed.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, slipping the undergarments away from her as well. He averted his eyes as much as he could. Going to the small bag he’d brought, he fetched a clean under-tunic and tugged it gently over her.  Finally satisfied with his ministrations, he sat back. She curled up on her side, making the first happy sound he’d heard her make since he had arrived.

He quietly made himself some caf and sat in Ben’s chair to keep watch.

Luke watched Chiara sleep as the moonslight shifted across the floor. Occasionally he lightly laid a hand on her forehead. His prosthetic hand had very accurate temperature sensors. He couldn’t tell her exact temperature but felt confident she did not have a fever. For now.

When she made a low moan, he crossed to her, concerned. Her forehead remained cool, and she moved away from his touch with a verbal protest. Her limbs moved and her sense filled with rage and hurt. A nightmare. He sat on the bed, his organic hand on hers, and broadcast as much soothing safety into his Force sense as he could.

Meanwhile, Mara faced her Master. She was injured, and dirty, and furious. “You never cared!” she screamed. “You used me like all the rest.”

The Emperor laughed his customary cackle. “You believed what you wished, child. Do not blame me for your weakness.” With that, he lifted his hands and blue lightning lanced out toward her.

She fell to the floor, the electricity coursing through her. No, no, no, you can’t do this. If I get up this time, I will kill you. I might die in the attempt but I’ll make you regret what you did to me.

Fighting to see through the electric haze over her eyes, a new figure stepped into view. Their back was to her. All she could make out was a black, hooded cloak. Or had her Master turned his back on her? Given her up for dead already? 

She saw flashes of green and heard the distinctive sound of a lightsaber. The electric waves stopped, leaving her shaking. The hooded figure reached a hand to the side and Mara’s lightsaber flew from across the room to her. Instinctively she reached for it and activated it though she wasn’t confident she could stand up. Her vision gradually cleared.

The hooded figure’s lightsaber was absorbing the lightning that continued to issue from her Master’s hands. Palpatine hissed and moved so that the figure no longer blocked his way. 

To her surprise, she jumped to her feet and raised her lightsaber, catching the next lightning strike on her blade as the hooded figure had done. 

Palpatine cackled again. “Is he your Master now?” he roared. “You think he’s any different?”

She awoke with a small cry. 

Luke Skywalker was sitting on her bed, holding her hand.

She shrank from him, the nightmare swirling in her mind.

“It’s OK, Chiara, you’re safe. It was a nightmare. It’s not real. You’re in Ben Kenobi’s hut on Tatooine. I let myself in. We’re OK. You’re OK. You were attacked by Tuskens but your wounds aren’t critical. You’re safe.” She felt the comfort pouring from him. 

She nodded understanding. To the surprise of both of them, she reached her arms around him and dropped her face into his neck. After a moment’s shock, he circled his arms around her back and squeezed. Her eyes remained dry but her breath still came in gulps.

“You’re safe,” he repeated. 

He was not her Master, but Luke Skywalker absolutely was different. She could feel that.

Chapter Text

Luke could sense Mara swimming back up into consciousness. He rose and took his caf cup to wash to give her some privacy. When he returned, her eyes were open and she was struggling to sit up.

“Take it easy,” Luke said softly. “You’re pretty beat up. Can you see alright?”

She grunted and moved to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I see fine. I see I am wearing someone else’s clothes.” He couldn’t quite tell if she was accusing or teasing.

“You’ve got a lot of open wounds. There was too much sand in what you were wearing.”

She made a dismissive hand gesture telling him to forget it. She pushed to her feet and groaned, steadying herself.

“Do you not see how many bacta patches you’re wearing? Take it easy.”

She grunted again, testing her weight on her legs, and limped over to the caf station. “I’m fine, I’ve been in much worse shape than this.” She set a cup on the counter.

And collapsed.

Luke moved to her, slipping an arm behind her knees and the other behind her back. He eyed the sharp stone corner of the counter that her head had barely missed on the way down.

“I don’t need—” she protested. He eased her arms around his neck and stood.

"You’ve got deep gashes in both legs. Give them a break. He carried her back to the bed. He laid her down gently as she scrambled away and under the covers to regain some sense of dignity.

“No one asked you to play med droid. I’ll be just fine,” she snapped. She was angry now, embarrassed, and in pain.

Wordlessly, he poured caf into the cup she’d set down and handed it to her.

“How many were there?” Luke asked.

“What?!” Now Mara was confused, angry, embarrassed, and in pain.

“Tuskens. You were attacked by Tusken Raiders. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” she answered sourly. With the caf finished, she started inventorying her injuries, peeking under bacta patches, moving experimentally. “There were six.”

“Six?!” Luke exclaimed, impressed. “You’re lucky to be alive!”

“Staying alive is pretty much my number one talent,” she groused. “I’ve dressed my own wounds since I was a child. I don’t need you, or anyone else, to take care of me.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded softly.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, fine, it was nice to not wake up to a bunch of fledgling infections that would put in me some forsaken bacta tank for way longer than necessary.”

“You should probably go get that treatment anyway. At the very least, the scars will be less noticeable. And you’ll definitely heal faster and with less chance of infection.”

“I know all of that, Skywalker,” she sneered. “I didn’t survive this long without knowing all those things. None of this looks too bad, there’s just a lot of 'em. A few more scars don’t matter. I’ve collected plenty of them so far.” She laughed sardonically. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that last night.”

“I wasn’t looking,” he said defensively. His patience was running low from a night of staying awake to make sure she didn’t start running a fever or get delirious again. The patient was healthy enough to be resistant. Maybe it was time to leave her to her healing.

She scoffed. Maybe he wasn’t looking. Maybe he didn’t like women that way, or not this woman anyway. “After a sonic I’ll be able to see the actual damage better. And I’ll look and feel better.”

“You look fine,” Luke muttered.

“Oh, yeah, beautiful,” the sarcasm dripped from her tone as she ran her hands in her hair, inspecting mats and snarls. She started to move to the edge of the bed again.

“Wait — stop. I’ll bring you what you need.”

“Nope, what I need is in the 'fresher. I’ll sit down in the sonic, promise.”

“You’re too injured for that,” he shook his head.

She raised her arms slowly, testing. Just before she reached the back of her head she groaned. “Ok, I might miss some spots, but I can manage. And I’m not asking your permission.”

He stepped to the bed, blocking her path. She glared up at him. He held out his arms. “Let me take you there and back, and I’ll stop objecting.”

“No more carrying,” she growled.

“Too late,” he replied, hefting her up again. “No more collapses.” The fear that had flashed through him earlier when he saw her head barely miss that sharp corner was highly motivating.

She gave a dramatic sigh, but her arms snaked up and around his neck without further comment. If she remembered the nightmare she’d had in the night, or the way she had thrown her arms around his neck afterward, she made no sign of it.

He carried her to the fresher and set her down gently on the floor of the sonic. He straightened.

“Would you like help with anything?” he offered.

Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “You want another look after last night?” Her tone was sardonic.

“Just offering.” His hands rose in front of him in surrender. He backed a few steps, then turned and left her alone.

Mara snickered to herself in victory as the door slid shut again. As she thought back to her research on him, back when he was her primary target, she remembered he had been reported to be attracted to women. There were plenty of rumors — he was with the princess, or his buddy Solo, or both, or anyone who showed interest, or no one at all, and everything in between.

Surely he hadn’t undressed her for the thrill of it. His desire to help her in a time of injury seemed authentic. She had learned to trust her read on people.

That is what was so confusing when they’d spoken through the bars of his cell at Jabba’s. He was not the person who had been described to her. She understood the usefulness of propaganda but was disappointed her Master had felt he needed to use it on her.

Then again, how much did her Master truly know about who Skywalker was? How much did he simply assume, given Skywalker had destroyed the first Death Star and in general had proved himself a hard-to-kill enemy? The Emperor did tend to talk the same way about all Rebels.

She had learned to do the same. And now here she was, in a sonic shower that had once belonged to a Jedi. That Jedi had mentored the Jedi who had carried her in here, and if given a chance, would insist on carrying her back out. If he’d been the person she’d been told he was, he would have killed her when he found her here the first time. Just lit up his lightsaber when she had and attacked. But he’d just talked to her. Then let her go.

She managed to get the loaned undertunic off and the sonic controls on. She breathed deeply and enjoyed the sensation of the sand and dirt ground into her skin being blasted away by the sonic waves. She worked her fingers through her hair as best she could, given the pain in her arms and back. It gradually started to feel smoother and more shiny, returning to its natural state.

Sonics couldn’t compete with sanisteams for a pleasant experience, but that was the tradeoff for staying on such a dry planet. She wondered vaguely if Jedi took some sort of vow of poverty that had prevented Kenobi from having the water he might have been able to afford.

She sat on the sonic floor longer than necessary. It felt good to have the dirt and sand scoured off by the sonic waves. And it felt good not to move. But Skywalker might come to check on her if she stayed much longer.

She had asked him to meet, to find out what had happened, to separate fact from fiction. She had not anticipated being attacked and injured when he arrived. It was embarrassing to be seen this way — and he had seen it all. It certainly made it more difficult to maintain her air of mystery.

He was so karking earnest. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it herself. His authentic wish to help her, now with her injuries. Before, at Jabba’s. When he was in no position to offer help from inside a jail cell! It had sounded so ridiculous. But here they were, just a few standard weeks later. His side was thought to have won. He was whole and healthy and strong and she was…not. But she hadn’t requested this meet to get help. She’d requested it for information.

She wished now she’d settled for an encrypted com. Why insist on meeting in person? Him, of all people? How had Skywalker become her most reliable information source?

She sighed. Might as well get on with it. She stood slowly, running her hand up the wall as she did so, just in case. No witnesses to judge her being so careful.

Pain shot through her, up from her upper legs into her lower back. Chest pain prevented her from breathing too deeply. One wrist was bruised and swollen and a little tricky to use. But all that would heal in time.

Just as she reached for the undertunic she’d woken up in, Skywalker’s voice came through the door.

“Would you like something else to wear?”

How many clothes did you bring? was her first thought. But her energy was flagging from moving around and wasn’t worth using up on verbal sparring.

“This is fine,” she responded. She certainly didn’t want him going through her things for a change of clothes.

As she slipped it over her head, she took a deep breath. Smells like sunshine and hope, she snickered to herself. She took another moment to braid her hair into a simple plait down her back and stepped back out. He was outside the door.

“You look—like you feel better,” he said, smiling.

“Mmmm—I’m looking forward to a real sanisteam, but yeah, that was good.”

He reached out as if to sweep her into a carry again and she stepped out of reach.

“No,” she said firmly.

“You came too close to a bad hit on the head when you went down last time,” he replied. “Please.”

Please?! Do you not remember I threatened to kill you? Her legs were tiring, though, just from the stress of the few minutes they had supported her weight. She motioned him closer, and wrapped an arm over his shoulder, leaning her weight on his.

He inched forward. They moved slowly together back to the main room while he watched her closely for further signs of collapse.

Mara felt warm with self-consciousness. “I’m OK,” she growled, pulling away slightly.

He considered pulling her back immediately but decided he was still close enough to catch her before she went down. As they neared the sofa bed, she shifted her weight just enough to dive onto its surface. She groaned as her wounds protested.

She looked longingly in the direction of the caf station.

“Another?” he offered.

“Yeah,” she agreed grudgingly.

He set about making more, lifting a carafe from a shelf. He suspected she would appreciate a steady supply.

He brought a full mug for her, a half for himself, and sat.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine. I am feeling fine,” she spat. “I do not need a bacta tank.”

“Got it,” he acknowledged. “So how can I help?”

“You’ve done plenty. No more help needed. You can go. Really.”

He smiled over his mug. “Really? Why did you ask me to come, then? It sounded like you were looking for confirmation of something you heard?”

She lay back against the pillows with a sardonic chuckle. “Oh that. Right.” She straightened back up and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. So is it really over? You won at Endor? Destroyed the new station?”

He nodded. “We did. They’re still celebrating.”

She snorted. “Of course they are. But did you really win? What about—” she stopped.

He waited. He had a few guesses as to how she might finish that sentence. But she was suddenly reluctant to say the words. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“—about–” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Him? Did you get him?”

From what she had said, he suspected she worked for ISB, the Imperial intelligence organization. He further suspected it wasn’t ordinary intelligence work. Assassinations were more likely special ops. He’d wondered who she reported to. She’d spoken as if she’d worked around Palpatine.

“The Emperor is dead,” he replied, watching her carefully. “As is Vader.”

“How can you be sure?” her whisper was trembling now.

“I was there,” his voice softened. “I saw it. Vader threw him down a shaft right into the power core.”

She didn’t react. She seemed to be holding her breath.

He crossed to where she was sitting and sat down next to her.

“I felt the Emperor’s death in the Force. He’s gone.”

She stared at him, the words hanging in the air, refusing to penetrate her brain. He stared back, trying to gauge her response. Tears were gathering in her eyes. It could mean she mourned his death, even though she had left the Empire. But her sense in the Force was leaking through her thick shields. More than anything else, he felt her relief. He reached to the Force for helpful words to say.

“You’re safe,” Luke heard himself say. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

His words pierced her heart. As hard as she tried to keep her social mask in place, her façade cracked as a sob escaped unbidden. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t let him see. She never let anyone see. Cry into your pillow, child, someone had told her years ago, with a dismissive wave of an uncaring hand. She didn’t even remember who. Some faceless servant of the Emperor. As she started to turn away, to hide, he turned toward her, his arms opened in offer.

“It’s OK,” he reassured her. “It’s just me.”

Unthinkingly, she sank against his shoulder and sobbed again. Some part of her screamed internally. Just him? Just Luke Skywalker, your number one target? The cause of all your trouble to begin with? What are you doing? Her emotion poured out of her, wracking her body as he held her gently, whispering comforts. She sensed his genuine willingness to receive her messy reaction. Which was just all that much more confusing.

They both lost track of time as the intensity of her emotion gradually spent itself. Eventually, she sat up straight again, averting her eyes, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t…done that…for a very long time,” she tried, haltingly.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You must have been overdue. And lots of people had…big reactions to his death,” he responded, without judgment.

Her eyes fell on the wet spot on his tunic where her face had just been lying. She reached up, trying to dry it with her hands, then laughing at her abject failure.

He caught one of her hands in his. “It’s fine. It will dry in no time. Trust me. This is the hottest, dryest place there is.”

She snorted softly at this. “You may be right about that.” She made eye contact. “Thank you for coming out. I needed to know if it was truly over—if he was truly gone. From someone who—was there.” From someone I trusted, she meant. Not that she could admit that to him. She could barely admit it to herself. Her Imperial sensibilities were horrified.

He nodded. “Glad I could help.” He looked around. “I was surprised you wanted to meet back here. You’ve been staying here?”

Her eyes slid around the room, looking for anything she missed that indicated she had been using Kenobi’s place. All of her things were neatly tucked away, and it looked exactly as she remembered it from the first time she stepped in.

“It just feels different,” he explained. “Than when he lived here. And from last time.”

“Afraid I’m defiling his legacy?” she snapped defensively. The truth was she had been on the run for a while. If Kenobi had hidden from the Empire here successfully for years, perhaps it wasn’t a bad place for her, either.

“No!” He looked—hurt? “I’m just surprised you would want to.”

“I just needed a place to lay low,” she shrugged. “It’s in good shape, unoccupied, and kept Kenobi hidden.”

“You think Ben was hiding here?” Luke asked. He’d considered this possibility. Not that Ben had said anything to suggest that. But there was so much Ben hadn’t said.

“He was a Jedi,” she shrugged. “The few that survived went into hiding. Rumor had it Vader was especially interested in him. Supposedly the Emperor had to call him off the hunt because he got too distracted.”

The hunt. His father had hunted Ben. His own teacher. Luke shook his head. “I wonder why he hid here.” He looked around the space, as if the answer were in the room.

“You said he lived here a long time but didn’t train you before you got your princess' distress call?” she asked curiously.

“He was around as long as I can remember. I met him when I was around ten, I guess. He gave me a toy skyhopper.”

“Straight to your heart,” she smirked.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “I still had it the day the droids came.”

Memories he didn’t dwell on flashed in front of him. The Jawas, Leia’s holo, his last dinner with his aunt and uncle. Searching for Artoo, Ben telling him about the Jedi, and his father — lying about his father, regardless of the “point of view”. Luke had been sitting just inches from where he sat now. His eyes focused on the chair where Ben had sat. He closed his eyes, thinking of his aunt and uncle.

Mara felt the grief that washed over him. She’d told him the last time they were here that the troopers should not have killed his aunt and uncle. At the time she had reflected on the fact that it had resulted in motivating Skywalker to leave home and join the Rebellion. Those troopers might have been responsible for the Empire’s losing the war.

This time, though, she felt his pain. Again her Imperial sensibilities screamed at her for having feelings of her own about Skywalker’s feelings. Of all the off-limits subjects for her to have feelings about. Feeling sorry for a target. But that shaming bully inside herself was losing power over her. She had no idea what to do with these feelings, but feeling guilty on top of them hadn’t served any useful purpose.

“I never knew my family,” she heard herself say, to her own surprise.

Luke looked at her, waiting for more. When it was not forthcoming, he asked, “Who raised you? What happened to your family?”

She shook her head. She had no memory of her family. No idea who they were, whether they’d wanted her or not, whether they’d fought for her or not. When she asked, she was told she was all alone. Her family was the Empire.

“I was raised to serve the Emperor. By servants, and by him.”

She’d shocked him. She rather enjoyed that somehow. His earnest naïvete couldn’t quite wrap around the reality that had been her life. He’d been so lucky. Did he have any idea? The pain of losing his aunt and uncle meant he’d had an aunt and uncle to care for him. The person who had shaped her most was also dead, and her overriding emotion was relief.

“That sounds terrible,” he responded. “Are you still in touch with anyone? Does anyone….check on you?”

Just you, Skywalker. Tears pricked the back of her eyes at the thought. She couldn’t believe she had any left after her display earlier.

Her silence answered his question.

“Is that what you need, a place to hide? We can help with way more comfortable places than this.” Luke observed.

“Comfort doesn’t interest me,” she spat the words.

“Stick around here long enough and comfort will get really interesting,” Luke assured her. “Trust me.”

She scoffed at these last words.

“You trust me to tell you the truth,” he pointed out.

“About some things,” she responded. “Things you witnessed personally. You seem to have a need to be pathologically honest.”

He grunted. He knew she meant it as an insult.

“There must be something else I—we—can do,” he offered quietly.

“You can forget you ever saw me. You never met me,” she said.

“Well, I can tell others that,” he admitted. “But I’m not going to forget. And that frequency will still work.”

“I won’t need it,” she replied defiantly.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed. “You shouldn’t be. If you had any idea what I’ve done, you’d be happy to never lay eyes on me again.”

He looked at her curiously. “What could you have done? How many beings could you have killed? I’ve killed over a million. You said so yourself.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “But I was supposed to kill you.”

“A lot of beings were supposed to kill me. It’s not a particularly exclusive club,” he replied sardonically. “There’s probably plenty still out there ready to try. But it seems like you’ve decided against it.”

“Seems like it. For now,” she mused.

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll take that.” He shifted. He had to try. “You know, there’s a number of former Imperials with us now. We don’t hold peoples' past against them. All that matters is what you want to do now.”

As if I knew, she thought.

Luke saw the patch of sunslight on Ben’s floor creeping past. It had shifted a surprising distance since the last time he’d noticed. He checked his chrono.

“You better get moving if you want to avoid my friends out there,” she noted grimly.

He grunted. “Right. Anything else I can be pathologically honest about?”

How did you get this way? She laughed inwardly. “No, I just wanted confirmation. You can’t trust the propaganda. Or the way people twist it.”

Or a com transmission? He was tempted to tease her about requesting he come in person. Though he didn’t want to think about the shape she’d been in now if she’d had to tend to her wounds alone.

“Will you be alright?” He braced himself for her retort.

“I’ll be fine,” she responded in an unexpectedly reassuring tone.

“You’ll see a doctor?” He prodded.

“Don’t push it, Skywalker. I know when I need help treating myself.” They had slowly made their way to the door. “Thanks for cleaning me up. And…for everything else,” she finished awkwardly.

They stared at each other for a moment, wondering if they’d see each other again.

“Clear skies, Skywalker.” She hit the door release.

“Take care of yourself.” Skywalker stepped through the opening and out of her life.

When he returned to the hotel in Mos Eisley, he saw Leia had left him a voice message. “Luke,” her voice urged. “Com me when you get this. Whatever time it is.”

Instinctively, he reached for the Force, fighting the alarm that automatically rose in him. The Force revealed nothing.

He punched a few keys and waited for Leia to answer, looking at his chrono. On Coruscant, she should be sleeping.

When she answered, she wasn’t dressed for sleeping, and Luke recognized the view from the hologram as she sat at her desk.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded as soon as her face coalesced in the holocam.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong here. Are you OK? Turn on Artoo’s holocam—let me see you.” She demanded in return.

Artoo beeped at her reference and aimed the holocam at Luke, waiting for confirmation.

“Sure, go ahead,” Luke waved at the droid. “I’m fine,” he addressed Leia as the holocamera flickered to life. “Why are you still up? Did something happen?”

“I’m just catching up on work. I’m drowning in reports.” She appeared to be inspecting him closely from her side.

He stood and slowly turned around. “See? All fine. No injuries. No blood. No exposed wires. Why were you so urgent if nothing’s happened?” He sat again.

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about this supposedly former ISB agent who lured you out alone for a meeting. I know you see the best in everyone but she could very well be dangerous, Luke. What better time to strike than when your guard is down with a major victory?”

The knot that had formed in Luke’s stomach when he got her message slowly unwound. “So you were just worried about me.” He shook his head, torn between annoyance and amusement at her. “What happened to ‘you always do the right thing’? How do you still not trust me?”

“I do trust you. And you will do the right thing. But that doesn’t mean you never get captured. Or hurt.”

His most severe injury had been losing his hand, of course. Leia’s tone made Luke wonder briefly if she felt responsible somehow, for being the bait in the trap that led to the loss.

“She’s not a threat to me. She’s had multiple opportunities to attack and hasn’t tried anything. In fact she—” he stopped. He’d only bothered encrypting the origin of his call to hide his location from prying eyes. He hadn’t bothered to secure the entire communication. “Look, I’ll tell you more when I get back.”

“Yeah, well, I should have asked a lot more questions before letting you go off by yourself chasing—”

“Letting me go off by myself?” Luke fairly roared his interruption, then heard the immaturity in his response. He took a deep breath. “Look, you don’t need to worry so much, OK? I can handle myself. I’m a Jedi Kn—”

“I know, I know. I know you can take care of yourself. I worry anyway. What kind of sister would I be if I took my eye off the only Jedi we have and something happened?” It was as close to an apology as she was going to offer.

“You can’t keep me in a transparisteel bubble, Leia. Any more than you can keep Han from flying off in the Falcon. But we always come back.” He knew she was thinking about Han frozen in carbonite. And how Luke had walked away from her in an Ewok village to face their father.

“So far. And sometimes just barely. But I promise not to worry until your next check-in. Which will be…when?”

He wondered if he had any excuses to return to Ben’s tomorrow to see if Chiara was still there. He came up empty.

“I’m just going to get some sleep and launch in the morning. I’ll be back soon. I’ll let you know when I take off.”

“Thank you, Little Brother.” She had just started calling him this, though they had no idea who’d been born first. He considered reminding her of that fact. Or he could point out that if one of them was little, it was obviously her.

He remembered Chiara’s hollow tone when she spoke of being raised by servants and never knowing her family. Luke wished he and Leia could have grown up together, but at least they had found one another. It was much better to have a nosy, worried sister checking up on him than no sister at all.

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. You’re never going to finish all the reports. Sweet dreams.” He nodded at Artoo. The holocam flickered off.

Chapter Text

Mara stood in Ben’s doorway, watching the suns set.

Could she go back? Could she ever go back? Was it an option? If necessary, invent a cover story about getting wounded. Or being imprisoned. Or just having to hide. (The last had the advantage of being true—she had been hiding from the Emperor.) Her life could go back to the way it was. Serve the glory of the Empire. Help them rise from the ashes of their leader to carry out his vision. Execute her missions. Take out her targets. Get her head back in the game. Maybe even take on Skywalker and his friends again from a position of strength.

Wouldn’t that surprise him? If she could do it. Wouldn’t that surprise her?

Whether her future could ever resemble her past would depend entirely on who had survived. Among those not killed by Rebels, who would be successful in the power struggle for the top? Would Mara have any friends or allies? Would she have to start over? Or would someone who hated her as much as Ysanne Isard did just take one look at Mara and have her arrested?

What else was there to do now? It’s not as if an Emperor’s Hand could have resigned. She could not have retired. “Sorry, Master, I’m moving on to explore some alternative career paths.” She chuckled at her own joke. When she felt unsure of returning to the Emperor’s side, she had to hide. Hide well. She knew too much about too much. Her master would never have tolerated her existence apart from him. She would have been added to the open target list, for assassins, maybe even bounty hunters, to kill on-site if they encountered her. She was probably not a priority target since she had kept quiet. Probably.

Maybe she could go back and resume some role in the remains of the Empire. Maybe she could stay away and survive. She had dawdled and delayed and denied, knowing full well she would eventually have to make a decision. It wasn’t like her to be indecisive. But then, none of this was like her. Not for over a year now. It was obviously Skywalker’s fault.

She seriously considered rolling a chance cube. Not so much to follow its direction, but to see how she felt about its choice. It shouldn’t be necessary. She had always trusted her instincts. If she were honest with herself, she’d had to overrule her instincts more than she would have liked while following orders. Now that she had questioned orders, perhaps her intuition could be helpful.

There was a spot in Kenobi’s space that looked as though he may have meditated there. She hesitated a moment more, then stepped back inside, slid the doors shut, and sat. If Kenobi’s spirit chose to contaminate her meditation, she’d send him back….to wherever he’d gone.

She breathed deeply and cleared her mind as her master had taught her to do. Her next step was usually to reach for his presence, search for his voice, so that he might instruct her. This time, she bypassed that step and focused on the question. Should I return to what is left of the Empire? The question itself seemed ill-formed. Do I want to return to what is left of the Empire? Closer. Do I want to continue to serve the Empire? Better. Do I still want to kill Luke Skywalker or his friends? If I can? Someday? The response was so quick and so clear her eyes flew open. She had one definitive answer. It was a start.

She did not want to kill Luke Skywalker or his friends. Ever. That was one certainty to start from. Since when did it matter whether I want to assassinate an enemy of the Empire? A part of her mind snarked at her, the part that still longed for the familiarity of her old life.

Considering what she wanted, even allowing herself to have her own, private wants, was a luxury she had not permitted herself since she was a young girl. She felt like a rusty droid, trying to move as designed but proceeding with difficulty, in jerks and starts. Maybe acknowledging a single want, and a rebellious one at that, was enough for one day.

Did she have other rebellious wants? Things she did not want to do? Commands for future actions she did not care to follow through with? Things she was relieved not to have to do, now that the Emperor was gone? She never liked hurting anyone she considered too young. She’d been forced to, told herself it was for the good of the Empire, even the good of the individual, but it never felt good to her. Never felt right.

Right, her loyal-to-the-Emperor side spat at her. Great, now I’m developing the self-righteousness of those smug bastard Rebels. Another part of her, a part she never allowed to express herself, answered At least they are allowed to have a conscience.

Conscience! Her loyal side rolled her eyes. That’s it, I’ve lost it. I’ve gone soft and weak and lost my edge. No wonder I couldn’t kill Skywalker. I’ve got no spine left to fight with.

The civil war inside was exhausting. Tears gathered behind her eyes, filled them, and spilled down her cheeks. Where did she go from here?

Leia poured drinks around the table, shaking her head.

“You wouldn’t believe how long a meeting I was in today. How can they get so hung up on planning the details of a celebration of Yavin? It’s a party for stars' sake! Oh, you two better dig out your old medals. They want you to wear them.”

Han glanced at Chewie. “Wouldn’t it be a nice anniversary thing to give Chewie one, too?” he suggested.

“It would!” Leia agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll need a stepstool to put it around your neck.” She grinned at Chewie.

Chewie responded with a string of guttural growls and grunts.

Leia looked at Han. “I only got about every third word there, but it sounded like no thank you?”

Han shook his head. “This is no time to be modest, Chewie. If I have to be a Hero, so do you.”

Luke tried to remember the last place he saw the medal. “I’m not even sure where to look for mine. It may have gotten left behind in an evacuation.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Leia shot him a look.

“Are you sure you have yours?” Luke tried to deflect her attention to Han. “You didn’t lose it in a game of sabacc?”

“Stop tryin' to get me into trouble,” Han pointed a fork at his friend. “I know exactly where mine is. Now help me convince your sister she has time to go back to the Graveyard before the festivities begin.”

“Sure, there’s time. Do you want to, Leia?” Luke speared another bite.

A shadow fell across her expression. “I don’t know. Every other year I said ‘not until the war is over’. But it’s likely to be overrun with Alderaanians who thought the same way.” Luke could feel her fear of being overwhelmed by grief. “And there’s so much work to do now.”

“There’s always work to do,” Han and Luke chorused.

Leia looked at them, startled.

“Look, you don’t have to. You don’t even have to want to—nobody will ever know. But if you do want to go, don’t let this neverending workload stop you,” Han suggested. “Or it will stop you from doing anything. And then I’ll get bored. And then who knows what could happen?” He put the best twinkle he could manage in his eyes.

As usual, it worked. “Oh stars, we can’t have that,” she chuckled.

Luke saw his opening. “I’m planning to go to Tatooine. I’ve missed visiting my aunt and uncle’s graves the last few anniversaries.”

Leia’s eyes bore into him. “You’re going to Tatooine. Is Ms Alias Former ISB still there? You’re about as opaque as a viewport, you know.”

“I doubt she’s still there. I haven’t heard from her in ages. I swear I am going to visit the graves. I realized I’ve been there twice in the last year and didn’t stop at the farm once.” Leia could feel her brother’s guilt under these words.

“What if we all went to both?” Leia proposed. “You could come with us to the Alderaan Graveyard on the Falcon and then we could go to Tatooine.”

Luke’s mind raced. If Chiara was still on Tatooine, and he showed up with Han and Leia, how would she react?

“Tatooine?!” Han said in disgust. “I don’t want to set foot there ever again.” He looked at Luke. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Luke shook his head. “I don’t blame you.”

“Well, I do!” Leia protested. “I can’t imagine what being frozen in carbonite is like, but I had my own hellish experience chained to that giant slug slobbering over me. But I’d still go back to support Luke.”

“That’s another reason for you not to go there,” Han countered. “How many gangsters fighting for Jabba’s territory would be happy to kill the Huttslayer to prove themselves? We may as well paint a target on your back.”

Leia opened her mouth. Then shut it again. “Are you done?” She indicated Han’s emptied plate.

“We’ll get it.” Han stood and lifted his chin toward Luke in invitation.

Luke jumped to his feet as he chewed his last bite. He collected as much as he could carry and followed Han to the kitchen.

As he set the dishes down, Han checked over his shoulder that Leia hadn’t followed as well.

“You’re welcome,” Han muttered as Luke unloaded his haul.

“That was for me?” Luke leaned against the counter. “You were very convincing.”

“She’s very suspicious. Or insightful. Or somethin'. But I don’t need the Force to know you don’t want your sister hanging around when you’re trying to talk to a pretty girl.”

“This is not about her,” Luke insisted.

“Oh yeah? Should I go in there and tell Leia that on second thought, she’s right, we should travel altogether as a big happy family?” Han’s eyes were twinkling again.

Luke balked. “Well if she is there…,” he demurred.

“I know. You’re welcome.”

Luke smiled self-consciously. Leia stepped through the doorway with the rest of the dishes.

“Fine,” she said in a playful voice. “If you won’t go to Tatooine,” she said to Han, “so you won’t be with us in the Falcon,” she tossed over her shoulder to Luke, “maybe Winter would like to ride along. I think that Rogue pilot Tycho Celchu invited her to go with him—it would give her an excuse to turn him down if she wants one.”

“Sure,” Han shrugged. “You know what a pain pilots can be,” he snarked at Luke.

“Especially Rogue Squadron,” Luke joined in. “Cocky nerfherders.”

Leia rolled her eyes at them. “They have that reputation for a reason. Didn’t you recruit Tycho, Luke? I don’t know him very well. Is he good enough for Winter?”

“Tycho’s a good man. I can’t imagine him mistreating her. But if he’s bothering her, I can have a word.”

“Winter can take care of herself,” Leia sighed. “People see her as my aide and friend these days. They’ll never know all the badass intelligence work she did.”

Luke thought of Chiara. Would he have seen her as an assassin if she hadn’t had weapons in both hands when he first saw her? Was she underestimated the way Winter was? In another time, another universe, perhaps Winter and Chiara would have been friends. Perhaps they still could.

“Hells, Celchu can come along too if Winter wants. Then you can check him out. For her, I mean.” Han grinned his trademark lopsided grin.

“You can check him out here. I could invite him for dinner.” Luke suggested.

Leia grimaced. “I’d love to, but Winter would kill me if she knew.” She mock glared at Luke. “Why do people I love get mad at me for trying to take care of them?”

“I can’t imagine,” Luke deadpanned. He appreciated Leia’s protectiveness of her lifelong friend. He especially appreciated Leia’s protectiveness when it wasn’t aimed at him.

Luke slowed the bike as he approached Ben’s. He reached out with the Force and found that slightest wisp of presence. She was still there. He smiled. If she hadn’t been there, he would have stayed at Ben’s himself. It would be a nice reminder of his mentor’s spirit, since his actual spirit hadn’t shown himself in some time. Luke was happier to let Chiara have it and stay in Mos Eisley instead.

Before he had time to start a U-turn, he saw her emerge from the door and reach for her binocs. He slowed the bike and waved, wondering if she would be annoyed at his surprise appearance. She did not appear to be scowling. Nor was she smiling.

What in the—she thought. What is he doing back here? What would bring him back here? Has he changed his mind about taking me into custody? Has he somehow discovered more about my past? She checked her mental shields. She had gotten lax about them in her isolation.

It’s not the only thing she’d gotten lax about. The fact that she was still in the same place he’d left her after all this time was proof of that. She’d gotten too comfortable. She’d allowed herself to form new habits. Convinced herself she was somehow safer now that the Tuskens had not attacked for some time.

Fool, she berated herself.

He was within earshot now. Kenobi was careful about positioning the entrance to his home so that it was difficult to approach unseen. Luke had to leave the bike and come on foot. She waited, turning over the possibilities for why he had come, and the reasons she shouldn’t still be here.

She was confident her shields were thick and holding. Still, he made a good guess at her attitude.

“I’m just here for personal reasons. I thought I’d check if Ben’s place was free.” His hands were visible and empty, and she felt him exuding calm and reassurance in her direction. She managed not to snicker aloud at this.

“I was just clearing out,” she lied. “Come back in an hour and you won’t know I was here.”

“That’s OK, I should stay at Mos Eisley anyway. It’s closer to where I need to be.” He shook his head. She noticed he had stopped some distance away, letting his voice close the gap.

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged. “Either way, I’ll be gone.” She was already mentally inventorying what she needed to retrieve and where to find it. She hadn’t located the lightsaber that she’d lost in the Tusken attack. She’d searched several times, but not enough, and then she’d gotten distracted. There were no good excuses.

“If you want to hitch a ride off Tatooine, I’ll be done and ready to go tomorrow.”

“Quick trip,” she noted crisply. Personal reasons. What did that mean? Personally checking if I was still here? So you could personally escort me off-planet? “And my ride is covered, thanks.” This was another lie. She hadn’t arranged her outbound trip yet. But she was hardly going to take his offer when she didn’t know what he was up to.

“I’m just visiting my family’s graves. It’s been a few years.”

Mos Eisley would be closer, then, if they were buried at the Lars farm. Maybe it was as simple a trip as he was claiming?

She nodded. He was glancing around the home’s entrance. Looking for a speeder or swoop bike, maybe. There wasn’t one; she’d been traveling on foot and staying well hidden.

“You want a ride to Mos Eisley?”

She shook her head. “I’m flying out of Bestine,” she lied again, to avoid traveling with him.

“It’s on the way,” he grinned.

Blast this unpopulated place, she railed to herself.

She smiled, “That’s great. It will just be a moment.” She turned to go back inside. She wanted to leave him out here, where he wouldn’t see that she had not started packing. But this place was unforgivingly hot and dry. She had to offer.

“Water?”

He grinned again. “That’s the friendliest thing you can say on this planet,” he said.

She hummed at that, and hit the door controls. They played a brief nonverbal game of “after you” which she lost. As she crossed the threshold, her eyes darted around the rooms furtively, looking for all the things she needed to gather.

She took her time crossing to the sink and fetching a cup as she continued her internal list-making. To her satisfaction, she was still traveling quite light. It wasn’t a long list.

He was looking around too. “I can barely tell you’re staying here.”

She frowned. “You guessed pretty quick last time—you said it felt different.” She remembered. “You’re saying the Force told you I was staying here?” The sarcasm dripped from her words, as it often did. She filled the cup with cool water and handed it to him.

“More or less,” he nodded. He made eye contact, challenging her.

She shook her head and placed the small satchel she’d brought on the bed. She gathered her short list of belongings.

Chiara closed the satchel, regretting the loss of the lightsaber.

“Something wrong?” he asked lightly.

Fierfek, how is he reading me? She clamped down hard on her shields. But then, she didn’t see the harm in telling the truth. “I never found the lightsaber I lost in the fight with the Tuskens.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” he mused.

She gave him a steady look. It would be nice to get her lightsaber back. She’d rearmed since the attack with a heavy carbine and a new vibroblade but it wasn’t the same.

“Where was the fight?”

She led him back to the site, to the outcropping of rock she’d hidden behind. He closed his eyes, concentrating, then frowning. She wondered if he was capable of finding the lightsaber. She wondered if he was even trying to find the lightsaber, or if he had ulterior motives.

“It’s here,” he murmured. “Somewhere.” He opened his eyes and scanned the surrounding sand as if waiting for the weapon to show itself. He shook his head and closed his eyes again. He raised his right hand, palm down, in front of him. If he wasn’t serious, his act was getting theatrical. She waited.

He grunted, dropped his hand, and looked at her. "You have a stronger connection with it. He motioned for her to stand beside him.

“Me? I told you, I’m not like you,” she protested.

“Uh-huh, you did. Let’s see what happens anyway.” He motioned again.

“Alright, I’ll give it a try,” she shrugged and joined him.

He opened his mouth as if to reply, and then shut it again, smiling to himself at some private joke.

“Now close your eyes and focus on the lightsaber. Think about the way it feels in your hand. Remember how you’ve used it in the past. As vividly as you can,” Luke suggested.

Mara resisted rolling her eyes. She settled for a hard look at him before complying. She envisioned the familiar hilt in her hand. She remembered sparring with practice partners, cutting down enemies, swinging at the Tuskens. The particular humming vibration it made, even at rest, crackled in her ears. The specific shade of the violet blade filled her eyes.

Her right hand shot up and out in front of her, just as the lightsaber, still dripping sand, hit her palm.

“Nice!” Skywalker was grinning at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You did that!” She accused him.

“I did not!” he protested, laughing. “I almost had it but I couldn’t quite find it. You did. It’s your lightsaber.”

She shook the hilt in her hand and blew sand out of the grooves. She flicked the activation switch and that violet blade blazed to life with exactly the sizzling crackle she’d just been remembering. She smiled as the last few grains of sand fell into the laser and sparked and sizzled, leaving a faint burning smell. She extinguished the blade and slipped it into the ring at her hip.

Skywalker was still grinning. Of course.

“Thanks,” she grunted. The familiar weight settled at her hip and she relaxed a bit, feeling a bit more herself. She looked back at him, weighing her options. “Look, I’ll take that ride to Bestine if it’s still available.”

“Sure,” he said lightly.

They returned to Kenobi’s. She stepped into the refresher with the satchel and changed into an outfit she’d bought in Anchorhead so as not to attract attention. They used simple woven fabrics dyed in dull colors. She wound her braid into a bun on the back of her head as was the local style. The poncho settled over her shoulders. She appreciated its ability to hide multiple weapons from view. Satisfied she looked as uninteresting as possible, she rejoined Skywalker in the main room.

His eyes roamed around the space before settling on her.

“Did I desecrate it?” she snarked, wondering what he might see that she didn’t.

“Not at all,” he returned. “I was thinking it’s nice that it was lived in again.”

She had noticed that, like last time, he had chosen light and natural colors for his clothing, over the ostentatious black from the Hutt op. He wasn’t looking to attract attention either. Perhaps he was telling the truth about a quick quiet trip to honor his family.

“Ready,” she announced.

He nodded, reluctant to leave. He cared about Kenobi. He was reminiscing here, too. She waited a moment, enjoying the coolness she wouldn’t feel again til they reached Bestine.

His reverie ended, and he smiled at her patience. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She rode behind him on the speeder bike, holding onto him as loosely as she could without falling off. She didn’t like the forced closeness. Why had she accepted this ride? She should have stuck with the story she had made other arrangements and then made some. Too late now.

She felt herself sinking into a mental haze as the unchanging sandy scenery whipped by and the route stretched far before them.

She snapped back to alertness.

“What?” Luke asked, feeling it, somehow.

The tingle she felt when danger was near zinged in her brain.

“Dodge, to 2 o’clock. Now!”

Immediately he swerved, right as blaster fire hit the sand where they would have been. Skywalker accelerated swiftly, straining the whining engine to its most. Without looking back at the source of the attack, he swerved back and forth, varying direction, height and speed to make himself as unpredictable a target as possible.

Mara found her binocs under her poncho and trained them in the direction of the incoming fire. She caught a glimpse of a Bantha on the opposite cliff. More Tuskens. So much for them giving up on killing me.

As soon as they were out of range of the Tuskens' weapons, Skywalker slowed to prevent burning out the engine. He punched buttons to recalculate their route after the evasions.

“It’s going to take a bit longer now. When do you need to be in Bestine?” he shouted over the engines.

She dipped her chin over his shoulder, studying the display. “Doesn’t have to be today,” she replied, trying to make herself heard without shouting in his ear. “Mos Eisley is fine–it’s closer now, anyway.”

She felt his relief at this. He neither asked for confirmation nor acknowledged she’d effectively confessed to lying about having made arrangements. For whatever reasons of his own, he was happy to go to Mos Eisley instead.

The adrenaline spiked by the attack kept Mara alert for a while, but as it dissipated, she realized she felt hazy again. She fought it with years of practice staying awake and keeping watch. The fact that she’d slipped out of the habit earlier was another piece of evidence that she was deconditioned. Time to leave. Overdue.

Mara’s surveillance revealed nothing for the remainder of the trip. She offered to drive to give Skywalker a break but he’d shaken her off. Probably assumed she would not handle the swoop well. She would have enjoyed surprising him on that point. She always enjoyed surprising people with her competence. Surprising the earnest Rebel was even more fun than most.

But she would not get to show off her driving today. She had to admit that he did deserve his reputation as a pilot. Did he enjoy proving himself as much as she did? She wondered.

Skywalker’s attention drifted to some apparently abandoned buildings. Mara frowned, straining to remember his history and the local geography. Though they stayed on their navigated path, he was definitely distracted.

“Problem?” she queried, reaching for the binocs.

“No,” he responded. “It’s fine.” Her sense of him didn’t change.

“Should we stop? Take a break?” She persisted curiously. The one thing he had not been so far had been terse.

She felt him relent a fraction. “No, I’m coming back here later, is all. That’s my family’s farm.”

“I’m not in a hurry, if you want to stop.” Now that would be fascinating, to see him literally in his home habitat.

He hesitated, but his foot eased on the accelerator. He veered off toward the main building, still seeming a bit uncertain.

A sliver of shade snuggled the side of the building. Skywalker expertly maneuvered the bike to fit in the shadow. He swung himself off, eyes glued to the contours of the walls, partially obscured by sand drifts of various sizes.

“Take your time,” Mara volunteered. As curious as she was, it didn’t feel right to go snooping along behind him as he visited his boyhood home.

He looked back at her and nodded, handing her his water canteen.

“I’ve got some,” she waved it off.

“Use it,” he instructed. “Don’t get sunstroke.” With that, he disappeared inside, moving quickly and confidently.

She shook her head once more at the earnestness. Not that he was wrong of course. It wouldn’t do to be taken out by the heat; it was easy enough to avoid. She reached under the poncho and put the canteen to her lips. She took a few eager swallows and saved the rest.

She took off the poncho and shook it out, knowing it would get coated with sand again within the next few miles of the trip. She brushed off her trousers and looked around her. She considered walking a circuit around the building but decided to leave Skywalker to his privacy. Maybe she’d come back after he left and satisfy her curiosity.

She stretched her limbs, moving through simple exercises she first learned from a dance teacher. When she had finished, she leaned against the wall in the narrow shade. She scanned the horizon with her binocs and saw nothing. Tatooine could define nothingness in a whole new way. She tuned into her danger sense, trusting it to alert her if necessary, but there again there was nothing to sense. She waited. Sweat beaded around her face and ran down her back.

Skywalker emerged from the building and scanned for her. Finding her next to the bike, he held up a hand, his index finger raised. “I just need to check one more thing,” he called.

“I’ll be here,” she nodded.

He struck off over a small rise in the sand and disappeared over the other side. She waited several more minutes, scanning the environment every few minutes. Suddenly she felt a wave of grief and anguish that overwhelmed her. Her knees hit the sand hard, and her arms folded around her.

The smell of scorched sand filled her nose. She saw the building behind her in a haze of smoke, columns of if billowing to the sky. And then, a pair of ashy, smoking skeletons. She gasped at the sight, and felt as if she was breathing in smoke. She choked and fought to draw air.

The image was promptly replaced with a montage of others, faces she did not know. Despair turned to resentment and a familiar-feeling rage, but as quickly as it appeared, it shifted again, drawing back behind Skywalker’s shields.

Her senses cleared as the emotion faded. She stood back up, catching her breath, trying to make sense of what she had seen. Nothing in her physical environment had changed.

Just as her breathing returned to normal, Skywalker reappeared over the sand ridge. His posture was unusually slumped. When he caught sight of her, he straightened, into a posture she figured passed for military for Rebels. His eyes remained cast down into the sand.

As he reached the bike, he nodded curtly at her and swung himself onto it. She hesitated. Shouldn’t she say something after what she’d just seen? Her training offered nothing but the typical trite platitudes about loss and war, usually offered in a much more formal setting. It seemed better not to say anything at all than any of those empty phrases.

She climbed onto the bike behind him. Again she awkwardly placed her arms around him, wishing he’d brought a speeder instead. He probably did, too.

As they came up to speed on the last leg of their journey to Mos Eisley, she resumed her scanning of the area, looking for banthas. Her danger sense stretched out as far as it could reach. To her surprise she found herself settling her cheek between his shoulder blades. He did not react. It struck her that this was the only response she had to offer for solace in the devastation he had suffered that day. She wondered if it would make a difference.

They both breathed a sigh of relief as Mos Eisley came into sight. He navigated the streets easily, coming to a stop in a shopping district filled with vendors.

He vaulted off the bike. They both reached for their canteens. They could finally drain them now that they had the opportunity to refill them.

“What were you doing five standard years ago?” Luke asked abruptly. “Were you working for him then?”

Mara nodded wordlessly. She stood off the bike and shook sand off her clothes.

“Were you there? I mean, here? When they were looking for the droids?” he prodded further.

She looked at him uncomprehending for a moment. Five years ago. At this time five years ago the Empire’s new battle station had been demonstrated and then just as quickly destroyed.

“The anniversary of Yavin,” she breathed, understanding. Which meant it was also the anniversary of Skywalker’s joining up with the Rebels. Which meant it was also the anniversary of the death of his family at Imperial stormtroopers' hands. And he was asking if she’d been involved.

“No, I wasn’t. That was Vader’s command. I never worked for him.”

“Right.” Anger leaked through his shields. It felt almost recognizable to her—like a taste she was familiar with, but could not name.

“I’m sorry for—” the automatic phrase left her mouth. “They shouldn’t have done that. It was — they shouldn’t have.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Yeah—they made a dangerous enemy, you said.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “I need a real drink.”

He scanned the street. “There’s a decent place down there. At least there used to be.” He lifted his chin to indicate direction.

He turned and walked a few steps. He called back to her.

“You coming?”

Chapter Text

Mara realized it was not wise to follow Skywalker to some hole-in-the-wall cantina. She had never intended to see him again, let alone travel around Tatooine with him, reliving his trauma. She should use this opportunity to part ways.

As she considered how to word her refusal, she found she was already following him. She was thirsty, after all, and hungry too. No harm in taking care of that first.

They ordered drinks. After the server droid left, he asked, “So what should they have done?” Even in the dim lighting, his blue eyes burned intensely.

It took her a moment to rewind back to his reference. “What should the troopers have done when they were looking for the droids with the plans?” She stalled for time. This couldn’t be heading in a constructive direction.

He nodded and took a long draught of the bantha milk in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in satisfaction. It was a good memory for him.

“I didn’t command troops,” she noted. “I worked alone, on different sorts of missions.” She’d ordered the same drink out of curiosity — it had been a long time since she’d had it. She took a sip. It was fine. She was not as delighted as he was.

A woman emerged behind the bar, eyeing the two of them. She picked up a cloth and started shining the transparisteel drinkware.

Skywalker shrugged. “When we talked about tactics at Jabba’s, you were in favor of overwhelming force to ensure the success of the mission. Collateral damage was to be minimized but not necessarily avoided. That’s what the stormtroopers did on our farm, isn’t it? They came in with blasters and fire and when they couldn’t find what they wanted, they destroyed it.”

Mara swallowed hard. “It’s not the same,” she shook her head. Her mind raced, looking for exits from this conversation. She could not justify the destruction he’d experienced. But back then, she’d had a different point of view.

And I’m not the same, she thought. “What happened to your family—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah — ‘it shouldn’t have happened, sorry for your loss.’ I heard you the first time.” He waved a hand to show his disinterest. “But we were talking tactics. Whoever you’re working for, for whatever reason, your mission is to recover the plans. So what would you do? The droid carrying them was sold to a farmer. The farmer claims he does not know where the droid is, and your team can’t find it anywhere on the farm. What do you do?”

What do you want to hear? The first answer was safe enough. “I would have offered money.”

“He can’t sell you what he can’t deliver.”

She sighed. “I would have threatened him.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t help. He still says he doesn’t know where it is.”

She sighed again. “I would have threatened his family.”

“Blaster to his wife’s head?” he asks mildly, taking another long drink.

Stars, what do you want from me? “Not if he really cared about her. He’d say anything to keep me from firing, true or not. Could send me on a wild mynock chase.”

Luke nods at this. “Yeah, Leia fed Tarkin bad information just to keep him from firing on Alderaan. We all know how that turned out.” He drained the glass of bantha milk. He motioned at the server droid.

“Slow down there, buddy,” Mara cracked. “You don’t want a hangover.”

“Oh, I haven’t started yet.” He ordered something she’d never heard of, and the server droid turned to her. She waved them off.

“So you said you’d threaten the family but not the wife?” He was persistent. Was he trying to trap her?

“If it’s just the two of them, I look for evidence of kids. Threaten that I will start hunting for them, or other family members that aren’t there, if I don’t get what I want. It’s not as immediate — I’m less likely to get bad information.”

He made a face she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Right, so you threaten to start hunting me. Maybe I know where the droid is. Maybe I took the droid with me. Maybe I’ll be more cooperative.”

She fought to keep from squirming in her seat. “It’s a tactic. Making a threat doesn’t mean I’d follow through. What’s important is that they would believe I will.”

“Except they truly don’t know where I am, or where the droid is, and now you’ve threatened to hurt me. They can’t allow that to happen. So they fight you.”

She sighed again.

“And you kill them,” Luke concludes.

“I defend myself. I subdue them,” she corrects harshly. “If I think they know something useful.”

“And if they don’t? They’ve seen you and can identify you. Your identity is secret, right?”

Don’t….lose….it…..

“Why are you trying to get me to say I’d kill them?” she barked at him. “You want me to say I’d do the same as those troopers did? And to leave them for you to find….” She trailed off with a scowl.

“How do you know what I saw?” He looked up sharply. She had finally caught him off-balance.

“Earlier,” she said, motioning with her head in the direction of the farm. “Your memories?”

“Oh,” he said. His eyes dropped back to the table and a shadow fell over his features. “You saw that, huh? It was a lot more intense than I thought it would be. Overwhelming. I lost control.” He sounded ashamed at that last.

“Anyway,” he continued, “something to remember the next time you’re assuming collateral damage doesn’t have to be minimized.” He took a generous draught of the drink that was disappearing at an alarming rate. “And don’t compare it to the Death Star again. It was a Star of Death, not a ‘battle station.’ It was coming for Yavin 4. So it was them or us; it was that simple. I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t die. So I got a medal. Now I gotta dig it out and play the hero and celebrate.”

The bartender glanced over, wiping the bar.

Mara could feel his anger and the pain underlying it in her throat, her solar plexus, and her stomach. She searched her mind. If he were with his friends, they would likely put an arm around him, or hug him. They’d mutter sympathetic phrases.

She reviewed their physical contact. He’d carried her around when she was injured, much to her dismay. She may have thrown her arms around his neck after a nightmare. With any luck, that was just a dream as well.

She moved a hand toward him, intending to touch his shoulder or forearm or something. Seeing her hand move, he leaned back, out of reach. His chair balanced on its back legs. The challenge remained in his blue eyes.

“Look,” her tone soft, hoping that would help, “from an Imperial point of view, they were dead the minute they bought the droid. Whoever the Jawas sold the astromech to was bound to die.”

“Yeah, I’ve been down that womp-rat hole, too,” he signaled for another of whatever he was having, which was clearly alcoholic. “We got Artoo cause the R5’s motivator was bad, and C-3P0 suggested him. We needed C-3P0 because the last Bocce-speaking droid was beyond repair. What if we’d gotten another month out of that old Bocce-speaking droid? What if I hadn’t removed Artoo’s restraining bolt? What if I’d just gotten up the next morning and gone to work and let someone else worry about the droids? And so on and so forth all the way back to: what if my aunt and uncle hadn’t taken me in in the first place? I mean, what if they’d gotten stuck with me?” He shook his head and gazed into his glass.

She reviewed what she could remember about Luke Skywalker before he joined the Rebellion. It hadn’t seemed relevant at the time, but she prided herself on doing her research. Nothing came to mind about how he came to be in his aunt and uncle’s custody.

“How old were you when they took you in?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Too young to remember. A baby, I think.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about them being ‘stuck’ with you,” she observed.

“Oh? Why’s that?” His glass was empty again. He motioned for the droid.

“You sure you haven’t had enough?” There were too many things Mara was unwilling to talk about. Skywalker’s rapidly increasing willingness to talk about anything and everything was alarming.

“I’m sure I haven’t,” he replied with certainty. “So why did you say they didn’t get stuck with me?”

“Even if they didn’t volunteer when you first came to them, they chose to raise you. In a place like Tatooine, if you want to dump a kid, there are a number of ways to do it. They could have left you at an orphanage, or not watched too carefully in Tusken areas, or just left you in that open-air market.” She motioned toward the door. “Dropped you in the Sarlacc. I mean, they could have sold you, for that matter, out here.”

Luke frowned. “Don’t joke about that. My grandmother was a slave.”

“I wasn’t joking. I’m serious. They chose to keep you, every day. They didn’t have to. Therefore, they weren’t stuck.”

“My uncle liked the free labor,” he mused. “Wouldn’t let me go to the academy 'cause he needed me on the farm.”

“Well, sure, you got handy after several years of feeding, watering, sheltering, keeping whole and healthy. And I can’t even imagine what it was like trying to keep you from crashing the family speeder.”

He guffawed at that. “'Every speeder is a deadly weapon,” he intoned in a deep voice, in his best imitation of his uncle. “Respect it like one.'”

“Yeah, I’ll bet that was really effective on you as a teenage hotshot.” She swigged the remainder of her bantha milk.

“He was overprotective. I didn’t understand. I just thought he wanted to make me miserable.” Mara felt his guilt twist in her gut as his anger turned back on himself.

The next drink arrived. He drained it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he reasoned. “You didn’t have anyone protecting you.”

His words slipped cleanly past her defenses and scored a direct hit to her core. Her eyes widened in shock. She studied her glass as she focused on shoring up her shields. She’d been distracted by his pain and anger and her confusion about what to say to him. The loneliness of her upbringing rose in her throat and threatened to spill out of her eyes.

Her shield strengthening was too late. He looked up sharply. The front legs of the chair hit the floor with a bang. “Wait—” he started.

At the bar, the bartender’s head snapped up at the sound.

“OK, I think that’s enough for you for one day.” Mara’s voice came out strangled. She got to her feet. He followed suit.

“But—hold on.” He tried to backtrack.

Mara jerked her head toward the door. He stumbled in that direction. She detoured back to the bar to pay the bill.

The bartender waved off the droid that appeared and leaned over the bar.

“There’s not much in the way of law enforcement around here. But if he gets to be too much, just give a shout and other folk will help.” The bartender advised.

“We’ll be fine,” Mara growled. The bartender’s statement surprised her. “Are bystanders really that eager to get involved here?”

“That’s Skywalker, isn’t it? Yeah—they say he burned down their farm and murdered his family. Whatever else he’s done, and whatever peoples' politics are, they respected his aunt and uncle.”

Mara’s face twisted into a scowl.

“‘They’ are wrong,” she snapped. “Stormtroopers did that. Stupid, idiotic stormtroopers.”

“Is there another kind?” The bartender smirked.

Mara tossed credits on the bar. No love for Skywalker or the Empire, she noted. After a beat, she tossed a few more.

“We were never here,” she said in her most imperious tone.

“No one’s ever here,” the bartender responded, scooping up the credit and nodding her gratitude.

Outside, Skywalker leaned against the wall. He’d pulled his robe back in place with the hood up. It was effective in hiding his face.

“I didn’t mean that,” he started.

“You staying near here?” Mara’s tone brooked no argument. The part of her that knew his remark came straight from the alcohol wanted to tell him about what the bartender said. Some part of her wanted to warn him. Another part wanted to revert to her former mission and kill him where he stood. I knew following him in there was a bad idea. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Yeah,” he responded, the hood pointing up the street. “Look—”

“Right. Can you be trusted not to get back on that bike til you sober up?”

“I’m very trustworthy. Haven’t you heard?” he snorted. “But—”

“Right.” She sighed and turned away. He reached out a hand.

She looked at it, puzzled, until he turned it over to show a keycard.

As if you couldn’t hotwire it, if you really wanted to. She took the card with a grunt.

“Can I just—” He was still trying.

“No,” she said, her tone final. She turned on her heel and left him in the street.

The murderous part of her considered calling out loud, “Hey, aren’t you Luke Skywalker? Didn’t you use to live here?” A spiteful smile crept across her face at the thought.

He waited a moment more. Reluctantly he set off in the opposite direction, calling, “OK then, see you later, whatever-your-name-is.”

He couldn’t even remember her name. She considered finding another cantina and getting drunk herself. This morning she had woken up at Kenobi’s as she had many days before. Since then, she’d lied her way through a trip with Skywalker, been shot at, experienced the death of his family, and witnessed him drink his way through it. At long last, he took a shot at her. As he should have done all along. She deserved it. He understood now.

No, she would not look for a cantina. Mos Eisley was a sea of docking bays. It would be easy enough to find a ship to get her out of here. The sooner, the better.

Luke slumped onto the bed. He reached out a hand and summoned his canteen, drinking deeply. He’d drunk too much alcohol on an empty stomach and while dehydrated. He knew better. He hadn’t cared.

The image of the smoking farm with his aunt and uncle’s bodies scorched to the bones had been too much. The smell permeated his nose. The wind whipped his hair into his face. The remains of the fire crackled in his ears. He was nineteen again and his whole world burned in front of his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he’d visited their graves. Last time was different. He’d remembered, mourned, meditated, and moved on. He’d been quieter and more somber than usual for a few days. No doubt existed in his mind that this time’s experience had been Force-related. He should warn Leia.

Maybe he should warn Han too. He’d broadcast his pain and anger to Chiara. And then interrogated and insulted her while attempting to drown his own feelings. He closed his eyes tight, trying to shut out his foolishness. The sight of her eyes widening as she absorbed his observation that she couldn’t understand his pain. Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot. She’d never want to see him again. Why would she?

He checked his chrono and keyed his holocam for Leia.

“Hi! You just caught us. We’re packing.” She was folding clothes. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine, Leia.” He poured all the reassurance he could into the Force bond between them. "I—

“—oh, hold on, sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back. Talk to Han.” She stepped out of the holocam field, likely back to her desk. Han came into view.

“Hey kid,” he greeted him cheerfully, holding a wad of clothing in each hand. “How goes the uh…secondary objective?” Luke doubted Han’s military code fooled Leia. He hoped she couldn’t hear over her distraction.

“Total failure,” Luke sighed. “I blew it.”

Han chortled. “Been there. Plenty of times,” he tipped his head in Leia’s direction. “I kept trying. Just cause you’re down doesn’t mean you’re out.”

Do or do not, there is no try. Luke heard Yoda’s voice in his head. “I dunno. We’ll see.”

“We’ll see about what?” Leia re-entered the visible field.

“Hey, Leia, I just wanted to give you a heads-up.” Luke ignored her question. “Last time I visited my family’s graves was fine, you know, normal. But this time I got a vivid flashback. I could see it, hear it, smell it, feel it as if it was happening all over again. I wasn’t ready for that. And for you, it’ll be the destruction of a whole planet, so be careful.”

“Oh Luke, that sounds awful. I knew I should have come with you, whether this laser-brain did or not.” Her head bobbed backward at Han, standing behind her.

“You couldn’t have done anything if you were here,” Luke shook his head.

“We could wait—go next year?” Han suggested.

“I don’t think that’s necessary—and there’s no reason to believe it gets better with time,” Luke replied. He focused on Leia, “Just keep in mind it could be a visceral experience. And let Han support you if it’s too much. I can’t make it back in time or I’d come with you.”

“And if we wait any longer, we won’t be back in time for the celebrations,” Leia noted. “So is she there?”

“Yeah.” Luke smiled sadly. “But I was all messed up with that flashback, and I acted like an idiot. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her anymore.”

“Well, anyone who can’t feel compassion at a time like that doesn’t deserve you,” Leia soothed.

“She saw my memories when it happened, Leia. I didn’t even know I was projecting. And then I lit into her like it was her fault the Empire killed Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen.” He stopped short of repeating what Chiara had said about it being Vader’s command. Leia would pounce on that.

“It was somebody’s fault,” Leia reasoned. “Even if she didn’t have anything to do with it, she probably hurt others for the glory of the Empire. You don’t have to let her off the hook for that. We’re all accountable for our choices.”

“Well, I made some terrible choices today.”

“So sleep it off and get up tomorrow and fix it. If you regret what you said, apologize. Women love sincere apologies. The best ones include a list of everything you wish you hadn’t done or said and why.” Leia smiled over her shoulder at Han.

“Groveling, kid, she means ‘grovel’,” Han snorted.

“That’s an exaggeration!” Leia turned from the holocam to face Han.

Luke closed his eyes, listening as their conversation devolved into familiar ribbing. His eyes didn’t want to open again. He rolled to his back. Leia was right, as usual, not that he was about to admit that to her. Tomorrow he would look for Chiara. If he found her, and if she was willing to hear him out, he would apologize. It was all he could do for the time being.

“'Night,” he murmured to the holocam and switched it off.

Chapter Text

The earliest available passage off this dustball Mara could find was two days out.

She located the closest accommodation to the spaceport. Sleep was elusive and fitful. Memories of the day brought her back to near-consciousness, then threw her back again. She got up early. As she looked through her things, Skywalker’s swoop bike keycard fell to the floor.

She grunted, picking it up. Turning it in her hand, she considered. She was not eager to see him again. He’d turned up unexpectedly, reminding her she’d procrastinated much too long finding her next destination.

The memories of the attack on his farm had been disturbing in their realism. His anger afterward was understandable. She was glad she hadn’t been involved. Despite the cold calculus she’d argued at Jabba’s, she didn’t care to hurt innocents thrust into a situation beyond their control. If she could help it. Even the troopers at fault were likely following orders handed down from the chain of command. Orders issued by a commander who didn’t have to watch the victims burn. The accusation that Skywalker had started the fire had the ring of Imperial propaganda, likely devised by the troopers or their commander.

The awkwardness in the cantina had revealed what she already knew — Skywalker could claim her past didn’t matter but that was not true. The events of the past few years were too important to dismiss out of hand. She’d executed so many missions he’d be horrified to learn about. His scorn may have been misdirected for that particular event but she deserved it all the same. That and more.

She sighed. She knew Skywalker could start the bike without the keycard. The rental service would require its return. Would his princess buy him a swoop bike? She could leave the key with a keeper where he was staying and duck out again.

A little detective work, a well-placed bribe, and some flirting got her the name and location of his hotel. She pulled the keycard from a pocket as Skywalker appeared through another door. Of course. Shavit.

“I was hoping to run into you.” Skywalker’s smile was sheepish compared to his frequent grin. “I owe you an apology.”

She handed him the keycard with a grunt. “You’ll want this.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’m on my way to breakfast. I’m buying if you’d like to join me.”

She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything, Skywalker. It’s fine.” She had a lot of experience being on the receiving end of anger. Skywalker was an amateur.

“It’s not fine. I was an idiot. But if you don’t want breakfast, that’s okay. I can give you a ride back to Ben’s, or pay for your transportation back there. You moved out because I showed up—I didn’t mean to chase you out. There’s no reason you should leave.”

“I’m not going back. I was planning to leave, just not right then. So you’ve apologized, and it’s fine, so—”

“Oh, that’s just the beginning of the apology. Plenty more where that came from.” he chuckled. They’d crossed the hotel lobby and stepped out into the unrelenting Tatooine sunsshine.

She waited for him to repeat the breakfast invitation. He stood, biting his lip, as if restraining himself from doing so.

Her experience with apologies was twofold. In Imperial circles, what passed for ‘apologies’ were usually excuses and rationalizations. In contrast, when Mara’s targets realized she was going to kill them, most became desperate. They tried to make bargains, promising their unending loyalty and undying service. Some cried, others begged, others put on a brave face.

When she’d fantasized about Skywalker’s final moments at her hands, he was groveling. He regretted his choices. He wished he’d seen the wisdom of the Dark Side earlier, and cut down Vader to join the Emperor when he’d had the chance. He’d been so wrong. Mara was so right. He was such an idiot.

“So where is this breakfast you’re going to?” she asked, affecting nonchalance.

“What kind of food do you like?” he asked.

“Oh I always follow the recommendations of the locals,” she smirked. In truth, she survived mostly on ration bars.

“There’s a great little place a few blocks over. Lots of native dishes.”

She followed him, curious what the “plenty more” of apology would sound like. Surely there would be enough blame to spread around to the alcohol, the nightmarish vision at the gravesite, the hot suns, and likely Mara herself for coming along.

They stepped in and waited on the other side of the door for their eyes to adjust. It was common on this too-bright planet. Mara had noticed there was often open space left around the inside of exit doors for this purpose. The interior was quiet. A few patrons sat at scattered tables. The smell was enticing—it reminded Mara of a favorite dive on Coruscant that served a mouth-watering array of spiced meats.

Instinctively Mara moved to a corner table where she could see the whole room. In the dim light, the place looked clean. That was also promising. She scanned for a server droid. Her eyes landed on a Chandra-fan that moved toward them with two glasses of ice water. Mara focused on the ice cubes. This place is nicer than it looks.

The server placed the water glasses in front of them with a quiet greeting. He looked at Mara with expectation.

“What do you recommend?” Mara turned to Skywalker.

“Sand crabs. They’re in season and this place knows just what to do with them.” He saw her quick nod and smiled at the server. “Make it two, please. And a bantha milk and….caf?”

She nodded again.

Once the Chandra-fan moved off, Skywalker launched his speech. “I’m sorry we headed to Mos Eisley instead of back to Bestine, which is where you wanted to go. If we’d done that, the rest wouldn’t have happened.”

She had suggested Mos Eisley herself and was about to remind him of that when he brought up a hand in front of him, stopping her.

“Hold on—I’d like to finish first. I’m very sorry I broadcast my re-living of that day to you. I knew you are Force-sensitive and I should have known that the visit home might be intense. I should have gone back alone. And I’m sorry I dragged you along for the drinking afterward and took my grief out on you. I put you on the spot and it wasn’t fair. I told you before that we don’t hold peoples' pasts against them, and then I did exactly that to you. And finally, that crack about your not understanding.” He shook his head. “That was way out of line. I have no idea what your life has been like. I hope someday you’ll tell me more about it.”

His bantha milk arrived along with the caf and the food. He took a long drink and fell on his breakfast with enthusiasm. “That’s it,” he said as the fork rose to his mouth. “Did I forget anything?”

She compared this apology to those of her hapless victims who realized much too late that they were being executed for crimes against the Empire. There was the regret, followed by a promise to do better. A hope that they would be forgiven and the relationship repaired. The key difference was that they had apologized for what they had done to the Emperor. Not to her. When was the last time someone apologized for what they’d done to her?

Mara stared at him, at war with herself. Her Imperial side doubled over with laughter. Half of what he apologized for was my idea — leaving Kenobi’s, coming to Mos Eisley, stopping at the farm. If he keeps going, what else can I get him to take responsibility for? Starting the war, maybe? Who does he think he’s kidding?

Another part of her knew he was not kidding at all. The authenticity behind his speech rolled over her in a wave as powerful as the vision he’d broadcast the day before. Skywalker had shocked her. Again. How does he keep doing that?

Still another part of her stared into those blue eyes, as if standing on the edge of a pool, wanting nothing more than to fall—no no no no.

“It was karking hot yesterday. You wanna take credit for that?” she snorted. “Look, it’s fine. You think you’re the first obnoxious drunk I’ve dealt with?”

“I’m not usually an obnoxious drunk. I’m not usually a drunk at all.” He speared another crab with ardor.

“Well it wasn’t exactly a usual day, was it?” Mara mused. “That memory was….intense. That would knock anyone off-course.” Her Imperial side blanched. Since when did the fantasy of Skywalker’s apologies include soothing him with ‘could happen to anyone’?!

“No, it wasn’t a usual day. And then last night I had vivid dreams. Or Force visions, maybe? I don’t know—they were all memories. Good ones. I had one tragic day here. But I also had nineteen years' worth of better days. Some of the dreams ran in a loop; I must have threaded the needle in Beggar’s Canyon twenty times, and each time it was magic.” The blue eyes shone.

“Threading the needle?” She recalled he learned to pilot by hotdogging around the local canyons. But nothing about needles.

“Yeah! It was stupid and reckless and I was lucky not to kill myself and my friend Windy. It’s a stone formation with a hole just large enough for a T-16.” He pinched his finger and thumb close together to indicate the clearance.

Idiot. She shook her head. “And you’re going to repeat this stupidity and recklessness today? To relive good times?”

“Nah, gotta be responsible now.” The shake of his head reflected regret. “I guess that makes me more scared of Leia than Uncle Owen.” He laughed as if he’d surprised himself. “I’m going to try to find a T-16 to rent today to take out there.”

Mara had to focus to avoid choking on the crab she was chewing. “A T-16? You think you could find one these days? Didn’t you bring an X-Wing?” she quizzed him. Why am I engaging with this?

He shook his head, his features arranged in an expresssion she couldn’t decipher. “Nah, I borrowed a new ship I can’t risk hurting. I need to keep it in cherry condition. I’ll be putting that one through its paces in space tomorrow before I go to hyperspace.” His eyes were lit with excitement.

An idea sparked in those blue pools. “You’re welcome to join me today. If you like….that sort of thing. Tatooine’s not all bad.”

Mara had gotten a bit too comfortable at Kenobi’s for a reason. Despite the heat and the Tuskens and the way Tatooine tried to kill you at every turn, there was something about this place. It was past time to leave. But it was not all bad. She’d be hard-pressed to find the words to express her affinity for it.

Of course, experiencing Beggar’s Canyon in a T-16 with Luke Skywalker at the controls was crazy. Mara Jade was not crazy.

“Why not?” she asked aloud. Shavit. She knew very well why not. The risks were too great. Death, dismemberment, letting down her guard, embarrassment. Worst of all, allowing him to see me. Again. Not permitted. Under any circumstance. Ever again.

He looked up, surprised. “Really? That’s great!” That stupid grin spread from ear to ear. She wanted to slap it off his face. Idiot. Which makes two of us. I’m an idiot for agreeing.

“Where are you going to find a T-16 for rent, anyway?” she asked warily, hoping their plans would be foiled by other means.

“There’s a place or two around here with rentals,” he shrugged. “If you can’t find it in Mos Eisley, it probably can’t be found anywhere on the planet.”

She grunted, fervently hoping that was the case. Her tendency to say things to him that surprised and embarrassed her was most disturbing. Best to get out of his presence altogether.

Luke stepped into the rental shop and filled his lungs, a smile stretching across his face. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine a simpler time in his life, when running his hand over swoop bikes and speeders would make his day. He smelled grease and fuel, favorite smells just a few years ago. A lifetime ago.

His smile turned to a grimace as his gaze fell on the man behind the counter, tapping absently at a datapad. Perhaps they should leave before—

The man looked up, his eyes focusing on the hooded figure. “Can I help you?”

The hood lowered, revealing a face Fixer hadn’t seen in years. A face that had gained some fame, at least by Tatooinian standards.

“Wormie? Is that you?” Fixer asked. His eyes quickly slid to the woman behind Luke, a redhead with an attractive figure.

“You left Tosche Station?” Luke continued to the counter, not particularly pleased with this development.

“Nah, we did so well there we’ve expanded. This is our third shop,” Fixer bragged. Behind him a woman appeared, moving slowly with a heavy pregnancy.

“Did you say—” she started. Her eyes landed on Luke. “Wormie! It is you!”

“Sure is, Camie. How are you?” Luke nodded in recognition. Camie’s eyes, too, shifted to the woman wandering around the shop, hanging back to give the old friends privacy. Camie stopped in her tracks on her way around the counter, and reversed back to stand next to Fixer. She draped a lazy arm over his neck.

“I’ll be better when this one comes,” she ran a hand over her belly. “Our second.” She smiled proudly at Fixer. “But you went off to war and got your name and holos in the news! And the wanted bulletins.” She shook her head at Luke. “And who is this?”

Luke turned to see Chiara approaching from the far corner of the shop. “This is Chiara.” In the short time they’d been in the shop, she had loosed the hair that had been braided atop her head. Somehow the comfortable clothes she wore seemed to hug her form more closely. When she spoke, her voice dropped an octave lower than usual.

She was running a finger along a sleek, overpowered speeder bike. She chuckled. “Hi, there,” she waved the fingers of her other hand. “This is a fun one, babe,” she directed to Luke. “Just think what we could do with this.”

Luke drew on all the control techniques Yoda had taught him to keep from bursting into laughter. Stay calm calm calm. Her sense was more open than usual, inviting him to play along in the mischief.

“You think so?” Luke smiled.

Fixer and Camie stared as Mara approached, swinging her hips and taking in her surroundings.

“You promised to show me how you used to hot dog around these canyons. That would do, hmmm?” She raised her eyebrows and brought her lips into a pout. She turned to Camie and Fixer. “He finally broke away from his busy schedule. Even after he won the war, he just never takes any time for himself.”

Luke found his voice again, to his own surprise. “I didn’t win the war—”

“Well, he had help.” Mara shrugged. She turned to Luke and ran a finger down his chest. “You’re so modest, babe.”

As her finger reached his waistline and showed no signs of stopping, Luke grabbed her hand in his and turned to Fixer. “I’m looking for a T-16.”

“Oh, man! Relivin' the glory days, huh? Those things are ancient!” Fixer shook his head and Camie rolled her eyes. “Lucky for you I happen to have one. I got a lotta experience workin' on your old beater back then. Can’t give it to you cheap, though, it costs a lot to keep it in tip-top shape.”

Luke was tempted to roll his eyes at this. He negotiated a decent price and the two took the back exit to where the T-16 was parked. Mara and Camie followed.

“Congratulations,” Mara cooed over Camie’s belly.

“Thanks,” Camie answered warily, watching Fixer, who was trying not to get caught watching Mara.

Fixer released the loading ramp, handed Luke a keycard, and turned back. “Make sure you bring 'er back in one piece. I remember how you used to bang yours up. Don’t you dare try to thread the needle with my ship.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Luke returned, amused at his own joke. Mara joined him with a slight smirk and they climbed the ramp.

As they watched the couple on the ground disappear through the narrowing crack of light from the ascending ramp, Mara stood close to him, her hand on a cocked hip, waving.

The ship reverberated as the ramp clunked in to place. Mara stepped away and burst out laughing.

“That was fun.” Her voice returned to its normal tone. She tugged her clothes back to allow her to move more freely. Her hands moved to her hair, braiding and twisting to keep it out of the way. Finally she looked at Luke, who was still staring at her.

“Too much?” She frowned. “Did I lay it on too thick? Did I misread the situation?”

Luke laughed now too. “No, not at all. You read it correctly. They will never see me as anything but the kid they knew. No matter what happens. But…why do that….?”

Why do that for you, Mara knew he meant.

Mara shrugged as she strapped into the passenger seat of the small cabin. “I amuse myself by taking the self-satisfied down a notch or two when I can. At least knock them off-balance. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

Luke inspected the controls, running his hand over them as if reading a book for the blind. “They will be talking about that for several lunar cycles.”

Chapter Text

As the Skyhopper climbed to altitude, the years dropped away with the ground. Luke was a teen again, with the same thrill rising in his blood as the ship sailed up and out, away from all of life’s troubles.

His passenger, however, was quite different from any of his teen friends. She’d just demonstrated that spectacularly. She must have done a lot of undercover work. It had taken every bit of control he possessed to prevent his jaw from dropping as he watched her portrayal of a slinky sex kitten. A slinky sex kitten who called him babe. He knew he enjoyed it too much. Way too much. He had tried to convince himself that his eagerness to spend time with her was due to her Force sensitivity alone. Both Leia and Han had suggested he had other motives. Master Yoda would not be pleased. Luke could hear his teacher’s admonishment to focus. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“You’ve got quite an acting talent,” he noted.

“Lots of practice and even more training.” She dismissed the compliment. “You weren’t bad yourself, for a rookie. I think we fooled them.” As the word “we” slipped from her lips, she wished she could suck it back in.

She knew it wasn’t a coincidence that she’d thought of that particular ruse for shaking up the smug friends of the smug Rebel. She’d luxuriated in swinging her hips, purring in that low, smoky voice, calling him babe. Though he had hidden it well, the shock that broke through Skywalker’s inner shields in waves had delighted her as well. She had enjoyed it all way too much. Oh, we’re a team now, are we? Her Imperial side recoiled. Why don’t you just marry him then?

She focused on the view out of the viewport as she pushed the feelings further and further down, compartmentalizing behind thick walls. She’d had more practice and training disregarding her feelings than any other skill. It doesn’t matter forget it focus on what’s in front of you.

He started out sanely enough, cruising to the Canyon at a speed that was exhilarating but not reckless. The grin seemed fixed on his face, as his mind wandered over memories from long ago.

Mara kept to herself, allowing him his private reminiscing. It crossed her mind, however briefly, that he may have brought other women, girls really, back then, out here in the same way in an effort to impress them. Windy, for one. Her stomach turned slightly. Just a little motion sickness. Not that she ever was sensitive to that.

“You get motion sick?” he asked in a casual tone.

She frowned. She didn’t believe in coincidence. She checked her mental shields and pulled them in closer and focused on reinforcing their strength.

“No.” Her reply was firm.

“You sure?” He looked over at her this time. He maneuvered the ship in a small swerve. The T-16 pulled up some, then down.

She shrugged. “Try me.” She dared him, eyes flashing.

“Ohhhhhh,” he murmured. And he did. They dipped, climbed, barrel rolled, dropped, and spun. She yelped a few times in surprise. But she remained in control, and as he pulled out of the last maneuver, her eyes glinted at him.

“Nice,” he conceded. His eyes strayed to the Needle.

“It’s not that narrow,” she observed.

“It’s eroded some since I was here last,” he admitted, measuring it with his eyes.

“So?” she probed. What are you doing? Stop trying to make him kill you.

“Nope,” he laughed, shaking his head. Without hesitation, he pulled into another set of maneuvers, each quicker than the last. She remembered what she’d said to Camie about him missing by that much; she hadn’t realized how true that was. She’d swear they came within centimetersst of the canyon walls. How did he do it? Was he using the Force to navigate? Could the Force tell you when to move one way or another?

Her natural alarm began to dissipate, leaking away as they swerved to safety time and time again. She could see it as a game. A game he had played since he was old enough to fly. And this was his home field. He may be due for a loss, and if so, they would both pay the price. But it was surreal watching him in his element, being so close to deadly danger and so safe all at the same time. It was indescribable.

He looked at the Needle again.

“Oh, just do it,” she goaded.

“Nah, just remembering.” He resisted.

“C’mon,” she continued. “Who was this Windy, anyway? Were you so desperate to impress her that you were willing to go for it then?”

He looked at her, eyes widened, before making a sharp turn to avoid the next canyon wall.

“Windy was not my type,” he chortled. “I was young and stupid and wanted to prove I was a better pilot than Biggs — another friend.” His voice grew bitter at the last. Biggs had not survived the war, Mara guessed. And Windy was not his type.

His focus turned to the Needle. The navicomputer showed the distance counting down. Skywalker punched keys, calculating the extent of the opening.

“Yup, more clearance now,” he confirmed. “Still a bad idea. Reckless. Leia would kill me if something happened.”

“What would happen?” Mara answered mildly.

“The usual,” he shrugged. “Might wreck the rental, put us in the medcenter, or the morgue,” he answered equally lightly.

“Mmmm.” She hummed her doubt.

“You might manage to kill me after all by convincing me to kill myself,” he mused. “Clever. You’ve been playing a long game all along.”

“And take me with you? That would make me a terrible assassin. And I was never terrible at my job.” She retorted.

The ship swung wide around the Needle and shot past it. They climbed out of the Canyon and turned in a wide arc back toward their origin point.

“Is it just how you dreamed last night?” she snarked at his ever-present grin.

“Better,” he responded. She waited but he did not expand on this.

Skywalker swung the ship around again and dropped back into the Canyon. “One last run,” he announced. He tapped on the navicomputer a few more times. He stared out the viewport. For a moment his eyes seemed unfocused. Mara waited til his focus snapped back to their surroundings.

“You OK?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah, just fine. Never better, in fact,” he replied, studying the navicomputer one more time. He dropped into a spin, did a couple more barrel rolls, and straightened out.

“Had enough?” he queried.

“Have you?” she retorted.

“I could do this forever. But the suns will set eventually.” He smiled.

“Not for a while yet,” she pointed out. But he seemed ready to go. And yet…not done.

He wants to ditch you. “Oh!” she started, realizing the truth of it. “Right. Sure, I can go back.” She pushed the sting she felt down, down, down.

“I just don’t want to take any unnecessary chances with passengers, that’s all,” he explained. She swore her shields were up and at full strength. But sometimes, just sometimes, he still read her like a book.

“So you’re going to take unnecessary chances without passengers. Drop me off and then come thread the Needle by yourself. What would your princess say about that?”

“Leia doesn’t need to know,” he responded. “That is — she wouldn’t need to know if I ever did such an unthinkable thing.”

Mara shook her head. She was being protected from Luke Skywalker’s foolishness. By Luke Skywalker. Was the princess his type? How about you focus on not dying today?

“I’m not afraid,” she breathed. It was the truth. However he was working his navigation magic, he’d been doing it all morning. The weather was clear and there was no one else around. This was as safe as it was going to get. “I know you can do it.” Once again she found herself wanting to claw the words back.

She’d surprised him again. She watched his brows knit together. “Why risk it? I’d let you out on the ground out here if it weren’t for the Tuskens.”

“Oh, I’m definitely safer in here. No matter what crazy stunts you try.”

He chuckled. “No ‘trying’. My master taught me ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’”

“Well, I guess you’d better ‘do’, then.”

“You want to? You sure you want to thread the Needle?” Mischief flickered in his eyes.

“Of course I want to thread the Needle,” she answered, her grin blooming across her face.

Mara turned her attention to the instruments, then the viewport. Nothing was amiss and yet…there, her sense of danger pinged.

Skywalker’s eyes darted to her. “What?”

“Something’s out there.”

Skywalker’s hands ran over the controls while he seemed to be checking on everything at once. Ahead of them, a small chunk of rock broke off and fell from the wall, knocked free by an unseen weapon.

Skywalker tsked and banked away from the incoming fire. “Well, that settles it, then,” he said quietly, as Mara saw the eye of the Needle coming up in center of the viewport.

“Who’s shooting at us?” Mara demanded. “Tuskens?”

“Probably,” Luke agreed. He’d never been shot at running the canyon as a boy, but it was clear that Tatooine had not stayed frozen in time while he’d been out fighting a war.

Mara noticed his focus as it constricted around the target opening, his breathing falling evenly and quietly. “Think skinny thoughts,” he murmured.

She did her best to mimic his concentration. She pictured in her mind the T-16 shooting through the opening, with clearance on all sides, and sailing up and out of range of the attackers. Moments later the ship did exactly that. She gave a whoop of triumph as Luke shouted. “Yessss!!!”

He turned a graceful arc and gunned back the way they came. “Must be time to head back.”

He dispensed with the maneuvers and tricks on the return trip, focused on increasing the distance from the Tuskens behind them as quickly as possible.

Mara’s danger sense flared. She groaned.

Skywalker checked the instruments and the viewport. “Got a direction?” he queried. She noticed he’d never questioned her warnings, he simply changed course.

They noticed the flashing light on the dash at the same time.

Luke grimaced as they started to lose altitude. “The gyrostabilizers?” He made a noise of disgust. “Fixer can’t blame me for that.”

Mara scowled. “No excuse for bad maintenance.” She looked out the viewport. “See somewhere you want to put down?”

“Want to? No. But I see a place I can.”

True to his word, he eked every bit of momentum out of the failing engines before setting down in the sand, steep dunes rising on either side. The landing itself was hard but stable.

“Oooffff.” She could not contain the exclamation though she admired the skill with which he had handled the failure. Not that she would tell him that. Ever.

“OK?” He checked on her. She nodded curtly as he found a comlink and called his droid. “Artoo? We’ve set down between the old Ulbreck place and the Rumbles. We’re going to have to walk. You got our coordinates?” A light beep came from the other end. “Good. Track us to Bestine. Just in case we run into trouble.” She noticed him pat the lightsaber on his hip. Next, he pulled a blaster from its holster and checked the power level. After a beat, he removed the safety. He stood and reached for the robe in the bag, pulling the hood over his head.

She knew her holdout blaster and vibroblades were in place and at full power. She wrapped the braid hanging down her back around the crown of her head, pinned it in place, and covered it with a scarf. She drew the heavier carbine she’d bought since the Tusken’s ambush near Kenobi’s place.

Skywalker nodded at her with approval. “Ready?” His hand swept out in front of him in a clear “after you” signal.

Mara was wary of what might lie on the walk to Bestine, but she also was well-armed and had a Jedi for backup. If she thought much longer about the fact that they were working together instead of fighting each other, she feared her brain might explode. Probably just the adrenaline.

They were getting closer to Bestine, but not close enough, when Luke felt a pack of hunters moving in their direction.

“Sand People,” he warned her. “Several. We need to run.”

Chiara didn’t hesitate or ask for confirmation. She took off at a sprint. Luke followed, impressed with her speed.

They ran, side-by-side, Luke tracking the Tusken Raiders through the Force. They were still closing. The Tuskens were better adapted for speed in the sand.

Mara spied a stone outcropping just off their path. She pointed it out to Skywalker, while she wondered how many times it had been used for cover. They adjusted their direction and ducked behind it. Skywalker pulled binocs off his belt and trained them.

“How many?” Mara asked between gasps for air.

“Too many,” he muttered. He’d once thought how easy it would be to make them pay for their first attack on Chiara. He was about to get the chance to test that theory.

“I had the best luck with the neck — the wrappings are loose there,” Mara said.

“We’ll get as many with blasters as we can first.” Ben had scoffed at blasters as uncivilized, but Luke was not about to give up the advantage of a distance weapon. Using a lightsaber meant close-up fighting, which usually meant death with multiple Tuskens. Chiara had already been lucky once. Another thing Ben scoffed at. He hadn’t been right about everything.

Luke drew his blaster and looked over at Chiara. She had started carrying a high powered blaster when she went out since her last encounter with the Tuskens. She looked utterly at ease with the heavy weapon. He relaxed just a bit; if her shooting skills matched her acting skills, they’d make a strong team. Perhaps he had attributed too much credit for her earlier victory to luck. He felt her adrenaline surge in the Force as she readied for battle.

He turned his attention back to the approaching Tusken Raiders, whooping and hooting in sounds that had haunted his nightmares as a child. He calmed himself with the Force and found that steady place that would likewise prepare him. He wished he’d asked Ben to show him that krayt dragon call imitation.

Luke was still waiting for them to get closer when Chiara started firing. Luke opened his mouth to object, to advise her to save the weapon’s energy, when he saw her target fall. He closed his mouth again.

“Power and distance,” she said with a brief smile. “My favorite.” She fired several more times. Raiders continued to fall, while the survivors howled and came on all the more motivated. Luke waited another beat. He opened fire himself, wondering if he should perhaps get a blaster like that too.

Mara counted about fifteen Raiders left when they reached the stone outcropping. She noted grimly that they were also better armed this time, each carrying multiple gaffi sticks. As she heard Skywalker’s lightsaber activate, she reached for hers.

The purple blade hummed to life. She swung it a couple of times, hefting and testing. Her shoulders eased. She had survived a Tusken attack before, and this time she had a Jedi at her back. She raised the lightsaber to a ready position and focused on the nearest Tusken.

Taking her own advice, she targeted the neck, taking the first attacker’s head off his shoulders. As she completed the swing, a gaffi stick hit her hard in the lower back. She grunted in pain, drawing on all her strength to remain on her feet.

Luke, meanwhile, focused his blade on one attacker at a time, keeping track of the others in the Force. He felt the blow to Chiara before he heard her reaction. He gritted his teeth and cut down the next one, feeling anger flare around the edges of his consciousness. It begged to be used, to fuel his body and spirit in their fight. That is the part that would be so easy to do. Easier than not doing it. But he would not make that choice. Not even for another five minutes. He’d seen where it led. With the calm of the Light, he fought on.

The next wave of Tuskens advanced together, all swinging gaffi sticks. The green and purple lightsabers struck and slashed, yet some of the Tusken’s weapons found their targets, and the humans struggled to stay upright.

Mara fell back, and instinctively gripped the lightsaber hilt harder, determined not to let it slip out of her grasp again. She deactivated it, placed it in the ring at her hip, and grabbed her vibroblades. With a war cry of her own, she drove one toward the neck of the nearest attacker.

The Tusken spun away from her, the blade catching them in the back of the shoulder. The Tusken jabbed its gaffi stick backward, catching Mara in the ribs, just over a wound that had finally healed from her first encounter. With a whuff of breath leaving her lungs, Mara landed hard on her knees. Another blow came down on her lower back from behind, just over the area that was surely bruising from a similar jab minutes earlier.

Luke’s ability to hold the positions of all his foes in his head flagged as blows continued to connect from behind and the side while he sliced through whoever was in front of him. He distanced himself from the pain, the frustration, the overwhelm of the offense from all directions.

Luke sank deep into the Force, moving without thought, allowing it to direct its blade where it was needed most. When there were no more attackers coming from the front, he scanned his surroundings. He turned to help Chiara, just as a Tusken stabbed at her.

Luke’s fear flared, recognizing the brightly colored blade tip that signaled it was coated with deadly venom. His lightsaber flashed, intercepting the Tusken’s weapon just inches from Chiara’s back. Luke pushed with his lightsaber, forcing the attacker to step backward. One last swing took the Tusken’s head off. Luke exhaled and again scanned around him. He turned, and turned again, reaching out with the Force. The Tusken Raiders' senses were weak, or nonexistent.

He moved to her and reached for his binocs. The landscape surrounding them was empty. He surveyed her wounds. They were worse than last time. Several injuries looked as though they aggravated lingering injuries. Luke’s felt his head start to spin and sat down hard. He brought his comlink to his lips. “Artoo, send medics to this position. We need help.”

Chapter Text

Luke had been in enough medical units to know he was in one before he opened his eyes. The sounds were similar, the smell was similar. He had called Artoo for help, and help must have come. They had most likely taken them to Bestine.

With his eyes closed, he took inventory. Both legs ached. A deep breath revealed a sharp pain in his chest. It subsided with smaller breaths. This seemed to be the extent of his injuries. His eyes snapped open. How serious were Chiara’s wounds?

The door to his room slid open, and Artoo rolled inside. Luke smiled. “Hey, pal, thanks for sending help. How bad is the damage?”

Artoo plugged into a dataport and sliced into Luke’s data. He issued a stream of beeps and chirps that Luke more or less followed. The report on his medical data did not include anything particularly worrying.

“What about Chiara?” he queried.

After a short pause, Artoo again squawked and whirred and whistled. Luke frowned. She sounded worse off.

“Is she conscious?” Luke asked.

Artoo’s answer was negative. Not at the last time she was seen by a doctor.

“Find her. See if she’s awake,” Luke instructed.

As Artoo rolled out, a human woman stepped in. She watched him go. “Your droid’s not allowed here,” she said to Luke.

“I know,” Luke answered, closing his eyes. “I have a hard time controlling him. He’s very independent.”

The doctor snorted at this. “Riiiiiiight. I am smarter than I look, you know.” She set about taking vitals and monitoring the displays around him.

“Of course. I meant no disrespect.” Luke said by way of apology, opening his eyes.

“Mmmmmmm,” she hummed. “You just expected I would believe that Luke Skywalker can’t control R2-D2.”

He started to laugh at this until the pain of broken ribs stopped him. “I can’t always. He is very independent, which is good, actually. He’s saved my life lots of times, including today.”

“Indeed. You’re lucky to be alive. Anybody who grows up here knows better than to get caught by a bunch of Tuskens,” she tutted. Before Luke could respond, she turned to her datapad. “You have several lacerations but show no signs of poison, which is fortunate. But symptoms could still develop. And of course, the wounds could get infected. You also have multiple broken ribs. We’ll keep you for a bit to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

Luke only half-listened as he had already gotten the raw data from Artoo. “And the woman who was with me?”

“Are you a family member?” the doctor asked.

“No, we’re….” What were they? “…friends.”

“Then I’ll have to let her tell you what she chooses.” Luke frowned. “They’ve just passed new privacy laws.”

“Privacy laws on Tatooine?” Luke snorted, and his ribs ached at the motion. He moved his hand over the spot, as if rubbing it would help.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmured. “No one can quite believe it. Things are different from Jabba’s time. I suppose you can take credit for that.”

“Wasn’t me,” Luke shook his head. “That was Leia. I was busy trying not to fall into the Sarlacc.”

“Most people here don’t split hairs about it.” She turned to the door. “I’ll check on you later. Tell your famous droid to scram before someone slaps a restraining bolt on him and sells him to the Jawas. You both should know better than that, too.”

A few minutes after she had left, the door slid open again, admitting Artoo. He reported the room number for Chiara, whom he’d found awake and eager to leave.

Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed, while pain shot through various parts of his body. He clenched his jaw and pushed to his feet, testing his balance.

Artoo tootled a question.

“The doctor doesn’t need to know. I’m just going to check on Chiara quickly and then come right back. I’m fine. I could pull the ears off a gundark. Or smash a rancor’s head in and eat its brains. And then we should get out of here as soon as Chiara’s OK. I don’t think my doctor likes us.”

He stepped forward and discovered a slash in his left leg was generating the most pain he’d felt yet. He caught himself before he collapsed. Taking deep breaths, he focused on calm and healing. “Now lead the way.”

Mara knew she was in a medical unit before she opened her eyes. They all felt the same. They all smelled the same. She knew Skywalker had avoided bringing her last time to preserve her privacy. So if she was here now, had something happened to him? Or was she too gravely wounded this time? She looked around. She had new dressings over many of her old wounds, along with a handful of fresh ones. She moved her head and felt a pang shoot from her temple. Great. Just great.

She heard metal wheels rolling into the room. “Where is Skywalker?” she demanded. If a Tusken Raider had managed to take out her primary target while she fought beside him….

Skywalker’s astromech rolled into view. It issued a stream of unintelligible binary that sounded as if it were scolding her.

“Is he alright?” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. The droid’s answering sound was noncommittal.

“Is he alive?” Her voice had an edge now.

Artoo’s response was unmistakably positive. She sighed in relief. “Is his condition critical?”

His response changed to negative. She sighed again. How many more true or false questions did she want to interrogate the droid with? Her head throbbed. Her energy sagged. “I suppose the rest can wait then.”

A woman entered the room. She checked Mara’s vital signs and various test results. “Would you like to know about your condition?” she asked quietly, with the smallest of smiles.

Mara’s mind raced with quick retorts, but a look in the woman’s eyes confirmed kindness, streaked with mischief. “If I must,” she growled.

The doctor turned to Artoo. “You aren’t allowed here. I suspect you know that. Find somewhere else to be. And watch out for the Jawas. You’ve probably had your memory wiped since you were last in a sandcrawler—”

This triggered a loud whistle followed by a stream of chirps and bleeps as the droid sped out the door.

The doctor stepped to Mara’s side and began her examination. Several minutes later, she surveyed her datapad.

“I’m most concerned about your kidneys. If the bacta doesn’t stop the bleeding, we’ll have to operate. Some of your lacerations are in danger of infection. Multiple contusions but none too worrisome. The bacta tank will be available for you shortly.”

Mara growled again, this time scowling deeply. “That won’t be necessary. Topical treatment does wonders for me.”

“For some of your injuries that would be sufficient, but for others you require the tank,” the doctor insisted. When she looked up from the datapad, her sense softened. “Bad experiences?”

Mara chuckled mirthlessly but didn’t elaborate.

“Yeah, but you need it,” Skywalker said from the doorway. He stepped to her side. Carefully, though he hid it well. I should have brought you in last time, he berated himself behind his shields. Then you wouldn’t be in this mess.

“I heal quickly,” Mara objected. “Bacta dunks are rarely necessary.”

“It’s necessary,” the doctor and Skywalker chorused. Mara’s scowl remained in place.

The doctor completed her notes and slipped out of the room. She made a quiet comment to Skywalker as she passed him. He gave a brief nod.

“The doctor’s overreacting,” Mara grumbled. “I’ve taken much worse impacts than that and my kidneys are always fine. I don’t need surgery and I don’t need a dunk.”

“You took several gaffi sticks to the lower back. The Tuskens know how to hurt humans. Let the doctor do her job,” he suggested.

“You made the right decision last time — bacta patches, rest, and hydration. It’s all I need.”

“You think coming here was the wrong decision?” Skywalker said. “We couldn’t even make it to the city without help.”

The door slid open and the astromech rolled in once more. Mara guessed neither the droid nor Skywalker cared much about the medcenter’s rules.

“How about you?” She changed the subject. “You’re doing a good job hiding that limp. How bad is it?”

He laughed. “I’m getting dunked myself. Cut in one leg, and three broken ribs; they’re monitoring my kidneys too. They think the Tuskens may have used poison, but no signs of that so far.”

Mara scoffed. “That’s nothing—you’ll be fine. You’re letting them keep you here and dunk you for that?”

He’d held back on the extent and range of his injuries, though he wasn’t sure why. Jedi were supposed to let go of their pride. Still, she had plenty of secrets she was keeping from him. He supposed he could have a few of his own.

Artoo regurgitated everything added to Luke’s medical file since he’d been admitted earlier in the day. In case Luke had forgotten anything. Luke shot the droid a look, knowing Artoo was trying to provoke him. Fortunately, Chiara did not understand the litany of diagnoses, expressed in binary.

She tilted her head and arched her eyebrows at him. “He’s got a lot to say.”

“He thinks the right decision is for you to get a bacta dunk too,” Luke lied. “Says it’s like an oil bath for organics. He loves a good oil bath.” This was true, at least, although Artoo had not mentioned it.

Mara was confident this was not a faithful translation.

Artoo tootled a string of beeps and whistles. He had plugged into a port and was slicing into any number of data streams.

“The doctor is what?” Skywalker turned to the droid.

“A Whitesun? Really? Wonder if she’s related to Aunt Beru.” He looked back at Chiara. “My aunt had family here but she didn’t talk to them. And she never said why. She’d just change the subject. I wonder if that’s why the doctor was suspicious of me.”

The bartender’s words came back to Mara in a flash. “There’s a rumor,” she started, then balked. She hadn’t repeated it to him because she hadn’t wanted to add to his grief if he didn’t need to know. She sighed. “Did you know there’s a rumor around here that what happened at your farm…to your family…that was you?” She could not bring herself to make eye contact.

She felt the pain of the unjust accusation overflow his shields. “What? No! I had no idea.” He shook his head in disgust. “I could never do anything like that.”

She nodded. Tell him, a voice inside her urged. “It sounded like Imperial propaganda. The troopers may have created that story when they realized they messed up. Plus it would give the locals more motivation to turn on you.” Now she stared at the floor.

“Or they were following orders,” he answered, theorizing. “It was Vader’s command, you said.” His expression turned sour.

“It was, but that doesn’t mean he was supervising that closely himself. Likely whoever was overseeing things on the ground was somewhere in between.”

The look on his face shifted.

Artoo pinged and buzzed. “He says one of the bacta tanks was just scheduled for you.”

“I hate bacta dunks,” she whispered, her eyes closed.

Luke frowned. Nobody liked bacta dunks. They were cold and smelled awful. You lost all track of time and felt sure you’d been forgotten and abandoned, only to find out five minutes had passed. But the gold standard treatment often meant the difference between life and death. It wasn’t a hard choice.

“You don’t hate healing, I assume,” he ventured. “What’s so bad about the dunks?”

She gazed at him a moment, then deliberately opened her solid emotional shields to him just enough to share a few memories. The ones that would explain her feelings about bacta dunks and medical facilities in general. The ones she thought he could handle.

One of her instructors, training her in various poisons, had decided Mara should test them all herself to identify poisons with any taste. The instructor also decided Mara should build resistance against poisons when possible. And for the tasteless poisons that could not create a tolerance, Mara should know at least the mildest form of the symptoms she’d be inflicting. Otherwise, her trainer had said, Mara did not deserve to wield such poisons as weapons.

More than one of the poisons almost killed her. For one, the bacta was applied internally, repeatedly pumped into her stomach, and then sucked back out again while she choked and gagged. For another, she was told the bacta had to be breathed into her lungs and coughed out, in a process she was sure would suffocate her. For another, they left her for days in the tank without a break or explanation.

Luke blanched as these memories crystallized in his mind. He drew close and put his hand over hers. “That’s barbaric,” he murmured, shaking his head. At her mental shrug, his protest intensified. “It’s sadistic! They wouldn’t do anything like that here.”

She looked back at him, unmoved.

“I promise,” he added. “I’ll keep watch when you’re in the tank. I won’t let anything like that happen here.”

Mara laughed at his earnestness. Ever the protective hero. But some small part of her sighed and relaxed, grateful not to be alone.

Mara scowled as she was lowered into the bacta tank. True to his word, Skywalker was there. She didn’t know what he thought he would accomplish — they wouldn’t come under attack here, and the medics seemed professional and competent enough. Still, that one voice in her mind sighed happily that he was there to make sure she wasn’t forgotten, left too long, or otherwise neglected or abused, no matter how unlikely that seemed. All her life the only person she had to advocate for her was herself, and when she did so it was often met with severe punishment. She’d always thought there were millions on her side, as they were all on the side of the Empire. But now she felt as if someone just might sometimes be on her side. On Mara’s side.

Luke felt her combination of apprehension and resignation as Chiara adjusted to breathing in the mask in the bacta tank. She controlled her fear carefully. There was often a light sedative mixed in the oxygen to keep the patient calm in the bacta. Her eyelids drooped. Probably better if she can rest, Luke reflected. Her breath came faster as she….dreamt? Remembered? Visions of pain and suffering, unformed, dark and murky, came to him. He focused on her in alarm.

Though her breathing was rapid and her eyes moved under the lids, she was otherwise still. The droid monitoring her vitals was unconcerned. Luke opened himself to the images, trying to absorb them as best he could, draw them off, and shunt them away from her, if that was even possible. It was yet another thing he wanted to ask Master Yoda, but could not. He sighed in frustration.

Even with his eyes closed, the light from Chiara’s memory was blinding. Staring into the bright lighting typical in medical units, pushed and pulled and poked and prodded while too drugged to stop it. Callous medical staff, formless, nameless, performed procedures without enough anesthetic, skimping on bacta and other medications, forcing her to move while she was in pain. Waking her from sleep to perform invasive tests. Careless of all dignity or humanity, even in a young girl. Luke fought to control his shock, disgust, and anger as he continued to accept the images and channel them away.

He moved closer to the tank, pressing his organic hand to it. Immersed in the Force as she was immersed in the fluid, he held the intention of healing her body and spirit. He sank into a meditation, connected to her sense.

Faintly, he heard a voice singing a child’s nursery rhyme just under the images of helpless resignation. Had she used it as a way for her mind to escape while her body was not under her control? Maybe a memory of a compassionate caregiver to cling to? Maybe it was her voice? The song was familiar. Aunt Beru had sung it with him too. He followed along, his lips moving ever so slightly with the words buried deep in his memories. The 2–1B droid might have registered the faintest of hums coming from the visiting human. In their Force senses, the bass and alto voices blended in harmony.

Eventually, the disturbing images subsided, and Chiara’s breathing deepened. Luke could hear her heart rate monitor slow. He wondered to what extent she could feel his meditation.

Time stopped. The sound of Chiara being raised back out of the tank stirred them both like a blaring wake-up call. She was blinking, recovering her sense of alertness. Luke stepped out to give her privacy to get dressed though he still listened for any sign of distress.

He was there when they returned her to her room.

“Did they sedate me?” she asked. “Did you see what happened? Did something happen?”

“Sometimes they put a light sedative in the oxygen during a dunk,” Luke said. “Nothing happened—completely uneventful.”

She peered around the room. “Hey, did something happen with my sight? Did they get me near the eyes?” Her fingers rose to her eyebrows and felt around, investigating.

“No, why?” Luke asked.

“It’s not blindingly bright in here. Like medically lit. It’s several shades darker. As if the lights were turned down. But they’re never turned down,” she explained suspiciously.

“Oh, that’s true. I see it, too. They must be conserving energy or something. Utilities are expensive on Tatooine. So how do you feel?”

She scowled. “I feel like I don’t know what happened.” She settled back into the bed and arranged the sheet with short, frustrated movements.

“What happened is you were submersed in a bacta tank. You did seem to be dreaming or remembering for a bit. I could see some of that. What was done to you before was terrible.”

She shook her head wordlessly.

“And then you stopped dreaming and just stayed submerged for a while. I was right there; I’d have seen anything. Nothing happened.”

She nodded slowly, considering.

“So how does the rest of you feel?” He waved to indicate her whole body.

“Better, actually,” she admitted reluctantly. “That must be some new sort of sedative cause I feel like I just had a good night’s sleep. I’ve never felt like this after a dunk.” A thought occurred to her. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything?”

“I was just standing guard,” he replied innocently. Satisfaction spread through him, considering that something—the bacta, the meditation, maybe even the nursery rhyme—had made a difference.

As he eased back into the medcenter bed, the wound on Luke’s thigh throbbed. Checking on Chiara had not done his own injuries any good. He lay back and closed his eyes, focusing on the meditations Yoda had led him in over and over. If he let go at just the right moment, he could drop into a deep sleep. That would be the best for his injuries now.

He drifted into dreaming. He saw the Emperor’s throne room, much like the one on the second Death Star. Palpatine sat there, shrouded in his robe, cackling in exactly the same way he remembered. Luke, though, was different. He was in his mid-teens, perhaps. He had all the injuries he was currently in the process of healing, but they were open and bleeding through torn clothes.

“Use your pain, boy!” The Emperor barked at him. Luke ignited his lightsaber, which shone blood red. Vader stepped out of the shadow and ignited his lightsaber as well, advancing on him. “Your training as my Hand should be more than enough to give you the power to cut down your father. Only then will you be ready to be my apprentice. Are you ready today? Will you show us you have become a man?” the Emperor snarled.

Vader came toward him. “You must, son. You must fight me.” He raised his blade high and slashed at Luke.

Luke spun and dodged, coming to a standstill right in front of Palpatine. He shut down his lightsaber. “No,” he said simply, squaring his shoulders.

The Emperor hissed, and darted a decrepit hand around Luke’s right wrist, jerking it toward him. “Guard!” he commanded.

Luke regained his balance and pulled against Palpatine’s grip, which was surprisingly strong. The red guard strode toward them. The Emperor held out Luke’s exposed wrist. Without hesitation, the guard swung his axe, bringing it down right——

“No!” Luke shouted, sitting up in bed. On the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of the door sliding open.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Chiara’s voice was low and throaty. She covered his left hand with hers. His organic hand. He was staring at his right hand, inspecting it. “You’re all right. You’re in the medcenter at Bestine, recovering from a Tusken attack.”

His breath came harshly as he flipped his hand over and over.

“Your hand is fine,” Chiara added.

Something about what Palpatine had said in the dream bothered him. “‘Your training as my Hand’,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” Her tone turned sharp.

“His Hand, he called me,” Luke said, focusing on Chiara’s face. “As if I reported to him personally. Is that what he called you?”

She nodded. “I was the Emperor’s Hand. In your dream, he used those words?”

“Mmm. And if I passed the test of—if I passed the test, I’d become his apprentice. Is that what you were training for? Did you have to fight Vader?”

She snorted, despite herself. “No, I could never have been the Emperor’s Sith apprentice. As the Hand, I was his personal agent. I was never meant to be more than that. He never made me fight Vader.”

The way she said it caught Luke’s attention. “Who did he make you fight?”

Her hand started to slide off his, but he caught it in his fingers. She did not pull away.

“Red Guards, ISB agents, random troopers,” she shrugged.

“Did you ever get seriously hurt? In those forced fights?”

She nodded wordlessly. She didn’t elaborate. “And in your dream, your hand was hurt?” she asked.

“It was still—still my real hand. But then I was losing it all over again.” The beep of the heart rate monitor increased speed again.

“Breathe,” she murmured.

He nodded, closing his eyes, and centering himself. “It felt,” he mused aloud, “more like a vision than a dream. I’ve seen possible futures before. Maybe this was a possible past. If I’d been recruited when I was younger and served as the Emperor’s Hand instead.”

She frowned at this possibility. “I—I’m not sure if that would have been better or worse.” She had a hard time even imagining not serving as the Emperor’s Hand herself. She had no concept of what her life might have been like. Her imagination served up a blank canvas.

“Worse,” Luke said definitively. “For me, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You couldn’t have handled it.”

He grunted at that, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. For the first time since waking, his shoulders relaxed. “No doubt,” he joined in her fun. But I’m glad it didn’t break you, he thought behind his shields.

“Go back to sleep,” she advised. “Your actual wounds need it.”

“So do yours,” he responded, laying back on his pillow and closing his eyes.

Her hand was still on his when he fell asleep.

When he woke up, she was gone.

Chapter Text

The next morning Mara disconnected herself from the instruments, rose from the medbed, and gathered her things. She needed to get back to Mos Eisley to collect the remaining belongings from where she’d been staying. Her flight out was due to leave that afternoon.

Mara debated whether to say goodbye to Skywalker before leaving. It would be much simpler not to. Just let him discover she was gone. He’d be….disappointed, perhaps, or angry, or hurt. Or maybe relieved. If he was smart, he’d realize he was better off. But then, his way of thinking remained an absolute mystery to her.

She found herself in front of his door as a cleaning droid rolled out. Inside, Artoo spotted her and beeped in recognition.

“Hey!” Skywalker called.

Too late now, she grimaced and stepped into Skywalker’s eyeline.

“No,” he said as he took in her street clothes. “It’s too soon. Don’t try to tell me they released you.”

“They make more credits the longer they keep you,” she said wryly. “They said I don’t need the kidney surgery. My flight’s out today; I’ll sleep all the way. I’ll be fine.” She could hear her tone had become wheedling. She corrected to an all-business manner. “I appreciate the backup and the transportation. Take care of yourself.” She turned around before she had to endure any more of his steady gaze.

“Wait!” he called.

She stopped but did not turn back. “What?” she snapped.

“What’s the hurry? I can drop you wherever you need to go on my way back. I’m only staying another day or two.”

“And how do you know it’s on your way back? You don’t know where I’m going.” She didn’t turn around. She wasn’t looking into that gaze.

“Do you?” He challenged.

She turned, her eyes fiery.

“C’mon,” he said gently. “I still have a few days before I have to be back. I can drop you at some big spaceport and you can go wherever you want from there.”

Her anger abated but she still felt a strong urge to run.

“It’s a nice ship they lent me.” He noted.

She snorted. “Right — the one you have to keep cherry. Good luck with that!”

“Have you seen the new design for a two-seater E-wing?” The farmboy excitement returned to his expression.

Unbidden, a mental picture of a traditional E-wing came to her mind. She found herself trying to imagine how it had changed to accommodate a second being.

She made another scornful noise. “Rebels ships are junk. You may as well have brought the Millenium Falcon.”

Skywalker’s hand went to his chest. “Ouch—direct hit! Slandering a pilot’s ship like that.”

She smirked despite herself.

He leaned forward. “Don’t tell Han, but this ship is more maneuverable than the Falcon. It even has a couple advantages over the T-65.” He leaned back. “But I’ll deny I said it if you quote me.”

She shook her head. As if I would quote you. Another part of her brain was still rotating the E-wing around, trying to find room for another seat. She felt the urge to throw something at him for his impertinence. If only he wasn’t lying in a medbed. And if she could only lift her arm to throw something.

“Fine,” she sighed with regret. “I’ll give you one more standard day to heal. Then I’m leaving, with or without you.” She spun so she wouldn’t see the victorious grin spread across his smug Rebel face. Pain shot up through her leg as she refused to limp on her way out the door.

“Take it easy,” she heard as she stepped out the door.

Karkin' farmboy.

She almost collided with the man barreling towards Skywalker’s door on the other side. Fixer sneered as he pushed past her into the room.

“There you are, Wormie! Man, you said you wouldn’t crash it! I came all the way out here to see what I could salvage and there’s nothin'!”

“You said it was in good condition.” Mara snapped behind him before Skywalker opened his mouth. “If it weren’t for him, we’d just be stains on the sand and you and that wife of yours would be responsible. That kriffed-up gyro stabilizer would have killed whoever took it out next.”

Fixer rounded on her. “Look, those things are impossible to get parts for—they’re too ancient. No one would have taken it out next cause everyone knows that!” He wheeled back to Luke. “You gotta stop living in the past. Fly a real ship, man. You owe me for the damage, you know.”

Mara’s growl made Fixer look back at her, startled. She could see his brain trying to resolve the sultry character she had played earlier with the willing and able assassin in front of him now.

“Well…. Maybe I let it go this time. But don’t come back.”

“Fine,” Skywalker agreed. “But Fixer, just so you know. It wasn’t me — I didn’t burn down the farm.”

The intensity drained out of the man’s sense. “Yeah, I know, man. We know. Anyone who knew your family knows that.”

He turned and sidled gingerly past Mara. She flashed her eyes at him for good measure.

She stepped farther into the room. “Your friend, huh?” she grumbled as she watched his fleeing form.

He nodded. “Yeah, of sorts, I guess.” He turned thoughtful. “What kind of friends did you have? Other … Emperor’s Hands?”

She shook her head. “No. My position was unique. I had trainers, tutors, caregivers. Mostly I had him.” She settled for the pronoun.

“That’s lousy,” he said sympathetically.

“Yeah, and I didn’t even know it.” Her eyes focused in the middle distance, lost in thought.

“We never do as kids,” he shrugged. “How could we know any better? Any different, even? All we know is what we have.”

“Philosophical,” she snarked, her focus snapping back to the present. But of course he was right. She wouldn’t be here now if she hadn’t questioned that what she knew was not all there was.

The door slid open once again. Dr. Whitesun stepped in. Her eyes landed on Mara, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I didn’t discharge you, Ms. Lorn,” she reprimanded. “You should be in your room.”

Chiara bristled. Luke hoped the doctor hadn’t just changed Chiara’s mind about leaving today.

“Time for my dunk?” He interjected, easing himself from the bed.

“It is.” She turned to him.

Skywalker gave Mara a playful salute as he followed the doctor out.

“Want a lookout?” she offered. I suppose I owe him that much.

“I’m good, thanks,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Artoo, if I’m not back when I should be, send Chiara in after me,” he snarked as he stepped out the door.

Artoo’s response to this was lost on Mara. Whatever it was, she suspected the droid didn’t like her.

Luke ignored the pain in his legs as he made the effort to pull even with Dr. Whitesun in the corridor. “I didn’t realize you’re a Whitesun,” he said.

She glanced at him. “My father and Beru were siblings. They didn’t get along.”

“She wouldn’t talk about her family. I always wondered why.” Luke mused.

If the doctor knew, she wasn’t telling.

“So we’re cousins?” Luke tried again. “I mean…sort of.”

“Yes. But now you’re my patient—that’s the important thing.” She emphasized.

They stepped into the bacta unit and the doctor motioned to the partition around the space for changing. Luke stopped.

“For what it’s worth, to you, or your family, the rumors that I hurt them aren’t true. I couldn’t. I called her Aunt Beru but she was my mother in every way that mattered. And she was a good one.” Satisfied, he moved in the direction she’d motioned.

“I was always curious about you when we were kids,” the doctor murmured, her sense softening.  “But my father wouldn’t hear any talk about your family. I’m glad…” she trailed off. 

Luke waited.

Dr. Whitesun returned to the moment. “I’m glad to meet you finally.” She added brusquely, “Now, in you go.”

As Luke slipped into the bacta tank, he prepared to enter a healing trance. At the edge of consciousness, he saw himself as a toddler. He was crying and reaching for Aunt Beru. “Mama!” He cried. He felt her gratified warmth as she picked him up.

“She is your aunt!” Uncle Owen thundered the correction. Luke cried harder; the arms around him squeezed harder.

As Owen drifted away, Beru sat Luke on her knee. “Your mom was much prettier than me,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I know she’d be so proud of you.” He looked up at her, forgetting his tears and savoring her comforting love.

Luke fell into the healing trance with a sigh.

Back in her own room, Mara felt a mixture of relief at being able to relax in solitude and envy at Skywalker’s lack of bad bacta experiences. The only sounds in the room were beeping, pumping, and humming machinery.

She squinted at the overhead lights. She could swear they were dimmer than they had been before. Maybe her eyeballs were burning out. She had to get off this forsaken planet. Just one more night of decent sleep first.

He showed up in her room on the following morning, dressed and ready to leave. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Impatient,” she replied, rising off the bed.

“I still have another day’s leeway,” he said, watching her carefully. “I’m sure the doctor would advise you to stay.”

“She’d advise you to stay too, wouldn’t she? We’re not much for following doctor’s orders.” She almost bit her tongue when she heard “we’re” come out of her mouth. Again.

He grinned. “No, we’re not. Still, there aren’t any bunks in the ship.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “No way they added a seat and bunks.” She gathered her street clothes. He stepped out to the hall to give her privacy, where Artoo waited. Artoo had his own opinions about their departure while Luke’s wounds were still healing, which he reiterated.

“I know, buddy, I know,” Luke sighed. “We’ll check in with medical as soon as we get back. It’ll be fine.”

The door slid open and Chiara came out wearing her street clothes once again. At this distance, Luke could see she had tied and draped the medcenter gown strategically across her midsection.

Seeing his gaze, she explained. “My shirt was critically wounded in the fight. I can change in Mos Eisley.”

Luke reached into his bag and pulled out the dun brown robe. “Is this any better?”

She stared at it. Natives wear them here, not just Jedi, one part of her reasoned. Are you serious? The Imperial side snapped back.

With a grunt, she took it from his hand and stepped back into the room.

After the door slid shut, Luke grinned at Artoo.

A few hours later, Luke stepped out of the hotel sanisteam, shaking his wet hair with a happy sigh. “Artoo, try Leia’s frequency. Voice only.”

He expected to leave a message, but Leia answered. “You’re late. Everything OK?”

“Yeah, I had a little trouble with the transport here,” he exaggerated. “I’m leaving soon.” He slipped a light tunic over his head, thankful he was headed for cooler climes.

“Hurry if you can. Or you’ll miss the rehearsal for the anniversary ceremony.”

“Rehearsal? Of what, standing around in front of the room?” He pulled on clean trousers.

She ignored his sarcasm. “Did you find your medal?”

He ignored the question. “I’ll be back soon. It will all be great, Leia,” he soothed. He wrapped the sash and belt around the single layer tunic, wondering if it was blasphemy to modify the traditional Jedi attire.

“What about Ms Alias Former ISB? Did you decide to apologize?”

“Yeah.” He could tell her the whole story when he got back. “I’m dropping her at a spaceport on the way back.” He sighed, grateful he was talking to one of the few people in the galaxy who he could tell pretty much anything. “Every time I sense her potential in the Force it seems greater, Leia. But she doesn’t believe me. I wish I could convince her to come back with me.”

“Switching sides is tough,” Leia said. “Especially if her loyalty ran deep. She might feel like she’s betraying herself, or her old comrades. Maybe she wouldn’t feel safe with us. And no matter how much you trust her or vouch for her, Luke, there will be people here who won’t feel safe around her either.”

“We’ve had loads of defectors!” He objected, frowning.

“Yes, and those are the ones who are open about it. ‘Former ISB’ is going to inspire fear, I’m afraid, in a way that say ‘mechanic’ does not.” Leia explained patiently.

“There are several former TIE pilots flying X-Wings,” Luke pouted stubbornly. He stuffed the outer tunic and tabard in his bag.

“They weren’t spies, Luke. Winter can tell you that plenty of people look at her with suspicion because of her past work in intelligence. And she’s been on our side from the start.”

Luke had witnessed other Rebels avoid Leia’s loyal aide. It wasn’t fair.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

He sensed Leia’s empathy. “She may come around yet.” Mischief flickered through their bond. “Some people have a hard time resisting you—Force knows why. But I’ve been told there was a reason Recruitment made you the poster boy.”

“Hey!” He protested. “Not fair! And that’s not what I’m going for. And you know it.”

“Use what you got, brother,” she teased. Her sense shifted back to empathy. “It may just take time. If you have the patience. If she’s worth it.”

He will learn patience, Ben had told Yoda. But when? Luke had often wondered since then.

Impatient for patience. Yoda would be so proud. “Yeah, alright. I guess we’ll see.”

“And you hate that. I know,” she soothed. “Get yourself back here on the double and we’ll talk more.”

“May the Force be with you,” he signed off.

“Back at you. See you soon.” She disconnected.

Satisfied he’d packed all he’d brought, Luke reached for the robe Chiara had returned. Turning his back to Artoo, he brought to his face just briefly and breathed in. He slipped it around him with a smile.

“Let’s go, Artoo.”

Hours later, Mara watched out the viewport, designed for maximum visibility as Skywalker again put a ship through various maneuvers. His tricks increased in risk and speed as he completed each one successfully. With the last one, he let out a whoop that she could not help but chuckle at.

“Well, I’m not going to give up my T-65 but this is pretty sweet.” He looked over at her.

“I won’t tell a soul,” she promised. Who would I tell?

“Alright, enough fun for now. You want to take her for a while? Lay in the course for your spaceport?”

Mara was taken aback. She had yet to resolve the cognitive dissonance of being around her former number-one target, who treated her with curiosity and kindness. Usually. And now he was offering to let her fly his ship? Navigate to coordinates of her choosing? Was he crazy? She’d asked herself this many times, she realized.

He watched her hesitate. “Or I can, no problem.”

Still at a loss, she leaned on sarcasm. “What would your princess think of allowing a former Imperial to fly your fancy new fighter design?”

“That would depend entirely on which former Imperial we’re talking about. I think she’d like you.”

Mara nearly choked on this information. “Really?!”

“Sure. You’re smart, you can take care of yourself—you have a lot in common.” He waited for a beat. “So what do you think?” He motioned at the controls.

Her mind spun with the notion that she had anything in common with the Rebel Organa. Gazing at the navigation controls, she crossed to them and started tapping keys. “How do you feel about Ryloth?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. Ryloth, native home to Twi’leks, was a short trip away, though technically farther away from the Core. It had enough major spaceports to get her wherever she wanted to go.

She entered the data and evaluated the plotted course. Satisfied, she straightened.

He stood from the pilot’s seat. They both ignored the thrills that raced through them briefly as they were forced to edge past the other in the tight space.

She sat, looking over the controls, nodding as she found what she expected. She glanced at Skywalker. He was grinning at her.

“What?” she snapped, annoyed at his glee.

“You started it,” he looked away and the grin faded. “You were grinning at the dash.”

She snorted. “OK, so it’s a nice ship. Sweet, even. I’ll give you that. You told me so.”

“So…that would make you glad you waited to get a ride,” he mused, suddenly very busy with the controls in front of him.

“Don’t push your luck.” She smiled, despite herself. “Ready for hyperspace?”

“Always,” he replied.

Why was she constantly shaking her head at him? “3…2…1….” She counted off, and pulled the levers toward her, noting the hum of the hyperspace engines and smooth jump. Maybe not all Rebel ships were junk.

“All yours,” she said, standing. They repeated the switch. Mara felt annoyance at her body’s betraying reaction to his closeness. She pushed it down with everything else that was not allowed.

Luke focused on letting the feelings go, telling himself to focus on her potential as a student in the Force. Attachment is forbidden.

She dropped into the other seat, gazing out the viewport. “It’s nice to be in open space again after all that time dirtside,” she commented to distract herself. “Or sandside, I guess.”

He snorted.

The hyperspace patterns always hypnotized her when she stared long enough. Over time, her lids grew heavy.

She woke with a start some time later. A sharp pain from her abdomen told her that a wound had reopened. She bit back a cry and reached for the bacta patches in the medkit.

The pilot’s chair spun in her direction. “What’s wrong?” Skywalker was alarmed. For her.

“It’s fine. I slept through my patch change. One of them needed it more than the rest. You want some?”

He took the proffered patches but laid them aside as he watched. “You want help?” She could sense him physically holding himself back. “Or—” he started to spin his seat away to respect her modesty.

“You’ve seen it all already,” she reminded him as she lifted her tunic to inspect the spot just under her belly button. He turned the seat all the same.

“Is it deep?” He asked. “Does it look infected?”

“Stop fussing like a mother porg,” she sneered, defaulting to her sarcastic veneer. “There’s scar tissue that never heals quickly here. It’s happened before. It’s always fine.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some of that too,” he relented. She knew this. She’d seen scars spreading down his arms, peeking out from the medcenter attire.

She dabbed at the wound with the new patch, then secured it in place. “All done,” she announced.

“Wait—did he use lightning on you?” Skywalker wondered aloud, stunned. He spun back to face her. “That bastard—”

“I deserved it,” Mara objected instinctively.

Skywalker’s mouth dropped open. “You did not. I don’t care what you did, no one deserves that. For anything.”

“Well he clearly thought you deserved it,” she snarked, trying to lighten the mood. “What was your crime?”

“Refusing to join him. He wasn’t just punishing me; he was out to kill me. If Vader hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, you have a lot more of that scar tissue than I do. He just zapped me once to….prove a point.”

“Prove the point that he was a bastard,” Luke muttered. “No wonder you were so afraid of going back to him. Why didn’t you run away sooner?”

“Why did you stay with an overbearing uncle?” she snapped at him unexpectedly. “It was what I knew. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Her eyes blazed. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She willed them back down, down, down.

“Well you do now,” he said earnestly. Always so karking earnest. Somehow the Emperor had forgotten to mention that in his description of the terrorist Luke Skywalker.

“I can look after myself,” she growled. “I should have realized that a long time ago. But it took a —” she stopped. “It just took a lot to really make me think about not going back.”

“‘A lot’ such as lightning?” he asked with curiosity.

She shook her head. “No. Well…I mean, I was afraid he was going to execute me for failing a mission. So I just stayed away until I was living pretty much independently.”

“You could do a lot with your skills — security, intelligence, dance…. I mean, you really never considered running away to the Rebellion?”

“Just because I was too scared to go back didn’t mean I erased all that programming. I still saw Rebels as traitors and insurrectionists. I wasn’t about to enlist in their intelligence.”

“Correllia?” Skywalker suggested. “Or any other place with their own intelligence?”

“Career advice? Really?” She had a way of dripping sarcasm from her words that was enraging and endearing at the same time.

“Sorry,” Skywalker shook his head. “I just — you’re right. I have no idea what that would be like. My uncle was overbearing, yeah, but he was just doing his best to protect me. I thought at the time that he was trying to protect me from fun and adventure and an interesting life, but I had no idea.” His blue eyes shaded with a far-off look, light-years away.

Mara grunted.

“But even if Uncle Owen could shoot lightning out of his hands, he never would have aimed them at me.” He half-smiled. “It’s not the same. I was safe at home. Bored, annoyed, stubborn, and all the rest, but safe. I never had to wonder if I’d be safer elsewhere. So it just seems obvious to me that you—that someone in an abusive situation—would want to leave it at their first opportunity.”

“Yeah, well the problem with that is realizing that the way you lived for years, since before you could remember, might not be good for you. That the people around you might not be good for you. I thought I was safe, too. I thought I deserved what I got. I didn’t know there were safer places. I couldn’t tell.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Forget it. Someone like you could never understand. It’s always been clear to you who was Good and who was Bad. Where you were safe and when you were around people who wanted to hurt you. You knew which people were telling you the truth and who was lying to you.”

“You’d be surprised about that last one,” he replied softly, looking away.

She looked up sharply at this, and their eyes met. They held each other’s gaze as the silence stretched on.

“You know you’re welcome to come back with me, right? You don’t have to tell people anything about your past that you don’t want to. You’re good at inventing covers.” He smiled at the memory of her act for Camie and Fixer.

She broke the eye contact, shifting her gaze to the viewport. “Yeah, I know,” she said, her voice husky. “But I just can’t sign up with the Rebels. I can’t trust your side knows what’s best for the galaxy any more than the Empire did. I can’t trust—”

“You can’t trust me?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out. He shouldn’t put her on the spot. The answer might hurt more than he wanted to admit.

“I can’t trust myself. I don’t trust my own judgment now, after I lived that life unquestioningly for so long. I could just be repeating the same mistake in a different uniform.”

Luke’s mind spun with counterarguments. He wished he had Leia’s skill at diplomatic persuasion. He reached for the Force. His heartbeat slowed. Patience, he remembered Yoda counseling him. So many times. The words did not come. So he would wait for them. He nodded empathically.

After a smooth landing on Ryloth, she stretched and gathered her things. “You stopping?” she asked. She meant to sound nonchalant.

“Can’t,” he grimaced. “Leia wants me back earlier than I thought.”

“Duty calls, then. Got more innocents to save? Ships to explode? Teddy bears to recruit?” She edged toward the exit ramp.

Skywalker snorted. “Parties,” he sighed. “Big anniversary 'dos to show up for and look…I don’t know…like a Jedi, I guess.”

“Ah yes, the Heroes of Yavin must be Heroes.”

He rolled his eyes. “I hate that title. All titles, really. But ‘heroes’—we were two of a handful that came back. We lost a lot of good people that day. We should celebrate everyone that lived and everyone that sacrificed.”

As much as she had denied it at the time, she could acknowledge one thing about that day now. “Tarkin was out of control. He would have kept firing it. If you hadn’t made that shot, the list would be longer than Scarif and Alderaan. It wasn’t just Yavin 4 and your friends you saved.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Thanks.” His serious expression faded and he looked back up. “You figured out what you’re going to do next?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve got some ideas.”

He reached for the Force again. Patience. “That comlink frequency I gave you will still work. If you need confirmation of what ‘they’ are saying. Or if you want to train your Force skills. We could meet — you wouldn’t have to come to base.”

She hummed. She’d had enough of Skywalker in the past few rotations to last her a lifetime. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sensed the lie. “Please do. You never know what might change.”

He stood, slowly making his way in the tight space. He stopped directly in front of her, blue eyes inches from her green. Time stopped as they stared at one another.

Mara felt like a ship pinned in place by a tractor beam. She found herself wondering how his lips would feel on hers. Run. Now.

“Right. Clear skies, Skywalker.”

“Take care.” Luke’s hand brushed her forearm briefly. It was the most touch he trusted himself with.

She slipped past and walked down the ramp, forcing herself not to flee as she wished.

Good riddance, karking farmboy.

Chapter Text

Luke sat in the E-wing's pilot chair and focused on preparing for take-off. A distracted part of his mind imagined Chiara walking away from the ship. It was as if he’d had to force himself not to run after her. Not to bring her back inside, sit her back in the second seat, and blast off, whether she liked it or not. He knew she had the potential to use the Force she had never explored. A potential she’d never even believed was possible because no one had told her. Eventually, she would thank him when she saw he knew best.

His hands froze over the controls as these thoughts flashed through his mind, shocked at himself. The flavor of these feelings reminded him of the revenge he’d wanted to take on the Tuskens when he’d found Chiara wounded at Ben’s. At that time, he had recognized the unhelpful rage immediately and allowed it to subside without giving it more energy. This was more…possessive. And slippery. He would have to work on catching himself sooner. If a potential student’s resistance to training sent him into that kind of reaction….

She was not the first to turn him down for training, though. Corran Horn clearly had the legacy and the capacity to develop his Force skills. He had turned Luke’s offer down firmly. Luke had not felt the same kind of reaction then. What was the difference? If this woman brought out these thoughts in him, perhaps he was best off not seeing her again. But that didn’t feel right either.

A querying blat from Artoo snapped him back out of his thoughts.

“Right, Artoo, thanks.” He pushed a button. “This is Rogue Thirteen ready for launch on your mark.”

He shut out all thoughts but those about flying, navigating the E-Wing out of the hangar, out of the atmosphere, to the calculated jump point, into hyperspace. Once there, he took a deep breath. “Ping me if you need to,” he instructed Artoo.

He sank into meditation, welcoming the healing Light of the Force as it reached for him.

Mara stared at the horizon from her seat at the open-air caf shop, unseeing. Her abdomen still ached from the injury that healed with astonishing slowness. She wondered vaguely if the scarring that had been there for years complicated the new wound’s recovery. Skywalker had said no matter what she’d done, she didn’t deserve a lightning strike as punishment.

She didn’t even remember her transgression—just the consequences. Logically, at the very least, that made the punishment ineffective. At the time it had upset her but not surprised her. It was the first time she’d seen her Master generate lightning from his hands. It wouldn’t be the last. It certainly wasn’t the first time the Master had used pain to teach her a lesson. Lessons she’d believed were good for her, that she had deserved, as she’d told Skywalker.

To which he’d replied even his hardass of an uncle would not have turned such a weapon against him. Well wasn’t he lucky, she scoffed. Right up until he lost his hand, that is. And sometime since then, he’d earned lightning scars of his own, some of which she’d caught glimpses of.

Was it possible she hadn’t deserved it? Was it possible that the softness and weakness she had judged other families for — real families when she was honest with herself, was more effective? Better? She scoffed at herself again. Self-righteousness was for smug Rebels. For people like Skywalker who judged her as wrong, the Empire as bad, and the Emperor as cruel. Smug Rebels like Skywalker would never understand that Palpatine had used a wide array of tools and strategies. None of them were good or bad, they were all neutral by nature. The results, more often than less, were order and efficiency. That is what mattered.

But what if…that was wrong?

Light years away, Artoo beeped softly.

It was enough to bring Luke out of his meditation. He was surprised to find how much time had passed. Artoo needed to recharge. Like droid meditation, Luke smiled to himself.

He didn’t fully trust himself to meditate while flying with Artoo powered down. He didn’t fully trust a variety of his Jedi skills. He trusted them enough to be confident in front of others. Enough to threaten Jabba and act as if he could take out a whole herd of rancors if necessary. Enough to stand tall in front of the Emperor. Enough.

As usual, though, he wanted more. More practice, more training, more time with Yoda and Ben. More time — any time — with his father, redeemed to the light. He knew even the desires were not becoming of a Jedi. Never his mind on where he was, Yoda had said, what he was doing. Too much like his father. Yoda would tell him to concentrate. Focus on the practice, focus on the training, accept the time he’d been given, and keep his mind in the present.

Luke’s mind kept wandering, of course, back to Chiara. He wondered if he would ever know her real name, instead of her alias. Yoda would tell him to concentrate. Go back to his friends, help where he could, and continue with meditation, conditioning, and training. Accept the possibility she may never use that comlink frequency again. Let go of these thoughts. But he could not help but feel he’d built some small amount of trust with her. He hoped he could encourage that spark into a flame.

Bad metaphor, he thought guiltily. Yoda would warn him against the attraction he felt for her full stop. Yoda saw Luke’s attachment to his friends as a betrayal of the ideals of the Jedi. Luke’s highest dedication was meant to be to his connection with the Force. But his attachment to his father, to that sliver of his father that still existed in Darth Vader, had enabled Luke to turn him back. Which saved Luke’s life, and rid the galaxy of the Emperor. Attachment was forbidden because of the kind of thoughts he’d had when she left the ship. Attachment led to confusion over priorities, which led to Jedi choosing their attachments over their duties.

But what if…that was wrong?

Days later, Mara squinted at the cargo manifest. Surely this ship couldn’t carry all that. She had secured a job as a glorified mechanic — she kept the ships running so the schedule could be met. But making sure the schedule was met often spilled into several other responsibilities, as the beings she worked with did not appear to have the necessary abilities. Serving as the Emperor’s Hand had given her an interesting variety of skills.

As she perused the outline of the ship, trying to imagine where the capacity would exist to hold all this supposed cargo, a small Twi’lek child darted down the open ramp, looked around, and raced off. An enraged Gamorrean followed shortly after, snorting. The Gamorrean looked at Mara and waved its axe, bellowing something she did not understand. She could guess they were asking where the Twi’lek girl had gone. Mara put on her blankest face and returned to her datapad. The Gamorrean roared frustration at her and moved around the space, looking.

Mara wondered idly if the Gamorrean and Twi’lek were included in the passenger manifest. Her employer was certainly not a stickler for such rules. If anything, they just might be making more money for looking the other way. She’d minded her own business since starting here. They appreciated and rewarded that.

Hours later, Mara was completing maintenance checks and small tune-ups when the Gamorrean returned with the Twi’lek girl firmly in its massive claws. As they came into sight, the Gamorrean looked at Mara. She looked away just before their eyes would have met, and purposely walked away from the ship with her tools.

Behind her, she could hear the girl getting louder and more energetic as they moved up the ramp, working up to a full screaming fit when the ramp started to close behind them. Mara closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound. Not necessarily what it looks like. Could be a rich kid trying to escape for some adventure before being retrieved by family security.

Something twisted in her gut.

She sighed deeply, pushing the thoughts away. It was easier than it should have been. She’d had so much practice restricting her sight to a narrow cross-section of the truth. She turned her attention to a much more respectable Baudo-class star yacht. “Okay, Pulsar Skate, what can I do for you?” she muttered.

Mara purposely loitered late that day, making up work and hanging around. The other mechanics didn’t seem to notice, involved with their own work and then evaporating again as soon as possible. Minding their own business. It had been a major advantage for her and was much of the reason she stayed. But the little girl’s cries were cracking her determination to look the other way.

An hour after the hangar cleared and fell silent, the ramps of both the Pulsar Skate and the lowered. A brunette woman descended from the Skate as a Devaronian approached her from the other ship. They talked in low tones while both scanned their surroundings for eavesdroppers. Mara was experienced enough not to get caught. But could not get close enough to hear what they were saying. She was confident from the circumstances and the body language that whatever they were discussing was illegal.

Mara didn’t object to illegal activity on principle. She’d committed plenty of crimes herself. To her, what mattered was one’s motivations, and who benefitted and suffered due to one’s actions. If the two beings she was watching were discussing fraud, spice, or smuggling of goods considered legal in some places and illegal in others, Mara didn’t care. She assumed that was the nature of most of the business in this place.

Trading slaves, however, was a different matter. If the little Twi’lek girl was to be sold, Mara wanted no part. More than that, she wanted to hurt that Gamorrean. Hurt him so he couldn’t hurt any more little girls. Any more beings at all. Rage surged through her and she breathed slowly and evenly, reaching again for those mental tricks for submerging things she did not want to think about. Did not want to feel. Drop them in a little box inside her mind and seal the lid tightly.

Mara suddenly became aware of another being, another human woman, in the shadow of a pillar on the far end of the hangar. She hadn’t been there the last time Mara checked. Shavit. She was really slipping if she could let people sneak up on her. Most likely the woman was with the crew of one of the ships, providing surveillance for the meeting. She sighed quietly. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and waited for the other to move.

And waited. The ramp of the Pulsar Skate lowered again. Mara’s head snapped down, her eyes open wide. The brunette woman crept back down the ramp, blaster drawn. Mara flexed her wrist, where she’d strapped her holdout blaster beneath her work tunic. The woman turned a slow circle, stopped suddenly and rushed in the direction of the other woman Mara was waiting for. Urgent, unintelligible whispers tickled the air. Silence fell.

“We know you’re here. You work here, right?” A voice rang out. “It’s safe—we won’t hurt you.”

That was all the inspiration for a cover Mara needed. She abandoned her cover with her hands tentatively spread in front of her. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I—I just forgot my data—my datapad.” She widened her eyes and squeezed her upper arms tight against herself in a show of exaggerated fear.

A blond woman stepped out from the pillar and nodded, waving empty hands to show Mara that she could put her hands down. Her clothes were loose enough to conceal any number of weapons. The brunette smiled an authentic smile. She holstered the blaster in her hand.

“What if…” The brunette mused, turning to her crewmate. “What if we all got a drink? We’re new around here.” The blonde gave a fractional nod of assent. “Can you recommend a place?” The blonde’s eyes cut to the ship next to the Pulsar Skate and back to Mara.

A drink. A chance for them to question her. And her to question them. They must think they had the upper hand, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with. Mara was good at this game. Might as well flex some old skills and learn more about that Devaronian. Could be fun.

The thought of fun felt foreign. When was the last time she’d had fun? Skywalker’s youthful glee as he put that E-wing through its paces flitted across her memory. A violent mental shove sent it back down where it belonged.

“Sure,” Mara let her fictional fear dissolve. “I can show you. Let me just grab that datapad.” The blond woman’s sense flickered, acknowledging Mara’s preservation of her cover story. Outwardly, the woman showed no sign. Of the two, she was the one with more experience with….whatever they were doing.

Once they were seated at the quiet, dimly-lit cantina Mara led them to, Mara settled back into her seat. She was curious. It was true what she’d told Skywalker, that she didn’t have friends growing up and training to be the Emperor’s hand. At some point, she had learned this was an exception rather than the rule for most girls growing up. If she expressed any jealousy or dissatisfaction with her situation, she was always greeted with the same response. The Empire had all the friends she needed. The Empire was her family. She was lucky. She was cared for. Her every need was seen to. How many young beings could say that? She should feel grateful. And she did feel grateful. Most of the time.

Now she studied the women covertly. What did friendship sound like? Feel like? She could be friendly enough for one evening. She had plenty of experience with that. To her surprise, she sensed her companions were interested in her, beyond simply interrogating her for what she knew. It was a curious feeling, that other beings would want to know her. Or maybe the curious thing was that she wanted to be known, instead of projecting a superficial affectation. Skywalker had had that same sense, wanting to know who she was. Not to use or manipulate her, but to help and support her. It was not the way she had learned to relate to other beings.

When the first round of drinks had been ordered, Mara leaned forward with simulated apprehension. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I couldn’t help but notice that scary-looking Devaronian you were talking to.”

The brunette, who had introduced herself as Mirax, scowled. “Slimeball,” she muttered.

“Have you seen much of him around the hangar?” The blonde jumped in quickly. She’d introduced herself as Tia but Mara suspected it was an alias. Mirax seemed to have less to hide. In contrast, Tia was an experienced secret keeper.

“No, but I just started there recently.” Mara widened her eyes to suggest innocence. “The only one I’ve seen from Veiled Fortune was a Gamorrean earlier today, chasing a Twi’lek youngling. The Gamorrean was scary-looking too.”

Mirax’s scowl deepened. Tia’s affect did not change. Mara was struck with a wave of disgust from both of them.

“But you’re not afraid of them. You’re in business with them?” Mara kept her tone off-hand. Swirling her drink, she looked up through her lashes at the other two women.

“We’re thinking about it. If we didn’t blow it tonight,” the blonde growled grumpily.

“I did my best,” Mirax groused. “It’s not my fault you needed my help,” she glared back.

Tia nodded in frustration.

“Sounds like you two need to talk,” Mara observed, lifting a hand to signal the serving droid.

“No, stay!” The two women chorused. Mara looked at them.

“She’ll have plenty of time to yell at me later. The longer you stay, the longer she has to wait.” With this, Mirax ordered another round for all three of them from the droid that had responded to Mara’s wave. “I have plenty of experience with the dark underbelly of this galaxy but these are a sublevel of slime. I can keep a straight face while I deal with them but then I absolutely want to vomit.”

“Might want to slow down on the drinking,” Tia observed wryly.

“She’s trying to tell me I talk too much,” Mirax mused. “And to shut up.”

No kidding, Mara thought. Mirax did talk way too much for any kind of undercover work. Tia might be serving, or have served, in an intelligence or policing service.

“Well, watch yourselves,” Mara adopted a concerned tone. “Those guys are serious. I wouldn’t want to be on their bad side.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tia reassured her. “We’ve wrapped up our business on this planet. We’ll be on our way soon.”

“We can’t give up now!” Mirax objected. “It’s—we—” she looked from Tia to Mara, noticeably editing her words “—we can still do this.”

Tia shook her head wordlessly.

“Can I help?” Mara offered offhandedly. It probably wasn’t a wise offer. She had no idea what she was offering help with. But she knew she didn’t like that Devaronian. And whatever he had done to the Twi’lek girl.

Mirax frowned, as her mental gears visibly began to grind on this possibility.

“No,” Tia said flatly.

“But—” Mirax started.

“No,” her friend repeated.

“What if—” Mirax tried again.

“Uh-uh, no, no way, no how, no,” Tia’s tone rose.

“Forget it, I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Mara held up her hands. “I just don’t like them either.” She shrugged.

She waited a beat, letting the moment slide away. The server delivered another round of drinks.

“Why risk it, though?” Mara asked softly. “You could get hurt. Seriously. Or dead. Why not let someone else take this slime on?”

She felt a shift in Tia though it didn’t show in the woman’s face or body language. “If everyone did that, no one would stop them.” She looked up at Mara, making eye contact. “Why not us?”

Mara opened her mouth to fire back the usual snarky response and found she had none to make. She closed her mouth again.

“But who is it all for? In service to?” She’d spent her whole life in service to the Emperor. Who else out there would inspire people to risk their lives this way? For what?"

The two other women exchanged looks. Now they think I’m crazy. She could work with that. She’d gotten that reaction before, though usually to the cover she was pretending to be. Being herself was new.

“You’re asking who we’re working for. We’re not going to tell you that.” Tia replied. “But the names don’t really matter anyway. It’s in service to justice, and what’s right for the beings of this galaxy. It’s in service to all the young beings on that ship. Including that little Twi’lek.”

Mara’s breath caught at the memory of the screams ascending the ship’s ramp. The certainty in the woman’s voice intrigued her. This was the most authentic thing Tia had said so far; the most vulnerability she had shown with real feelings. Tia’s earnestness awakened an old, old stirring in Mara. One she barely remembered from her early service to the Emperor.

She had believed in the Emperor and what he was doing. She thought he was bringing order and discipline to the galaxy. Confident that as his Hand, she was clearing obstacles to a better way, and, as Tia had said, dispensing justice. How long had it been since she’d felt that way about carrying out her missions? How long had it been since her blood had boiled for the cause of justice? At the time, she had taken the Emperor’s definition of justice—who was right, who was wrong, and who had done wrong.

Hearing the child’s screams had made Mara’s blood boil once again. She considered the women she sat with. Were they just following orders? If the orders stopped making sense to them, would they continue to follow them? There was no way to ask, but she wanted to know.

“I’ve had too much,” Mara declared. “Time to go home.” She signaled the droid for the check.

“We’ve got it,” Tia said softly, waving a hand dismissively.

Instinctively, Mara wanted to object. On principle, she didn’t want to owe anyone anything. That she’d let Skywalker, of all people, take care of her when she was wounded was unthinkable. If she ever did see him again, which she fervently hoped not to, she would have to repay him.

A few drinks, however, were a different matter. She suspected the women were relieved to have the company. Possibly as a distraction, a way to procrastinate dealing with their troubled mission.

Mara nodded her gratitude. “Clear skies to you, then.” She gathered herself and slid from the table.

Leia smiled widely as she spoke under her breath to the handsome Corellian next to her. “Try to look as if you haven’t just swallowed a sour smashfruit,” she murmured.

Han resisted the urge to pull the tight shirt collar from digging into his neck. “We can’t all look as fresh and gorgeous as we did five years ago.” He drank in her beauty, her petite frame draped in a white dress glittering with silver accents.

Despite the close fit, Han was grateful he’d worn his traditional vest and blood-striped pants that fateful day. The planners for this event had wanted to pay tribute to their looks at the medal ceremony. The result was close enough to his day-to-day outfit that Han knew he would get plenty of practical use from it. Except, of course, for the medal hanging around his neck.

Han glanced over at Luke, who had managed to relocate his medal just in time. Admirers clustered around him. The kid looked as uncomfortable with the attention as Han felt. Luke would likely get a similar lecture from Leia about his demeanor.

“Should we mount a rescue?” Han murmured to her, looking meaningfully in Luke’s direction.

“He’s fine. He’s been dealing with this for five years,” she smiled diplomatically. “It doesn’t hurt to remind him how venerated he is by the public.”

“No matter how much he hates it,” Han grunted.

Leia shrugged and smiled at the approaching dignitaries. “Being a hero has its tradeoffs.”

It wasn’t a title Han was comfortable with either. Five years ago, looking cynically out at the enthusiastic crowd applauding their bravery, he never would have guessed he would be here now, still at Leia’s side. Try as he might to break away from the gravitational pull of the Rebel Alliance, he had never achieved the necessary velocity. There was always a reason to return, or not to leave. Sometimes the reasons were laughably thin, while others were more serious, such as getting Leia off Hoth safely. She had proven his recurring weakness, the star around which he revolved.

Leia wasn’t the only pull on his loyalties. He’d taken the Falcon into the fight over the Death Star as he watched the Rebel fighters get picked off by TIEs, one by one. Something about Luke’s enthusiasm and determination awakened a spark he preferred to keep firmly tamped down. It may have been suicide, but he hated an unfair fight. And it didn’t get any more unfair than the Empire. Time after time, he was drawn back to the fight to help the kid, support Leia, lend his strength and speed to the underdog fighters trying to blacken the eye of the galactic bully. Something about fighting with and for his friends overcame the cynicism he preferred to show the public.

Luke saw Han watching from Leia’s side. The nature of attention his friend received was different, given a former princess and formidable leader standing at his side. Luke felt as overjoyed now as he did then that Han had chosen to stay and fight instead of abandon them for richer possibilities.

“They really gave you an X-Wing to fly into combat after just a few hours in a simulator?” The woman in front of him reclaimed his attention. She had the swagger of a pilot. She shook her head as she studied the medal. Luke held it out for her to scrutinize.

“It was a desperate time,” Luke explained, remembering the Alliance had had little to lose at that point.

“Yeah,” Wedge Antilles agreed, coming around other Luke’s side. “Without a Death Star breathing down our necks, we’re a little pickier,” he put in. “Luke, have you met Rhynu? She just joined Umbra Squadron a few months ago.” The pilot smiled at him, revealing straight white teeth and showing off her chiseled cheekbones. Her blond hair spilled over her shoulders, shining in the festive light.

“Pleased to meet you,” Luke said automatically. “I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind in meeting the newer recruits.”

Rhynu nodded, still smiling, and stepped aside for the next admirer. A moment later, she had melted back into the crowd.

“I haven’t seen Rhynu smile since I met her,” Wedge informed Luke. Under his breath he added, “I can get her comlink frequency for you.”

“Not necessary, thanks,” Luke murmured back, smiling at the next being to press forward, a Bothan with rippling fur.

“Just doing my duty as your wing, Boss,” Wedge returned.

The Bothan repeated the same polite phrases Luke had received all evening and moved off. He turned to Wedge.

“You can retire from those duties now. How many times do I have to tell you that attachment is forbidden?” Luke chuckled.

“Who said anything about attachment?” Wedge’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “She’s a pilot. She’d love you and leave you if you didn’t beat her to it.”

“She was smiling at you, too. You could use her comlink frequency yourself.” Luke pointed out.

“Nah, she wants to fly with the Rogues and then I’d be her commanding officer. I’m not risking getting into that sticky situation.”

Chiara invaded Luke’s thoughts once again, despite all the practice he’d gotten focusing on something—anything—else. He wanted to train her as Yoda had trained him. Having a student would not be dissimilar to having subordinates reporting to him, he suspected. There was an inherent power imbalance. Even if attachment was not forbidden, it was a bad idea. Not that he was ever going to hear from her again anyway. He wrenched his thoughts back to his friend.

“What about that woman you told me about?” Luke asked Wedge. “Is she here?” He looked around the crowd, wondering who had caught Wedge’s eye.

Wedge shook his head. “Nah, she’s working. Top secret stuff — I don’t know where she is or what her mission is. Even if I did, I don’t know if she’s available or interested.” He shrugged self-consciously.

“You are a pilot. The only pilot to take out two Death Stars, as you never let any of us forget. Who couldn’t be interested?” Luke laughed, relieved to be putting his friend on the hot seat for just a moment. “Want to see if I can get her comlink frequency?”

“No,” Wedge replied emphatically. “Stand down. I’ll let you know if I need backup.”

“Just doing my duty—” Luke grinned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wedge cut him off.

Hours later, the last of the admirers drifted off, leaving the weary friends chatting among themselves.

“Well done,” Leia congratulated Luke and Han approvingly.

“It was a team effort, I was just lucky,” Luke responded in a robotic imitation of his own oft-repeated phrases of the night.

“You were a great sport,” she soothed. “You see how important it is to the people who were here tonight to have heroes, right? They’ll never know the real you, but their concept of you gives them something to believe in.”

Both men regarded her with skepticism.

“You’re the one leading the heroics, especially now. They should believe in you.” Luke was proud of his sister and the ceaseless work she did, regardless of credit or glory. “I told a lot of them that, too.”

“She got her share of attention tonight, trust me,” Han put in with the slightest edge in his voice. “She’s just the best at dealing with it.”

“Years of diplomatic training and practice,” Leia sighed. Looking around, she reached up and removed a pin from her hair, letting the braid wound around the bun atop her head unspool down her back. “Now let’s have our own celebration for pulling this thing off without any casualties.”

Luke fell into step beside her, throwing the newly fashioned yellow jacket over one shoulder. Han’s arm settled around Leia’s waist. “Whatever you say, princess. We don’t have to do this again for what, twenty years?”

Chapter Text

Mara walked home, doubling back and creating a circuitous path to shake off anyone following. It was probably unnecessary, she knew, but talking to Tia and Mirax had awakened old feelings which in turn triggered old habits.

Casting a last glance over her shoulder and seeing no one, she keyed her way into her apartment. Her mind circled and rolled over the events of the evening and what she knew about the Veiled Fortune. She prepared to go to bed, hoping the prowling restlessness in her bones would tire.

It did not.

Two hours later, she grunted in frustration and rose from her bed. She pulled on clean work clothes and headed back to the hangar. Might as well put the energy to use.

As she flicked on lights, a blinking LED on the comm panel caught her attention. She frowned. No one was scheduled to land today, particularly at this time. She was tempted to ignore it. As she turned away, a tickle in the back of her brain turned her back.

She pressed the button. “Fleck’s Hangar,” she said crisply.

“Good evening, thank you for answering,” a smooth voice replied. “This is Syndic Pandis Hart on the Uwana Buyer. I’m afraid our hyperdrive is in need of maintenance. We need to make an unexpected landing and get it repaired.”

Lucky for you I can’t sleep, Mara thought to herself as she eyed the thin workload on the current schedule. Was it purposely sparse to keep witnesses away from the Veiled Fortune? Or was she just weaving stories to keep herself entertained?

Either way, she had a berth available and capacity to fix an ailing hyperdrive.

“Acknowledged, Uwana Buyer,” Mara responded, rolling her eyes at the ship’s name. “We can help with that. Sending approach vector coordinates. You’re assigned docking bay 11. Hyperdrive assessment to follow.”

As the Uwana Buyer became visible, Mara watched it on the displays, then on binocs. She closed her eyes and listened to its approach.

The ship settled smoothly on the opposite side of the Veiled Fortune from the Pulsar Skate. Mara watched as the ramp lowered and two human men stepped out. She automatically stepped back from the transparisteel to avoid being seen.

Neither was visibly armed, but could have weapons hidden under their loose- fitting clothing. Mara checked her holdout blaster and then stepped into view.

“Welcome to Varonat, gentlemen.” She looked from one to the other, expectant. “I spoke to…”

“Syndic, at your service.” The bearded one gave the slightest bow. “This is Captain Seoul.”

Mr. Hart and Captain Seoul. Mara noted. Give me a break.

She smiled as her eyebrows arched. “Any other passengers?”

Seoul shook his head. “Just us.”

Mara tapped keys on her datapad. “Cargo?”

“We’re not carrying any this trip, just traveling,” Syndic returned smoothly.

“Until your hyperdrive put a stop to that,” Mara guessed.

“Clever and beautiful. Powerful combination,” Syndic smiled. Seoul snorted.

“Don’t mind him. He can’t help himself. Syndic, I’m going to stretch my legs. I’ll be back.” Seoul strode for the exit.

As Syndic’s eyes followed him, they took in the other ships in the hangar. They caught on the Veiled Fortune for slightly longer than the Pulsar Skate.

Mara’s attention was drawn to his interest. Had he seen this ship before? Mirax and Tia refrained from making explicit the reason they were after the crew of the Veiled Fortune. Mara suspected the worst. But these were only suspicions.

Adopting an exasperated tone, she spoke. “You’d be surprised how many spacers lie about how many passengers they’re carrying or the nature of their cargo. Sometimes I don’t know why we bother to ask.”

Syndic nodded. “So many secrets in your business.”

“Like those,” she tipped her head toward the Veiled Fortune. “I’ve already seen more people come and go than they’ve listed. And there’s no way a ship that size holds this much cargo.”

“Implying….” Syndic prompted.

“That the passengers are the cargo. I hate to think we’re doing business with—” She looked around a bit exaggeratedly and lowered her voice to a whisper, “—slavers.”

A shadow fell across Syndic’s features. “I’ve encountered them before. Best be careful and not see anything, if you take my meaning. To be safe.”

Mara widened her eyes. “You know them?”

“No,” he replied decisively. “I know of them, as I know of many things. I collect information, you see.”

“Who are they? I won’t tell, promise.” Mara gave him a persuasive smile along with intense eye contact.

Syndic chuckled. “Oh, I don’t give away the information I collect. Not for free.” He returned her smile with an intense look of his own, sweeping from her eyes down to her feet.

Kark. So close. She took a step back. “Oh, if you’re looking for that, there’s plenty in town. I’m just a mechanic. I would trade fixing your failing Starchaser for that information.”

Syndic frowned. “It’s the hyperdrive that needs fixing, not the sublights. And you’re not the only mechanic here, I’ll wager. Why would I take that deal?”

Mara smirked. “Because I’m the only mechanic here who would notice from the sound of your landing that one of your sublight Starchaser Mark III’s is about to fail. You may not notice until another one goes — you’ve got what? Five? Six? But you’re probably safe enough for now.” Mara shrugged and turned away.

Soule had returned and stepped to Syndic’s side. “I meant to mention that,” he said in a low tone close to Syndic’s ear. “It can wait til we get back home, but I was getting some warning lights we need to see to.”

Syndic had to chase after Mara a few steps to reclaim her attention. “Excuse me, Ms.—”

“Chiara Lorn,” she turned, smiling. At least my aliases aren’t obvious.

They closed the space between them. Syndic spoke softly. “That ship and some of their associates have been seen operating in the Outer Rim. It is thought they are trafficking slaves. They haven’t attracted the attention of the Hutts or other rival organizations as they are not a large enough operation. Yet. But they are new enough to be unknown and therefore unpredictable.”

Mara nodded acknowledgment, feeling a deep resonance of Syndic’s words with truth.

“Right. I can replace the Starchaser tonight with one in inventory. We’ll look at the hyperdrive in the morning.” She turned to fetch her tools.

As she moved through installing the new engine, Mara reviewed the information she had on the Veiled Fortune. Mirax and Tia were working, likely undercover, with slavers. Perhaps they’d been hired by a competitor or a bounty hunter, but most likely for an intelligence service, assuming that claim they worked for the justice of the youth of the galaxy wasn’t just a line. It hadn’t felt like a line. It had tugged on that long-buried part of Mara’s heart that burned to make a difference.

By the time she’d finished installing the new engine, she’d made a decision. She couldn’t make much of an impact here. Still, she could do something. She entered the information for ordering maintenance on the hyperdrive of the Uwana Buyer. Satisfied she had seen to the comically named Hart and Soule, she turned to the Veiled Fortune.

Mara glanced around before twisting the spanner a few more times. She could get fired for this. Not that she particularly cared. She had no interest in working with slavers. Particularly child slavers. She reached for the datapad and recorded that she had done something she had just undone. The records showed the Veiled Fortune was ready for takeoff.

She shifted the display to show her the Pulsar Skate, verifying that it truly was ready for takeoff. She stepped over to the ship, making one last manual sweep. As she inspected the hull, the unmistakable sound of blaster fire pierced the air. She froze, all her senses focused on listening.

She didn’t have to wait long. Footsteps thundered, accompanied by more blaster fire. She stepped behind the Skate for cover, peering around at the entrance. The firefight was headed in this direction. She flicked her wrist so that the holdout blaster that hid under her sleeve slid into her hand.

Tia charged through the doorway first, a comlink jammed to her lips, which moved quietly against it, beyond Mara’s hearing. The Skate’s engines began to power up. Mara stepped back instinctively, just in time to see Mirax’s back following Tia, firing down toward the unseen attacker. Mirax bellowed a war cry. And something in a language Mara didn’t know. But she’d bet it was an expletive.

The Pulsar Skate’s ramp lowered. The Devaronian Mara had seen delivering the screaming Twi’lek girl back into the Veiled Fortune came through the doorway next, shouting to the Gamorreans behind him.

Mara aimed her holdout blaster at the Devaronian’s forehead, and just as Tia’s feet hit the Skate’s ramp, Mara fired.

Tia stopped on the ramp, partially protected by the ship, and fired back at the Gamorreans. The Devaronian lay face down on the floor, struggling to raise his head after Mara’s blaster bolt had torn through it.

Mara felt a burning sensation hit her knee, and one leg buckled to the ground. She looked around to see a Gamorrean had circled the ship and surprised her from the other side. She grunted in frustration at herself and fired at them, shot after shot until they stopped advancing. She took a step toward a safer position but her injured knee buckled under again. Shavit.

Then a hand curled around her elbow and pulled her in the opposite direction, toward the Skate’s open ramp. “C’mon,” Tia murmured at her, pulling her with one hand and shooting with the other. Mara brought her blaster up to bear in the same direction and lay down covering fire for them as they reached the ramp. Mirax appeared at the ramp’s top, hitting the controls as soon as they were safely on. Tia, Mara, and Mirax continued to fire until there was too little room between the ramp and the ship to do so safely.

“We’re on, Liat! Get us out of here!” Mirax yelled and the pilot complied, firing thrusters and lifting the Skate off the ground. Mirax took Mara’s other elbow and the two women dragged Mara to a seat, where she strapped in and waited for takeoff.

Blaster fire outside continued to sound around them as the ship shuddered with hits.

“Keep up the speed!” Mirax yelled as she ran off, presumably toward the cockpit. Tia sat next to Mara and secured herself, her chest heaving with deep breaths.

As the ship cleared its dock it began to dodge the incoming blasts, jinking side-to-side and up and down. Climbing higher into the atmosphere, they shot out of range of the ground weapons.

Mara heard shouts of jubilation from Mirax and her co-pilot, and their flight assumed a smoother route. After they cleared the atmosphere and were cruising comfortably, Mirax reappeared.

“They didn’t follow us?” Tia asked in confusion. “Did you shoot them down already?”

“They’re still on the ground,” Mirax shrugged.

Inwardly Mara smiled. Her sabotage had worked out better than she’d imagined.

“So…,” Mirax’s eyes slid to Mara and back to Tia, “back home? Or what?”

“Drop me off anywhere,” Mara interrupted. “I mean, anywhere with a decent spaceport. I’ll find my way from there.”

Tia thought. She turned her face away from Mara and said something quietly to Mirax. Mirax shrugged. “Sure, no problem.” She turned to Mara.

“I’m going to hit the rack. Galley is that way — help yourself.” Her head tipped to indicate direction. “Bunks are the opposite way. And there’s a first aid station down there. Not a full mobile medcenter but well-equipped.”

Tia snorted. “You’ll find this whole ship ‘well equipped.’”

Mirax grinned. “Comes with the job.” She turned back to the hallway she had indicated for bunks and disappeared.

“You want help with that wound?” Tia asked, looking at the blood seeping through Mara’s clothes.

“I got it,” Mara dismissed the offer, releasing herself from the seat and heading for the first aid station. She put as much weight on the injured knee as she dared, trying not to limp. The same knee had taken hits in both fights with Tuskens on Tatooine. She wondered if there would be any lasting damage. The thought of a bacta tank came to her and she automatically made a face at the idea as she looked through the medical supplies.

Mirax was right — she was well supplied for a ship that didn’t look it. Given the meds here, she might not need anything other than do-it-yourself treatment. Her favorite. She smiled, despite herself.

Now, who have I gotten mixed up with here? And what do they want? A wave of exhaustion washed over her as the adrenaline faded and the meds started to work. Sleep first, perhaps, then strategy. If they wanted to kill her, they’d had plenty of opportunities already.

She made her way to the bunk opposite Mirax, who was already sound asleep and snoring loudly. She swung into the bunk, reflexively checking all her weapons were in place. Just in case. These people could easily have left her there. She would have been fine, even with the injury. Why bring her along? If they thought they’d get a ransom, they had another think coming. She drifted into sleep, once more confused by human behavior outside the confines of the Imperial military establishment. Especially by those who were connected to Rebels. They were the most confusing by far.

Mara woke to the sound of voices. Before she opened her eyes and gave herself away, she listened. One voice belonged to Mirax. The other was harder to understand. Then the unmistakable low hum of a holo-transmitter. So the other was not onboard. The two voices laughed together and joked in intimate tones.

“Stop!” Mirax giggled. “I’m not alone. Keep it in your pants just a little while longer. I’ll be there soon.”

The other voice responded with something that made Mirax laugh harder and reach for the transmitter’s disconnect. “Goodbye!”

Mara contemplated waiting and faking sleep until Mirax left. Tia walked quietly up. As Mirax rose to follow her, Mara stretched and yawned obviously.

The other women smiled at her and Mirax settled back on the bunk she had been rising from.

“How is he?” Tia asked Mirax.

“Same as always,” Mirax replied. “Hopeless. Word of advice,” she turned to Mara, “If human men are your thing, stay away from fighter pilots. They’re arrogant and impatient and immature. And if they ever fly with Rogue Squadron, then forget it. It totally goes to their heads.”

Mara knew about Rogue Squadron — Skywalker had founded it. He’d even used the callsign “Rogue 13” on Tattooine in his shiny E-wing. None of this showed on her face. She merely nodded and grunted.

Tia shook her head. “His head couldn’t get any bigger before he became a Rogue.”

“He’s been insufferable since he found out he’s got the Force.” She looked at Mara.

Mara’s senses went to high alert. A Rogue pilot with the Force. And an ego. Skywalker was seeing this woman?

Tia was shooting daggers with her eyes at Mirax, clearly concerned she had revealed too much. But that had been true since Mirax had opened her mouth.

“The Force? You don’t hear much about that these days.” Mara played it cool, as the offhandedly interested bystander.

“Oh, so he says,” Mirax shrugged. “But he’s not sure he wants to be a Jedi. Idiot.”

“A Jedi,” Mara repeats, frowning. Playing it dumb seemed wisest. “I didn’t think there were any of those left?”

Tia couldn’t stand it any longer. “We should talk about where we go next,” she cut in firmly.

Mara looked at her curiously, inwardly cursing the interruption. Plenty of time for more girl talk later, she reasoned with herself. Away from Tia, Mirax would be eager to talk about her boyfriend.

“I’m starving. I’ll be in the galley,” Mirax jumped up.

“Good idea,” Tia agreed.

Luke patted the T-65’s hull affectionately. He examined the site of the last repair, peering into the wiring to verify it had stayed in place. Satisfied, he looked around the hangar.

As Wedge crossed into view, Luke hailed him. He jogged toward his friend. “Have you seen Corran?”

Wedge snorted. “Yeah, he got a holo from Mirax, and now he’s packing to see her. He’s got leave.”

“Is that what he said?” Luke smirked. “He challenged me to a dogfight. And now he’s bailing out?” He shook his head in mock disgust.

“Oh, I know.” Wedge’s voice cut through Luke’s reverie. “He’s been bragging about it nonstop. You’re not the only one who’s going to give him a hard time for running away. He’s got it worse for Mirax than I realized. He must be one smitten tooka kitten. Getting attached, I suspect.”

Luke grunted. Corran had rejected Luke’s offer to train in the Force to remain a full-time fighter pilot with the Rogues. Corran was free to form any attachments he pleased. Envy swam in Luke’s stomach.

Tia moved around the galley, making caf.

“Why did you help us back there?” She asked Mara over her shoulder.

Not so fast. “Why did you bring me with you?” she countered.

“You’re not a prisoner. You were injured and outnumbered. I wanted to make sure you’d be OK.” Tia raised her eyebrows at Mara while holding up an empty mug.

“Sure,” Mara growled, not sure if she should take anything from them but desperate for caf.

“You want to go back? We can drop you off in another city.” Mirax offered as she foraged for food. The claim that the ship was well-supplied extended to the galley, apparently, as a variety of foodstuffs from an array of origins peeked out of storage spaces.

Tia sat down with two mugs of caf, sliding one over to Mara. “Your old boss isn’t going to be crazy about you shooting at paying clients. You’d have a hard time getting that job back.”

Mara grunted. Her old boss might not even know exactly what happened in the hangar. She may not be a prisoner, but Tia seemed reluctant to return her.

“Oh, I could come up with something convincing,” Mara shrugged. “Maybe I could do more damage to that slime by going back and working from the inside.” She stared into her caf as she took a long swallow. “Interested?”

Mirax pulled her head from the cabinet she was exploring. “You wanna inform on them?”

Tia studied Mara. “You can do more than that. We can take you back with us, and you can talk to my bosses about a new job.”

How desperate are you, recruiting friends with loose lips and now total strangers? “You have a very flexible recruiting standard.” Mara observed.

“We don’t, actually,” Tia replied. “This is just the first conversation. Of many. We can train you.”

I bet you can. “And if I say I’m interested, where would we land?”

Tia shook her head. “We’re not revealing the location til we get there. I’m sure you understand.” Tia clearly suspected Mara had some sort of related experience to intelligence work. Not that she would have heard of the Emperor’s Hand if Mara admitted it. Could Skywalker have set this up?

Mirax finally sat at the table, spreading out a feast she couldn’t eat alone. “Help yourselves!” she declared, distributing utensils and serving implements.

“What have you got to lose?” Mirax queried Mara as Mirax bit into a meiloorun fruit. She chewed thoughtfully. “You listen to their spiel, and if you don’t like it, you go back, or wherever you want.”

Sure, just like that. Assuming they don’t lock me in a cell and throw away the keycode. Mara turned back to Tia. “And how do you know I’m trustworthy? That I won’t turn around and report everything I see to the highest bidder?”

Tia leaned back and stared into her caf cup. “I’m the wrong person to ask about the logistics of vetting. We’d just be making an introduction. But I can tell you that I’ve worked with beings from a variety of backgrounds, particularly recently. The war…changed things.”

Mara drained her caf cup. Though she would never admit it out loud, Mirax had a point. What did she have to lose? Perhaps she could go back and be persuasive enough to regain her position. But she did not want to watch children get captured and trafficked under her nose. There was no possible way she could stay out of trouble while slavers swirled around her, mocking her weakness as the disempowered Hand.

Even though her instincts suggested otherwise, Mara wondered if it was a trap. And if so, was Skywalker waiting at the other end to spring it?

Chapter Text

Luke sat on the couch in Leia’s office with his eyes closed. The Force was trying to tell him something, a faint buzzing in his brain. He took slow, deep breaths, hoping it would either fade away or grow strong enough to explain itself.

“What about your new friend—did you say she was off-world? When does she get back?” Leia conferred with Winter.

“Iella? She was supposed to be gone for awhile, but she just returned. I read the report yesterday; they had to abort.” Winter tapped on a datapad.

“Mmmm—that’s too bad,” Leia responded. “I hope their next attempt is more successful.”

“That’s the unfortunate part — it sounds like they got made, so the entire investigation will have to take a step back. But they’re bringing someone back with them to talk to General Cracken. The report’s vagueness surprised me.”

The buzzing in Luke’s brain roared.

“I hope their captive can be helpful.” Leia mused.

“It’s not even clear she is a captive. They’re calling her a witness, but they’re bringing her all the way back here? And taking her to the general?”

“Who is it? What name did she give?” Luke asked, his eyes flying open.

Winter glanced up as if just realizing he was there. She tapped on her datapad. “Let’s see…. Chiara Lorn. Why?”

Luke was already on his feet. “Where is she?”

Winter and Leia exchanged a puzzled look.

“What’s wrong, Luke? You know her?” Leia asked. “Oh wait!” She shifted to a silent conversation for his privacy. Is this Miss Former ISB?

He nodded. “Where is she?” he repeated, struggling to hold on to his patience.

Winter glanced at the chrono. “She’d be with the general now.”

Nodding again, he crossed to the door.

“Hold on, Luke! General Cracken is just talking to her. It’s not as if we torture people. And he may not appreciate you barging in.”

Luke envied Leia’s certainty about the intelligence service’s moral center. She was right, though, that his appearance may not be welcomed. He’d encountered a wide range of reactions to Jedi. “If I need damage control….Will you have my back?” Luke asked.

“Always. But it helps to know what I’m supporting you about.” Leia’s eyebrows arched.

“I just want to make sure she’s OK. But if Cracken doesn’t appreciate me…showing up….” He shrugged.

Leia looked at Winter. “You work well with General Cracken. Would you go along, in case they could use some mediation?”

Winter smiled and nodded, then turned to Luke waiting at the door. “You look ready to go.”

Luke questioned whether he would ever learn both the patience and diplomacy that was effortless for both Leia and Winter. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he cared.

As the door slid open, it revealed Han approaching from the hall. Luke barely dodged him with a quick nod as he brushed past.

“Hey,” Han smiled in a surprised greeting. “Where are you off—” Winter returned the smile as she quickened her step to catch up to the retreating Jedi.

Han scoffed in mock hurt. “They’re in a hurry,” he observed to Leia, eyebrows raised. “What’s that about?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Leia replied.

Winter led the way through the winding halls in the lower levels of the NRI HQ building. She stopped at a door that looked like every other door and operated the controls.

A woman sat in the room, wearing a headset and facing a window into the next room. She looked up as the door slid open, her eyes widening in surprise when they landed on Luke.

“Hi,” Winter greeted her. “How’s it going in there?”

“Hey,” the woman responded with warmth. “It’s fascinating. It’s like watching a game of tooka cat and mouse. Except they keep changing roles. He’s the tooka just now. I feel like I should have popcorn.”

Seeing Luke, her eyes widened, and she jumped up. “It’s an honor to meet you, Jedi Skywalker. I’m Iella. My ex-partner Corran holds you in the highest respect, and that is a rare compliment from him.”

“Corran’s great. It’s good to meet you,” Luke responded. His jaw tightened as his gaze fell on Chiara on the other side of the one-way glass. She looked tired and angry. Her sense in the Force was frazzled but suddenly turned wary. Her shields grew thicker despite her evident fatigue. She cut her eyes across the room, taking in the mirror as she did so.

Inside the interview room, Mara had completely lost track of what this clown on the other side of the table was babbling about. Bright as the Tatooine suns, Skywalker had invaded her sense. He must be in the viewing room behind her “interviewer”.

Are you all right? He projected through the Force. Despite her self-control, her eyes widened, just slightly.

She had not heard such direct communication through the Force since the Emperor had died. Now he shows up? She had been half-expecting him to meet the Pulsar Skate on landing.

Just checking that you’re OK, Skywalker responded. Responded? She lowered her head and coughed into her fist to hide her face from the clown who continued to babble across the table from her. Had the clown asked her a question? Was he waiting for her to answer? This was too much. She was either being interrogated or recruited — the clown couldn’t decide — while Skywalker responded to her. As if he could…hear…her?

Can you hear me? She demanded while rewinding the clown’s words. Her ears must have heard what the clown said. What did he want to know?

I can hear you, just like you can hear me. As with the Emperor, Skywalker’s voice sounded as if it were inside her head. But it was very unlike the Emperor that Skywalker could hear her as well. At most, she’d been able to send back a primitive acknowledgment that she had received his orders. On the few occasions she needed clarification, she had sent a holomessage. The Emperor made it clear that her ability to hear him was due to him, not her. And now Skywalker could both send her messages and hear her respond. They could hold an unspoken conversation.

She still had no idea what the clown was on about. She faked a coughing fit. “Water?” she requeste.

He sighed and pushed back from the table. “Yeah, a break sounds like a good idea.”

Feigning exhaustion, she leaned her crossed arms on the table, laying her forehead atop them. With her face hidden, she struggled to absorb all the new information at once.

Cracken entered the observation room and nodded at the women, and looked at Luke, surprised.

“Jedi Skywalker, always an honor,” he said drily. I’m surprised to see you here. Is this about—" His head moved back toward the interview room.

“Yes, I can vouch for her. She saved my life. More than once.”

“Really?” Cracken’s chin dipped in surprise. “She hasn’t mentioned that. She hasn’t said much at all.”

“Is….this an interrogation or a job interview?” Luke asked.

Iella looked up at that, curious. She’d intended to make an introduction that could work out well for all involved. Despite her fascination with their conversation, she was hoping it would lead to a postive end.

Cracken smiled, the amusement reaching his eyes. “I’m trying to determine if she wants to work for us and if she poses a risk. But I’m not getting very far.” He shook her head and turned his attention to Iella. “I appreciate the tip, and her helping you out, but unless we get more from her, I don’t think it will work out. Not now, anyway.”

Winter cut her eyes to Luke. “Is she Force-sensitive?”

Luke wanted to lie, which surprised him. What was the point? “Yes. But she hasn’t trained. She’s been—she believes she doesn’t have enough sensitivity to train. I disagree.”

“You sure she hasn’t trained? Could she be another Sith? In hiding?” Cracken cut in.

“No,” Luke responded with more intensity than necessary. “I feel no darkness from her.”

Cracken nodded slowly. “Interesting.”

“Will she be free to go following this….conversation?” Luke asked warily.

“As secretive as she is, I assume she’s done things we would hold her for had we caught her at the time.” Cracken mused. “But I’m not sure I’m interested in pursuing that. Unless you’re aware of anything specific I should know about….” Cracken gazed steadily at Luke.

Luke knew plenty Cracken would be interested in. But these were Chiara’s secrets to tell. Luke stretched his senses out to her again, having retreated when she recoiled at the fact that he could hear her. She was still frazzled, slowly rebuilding her shields back stronger.

“That is all in her past; she isn’t a risk now. If she wants to join up, she would be a talented asset.” Luke spoke with quiet authority.

Cracken nodded. “I’m going to go back one last time.” He faced Luke. “I have to ask you to step out.”

Luke’s jaw tightened again, and he had to concentrate to keep his fingers from curling into frustrated fists. If Cracken discovered Chiara’s unique position as the Emperor’s Hand, would he still be willing to let her go? Would she be safe?

Winter came to his rescue. “May I stay, General?” Leia relied on Winter. Luke supposed his best hope was to trust her, too.

Cracken nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“She asked for water,” Luke reminded them.

“Indeed,” Cracken gave a tight smile and stepped to a beverage station in the corner to fetch a cup and fill it.

The two men stepped out of the room together. Cracken turned toward the interrogation room while Luke turned back toward the exit of the maze of hallways.

“Appreciate your help, Jedi Skywalker,” Cracken acknowledged, his finger hovering over the door controls.

“And I appreciate yours,” Luke returned smoothly. Leia’s diplomatic training occasionally paid off when he could respond automatically like that. Both men were lying, of course. Both men knew it.

Instead of heading back the way they had come, Luke crossed the hallway and leaned against the opposite wall to wait. He considered reaching out with the Force to eavesdrop to the extent he was able but decided against it. Instead, he reached for a general sense of how Chiara was feeling. She was still fatigued but calmer. He wondered what Cracken did not want him to see.

I told him you saved my life and you’re not a current risk—that’s all. He held the thought in the Force. Then he sank into meditation.

“Well, Skywalker thinks you’d be an asset. That’s interesting.” Cracken pushed the water across the table.

Mara looked back at him and waited for a question.

“How did you meet him?”

She heard Skywalker’s voice again, saying he’d only told Cracken that she had saved his life and wasn’t a risk. He didn’t seem to expect a response.

Mara ran through some potential answers, and their likely follow-up questions, in her head. She didn’t particularly care for any of those options.

She wondered if Skywalker was still watching behind the glass. She found herself reaching out, tentatively, and detecting him nearby — steady and supportive. Protective, perhaps. The sensation sparked a series of memories — outside his cell at Jabba’s, meetings at Kenobi’s, threading the Needle, being carried and gently set down on a sanisteam floor. Tears formed behind her closed eyelids. Kriff it.

Cracken was about to prompt her with a follow-up when she cleared her throat, opened her eyes, and looked him in the eye.

“It was at Jabba’s, right before they killed that slimeball. The day before, in fact. I was doing recon. He caught me.”

“Recon for what?”

Without breaking eye contact, she replied, “My mission was to kill him. I was checking out the cell Jabba was holding him in.”

“Your mission was to kill Luke Skywalker,” Cracken repeated.

“Correct.” Mara nodded.

“And now he says you saved his life and vouches for your character.” Cracken frowned.

“Yeah, he’s a hard one to figure.” She shrugged.

The corners of Cracken’s lips twitched. “Indeed.” He thought for a moment. “Who were you working for at the time?”

“The Empire.” She considered lying and saying she didn’t work for anyone and just wanted the bounty on Skywalker. But it felt oddly refreshing to tell the unvarnished truth. Though it was not the complete truth.

“And now that the Empire’s been defeated, you want to switch sides to the winner?”

Mara chuckled. “Not exactly. I never reported back to my superiors after Jabba’s. I was working as a mechanic and logistics coordinator on Varonat when I met your people. They suggested we talk.”

“You deserted.”

Mara opened her mouth to object, then closed it again. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Why?”

“Because failing to execute your mission gets you executed in the Empire.” Mara replied smoothly.

“So you were on a mission to assassinate a target. He was being held prisoner. He caught you doing recon. And you failed your mission. How did he catch you doing recon from inside a cell?” Cracken was testing her story, looking for holes.

“He heard me outside and started a conversation. Asked if I was there to rescue him.”

Cracken snorted at this.

“Right?” Mara replied. “I mean, who does that?”

“So how did you get from there to failing your mission? Did you try to kill him and he stopped you? Did he…talk you out of it?”

Pretty much. “I’d just seen him kill a rancor without a weapon. I decided a close-up approach was not a good idea.”

“He really did that?” Cracken’s eyebrows lifted. “There are a lot of stories about Skywalker.”

“That one is true—I was there.” Inwardly, she smiled. He was beginning to believe her.

“You’re doing recon. He starts a conversation. You’ve just witnessed him kill a rancor. So you abandon the mission.”

Abandon didn’t sit well with her, just as desert hadn’t. “I aborted the mission,” she corrected.

“And then deserted. What about the rest of your team? Did they desert because they didn’t want to get executed too?”

“I worked alone,” Mara growled.

“Mmmm. Always? Not a lot of teamwork experience?” Cracken surmised.

“Not a lot of teamwork experience,” she nodded. I don’t play well with others.

“We don’t send people out alone,” he stated. Just another smug Rebel. What had she been thinking? Teaming up with people like “Tia” and “Mirax” to bring down child slavers. Ridiculous. Bonding with them while bringing actual justice to people.

She’d done it again. Fallen for a story. Sucked back in by the hope of potential. Her potential. Stupid stupid stupid.

Her mind returned to the moment aboard the Pulsar Skate when she recognized Coruscant through the viewport. She should have refused then and there and demanded to be dropped off elsewhere. Stupid stupid stupid.

Cracken was still talking.

“Am I free to go?” she interrupted.

It startled him into silence. He frowned. “Should you be?”

Not if you knew. She gazed back at him. “I have no intention of returning to my former command or pursuing any of my uncompleted missions. Your people are in no danger from me.”

“Even Skywalker?”

Her lips betrayed her with a smile. “Even him.”

Cracken stood. “You’re not our prisoner. I’ll give you a com frequency to use if you change your mind about working with us.”

Mara rose on the other side of the table and shook her head. “I have one already.” Not that I plan on calling him again.

Cracken operated the door controls and waited for Mara to precede him out the door. She breathed deeply as she stepped out, and was struck by a familiar sense.

Skywalker leaned against the wall opposite. Cracken paused when he saw him. “A word, Jedi Skywalker?”

Now? Luke thought, wondering if Chiara would slip away. “Of course.”

He followed the general back into the room where Winter and Iella had been observing. As the door slid shut behind them, Luke saw Chiara set off toward the exit.

“She confessed to working for the Empire. She was assigned to assassinate you when you infiltrated Jabba the Hutt’s palace. Just wanted to make sure you were aware.”

Luke nodded, deciding to neither confirm nor deny that he already knew. “Thank you, general. I’m confident she’s left Imperial service behind her.” He paused. “But of course, I will be careful,” he added solely for the general’s benefit.

Cracken gave a satisfied nod and turned away. Luke nodded quickly at Winter and hit the door controls, intent on catching up with Chiara.

As he stepped out, he saw her slipping into a turbolift at the end of the long hall.

She turned and held a button on the inside of the lift. To his surprise, the doors remained open. She waited.

Luke jogged down the hall. He considered what to say when he caught up with her. Her sense was prickly, frustrated, and disappointed. She was hiding a limp on the same knee injured in their Tusken encounter. He knew that even if she needed help, she would not ask.

As he neared the turbolift, she asked, “How did you do that — that thing where you could hear me? Like some… two-way conversation?”

He frowned as he stepped inside. “I—you—we were doing the same thing—communicating in the Force. I mean—why wouldn’t I be able to hear you, if you could hear me? Or did that surprise you, too?”

“Of course, I could hear you; that’s how it works,” she snapped.

Skywalker frowned, then shook his head as understanding washed over him in a wave. “He never told you he could hear you?” His tone carried more heat than was becoming for a Jedi. He didn’t care. “Bastard,” he muttered.

She snorted. Behind her eyes, tears gathered. How could she still feel disappointment in any of the lies the Emperor had told her? How could she still hold any belief in him? It was just fatigue, she told herself, from the interrogation. All she needed was sleep. She willed the tears back to a place where Skywalker would not see.

The turbolift stopped. The doors slid open. “How did you end up on Coruscant, talking to Cracken? I heard you came in with an intelligence team?” he asked as she stepped out. He was torn earlier between getting the story from Iella and listening to Cracken’s questions.

She turned and studied him with all her senses, hunting for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on. There was none. “I got scooped up by some friends of yours,” she sighed. “I was working on Varonat when they showed up looking for these slavers who happened to be parked in the hangar where I was working. A firefight broke out, and I wasn’t on the slaver’s side. So your friends got me out with them. And brought me back here. Waste of time.”

“So you’re still not interested in working with them, then?” Luke managed to keep his disappointment out of his tone.

“Working with people isn’t really my style.” She walking toward the exit. “I do best alone.” She emphasized the last word.

And yet we made a good team, he thought, behind his mental shields.

As they walked, they heard the door of the next turbolift slide open behind them. Winter and Iella stepped out. Iella strode to catch up.

“Mirax will be mad that I didn’t talk you into joining up,” Iella addressed Chiara. “How’s that knee?”

She smiled graciously. “Tell Mirax I enjoyed meeting her. I wish you luck in bringing those slimeballs down.”

“Oh, we’re off the case,” Iella winced. “Mirax is never ever allowed to help us out again, and my cover’s blown with those guys. It was a real setback. Another team will have to start over.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Winter defended Iella as she reached them.

Iella smiled with gratitude but didn’t respond. To Chiara, she said, “Sorry to drag you here for nothing. I’m happy to take you back to Varonat myself. Unless you’re staying on Coruscant?”

Chiara shook her head. “I’ll find my way off-planet, thanks.”

“At least let us take you out for dinner to thank you and make up for General Cracken’s interview. You were gracious.” Iella observed.

Chiara laughed at that. “Not that gracious. But he had to do what he had to do.” She shrugged. “No dinner necessary.”

“What — you don’t eat?” Iella’s eyes widened in feigned surprise.

I’m sure we can find some ration bars and caf around here somewhere, Skywalker mused to her.

Get out of my head, she snapped while maintaining her externally friendly disposition.

“I don’t really have time. I’ll be leaving soon.” Chiara demurred.

Iella nodded. “Well, that’s a shame. I’ll bet you have interesting stories.”

You have no idea, Mara thought to herself. And though his face didn’t show it, she could feel Skywalker’s amusement at this.

“Oh no, I’m terribly boring, honestly.” Chiara turned and started walking again.

Luke snickered aloud at that. “Oh yes, that is exactly the word I would use, ‘boring’.”

Behind them, Iella and Winter exchanged surprised looks.

Luke searched his mind and reached for the Force. They would soon reach the exit, and she would be gone. Could he persuade her to see the value of staying to learn about the Force?

Mara drew her battered mental and emotional shields in tight. Behind them, she recalled Mirax talking about her Rogue squadron Force-using boyfriend.

“How is Mirax?” she asked, keeping her eyes forward.

“Fine.” The answer came from behind her, from the woman she’d known as “Tia” who hadn’t introduced herself otherwise. Fair, Mara thought, as they still knew her as Chiara. “She didn’t stay; she dropped me off. But she’ll be disappointed to miss you.”

What happened? Have a fight with your girlfriend? She sent snarkily to Luke in the Force.

Luke made a complete stop and turned to face her, forcing Iella to swerve around him.

“I need to get Leia a report she requested. We’ll see you later.” Winter nodded at Chiara and smiled at Luke.

Iella followed Winter’s lead. “I hope our paths cross again in the future,” she smiled at Chiara. Nodding to Skywalker, she strode ahead to catch up with Winter.

“I don’t have a girlfriend! What are you talking about?” Luke chuckled as the others walked out of earshot.

“I heard your holo with Mirax. And she talked about you.” Mara replied evenly.

“Mirax? She’s with Corran.” Skywalker frowned.

Mara frowned back, confused. “Hmmm. I suppose ‘Corran’ just happens to be another hotshot pilot in Rogue Squadron who is Force-sensitive?” she said skeptically.

“He is, as a matter of fact,” Luke nodded, amused. “We have a lot in common. And he has something in common with you, too—he doesn’t want to train either. Recruiting is harder than I thought it would be. You two are going to give me a complex.”

“Persuasion is all about the pitch. And knowing your mark.” She shrugged. “You’ll get it.”

“They aren’t marks. I’m not trying to con anyone.” Luke insisted.

“Of course not. If all else fails, you can try that neat little mind trick.”

“Anyone who falls for that, as if I would ever use it for that, should be automatically disqualified.” He was laughing again.

They were standing outside the building now. He had yet to make a successful pitch. “Look, what have you got to lose? You’re going to have to start all over again anyway. Why not here?”

Her eyes were drawn to the Imperial Palace. “Too many memories.”

Of course. “You spent a lot of time here?”

She nodded wordlessly, still looking at the Palace.

Know your mark, she’d said. Inspiration struck. “Those slavers,” he said. “The NRI has to pull back and regroup because this mission went wrong. What if we went after them?”

Her eyes moved back to his. “'Who’s ‘we’?” she asked.

Great question. His mind raced, hiding behind closely held shields as he improvised. “You and me. Maybe Han if he’s interested, which would mean Chewie too. Leia probably can’t get away, but I think she’d be supportive.”

“You forgot the astromech,” she snarked.

“Artoo’s a given,” he shrugged.

“Not the protocol droid — he talks too much.” She’d heard the nervous droid prattle about impending doom at Jabba’s.

“Threepio’s better at keeping secrets than you’d think,” Luke smiled. “But he usually sticks with Leia.”

Leia and Han sat in companionable silence. She worked on a datapad at her desk while he fiddled with an unidentifiable engine part and a small set of tools. They both looked up as the door chimed and Winter entered.

Leia smiled and looked past her. “Did you lose Luke?” Leia reached out for her brother in the Force. His response indicated he was fine but preoccupied. “Did Cracken decide if his friend was a threat?”

Winter shook her head. “She decided she wasn’t interested in joining up when she found out she wouldn’t be working alone. Cracken didn’t think she was a current or future threat.”

Leia nodded. “Just a past one. We have plenty of those. What did you think? Most important—” Leia leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you think she and Luke are more than friends?”

Winter paused a beat too long.

“I knew it!” Leia crowed so loudly Han almost dropped what he was working on.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Winter held up her hands in defense. “Neither of them said anything like that. But there seemed to be a lot they weren’t saying. Like inside jokes or references or….” Winter frowned.

“Yeah, when you two do that twin thing where you’re talking to each other but no one else can hear you,” Han growled in Leia’s direction. He flipped the part in his hand and scrutinized the other side. “It can get really annoying.”

“You’re just worried we’re talking about you. Which we almost never are,” Leia returned with a smile. She turned back to Winter. “Was it like that? Do you think they were communicating in the Force?”

Winter shrugged. “Maybe. It felt a bit like that.”

“I thought that was just 'cause you’re twins,” Han cut in. A horrified look crossed his face. “This couldn’t be a long-lost triplet, could it?”

“I doubt it,” Leia said wryly, shaking her head. “I’d love to meet her. He said he met her at Jabba’s. And now he’s worried about her being questioned, and running off to make sure she’s all right. Is he bringing her back here?”

“He was trying to. She wanted to get off-planet ASAP.”

Leia pursed her lips. “Would it help if I extended a personal invitation? Or maybe called Luke on some other pretense?”

“Give the kid a break,” Han chuckled, setting down his project and stretching. “He’s got his work cut out for him just getting her to stick around, sounds like. Which is unusual for him these days — he can usually take his pick of interested fans. Maybe he’s enjoying the chase.”

“I’m trying to help,” Leia protested.

“As always,” Han smiled back at her.

Leia scanned her desk for something to throw at him. “That’s exactly why I want to meet her. He’s usually not interested. Don’t you wonder what’s so interesting about her? What did you think of her?” She asked Winter.

Winter considered. “Intelligent. Experienced with interrogations and dodging questions. A bit impatient and irritable. Sarcastic. Dangerous as an enemy. She told the general that she’d had a mission to kill Luke.”

Leia looked up in alarm. “She what?”

“Just Luke?” Han clarified. “Or all of us?”

“She only mentioned Luke. The general reported it to him, but Luke didn’t seem surprised. He told the general he was confident she’s left all that behind.”

Leia scoffed. “He better be right. How did she act around him?” Leia would hate to see her brother’s trust and admiration go unrequited.

Winter shook her head. “I didn’t hear much of that. It just seemed like they knew each other better than…I expected.”

“You’re holding out on us,” Han complained. “Is she pretty?”

Winter smiled. “Yes, I would say so.”

Leia reached out to Luke again and found he was nearby. The door chimed.

“That’s him,” Leia said, just as the door slid open, revealing Luke.

He stepped inside and three expectant faces turned to him. He stepped to the side and showed a woman in. She was a few inches shorter than him, with red-gold hair and emerald-green eyes. Luke paused briefly.

“This is Chiara Lorn,” he said. “Chiara, this is Leia, Han, and Winter.”

Chapter Text

Leia responded first. “It’s lovely to meet you, Chiara,” she said, standing from her seat and coming around the low table before her. She smiled as she offered Chiara a handshake.

Han smiled and waved from his pile of ship parts. “Nice to meet you. Winter was just telling us about Varonat. Very…accurately, as always.” He smiled at his own inside joke.

“I’m sorry to hear you won’t be joining up. I appreciate you’re helping out on Varonat. I hear you’re an excellent shot.” Winter smiled.

Mara nodded at each in turn. The court manners that had been instilled in her at a young age were now automatic. She wondered what Winter had told them and what amused Solo so much. She berated herself for agreeing to come here and meet them. Skywalker’s presence threw her judgment off. It had happened enough times that she should have been more careful and tempered her decisions accordingly.

To start with, she shouldn’t have held that stupid turbolift. Just to yell at him for…acknowledging he could hear her? Who cared? She should have gone straight to Imperial—or whatever they’d renamed it—Spaceport and gotten the first ship out. Idiot. What I have let Skywalker get me into now?

“Varonat is what we came here to talk about,” Skywalker explained. “Cracken said they would be stepping back to regroup since some covers were blown. We’d like to take a ship back to Varonat to track the slavers. See if we can find out where they’re based and what it would take to shut them down.” His eyes lit with enthusiasm.

“You want to chase some slavers? Why?” Organa’s eyebrows met.

“Because…they’re slavers?” Skywalker replied good-naturedly. “With NRI having to back off, the trail will go cold. We wouldn’t do anything stupid. If it’s a massive operation, we’ll just bring back some intel. But who knows? Maybe we can save a few kids.”

“Kids?” Organa repeated.

“Child slavers,” Mara confirmed. A wave of disgust traveled through the room.

“Chewie will want in, so I guess that means you can count on the two of us and the Falcon,” Han volunteered.

A memory clicked in Mara’s mind. Solo’s co-pilot Chewbacca had once been a slave himself. She imagined the Wookie would delight in personally dismantling any of the crew of the Veiled Fortune.

Luke grinned. Han and Chewie flying the Millennium Falcon might be all the support they needed. He’d love Leia’s company, too, but doubted she was available.

“As satisfying as that sounds,” Leia smiled, “this isn’t a good time for me to get away.” She noticed a brief shadow flicker across Winter’s face and disappear again. “But I could manage if you want to go, Winter.”

“Me? Oh, I haven’t done a mission like that in a while.”

“You don’t miss it?” Han asked. “You’d be welcome. You’d be the undercover expert. Since it sounds like NRI screwed that up for themselves.”

Not our only undercover expert, Luke thought. But they could use all the help they could get. Winter was known to be highly skilled in her former line of work.

“Think about it,” Luke urged Winter. “Han and I will start provisioning.”

Winter nodded thoughtfully.

Mara seized on the opportunity to escape. “Thank you, Councilor Organa,” she nodded. “Your support is deeply appreciated.” Mara’s court manners had been drilled into her so long ago she could spout such niceties in her sleep.

Leia could spot such training in a heartbeat. “I’m profoundly grateful that you would step into the gap when our intelligence forces couldn’t be there on the ground. Please be safe. And take care of these people for me.” She gestured around the room at those closest to her heart.

Mara smiled at this as her mind raced. What. Am. I. Doing. She backed toward the door. While Organa didn’t stand on ceremony, on some worlds, turning one’s back on royalty was still a serious etiquette violation.

Luke hit the door controls and followed Chiara out the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d just gotten the others into, but at the very least, going after slavers was a clear-cut mission. It was a good thing to do. With all the grey areas of politics and government building, they had jumped at the chance to take down some evil beings. If Chiara fit into the team as well as he suspected, perhaps she would drop her objections and consider joining their cause. And if he was really lucky, perhaps she would recognize she had more potential with the Force than she’d ever believed. And maybe—just maybe—someday she’d tell him her karking name.

Mara continued to scold herself for her poor judgment, searching for ways out of what she had agreed to. What if the longer she was around Skywalker, the worse her decisions got? She was dismayed how she could lose her scruples like that. Unless…

“Wait!” Mara looked up sharply at Skywalker. “Is this a trick? Are you using that mind—” She lifted a hand in front of her and wiggled her fingers at him.

“No! Of course not.” He laughed. “Really, I would never do that to you. That’s a last resort technique for dire situations. And it would never work on you anyway.”

His laugh infuriated her, though she wanted to believe his words. She had believed the Emperor when he’d said the same thing. What if the Emperor had lied about that, too? What if the Emperor and Skywalker had used it on her whenever they wanted without her ever knowing? Her eyes narrowed.

“Look, I’ll show you.” He paused for a moment and closed his eyes. Opening them again, he lifted a few fingers on his right hand and said in a low tone, “You are feeling a sudden and undeniable urge for a cup of caf.”

“I always want caf,” she snapped. “Pick something else.”

He nodded. “Of course. Silly me.” He thought for a moment.

“OK. You have a sudden urge to plan a huge party and go dress shopping.” He stared into her eyes. She felt a buzzing inside her head and a strong pressure against her shields, her very will. She reflexively pushed back, shaking her head.

Skywalker retreated a step, his eyes widening. “Wow. Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What?” The buzzing and pressure had disappeared.

“That was it, the trick. And you pushed me out like…like a slap in the face.” Skywalker looked dazed.

She grunted in satisfaction. “And that’s the only time you’ve tried it on me?” Her eyes were still narrowed.

“I swear. You’d have felt that same sensation if I had.”

She grunted again, unsure how much faith she put in his word.

“If you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to go through with this,” he said softly. “It’s not too late to cancel. We haven’t committed to anything yet.”

She took a deep breath. The day’s events had exhausted her. Things had not gone at all to plan.

“Let’s regroup tomorrow. I need to sleep and clear my head.”

“Of course.” Luke’s instinct was to offer help finding a place to stay. Given her misgivings, he decided to leave her to her own devices. She was familiar with Coruscant. She’d be fine. “You still have my com frequency?”

Mara nodded. He didn’t need to know she’d memorized it. Unintentionally, of course.

Disquiet nagged at his mind that she wouldn’t call to regroup. She might run. Again. It tempted him to take control—secure a place for her, escort her there, keep watch to make sure she didn’t run. As the possibilities rose in a red heat, he let go, allowing the unease to crest, fall, and recede. Resisting only led to darkness. Patience.

He glanced at his chrono and remembered he’d agreed to meet Leia in a semi-official capacity. Spinning on his heel, he set off for the archives.

Winter sat in the dark, absorbed in the screen glowing before her. She retained her clearances and access to intelligence systems, though she was focused on her work as Leia’s aide now. The display showed everything she could find on Chiara Lorn. Leia had said Luke told her it was an alias. Still, there were things to be learned from a cover—the degree of detail, the gaps, the depth of history.

Chiara Lorn’s data would have required time and care to construct. She had an impressive history of ship maintenance and logistics management on worlds that would be hard to verify, due to war damage. That was a nice touch.

It was consistent with her confession to working for the Empire. They would have the resources to create a backstop such as the one illuminating the panel before her. Although Luke was convinced her loyalty had changed, it looked as though she still used this cover from her service.

There was nothing here to flag up to Leia. Not that Leia had asked her to. Years of service both to the royal family of Alderaan and the intelligence services had taught Winter when to take such initiative. If Leia was willing to send Winter on this extracurricular mission, Winter would ensure it was not at risk due to an agent who lied about leaving Imperial service behind. Winter would ensure Leia’s loved ones were not in danger due to the lack of information she could access.

The information she had accessed confirmed Chiara Lorn’s story, as far as it could. Winter saved the data and logged off, satisfied she’d done what she could for the moment.

Leia stood at the controls of a sleek holo projector, navigating holomaps of various sectors. Though she was very well-traveled compared to most, she was still staggered by how many places she had never been. The war had been called a galactic civil war, which was accurate, but incomplete. Leia wondered how many worlds were largely unaffected. How many did not have the technology to have heard about the events that swirled around them. How many were just too remote from battles raging far away.

A bright sense dawned as she realized Luke was on his way, distracting her from her reverie. As he drew close, she narrowed the map’s focus to the Arkanis sector. She oriented Tattoo I and II to the center of the display as a reference point.

Luke gazed into the hologram, remembering the searing heat of the binary suns that had bleached and tanned his childhood.

“I’ll tell you what I can remember, but you know there are experts on this stuff, right? As much as I wanted to get off-planet, I really only heard about the systems around us,” he said, watching the virtual planets rotate.

“I want to start with some native knowledge. I’ll get to the experts next. But some of those ‘experts’ learned what they know without ever leaving Coruscant, or wherever they studied. I’m fed up with droning presentations and fancy graphics and dry statistics. If we’re going to get systems to join the New Republic, we need more firsthand understanding of what they’re going through. Let’s start with the Hutts. Before we took out Jabba—”

“You mean before the Huttslayer took out Jabba—” Luke leaned into the word with a grin.

Leia barely missed a beat. “Stop it. What was it like living on a planet under the Hutt’s control?”

Several sarcastic responses rose in Luke’s mind. Leia’s serious attitude sobered him. “OK, well….”

Two hours of conversation later, Leia nodded, satisfied. “OK, that’s what I was after. Thank you. I was thinking earlier that Tatooine wouldn’t be nearly as well-known as it is today if it weren’t your home planet. So that’s your fault.” She smiled, playful now that the work was done.

“Me?” Luke relaxed into the mood shift. “I was minding my own business when your holo showed up and dragged me into all this. That makes it your fault.”

“I didn’t know anything about you! That holo was meant for Ben!” She laughed. “So it’s Ben’s fault.”

Luke turned thoughtful. “Chiara thought maybe he was hiding there. Or that he was there to train me. Can you imagine?” His eyes clouded with daydreaming, seeing his teenage self practicing with a lightsaber while Obi-wan coached.

“Chiara, hmmm? Are you really sure you can trust her even though she was at Jabba’s in the first place to kill you?”

Luke sighed. “You heard that, huh? Cracken said she confessed that. I suppose Winter told you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Leia reproached him, her tone light.

“Because you’re protective enough already. And it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s not trying to hurt me now. She was loyal to the Empire once, but she walked away on her own. She’s done with it. Like a lot of other people we know.”

Leia nodded slowly. “Right. All those people had to prove themselves in the beginning. So far all we have is her word. And I will be protective to the end, brother, so that is pointless to resist. I just want to make sure you’re thinking with your head and not your….heart.”

Luke snorted in mock indignance. “I am using the Force. You should try it. Why does no one want to know more about their potential?” He threw his hands up in playful dismay.

“Changing the subject. Classic. I can hear you don’t have any doubt about her.” She searched her mind for an appeal that might get through to him. “Imagine it was me that was convinced a former Imperial who was assigned to assassinate me had changed their mind and was no longer a danger. And I want to take them on a mission and recruit them to our cause. I know you would check them out with the Force. Even so, would you not feel any suspicion? Would you not ask me to be careful no matter how certain I was?”

His sister was good. She used the one thing he’d been defenseless against since the beginning — his love for her. He wanted to say that he would trust in whatever guidance the Force gave him in such a situation, as in all situations. But despite what he claimed, his confidence was still building in his interpretation of the Force’s guidance. All of which meant he might ask her to be careful if the tables were turned.

“If I say ‘yes’, can we get out of here?” He stood.

“Sure.” She could tell she’d made her point. “One last thing — I was thinking. You should take Threepio on this hare-brained slaver chase you’re putting together.”

Luke’s eyebrows arched. “Okay. Any particular reason? Is this about Chiara?”

“No—I’d take him on almost any trip on the Falcon. The translation algorithm on there is terrible. You’re as likely to start the next war as get something accurate. If you need to translate what the slavers are saying or to help the younglings or whatever else you might run into out there, you’ll wish you had Threepio. Just don’t tell Han what I said about the Falcon.” She stood and switched off the holoprojector.

“C’mon, let’s go make some hot chocolate.” She smiled. “We just got fresh mallow paste.”

“Now you’re talking.” Luke grinned.

Mara slept fitfully, hearing the Twi’lek child’s screams over and over. In her nightmares, the words somehow came out in clear Basic. “Help me! Don’t leave me! Mara, help me! Please!” The Devaronian threw the girl down viciously and mimicked her cries. “‘Help me, Mara, help me!’” He then turned and fired directly at Mara.

She woke, sweating and cursing. Could she help the Twi’lek girl without getting mixed up with a bunch of Rebels? Strike out on her own, the way she always worked best. Gather the intel, keep finding the next boss in the hierarchy all the way to the top of the criminal pyramid, and then take out the leader.

Who would then be replaced by a more than willing successor.

Could she engineer a rival gang taking them out? That would still leave new people doing the old jobs.

As the Emperor’s Hand, when the mission required a larger team, she usually reported back and handed off to a military officer who could command the necessary troops. The nature of her missions for the Emperor required a more delicate approach. Sometimes she had a squad of troopers at her disposal. They worked for her, in the chain of command. Not with her. It was different.

She sighed. If she truly wanted to do something about these slavers, she needed help. Two decorated war heroes for the winning side had volunteered. They were smug. They were naïve. They were incredibly lucky. But it was either them or dreaming of this screaming girl for the foreseeable future. Those Rebels just might be that girl’s only hope.

The next morning, Luke’s eyes kept straying to his comlink–the comlink he thought of as her comlink. He relaxed into the Force and found resistance there. At some point Chiara would need to feel her own calling to join up with the NRI, or study the Force with him, if she were ever going to. But I know it would be for the best a part of him roared back. He breathed and closed his eyes. It was so easy to confuse exercising the control Yoda had urged him to learn with trying to control circumstances to work out the way he wanted. But it was the difference between reaching for the Light and slipping into the Dark. He had to let go.

As he stepped into the sanisteam Luke pondered his skills with patience and control which Yoda had harped on constantly. He’d seen how Leia could powerfully shape the actions of the Alliance, sometimes with subtlety and quiet words, other times with all the fierceness and noise she could create. He had no doubt she would be a powerful Jedi if she chose to study the Force. Together they would have to find the line between influencing for good and controlling for power. If I can’t convince my own sister to train with me, what chance do I have with Chiara or anyone else?

As he pulled on a fresh tunic, the comlink chirped. He grinned, hoping. “This is Luke,” he answered.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” her voice drifted from the speaker. “But I’m in.”

His grin broadened. Wizard. “Great! You want to help with planning?”

“Absolutely. And I’m reserving the right to say I told you so.” For having just signed up, she sounded more reluctant than he’d expect.

“What did you tell me?” he queried.

“Bad idea. The whole thing is a terrible idea.” She spoke slowly as if talking to a child.

“Uh-huh.” He was still grinning. “You said the same thing about our approach at Jabba’s. It’s what we do. One terrible idea after another.”

She grunted. “Yeah. You can say that again. Where do I meet you to plan this terrible idea?”

He thought about the high-tech, sterile conference room they often used. And the dive where Han preferred to drink and strategize. Han said he thought better when he was relaxed. Maybe she felt the same. “Do you have a favorite spot?”

“Not where Rebel heroes would be safe,” she smirked. “Hmmm. There’s a decent caf place that’s out of the way and doesn’t care about anybody’s politics. I’ll send you the address.”

“Good. I’ll check with Han and let you know a time.” Luke still felt like the slightest move could scare her off entirely. He’d felt it since that first day he heard her voice outside his cell. And one way or another, sooner or later, their paths kept crossing. Was this what happened when he was patient?

The next day they started loading supplies onto the Millennium Falcon.

“You want the tour?” Solo gestured broadly. There was only one answer to this question, of course.

“Sure,” Mara smiled, falling into step behind him. She learned more than she expected to from his patter, which he’d obviously recited many times over. She took the opportunity to get a slow, close look at the legendary ship. Solo seemed flattered by the attention she paid.

Inside the Empire, the Falcon was at one time ridiculed as a piece of junk, while simultaneously feared when it showed up in battle. It was a common pattern—the enemy was to be sneered and laughed at—until you were staring down the barrels of their weapons. Mara assumed the Rebels were the same way.

She noticed Solo did not mention the special compartments he had added in his smuggling days. Still keeping some secrets, then, she thought.

As they rejoined Skywalker, Threepio passed by, chattering at Chewbacca. Solo noticed her eyes following Threepio.

“Don’t worry – when he gets to be too much, just do what I do. Give him a job. In another part of the ship,” Solo volunteered.

“You usually insult him,” Skywalker pointed out.

“Well, yeah,” Solo gave a lopsided grin. “and then I give him a job in another part of the ship.” He picked up the next crate of supplies and carried it up the ramp.

Mara knew that including her in their camaraderie was meant to feel welcoming. It was something normal people did to integrate someone new. They couldn’t know it just made her more suspicious.

Chewbacca growled a combination of a greeting and a status report as Han entered the cockpit.

“Great,” Han responded. “Do one last security sweep, would ya? Electronic and walkaround.”

Chewie looked up, puzzled, and asked the Shyriiwook equivalent of “Now?”

“I know, you’ve already done it once. But we’ve got a wild card aboard, and ya never know. Do you want to be the one to explain to Leia how we missed a tracking device?”

The Wookiee laughed and teased Han for fearing his mate.

“I’m not af—” Han started. Chewie waved him off with a massive paw as he rose to make the security inspection.

“And don’t let Luke catch you. If he asks, make something up.”

Chewie laughed harder at this and hooted and barked a sardonic question.

“Yes, exactly. I don’t want one twin mad at me for trusting her, and I don’t want the other mad at me for not trusting her. As usual, you understand me perfectly.”

Chewbacca paused at the cockpit threshold. He commented, then asked another question.

“Yeah, she smells alright to me too, buddy. But she was some kind of spy so you never know. What I trust is: you’ve always got our backs, and this ship has beat everything that’s come after her so far, and Luke’s got all that Jedi stuff goin' on. And Winter’s a lot more dangerous than she looks. I like those odds.” He shrugged.

Chewie nodded with a grunt and loped down the passageway.

The flight out proved routine. Luke and Han were happy to be in space again, doing something besides trying to be helpful with the nebulous work of government building. Winter was excited as well as nervous to be doing fieldwork again. When she wasn’t studying her datapad, she was working out in the open space of the hold.

Mara did her best not to prowl, announcing her uneasiness to the rest of the crew. Skywalker had asked her, with the most earnest seriousness, if she truly had a sense of darkness around the mission, like a vision of failure. No, she had to admit. I just don’t like working with other people. How could working with Rebels — including her former number one target — end well for me? she stewed.

And what made Skywalker think she got visions anyway? She had good instincts, honed by years of practice. So she had vivid dreams sometimes. But visions? The Jedi was wrong about that. He could not see her clearly. He did not see a great many things clearly. Now and then she had tried to explain some of these things to him but his smugness resisted all attempts.

She sparred with Winter. Both were surprised at the other’s competence, rapidly increasing the difficulty of their moves and blocks. Mara had rebuilt her conditioning routine on Varonat before the Pulsar Skate had blasted into her life. She was pleased to be back in fighting form.

“OK, I give up. Good match,” Winter said, as she lay on the floor of the hold, chest heaving. Sweat ran down Mara’s back from her shoulder blades and dampened her hairline. She blotted at her face with her sleeves, still catching her breath. She grunted an acknowledgment of Winter’s surrender. As an Imperial agent, Mara had had little respect for the Rebel’s intelligence operatives, but again, now that she was face-to-face, she was glad she had never encountered Winter as an enemy.

“After I’ve recovered, maybe you can show me that dodge?” Winter imitated a duck and roll Mara had used to avoid a heavy blow.

“Sure,” Mara nodded. No Imperials had ever asked her to teach them anything. It was flattering. And unnerving.

Mara looked around the hold. “Weren’t Skywalker and Solo here a minute ago?”

“They were. I suppose they thought we might not appreciate it if we caught them watching.”

Mara grunted again. “Or they were too scared to take on the winner.”

Winter laughed. “You’ll have to settle for the first sanisteam then. Go ahead.” She sat heavily at the dejarik table and lay her head back with her eyes closed. Chiara certainly fought like an experienced agent. But like Winter, she pulled punches and focused on the practice and workout rather than any intent to harm. If she was hiding an intent to sabotage this crew, she had just passed up an obvious chance.

Later Mara sat on her bunk, braiding wet hair.

Skywalker leaned against the bulkhead. “Congratulations. Winter may not have been in the field recently but she keeps in shape. You could have pressed your advantage there at the end. You chose not to.”

Mara shrugged. “What’s the point? We were sparring to work out. It wasn’t about who won or by how much. It was a good match. She’s quicker than she looks.”

Skywalker smiled. “She specializes in subverting expectations. Kinda like you.”

Mara smirked. “Flattery. Nice.” She stood. “It’s just basic principles. Use what you have. Human women are perceived as interested in—what was it? Party planning and pretty dresses. So you play on what you’ve got in order to use that perception against whoever you can.” She looked back down the passageway. “She asked me to show her a move.”

“Yeah?” Skywalker grinned. Always with the grin. “You should. You hardly stopped moving—that’s not easy.”

“Stop with the flattery. The more you pile on, the less it means.” Mara scowled at his relentless praise.

The grin dissolved. He shook his head. “They’re not empty words. I mean what I say,” he replied.

Oh great. Now I’ve wounded the puppy.

“Thanks,” Mara ground out and strode rapidly back to the hold.

Luke watched her back retreat down the passageway. Praise from Master Yoda had been rare. When it came, Luke felt the thrill from his hair to his toes. When it didn’t, Luke hungered to earn it. Chiara didn’t believe his sincere validation; she was more willing to believe he was using words to manipulate. Perhaps she was right — maybe they would make a poor combination of teacher and student.

Mara carefully surveyed the dimly lit hangar she had left days ago. Her keycard had been deactivated. A former co-worker was easily bribed to give her access and leave the place deserted for a few hours.

It seemed ages ago now, that she’d been dragged onto the Pulsar Skate instead of a matter of days. The hangar and her former co-workers had hardly changed at all, naturally. Mara recorded recon holos to show her team the layout of the place. Her team. She shook her head at herself. She’d been laying low for so long. And worked alone.

Her own recent decision-making was a mystery to her. It didn’t even feel as if she were making decisions — she found herself taking action after the decisions had been made, with no memory of considering pros nor cons. She hardly recognized herself. But she could not get distracted with that self-analysis now.

Satisfied she was alone, she slipped into the office and looked for data on the Veiled Fortune. It did not appear on the schedule for arrivals. However, another ship registered by the same company was landing in three standard rotations. Mara smiled. Just enough time for the team to prepare. Her team.

“How many in the crew?” Winter asked Mara as looked over plans the following day.

“The crew manifest only listed one, but their manifests are complete shavit. So it’s hard to know.”

“It’s not that big a ship. It can’t take much crew, especially with the space they need for their prisoners.” Solo studied the ship specs. “We can take 'em.”

“We don’t know who them is,” Winter reasoned. “Five Devaronians? Three humans? Two Wookiees?” Winter speculated.

Chewie roared an objection that any Wookiee would engage in slaving.

“Sorry, Chewie, I meant that as a hypothetical. We don’t know how many or what their strengths or weaknesses might be in a firefight. Makes it hard to plan.” Winter scowled in frustration.

“They’ve got their bay for two rotations. That gives us one for recon. It’s a busy enough place that you could slip in and blend in with the public on the first day,” Mara observed. She hated trusting any one else’s recon, but she would be recognized without a significant disguise. And it would allow Winter to address her concerns.

Winter nodded in gratitude at that. “I think that’s wise. Rushing in blasting may well work—I’d just like to be confident of that beforehand. Leia will kill me if any of you are hurt.”

They all chuckled at this. “I believe it was me she charged with that,” Mara pointed out.

“It was each of us, separately,” Han corrected. “Just her style. She worries.”

“I wonder why,” Luke snarked.

The next day, while Winter went to the hangar to investigate, Skywalker invited Mara for a run. She frowned at the suggestion.

He shrugged. “Or not.” He looked through his pack for a suitable change of clothes.

The image of the pain that had crossed his face when she’d accused him of excessive flattery flitted through her memory. Perhaps this was not a bad way to make amends.

“Sure, yeah. I’m just used to running—”

“Alone,” he finished for her.

She scoffed.

“No? Were you going to say ‘away’?” He teased.

She shook her head as she rummaged through her pack, tsking as she wished she’d brought something lighter-weight.

“You want to borrow something?” he offered. He held up a tank top identical to the one he’d just selected for himself.

Do I want to run with you in matching shirts? she thought sardonically. She couldn’t imagine it. She’d sweat through her heavier clothes if it killed her.

“Sure, thanks,” she heard herself say instead. He tossed it to her. She caught it one-handed and headed to the 'fresher to change.

To her surprise, Skywalker did not try to make conversation on their run. He focused on the pace. Mara wondered if he was holding back so she could keep up. He didn’t let on either way. They both finished damp with sweat and breathing hard.

“Nice. Thanks,” he said simply as they returned to their base of operations.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” she hummed. The companionable silence had been nice, she had to admit. Perhaps working alone was not the only way she could work. Or maybe that’s just endorphins, she snarked to herself.

Winter returned some time later. “Han, you were right. We can blast our way in.”

“Yeah?” Han looked up from cleaning his blaster. Again.

“There’s a Devaronian for muscle.” Chiara looked up at Winter. “No blaster wound to the head, so he must be another one. There are two more crew, both human. The ship looks better armed than those specs show, so we’re best off avoiding a firefight off the ground.”

“Better armed than the Falcon?” Han asked doubtfully.

“No, not that well armed,” Winter conceded.

“Good. Then we can focus on the top priority of getting the kids out. Then planting tracking devices. If we get both of those done, without fatally wounding the crew, we may choose to let them get away so we have the intel on where they go. Any concerns?” Luke surveyed the team.

Han, Chewie, Winter, and Chiara shook their heads back at him.

The slaver’s ship had requested a nighttime takeoff, probably to attract the least amount of attention. This worked in favor of the New Republic team, as they could wait until the end of the busy business day to minimize collateral damage.

Winter again worked as a forward scout, since a Wookiee, Han, and Luke were too recognizable. As the ship refueled, the ramp lowered and the Devaronian stepped out. Winter tapped on her comlink twice, signaling the team. The other four moved in. Chiara fired several shots at the Devaronian, who dodged just a moment too late and fell, wounded, behind a stack of crates. She kept her blaster trained on the crates as Chewie moved in to check on the Devaronian’s status. Winter darted up the ramp with Luke behind her. As Chewie reached the crates, Mara broke her cover and ran for the ramp as well. She heard Chewie’s roar as he found the Devaronian, apparently still capable of putting up a fight.

Winter and Mara headed to the cockpit while Luke broke off to the hold. He sliced through the wires that held the door locked with some delicate lightsaber strokes and stepped inside, scanning for threats. He found none. A dozen dirty, quiet young beings in a variety of species sat scattered around the deck. Some didn’t even look up when he came in; Luke recognized this loss of hope. Those who did turn their attention to him showed tear stains down dirty faces. Luke projected as much calming influence through the Force as he could.

“It’s OK, you’re OK. We’re going to go somewhere safe, all right?” He turned and looked at each being as he used his words to soothe. “Let’s get everyone close together right here in a group.” Some of them nearly tripped over themselves to get near him. Others shuffled slowly. A human girl in a corner stared at him with dull, wide eyes, unmoving.

One of the others called out to her, urging her to join them. The girl didn’t move.

“Stay right here, and we’ll all go together,” Luke instructed the group of younglings. He moved to the girl with the wide eyes, talking softly to her. “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be OK.” For all he knew, she didn’t even understand Basic, but he knew his tone and presence mattered more than anything else.

She continued to stare, fixed in place. He reached her, then reached for her. She was not heavy, not even as heavy as she should have been for her size, he realized, as he hoisted her onto his hip. He watched carefully for the resistance he expected, but she lay utterly still against him, completely surrendered. He wasn’t sure if that was worse.

With her secured in one arm, he returned to the group. “Ready?” He asked the others. Some heads nodded eagerly, others stared blankly. Luke lifted the comlink to his lips.

“Han, how’s it look out there?”

“All clear. Chewie and I can cover the kids.”

“Great. We’re leaving the hold.”

As he led the children back to the exit ramp, he heard shouts and blaster fire from further down the passageway. He felt Winter and Chiara in the Force; they seemed uninjured as far as he could tell. He led the children down the ramp, his powered-down lightsaber in his free hand.

Han and Chewie were stationed on either side of the ramp. Some of the children stopped in their tracks at the sight of a Wookiee.

“Don’t worry about him — he’s a big teddy bear!” Han reassured them. Luke motioned to his friend to take the girl from him.

“I’m going back in,” Luke said as Han easily transferred the child to his hip. “Meet you at the Falcon.”

Winter and Mara sped through the slavers' ship’s passageways, senses fully alert. Mara trusted her danger-detecting sensitivity to guide her when necessary. Winter moved toward the cockpit as Mara covered her back. Winter peeked into the cockpit, where one crewmember lounged, half-asleep, a datapad sliding from their lap.

She signaled that there was just one, leaving the remaining crew member unaccounted for. Winter kept watch near the cockpit entrance as she reached for her equipment.

Mara reached out with her senses for the remaining crew member. Skywalker had gone to the hold; she heard no voices but his, and no blaster fire. So the crew member was not in the hold. Her danger sense was not telling her that anyone was in her immediate vicinity ready to strike.

She turned toward the crew quarters. Mara felt in her pocket for the microphones and tracking devices similar to those Winter was planting near the cockpit. She placed them with care in shadowy corners and hidden gaps, feeling along with fingertips, her head nearly revolving on her shoulders on the lookout. Just as she fastened a mic outside someone’s quarters, her danger sense tingled. The door slid open and a human stepped out, head bent over a datapad. Mara froze — there was nowhere to go without being seen, so she went on the offensive. She lifted her blaster and aimed squarely for the man’s chest. Skywalker had insisted that they only take lives if absolutely necessary, so it was set to stun. The man fell over backward with a short cry before he lost consciousness.

“One crew stunned near their quarters,” Mara reported tersely into her comlink.

She got an answering triple-click, Winter’s signal she was evacuating.

Winter sped past the far end of the passageway, toward the exit ramp. Mara ran in the same direction, just as her danger sense alerted her again. As she reached the intersection, the pilot emerged from the cockpit, looking sleepy. “Sacru? Is that you?”

As Mara fired another stun shot, the pilot ducked back into the cockpit. “Henzee! Where are you? We got trouble! Get back here!” she heard him yell into the com.

She glanced back at the exit and saw Skywalker at the top of the ramp.

C’mon. I’ll cover you, she heard his voice inside her head. She didn’t have time to debate, so she ran. Blaster bolts zinged from behind her. She zig-zagged in a low crouch as she watched Skywalker ignite his lightsaber and stride toward the cockpit, deflecting the bolts as he came on. She skirted around him and dashed out the ramp.

The hangar was empty. If the mission was executing to plan, Winter was just outside the exit, waiting to rendezvous with her and Skywalker. Solo and the Wookiee should be on the Falcon by now with the kids. She stopped and spun, backing out toward the exit with her blaster drawn and pointed at the ship’s ramp, should the wrong human come out shooting. Don’t do anything stupid, Skywalker, she could not help thinking.

Luke stood halfway between the pilot firing at him and the exit, deflecting any bolt that got near him, which were few. Summoning his focus he projected a suggestion to the pilot’s mind. Sleep. The blaster stopped firing as the human slumped to the deck. Luke waited another moment, then backed quickly toward the ramp. He heard Chiara’s snarky comment and smiled to himself.

Who, me? He responded innocently as he turned and sped down the ramp into her sight.

Mara held her blaster at the ramp steady as Luke ran to her and hit the exit controls. She just caught sight of the crew member she stunned coming down the ramp with a heavy blaster, snarling and swearing.

Hearing the hangar exit slide open behind her, she spun and ran out alongside Skywalker. He leaped into the driver’s seat of the speeder Winter held running.

“Let’s go!” Mara shouted as she jumped in the back and spun to bring her blaster to bear on the hangar exit. Under Skywalker’s control, the speeder jumped and roared as the crew member Sacru stepped into view, firing his blaster and scattering the few beings on the street. A blaster bolt pinged against the rear of the speeder just as they sped out of range.

Mara was already climbing out of the speeder before it came to a full stop, with Winter on her heels. Skywalker skidded the speeder to an abrupt halt and ran after them.

The Falcon’s ramp stood open and the engines fired for lift-off. The three ran up and into the main hold. The same younglings already looked a bit different to Luke’s eyes as they were wolfing down food and chugging water. The relief was visible on their faces and their collective sense had shifted from hopeless toward relief. Even the girl who’d been carried was chugging water.

“Take it easy,” Han was admonishing, mostly uselessly. “Or we’re gonna have a real mess,” he murmured to the others as they joined him. “Alright, time to get out of here. They’re all yours.” He jogged toward the cockpit. “On my way, Chewie, let’s get her off the ground'!”

The younglings grew more relaxed as the beings with kind voices and helpful hands and food and water tended to them. Even the girl who had to be carried to the ship felt safer. As she moved on her own for the first time, motivated by the dejarik table full of food bowls, Luke grinned.

The tracking beacon they had planted would be sending data for analysis, with any luck. The gang that took this group from their families was out there, probably taking more younglings from their families. But it still felt good to score this victory.

There were two Twi’leks in the group, both boys. Mara was glad for these younglings but couldn’t help thinking of the last group. Or the next group. She imagined the Rebels would hand off back to their intelligence people now that they’d completed this feel-good mission. She considered continuing the operation on her own if necessary.

Still, it was nice to have teammates to literally cover her back.

Chapter Text

A second impact rocked the ship hard. Younglings slid on the deck. Winter sat hard from her standing position at the dejarik table. Mara automatically reached for the engineering station next to her for stability.

Winter’s eyes widened as she looked at the kids' scared expressions. “Fun, huh?” she whispered loudly with a small smile. Some of them bought it and smiled back.

Solo’s agitated voice reached them from the cockpit, followed by Chewbacca’s response. Chewie thundered by in the corridor, roaring, tools waving in his massive paws.

Han might need your help, she heard Skywalker’s voice in her head again. Mara looked to Winter.

“I’m just going to go check on things out there.” Mara said, starting toward the cockpit.

Winter nodded, nonplussed. “Well, you will miss all the fun we are going to have in here, then.” She slid to the deck to distract the younglings.

Mara jogged to the cockpit. “Need a co-pilot, Solo?” she offered.

“Can you shoot?” he yelled back at her without looking. He took the ship into a sudden dive to avoid incoming shots.

“Yeah,” Mara answered, regaining her balance.

“I’ll fly, you shoot,” he directed and turned his full attention back to the instruments.

“Right,” Mara acknowledged, jogging back toward the gun turrets. Skywalker was already busy in the upper one, swinging in his chair and firing at the slaver’s oncoming ship.

Mara slid down the ladder to the lower turret and acclimated herself as quickly as possible. Most gunner stations were similar and this was no exception. She adjusted the headset as she scanned out the viewport. The slaver’s ship was larger than the Falcon and surprisingly well-armed. It bristled with laser cannons, all of which seemed to be firing. This is what we get for just stunning them, she thought to herself as she lined up the enemy guns in her targeting display.

We wanted to follow those tracking devices you planted so skillfully, remember?Skywalker’s voice rang playfully in her head, even as he squeezed off several shots that vaporized a forward canon on the enemy ship.

I wasn’t talking to you, she snapped back. The stress of the day had worn down her internal shields. Skywalker’s internal shields were also relaxed which made it easier, to her surprise, to coordinate their targets. They rarely used the comlinks on their headsets as they could feel each other’s senses of distance, direction, and speed.

They disabled weapon after weapon, while not disabling the slaver’s ship altogether. The goal of the mission was still to know where this ship returned to to track the higher-ups in the organization. But Mara looked forward to the day she could kill them. Better yet, the big boss. Somebody had to pay for this.

As Mara looked for the next gun placement to target, she heard Han give a victory yell. The ship jumped into hyperspace before she could squeeze the trigger. The galaxy seemed to spin around, just in that moment.

She took a deep breath, the adrenaline still coursing through her. She heard Skywalker come down the ladder and stop in the corridor above. Laying the headset to the side, she joined him.

“Nice shooting,” Luke said approvingly. “And that…connection was something. Did—he—teach you that?”

“He did not.” She said curtly. “I keep telling you, I’m not like that.”

Luke hummed a response to this. It was true she kept repeating that. It was also true that he hadn’t believed, from the moment he had perceived her Force sensitivities, that her abilities were so limited. He decided against repeating himself.

Mara rolled her eyes and strode back to the hold, her heels landing heavier than necessary, sluicing off adrenaline. He pondered just a moment more, savoring that feeling of connection in battle. They’d worked toward a common goal, sharing information, feeling, and purpose. He smiled and followed her back to the younglings.

The small crowd in the hold was cranky. The children, too, were full of adrenaline, or whatever passed for it in their species. The adults smiled at them and spoke in reassuring tones, relieved to be out of the fight. Chewie wrestled with an adventurous few. Winter and another girl worked patiently through a young Bothan’s matted fur with brushes lent by the Wookiee. Luke sensed a fight about to break out over a blanket.

Mara saw Skywalker step to the galley, opening cupboards with purpose. He grinned when his hand withdrew a packet of powder. He set about mixing some sort of concoction. What now, she wondered.

Skywalker poured the mixture into mugs and dropped something on top, then approached the younglings who had been about to come to blows over the blanket before Han separated them. The children took the mugs greedily and sampled. Their eyes lit up. They tipped the mugs back as Skywalker cautioned them to slow down.

He returned to the galley. Solo was already pulling more mugs and trays from the supplies they’d stocked before taking off.

“I think Lando meant that as a gift for you,” Solo said softly as he poured the drink.

“I’m confident Lando would approve,” Skywalker replied as he approached the girl Mara thought of as Big Eyes. The girl surveyed the drink suspiciously. Tasting tentatively, her eyes grew again, somehow. She smiled, first into the mug, and then at Skywalker. He grinned back, happy with himself.

Smug Rebels. Mara shook her head. She started collecting empty mugs from the deck. Some pleaded for more; she promised she’d check, though she’d already seen Solo carefully portion out the last. They’d stocked for practicalities, not treats. And had found more younglings than they anticipated. No one would go hungry. But hot chocolate had not been on the planned menu.

Solo shook his head as Skywalker returned with more empty mugs. “You’re just going to get them all hopped up again,” he warned.

Skywalker shrugged, unconcerned. He was pushing as much calming, soothing energy into the hold as he could. Most of the children were moving slowly, curling into sleeping positions on blankets and pillows.

Winter smiled at Skywalker. “Well done.” She sat at the dejarik table heavily and sighed. As the children drifted off to sleep, the team gathered around the table.

“Well, that mission was…smoother than I expected,” Winter observed.

Mara nodded. “Too smooth,” she agreed.

“Hey, don’t go looking for trouble.” Han retorted. “Sometimes it’s easy,”

“Yeah, and sometimes the Empire only sent four TIE fighters after us cause they had another plan,” Luke pointed out with a chuckle, his mind cast back to their escape from the DeathStar. Leia had expressed cynicism similar to Chiara’s at the time.

“But they’re safe, that’s the win that counts.” Skywalker jutted his chin towards the peaceful youngling, his attitude returning to his trademark optimism. “If those tracking devices send back good data, that’s valuable intel.”

“If,” Mara repeated sardonically. “If they go back to base. If they don’t find the devices. If they don’t sweep for them before take-off. Like the Wookiee did this ship before we left Coruscant.”

Han looked up. “Nothing pers—”

“That was smart,” Mara cut him off. “If they’re smart, they’ll do the same and we’ll have wasted all that blaster power for nothing.” She thought of the crew member she’d stunned who had recovered to shoot at them as they roared down the street. If she’d “forgotten” to set her weapon to stun, he would have been too dead to chase them.

“They didn’t strike me as all that smart,” Han observed. “You shot at them on their last trip to Varonat. If they were smart, they wouldn’t have sent another ship there so soon. They’d have abandoned it, or at least avoided it for a while. Not so smart.”

She couldn’t argue with that. It had surprised her to find the Veiled Fortune’s owners had sent another ship within days of their firefight. Was Solo right? Were they bad at this?

Skywalker must have picked up on some of her unspoken feelings.

“We executed the mission plan and it worked beautifully. If they find the devices, we’ll find another way to trace them. We have all the data you pulled from the hangar’s systems about their history. When we get that analyzed, it could be helpful too.”

As usual, Skywalker’s optimism felt misplaced to Mara. The shipping manifests had been blatantly falsified so she didn’t see a reason to trust any of the other data. She started to object but suddenly fell mute. She could hear the contrast of her cynicism and doubt with their optimism and hope. Their arguments were not convincing. But the faces of the sleeping younglings, safe and comfortable, was a tonic for the most pessimistic of hearts.

Regardless, there was nothing to be done now. They would get tracking data or they wouldn’t. They’d had no casualties or serious injuries and gotten all the children out. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop the slavers and possibly drove them further underground. But this wasn’t the time to moan about it.

“We changed some lives, anyway,” she mused softly, glancing around at the younglings. Green eyes met blue. Skywalker smiled and dipped his chin.

“Yeah, we did,” Winter affirmed. “And it may have been smooth but it was still exhausting. I’m going to get some sleep.”

Skywalker looked at her and Mara. “Why don’t you take the first shift in the bunks?”

Winter nodded gratefully. Mara would have protested that she didn’t need to rest but decided to comply with the suggested bunk rotation. She could always clean her blaster. A break from the unrelentingness of Skywalker was welcome.

Winter stretched her arms and rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder.

“Which bunk would you like?” she asked Mara, ever the gracious hostess.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mara replied. “Take your pick. I doubt I will sleep much.”

“Mmm. You were in the other turret weren’t you? Once you and Luke were both in place they never landed a shot on us. The kids really calmed down after that. You must be a good shot.”

Mara grunted. “Good enough.” She was an excellent sharpshooter but didn’t see the point in bragging about that at the moment. “Skywalker’s not bad either,” she snarked.

“Well, he pretty much has to be, doesn’t he? Being strong with the Force must come in handy.”

Mara grunted in response. Had Skywalker told his friends about his belief in her Force-sensitive potential?

“I asked him to test me, but I’m not sensitive. I would have loved to learn to do those things,” she said wistfully.

“You want to be a Jedi?” Mara didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

"I just think it would be an incredible advantage. If I could, I’d push myself as far as I could go with the Force. " Winter shook her head. “But that’s just me.”

Mara grunted again. Subtle, Skywalker, real subtle. “The religious devotion wouldn’t appeal to everyone,” she said evenly, fighting to keep from snapping angrily. She supposed the woman’s intentions were good. Mara started dismantling her blaster to soothe herself with the cleaning routine.

“Right. Personally, it wouldn’t be a problem for me — I’ve never been religious but it sounds like devotion to light and service and justice. I don’t have a problem with any of that.” Her eyes were fluttering closed.

“And devotion to a master?” Mara asked softly. “You’d be willing to bow down to Skywalker?”

“Bow down?” Winter’s eyes flew open and she looked over at Mara. “I can’t imagine Luke wanting anyone to bow down to him. He’s not like that.”

Mara focused on cleaning her blaster, laying out the parts, and wiping them down. She made a noncommittal sound. When Winter frowned at Mara’s suggestion, Mara offered a polite smile.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Mara lied. Rebels had no objectivity where Skywalker was concerned. While Mara had to admit he was completely different from what she’d expected—they were all completely different than she expected. But she wasn’t ready to drop all suspicion just yet. Even Jedi required unwavering devotion; she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. It sounds like devotion to light and service and justice, Winter’s words wound their way into her stubborn resistance.

“I’m glad you’re on our team—this team, anyway,” Winter said, startling Mara out of her thoughts. “You can cover my back anytime.” With that, she fell soundly asleep.

Mara stared at her. So trusting. Glad you’re on our team. This team. Team. Her hands automatically reassembled her weapon as her thoughts chased each other around, refusing to come to any neat conclusions. The last of the adrenaline drained away and left her exhausted. She picked the blaster back up, flicked on the safety, and slipped it and her holdout holster under the pillow.

A few hours later, she sat up in frustration, still wide awake. She had cleaned the blaster within a centimeter of its life already. Winter slept deeply. Mara’s thoughts chased each other in a whirl of confusion and doubt. As if she hadn’t already had enough of both. She made her way to the cockpit.

Chewie growled a suggestion to Han, who shook his head. “Nah, buddy, we can both hit the rack. Plenty of backup this time. C’mon.” He stood and turned to Luke. “Ship’s yours. Not a scratch—you know I’ll know.”

Mara could feel Skywalker’s surprise as he shifted to the pilot’s seat. As the Wookiee maneuvered elegantly out of the cockpit, Skywalker motioned at the seat he’d just left, inviting her.

At her look, he chuckled. “I guess even Han is affected by the younglings. If you’d told me back when I met him that he’d be handing his ship over to me to sleep, I’d have laughed in your face.”

Despite herself, she moved to the co-pilot’s seat. “Changed a bit, has he?”

Luke’s mind skipped back to his first memories of Han—meeting in the cantina, arguing strategy on the DeathStar, walking away with crates of credits. “Well, on the outside anyway. Leia’s brought out the best in him.” Back then, Han used snark and cynicism to shield a hero’s heart. Was Chiara the same?

Her eyebrows arched. “You give the princess credit for him?”

Skywalker nodded as he gazed out the viewport. “Yeah. She was the only reason he stuck around at the beginning.”

This made Mara smile for a reason she couldn’t name. Learning the inside scoop about the smug Rebel leaders was disorienting and amusing at the same time. It was also completely contradictory to the bloodthirsty anarchist caricatures spread within the Empire. According to the “intelligence” she’d been given, Chewbacca would have been happy to tear her limb from limb on sight while Solo cheered and auctioned off the parts. If someone had told her she’d witness the two feeding and caring for younglings they’d just rescued, she’d have laughed, too.

“My uncle used to make a big deal that I was the first freeborn in my family line for generations. I suppose he was worried I’d end up captured back into it, like those kids.” Skywalker sounded thoughtful.

Mara’s mind ranged over the different ages of beings in the hold. “Some of them are too young to tell us where they’re from. How do they get back home?” Mara knew from experience that if the youngest did not return home, they would have no memory of their family of origin.

“I don’t know. The organization we’re taking them to have the experts for that.” He sensed the shift in Chiara. He could still hear her telling him she’d never known her own family. To his mind, being raised to serve the Emperor was its own form of slavery. He hesitated to say so. She may not appreciate the parallels to the younglings in the hold. Then again, it might be why she felt so strongly about helping them.

A memory surfaced in Mara’s mind. “I asked a lot of questions one day about where’d I come from. Where were my parents? Who were they? What were they like? Did I have any sisters or brothers?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, lost in the memory she’d pushed way, way down.

Luke prepared himself for the anger that was sure to rise in him when he heard the end to the story. It would grow and rage and shout at him to help, protect, avenge. It would dissipate. Luke waited.

“He said the first time I was brought before him, I was half-dead and covered in grime. My mother had told the troopers she was happy to be rid of me.” She stared out the viewport, unseeing.

There it was. The red flame advancing on all sides of his senses. He let it come.

“And I was so upset. I almost—I came so close to calling him a liar.” She shook her head, marveling at the memory. “Until my survival instinct kicked in.” Mara fell silent, remembering the Emperor telling her how lucky she was to be saved from that fate. She had thanked him. Was that her survival instinct? Had she meant it? She couldn’t tell anymore. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She breathed and willed them back.

He wanted to fix it. He wanted to kill the Emperor all over again. He wanted to comfort her. The rage burned and begged to take possession of him, of her, of all that he cared about. He waited.

The memory faded. Mara waited for Skywalker’s objections, his protest, his invitation to train with him. His attempt to fix her.

He did not resist nor embrace the rage. Without fuel, it burnt itself out. He reached for the Light, wondering how to help. If he could help.

Silence filled the cockpit.

“You’re right. We changed lives today. Those younglings will be better off because you couldn’t walk away and ignore what you saw. And now they’re safe.”

More flattery. An objection leapt to her lips and died. He meant what he said. And it was true. She’d returned with Mirax and Iella because of some idiotic hope she could make a difference. In turn, her arrival has inspired Skywalker to propose this terrible idea.

“I know it’s not enough.” He continued after a pause. “After we’ve dropped off the younglings, we can plan what comes next.”

He meant that, too. The determination in his voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t summon enough scorn to scoff at him.

If it had been anyone else, Luke would have reached out to offer a hand on her shoulder or a warm hug. Chiara just might shoot him for such offenses. He considered, filling his senses with the Force.

“You could relieve Threepio in the hold,” he suggested. “Send him up here—tell him I want help on my Shyriiwook. Or something. The kids are pretty cute when they’re all asleep.”

A selection of snarky responses rose to her mind. She rejected them all. With a nod, she slipped out of her seat and glided out the doorway. Her cover at Jabba’s had been a dancer, and it showed in her every movement.

The following day the ship docked on Kidiet Olgo, where they turned the younglings over to a team of social workers for slave recovery. Big Eyes held Skywalker’s hand til the last possible moment, letting go with a small whimper of protest.

“We’ll take good care of them,” the woman in charge assured them. “We have an extensive network for identifying younglings and reuniting them with their people. You’ve changed their lives, their futures. Thank you so much.”

The team walked slowly back up the ramp, waving and smiling at the kids. Chewie roared a farewell that was returned by mostly delighted screams.

The mood was quiet as they blasted off for the brief hop back to Coruscant. As the ship entered hyperspace, Mara realized she’d left her blaster under her pillow. As she strapped the holster around her forearm with practiced ease, Skywalker ducked in and pulled his lightsaber from a drawer.

“We’ll get that homing beacon data. This isn’t the end.” It sounded as if he were making a promise. She was pretty sure he couldn’t keep it, but he wanted to.

“I never thanked you for holding that shooter off my back on Varonat,” Mara said.

“Any time, Chiara,” Luke smiled. He didn’t often use her name. The name she gave him.

“Chiara is an alias,” she admitted. She waited for his surprise. It didn’t come. Her memory returned to that uncomfortable day when he’d drunk too much. Whatever-your-name-is, he’d called her. “But you knew that.” She realized with a snort.

He waited.

“Mara. My name is Mara Jade.”

Luke grinned. The name resonated through the Force as truth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mara Jade.”

Han’s voice rang through the passageway. “Just enough time for a drink before we come out of hyperspace!”

It was a ritual Han liked to observe — he pulled the best alcohol he had on hand out for a drink after a mission to toast success and remember any fallen. Luke grinned at Mara.

“Wonder what he’s got this time?” It was most often Whyren’s Reserve, but there was a surprise now and then.

Mara smiled back as if she had a secret.

“Oh really?” Luke asked. “What do you know about it?”

She just shrugged and sidled past him to the passageway. “You’ll find out.”

In the hold, Mara joined Han at the galley counter, as they passed bottles and glasses back and forth, shielding the others from seeing too much with their turned backs.

Winter looked curiously at Luke, who shook his head and slid into the seat next to Chewie.

“Almost seems empty without them, doesn’t it?” Luke gazed at the deck where the younglings had been.

Winter grunted. There were times in her life when she wondered if she wanted children. Caring for the younglings had been a lot of work. Perhaps with the right partner. Perhaps. If she decided sleeping was overrated.

Han came to the dejarik table carrying two drinks that he placed in front of Winter and Luke. Mara followed behind with a tray of three drinks for Chewie, Han, and herself. Luke looked curiously into the mug and sniffed. Mara was watching him closely. “Is this…?”

“T-16 Skyhoppers,” she smirked. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them.”

Luke’s memory flashed back to that day on Tatooine as he hotdogged in Fixer’s rental, showing off for her, lost in memories, lost in the sheer sensation of flying. He grinned.

The group sat around the dejarik table draining their drinks, trading jibes, telling stories about the younglings, speculating about where the slavers' ship would turn up, and celebrating their success.

Mara had already started to plan what she would do with the data from the homing beacon when it was received. She would need to rent a ship. Unless Skywalker could help her find one to borrow. If the Rebels had any ships she’d want to fly.

Luke sensed Mara withdrawing into her thoughts. “So what would you do next?” he asked. He avoided using her name until she told the others about her alias. For now, it was their secret. Which he rather enjoyed though he suspected that was not becoming for a Jedi.

Mara remembered the determination in his voice when he promised they’d plan the next move after the younglings.

“You’ve planned a lot of ops.” Luke smiled, his mind returning to their first conversation; she had criticized him for not hitting Jabba with overwhelming force. “What do you think is the next best move? It’s unlikely we can bring enough support for a hard-hitting assault. Not with something as unofficial as this.”

Mara felt an unfamiliar sensation. Could it be…shyness? She looked around the dejarik table at the two former Rebel generals, a wise Wookiee, and an intelligence operative she suspected was Targeter, a Rebel operative known to the Empire for having perfect memory. And they were all waiting to hear what she thought the plan should be. She closed her eyes to shut out the expectant looks and sank into focusing on the objective.

“We need recon on the coordinates where the ship stops to see if that is their base of operations. As I said before, if they’re smart, they’ll go somewhere else, sweep the ship, and get rid of our devices before they return to base. Or even call in, since we’re tracking their comms, too. We’ll need scouts for the recon, possibly probe droids.”

Luke sensed Han was about to point out the Alliance didn’t have nor use probe droids like the Empire. Luke kicked him lightly under the table to stay the objection.

Mara noticed Solo start to open his mouth and then clamp it closed with a frown. “There should be plenty of probe droids on Coruscant. You’ll be the proud new owners of all kinds of Imperial tech. If you know where to look.” She observed in a crisp tone. “Then we see what we’re dealing with for security at their base.”

“Then we plan the next assault,” Skywalker nodded. Mara smiled at the idea though she doubted he would have the numbers needed to do so. She appreciated the intention all the same.

“Well this has been great fun but I doubt I’ll be able to get away again,” Winter said sadly. “My real job is different these days. Thanks for including me.”

Mara gazed into her drink to keep herself from staring at Winter. The woman with the perfect memory, the mythical Targeter, was grateful to the rest of them — to Mara — for including her? The Emperor had mocked the Rebels for being a random collection of misfits, willing to welcome everyone. She’d always considered it a weakness. As she was meant to. Like so many other things she hadn’t thought to question before, she wondered now. Maybe it was a strength after all.

“Your connections were instrumental in getting us going in the first place,” Skywalker observed warmly. For a moment Mara felt the smallest stab of dismay—no, that couldn’t be. Winter’s look was equally warm but less alarming. No, these two were not attracted to one another. Not that it would matter if they were, of course. None of her concern. Why would she care?

“Well somebody’s gotta help Leia keep those clowns in line,” Han growled. “At least she’ll be pleased we kept each other all in one piece.”

“And jealous she couldn’t come along,” Luke mused.

“Yeah, your sister misses it more than she lets on. And worries more than she lets on too.” Han smiled into his mug.

Perhaps due to the strong Skyhopper she had mixed herself, Mara’s eyes widened visibly at the word sister. Luke and Winter fell silent.

“What?! It’s not a secret. She tells people all the time. She’s proud.” Solo looked at Mara and shrugged. “I guess she’ll have to make an announcement sometime.”

“Well, I’m proud, too,” Luke protested. He turned to Mara as well. “I usually check with her before I tell someone. It’s not just my news to tell.”

Mara nodded, still feeling stricken. She reached out over her memories, her analysis, trying to put pieces together. She hadn’t researched Organa thoroughly. The princess had never assigned to her as an explicit target. Organa’s history and movements were only relevant to Mara in relation to Skywalker. Very close relation, Mara thought ironically. They’d grown up separately, on different worlds. Half-siblings, perhaps?

“We just found out we’re twins a few years ago.” Luke said, sensing her confusion.

Mara checked her mental shields were up so Skywalker was not picking up on her thoughts. Twins. How….Wait…. Mara struggled as realization piled on realization.

“The details are very thin,” Skywalker continued with a sigh.

Solo grunted. “'Cause everyone who knows what happened is dead,” he explained with a final swig of this drink.

In the cockpit, a familiar beep sounded. Chewbacca stood with a growl.

“Well, kids, time to go home.” Solo slid off the seat and followed his co-pilot out toward the cockpit. “Coming out of hyperspace in 5 minutes,” he shouted back a moment later.

Mara automatically reached for the safety restraints nearest her, still reeling with this latest news, rotating it in different directions like an engine part that wouldn’t fit. Whenever she thought she had Skywalker figured out, she discovered something that spun her analysis around like the stars around a ship entering hyperspace. When would he stop surprising her?

Chapter Text

Most of the crew gladly luxuriated in returning to Coruscant, catching up on sleep and restarting their routines.

But Coruscant had not been Mara’s home for some time. Haunting memories surfaced and were resubmerged as she threw herself into an intense workout program. She met Winter for sparring hand-to-hand and Winter had suggested including Iella. Mara accepted quickly, welcoming the opportunity to further push her physical limits far enough to preclude overthinking, remembering, stewing.

“Good fight,” Iella said, recovering her breath. Mara nodded, as she wiped sweat with a towel.

Skywalker jogged through the doorway from the gym’s track. He was covered in a sheen of perspiration. Mara’s memory produced the image of their run on Varonat. She still had the shirt he’d lent her — she needed to return it to him now that it was laundered.

Luke watched Winter and Iella walk away. Sure, Mara would train with them.

“If you ever want to spar with that lightsaber…,” Skywalker trailed off as he toweled down.

“I’m not looking to sign up for anything.” She shook her head. Why wouldn’t he drop this? “I’m just looking to work out.”

He held up empty hands. “No pressure,” he said matter-of-factly. An idea struck. “I just thought — how often do you find someone else who has one?” He shrugged and turned toward the sanisteams. He had come to realize she frequently brushed off ideas initially but would later give them more thought. And that she was much more curious than she let on. Otherwise they never would have had their first conversation at Jabba’s.

Mara grunted. She doubted Skywalker knew how not to apply pressure to train in his magical Force. It seemed beyond his control. Though as much as she hated to admit it, he was right about the scarcity of lightsabers. The Emperor had given her the weapon to use against other weapons. He’d never used his lightsaber in front of her. She was careful to avoid confronting Vader. She used her lightsaber as a tool more often than anything else. It might be interesting to spar with another lightsaber wielder, if he could keep from preaching at her. Just to see what lightsaber sparring was like, of course.

The next day, Skywalker called a meet at Solo’s favorite cantina, a dark, barely respectable place that served spicy, greasy specialties.

“We haven’t received data from the devices we planted, so we’re unlikely to get any.” Skywalker opened after food had been ordered. “They must have found them.”

“So they’re a little smart, then,” Solo sighed. “Who’d have thought?”

Sure glad we left them alive, Mara snarked to herself behind her shields.

“It was worth a shot,” Luke continued. “So we’ll have to find them another way. We’ve had better luck slicing into the data Chiara pulled from the hangar on these slavers the last time we were there.”

“Oh—you don’t have to do that,” Mara interjected. “Winter already knows.” She turned to Han and Chewbacca. “Chiara Lorn is an old alias I still use sometimes. My name is Mara Jade.”

Chewie rahrred in enthusiasm. Han lifted his glass with a nod.

“So the data on this slime from the hangar. What did we learn?” Mara turned back to Skywalker. She noticed the we after it had already escaped her lips.

Winter glanced at her datapad. “A friend of mine took a look and narrowed it down to the most likely sector, Yarith, bordering Varonat’s sector in the Outer Rim. But she wasn’t willing to suggest any likely planets there, and it’s a big sector.”

“Are we the proud owners of enough probe droids to cover Yarith?” Solo queried Mara, half sweetly, half sarcastically.

Mara snorted. “There aren’t enough probe droids in the galaxy to cover Yarith.”

“We could play a long game. Station the probe droids to watch the traffic from the hyperlanes, analyze the patterns, prioritize possibilities.” Winter frowned. “But it might take quite some time.”

The group fell silent, thinking. “Who do we know that would already know that area?” Solo wondered. “I mean…who do we know that likes us enough to tell us about it?” He amended.

Share information. Mara’s memory returned to the punster who traded what he knew for her expertise in installing a new sublight engine he didn’t know needed to be replaced.

“You heard of Talon Karrde?” She asked Solo.

“Karrde the smuggler? They say he got the biggest share of Jabba’s old territory. Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly. He didn’t introduce himself, but he called himself and his captain ‘Hart’ and ‘Soule’ and his ship was named Uwana Buyer.” Groans resounded around the table. “Right—that’s his tell, his weakness for bad puns. He was the one who told me those guys were new to the slaver business. He confirmed my suspicions.”

“For free?” Solo wondered.

“In trade for fixing his ship,” Mara shook her head. “So if we do find him, and he has any valuable intelligence, he’ll want something for it.”

“Do we know how to find him?” Skywalker asked, taking a thoughtful draw on his drink. He was different, Mara had noticed, around his trusted inner circle. He did not carry the responsibility of being both a war hero and a Jedi in public that she’d seen on Tatooine.

Winter tapped on the datapad. “That data you copied on Varonat includes the Uwana Buyer. The registration looks pretty legit. I’ll follow up with my analyst friend and see what she can find.”

“Sounds great, Winter,” Skywalker acknowledged. “We can go ahead and launch probes for the hyperlanes there, can’t hurt. That is, if we can find out where to look for them.” His eyes slid to Mara, lit with challenge.

Mara shrugged. They’ll find them sooner or later. Even her most loyal Imperial sensibilities were resigned to the New Republic’s takeover of Coruscant. “Sure. If they didn’t move them. Or if they didn’t get scavenged since then.”

“Right, we’ll see whatever we can find. And if Winter locates Karrde, are you willing to contact him? As a familiar face?” Skywalker’s gaze was intense.

She laughed aloud at the thought that anyone with HoloNet would be unfamiliar with the Heroes of Yavin. “Pretty sure he’d be familiar with a few other faces here. But sure, we got along.” She spoke through chortles.

Her laugh was lyrical to Luke’s ears. He smiled, finding he had a comeback. “Not everyone is as obsessed with the Rebellion as you. Believe it or not.”

Mara’s eyebrows shot skyward as she spluttered at his snark.

Han thought back to his pre-Leia days as a smuggler. Karrde wasn’t going to donate that information. “What about his payment? Think we can line that up for an unofficial op like this?” As much as he wanted to help out, he didn’t want Leia taking any hits over this.

“Why don’t we calculate that jump when we reach it? We’re not sure if we’re going to find him or if he’s going to want to deal with us. Or if he even knows any more than he already told Mara. And if he’s happy to trade for services, we have a variety of talents to offer. You’re creative with that stuff.” Skywalker grinned at his friend.

Seeing Mara’s doubtful expression, Skywalker turned the grin on her. “Sound like a terrible idea?”

Spare me the inside jokes, her most cynical inner voice spat at her. To its dismay, Mara was smiling. “It does, yeah.” She nodded.

“Perfect. Anybody else ready for more ribenes?” He signaled the server.

A few days later, the same group sat in the same booth. “That was fast,” Solo observed, digging into the food in front of him.

“Karrde wasn’t hard to find under the Syndic Hart alias on the Uwana Buyer. Doesn’t look like he’s hiding. We couldn’t have gotten much luckier — he lands on Coruscant tomorrow.”

“We’ll take it,” Skywalker enthused. “It’s about time we got a break. Mara, how do you want to make contact?”

A few days later, Mara watched as the Uwana Buyer landed in Imperial—no, New Republic—Galactic Spaceport. She closed her eyes and listened. The sublight engines sounded smooth and fully operational. The corners of her lips twitched in satisfaction at her work.

She waited as the ramp lowered. A Sullustan made their way down and out, and stopped. Mara frowned. Who was this?

A moment later, Karrde appeared. He drew close to the Sullustan and held out a small bag, which the Sullustan took while bobbing their head several times. Karrde appeared tired and drawn and relieved to watch the Sullustan walk away. His gaze moved smoothly around the hangar without turning his head. When his survey reached Mara, he stopped. His eyes narrowed, focusing. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then he dipped his chin in recognition.

That will do, Mara thought, and she pushed off the wall behind her to stride to meet him. He completed his visual sweep of the area, then moved toward her.

“Chiara Lorn,” he said smoothly. “What a delightful surprise. How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for information,” she replied simply.

“I see. Shall we find a drink and discuss your needs?”

Mara smirked and turned on her heel. She wound her way through the walkways, descending a few levels below the official government and corporate buildings. She stopped short of the underbelly of the city, where crime and desperation swirled through the atmosphere.

She stopped in a barely reputable cantina that had served her well as a meeting place. As they stepped through the door, she hesitated a fraction of a second. Skywalker’s blazing presence in the Force was hard to miss. Mara’s gaze searched the interior. There, in a back booth, a subtle silhouette of the right size and shape hunched over a drink, face hidden. A dun-colored scarf covered his blond hair, and a pair of goggles atop his head kept it in place.

It had not been the plan that Skywalker would be there. She hadn’t shared the location with the team. Perhaps their trust in her was less than complete.

Moving swiftly to cover her surprise, Mara led Karrde to a table. Once drinks were ordered, Karrde smiled broadly. “You are a long way from Varonat.”

“So are you,” she returned sweetly. “Enjoy your visit?” If he wanted to start with small talk, she was more than up to the challenge. It was a good way to fish for information, and she was highly skilled at that as well.

A shadow crossed Karrde’s features. “I did not. Captain Soule was killed there.”

The hand holding Mara’s drink froze in mid-air. His candor surprised her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We knew the risks,” Karrde sighed. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“To Captain…Soule,” Mara toasted, lifting her drink.

Karrde smiled a wry smile. “To Quelev Tapper, a good friend and businessman. He will be missed.” He raised his glass and touched it to Mara’s. Genuine gratitude for honoring his friend reflected in his dark eyes.

“So to what do I owe the honor of being greeted by the beautiful Chiara Lorn?” Karrde’s social mask fell back into place.

“As long as we’re ditching aliases, Mr. Karrde, my name is Mara Jade. I’m interested in those slavers back on Varonat. If you know more about them, perhaps we can reach an agreement.” Mara gazed into her drink, circling her finger around the glass’s rim.

Karrde frowned. “I know they’re dangerous,” he mused. “I would not take them on alone.”

Internally, Mara sighed. Why does everyone assume I need protecting? she groused to herself.

“Not to worry,” she soothed. “I’ll just be passing it along. A friend traced a missing child to Varonat and asked what I could find out.”

“I could make some inquiries.” Karrde considered. “For the right price, of course.”

“Of course,” Mara replied, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

Karrde leaned forward and named a number so astronomical that Mara’s shock bled through her shields. She felt Skywalker reach back in concern.

Down, boy, she sent through the Force. He’s just got unrealistic expectations.

She cleared her throat. “My, you must be low on funds. I don’t have access to that kind of credits.”

Mara could feel Karrde’s delight at entering into negotiations, though his neutral Sabacc face did not reflect it.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid the business that brought me to Coruscant in the first place is going to require a sum like that to proceed.” He explained smoothly, draining his drink.

Mara feigned a disappointed shrug. “That’s too bad. I guess you’ll have to find someone else to help you with that. And I’ll have to find another source of information for myself.” She reached a hand into a pocket, pretending to search for credits for the drink.

She stopped as if struck with a sudden thought. “Unless….Last time you traded for repair services. Perhaps there is something I can do to help you with this project?”

“I don’t need any repairs, thanks to you. My ship is running very smoothly. What I need for this project is connections. Introductions at the highest levels of this New Republic. So unless you know someone like that….”

“What if I did? What if I know someone who knows someone like that?” she smiled coyly.

He cocked his head doubtfully. “Really? You know someone with influence in the New Republic government?”

She made a show of considering this. “Wellll….That’s a good question. I haven’t been able to figure out exactly where he fits in the current power structure.”

She felt Skywalker’s reaction to this statement as a chortle, and realized he was now in the next booth. His sense was asking her a question, seeking confirmation. She gave it.

Now wearing the familiar plain brown Jedi robe, he slipped into their booth opposite Mara and threw back the robe’s hood dramatically. The scarf and goggles were gone, leaving his blond hair glinting in the low light. “Mara Jade! Is that you? It’s been awhile!”

His acting was not as bad as she expected it to be. She rewarded him with a smile.

“Hi, Luke.” The name felt both familiar and foreign sliding out of her mouth. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you in a place like this.”

“Ah, just tracking some lowlifes. But they gave me the slip.” He pretended to notice Karrde for the first time. “Oh—sorry to interrupt.” He slid to the end of the booth and turned to get on his feet. “Let me know if you’re free before you leave Coruscant, Mara.”

Karrde interjected, “Please, join us, Jedi Skywalker. Talon Karrde, at your service. I was just explaining to Ms. Jade that I was hoping to get to meet you. And now here you are.” He glanced from Skywalker to Mara with a brief, quizzical look.

“Pleasure to meet you, Talon Karrde. What were you hoping to talk to me about?”

Karrde frowned, still looking from one to the other, gauging whether he could trust them, given they had just pulled some kind of fast one on him. Still, Talon Karrde was not one to look a gift eopie in the mouth.

“I have acquired—” he looked around the cantina, which had grown more crowded. “—an object that requires someone with your unique skill set to authenticate.”

The statement attracted Skywalker’s genuine interest. “I see.”

Not too eager, Mara cautioned him, sensing his curiosity.

“Hmmm. Maybe. Depending on details we probably shouldn’t discuss here.”

Karrde smiled. “Let us meet again to discuss the confidential—”

Mara put up a hand. “Wait! Luke, we had just been talking about the exorbitant fee he was planning to charge for the info you wanted about those traders on Varonat.”

It was Karrde’s turn to act. “That was for you?” He said to Skywalker, a hand going to his chest. “Oh, you should have said, Ms. Jade, I would never charge a New Republic hero the going market rate like that.”

“Of course not,” she smiled. “Silly me.”

“Oh, that’s not—” Skywalker started his standard ‘hero’ disclaimer.

Scram, she suggested to Skywalker. His humility was not going to help in price negotiation.

“Oh—” Skywalker checked his chrono. “I’m late. Nice to meet you, Karrde. I’ll leave you two to work through details.”

He stood. As he passed by her, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Talk soon,” he said, and was gone.

Her skin felt electrified where he touched it. She forced her attention to Karrde. “Let’s find a quieter place to discuss this ask.”

Mara’s tone was judgemental. “He wants you to look at this thing that might be a holocron, so he knows if it’s worth the asking price. Is that something you would do?” Luke felt a flicker of amusement that Mara’s scorn was directed at someone besides himself.

To Mara’s surprise, excitement lit behind Skywalker’s eyes. “Absolutely, I want to see a potential holocron. Master Yoda had one that he said was the last.” He shook his head. “There’s so much we don’t know—I don’t know, about the Jedi and our history. I’ve been thinking about how to find the old temples, search for archives, find artifacts. The Empire couldn’t have destroyed it all. They were always better at fear-mongering than actually doing what they claimed.”

Mara wondered at this. She had been taught the Jedi had betrayed the Republic and consequently been destroyed as traitors. Survivors of the initial purge had been hunted down until they were extinct. The hunters turned on each other until the only Force wielders left were Vader and the Emperor. Then Kenobi showed up. Followed by Skywalker. How much of what she’d been taught had been true? She was thoroughly sick of the question.

“I can’t wait to see it. I hope it’s real.” Skywalker’s eagerness again reminded Mara of a puppy. “I get to see something that might be a part of Jedi history, and he takes my opinion as payment for the information we want. It’s perfect.”

Luke turned the cube in his hand. It was different from Master Yoda’s. Still, it called to him somehow. The more he turned it in his hands, the more it seemed to warm. The sensation spread through his organic hand and up his arm. His artificial fingertips felt warmth as well but it did not have the same spreading effect. Yoda had never let him touch the other holocron so he had no comparison.

Distracted by the sensations, he handed it to Mara, indicating she hold it up between them. He closed his eyes and saw it in the Force. He saw it opening, revealing its secrets. Light poured from within, and the sensation of warmth flooded through him.

Luke opened his eyes to find the holocron had indeed opened in Mara’s hands. The light emanating from it was much softer than behind his closed eyes. Mara’s sense was transfixed. A small smile played around her lips. He caught her eye and grinned.

A line appeared between Mara’s brows and her eyes returned to the holocron. A holoimage formed, slowly coalescing to show a small green being. Luke’s breath caught as he recognized the shape of Yoda, then exhaled as differences appeared. This female being had a wide strip of red hair, thicker and longer than he’d ever seen on his Master.

“I am Master Yaddle.”

Mara and Luke’s eyes locked once more and it was clear that neither of them knew anything about Master Yaddle.

“This holocron holds lessons on patience, which is a learned skill, as well as the ancient art of morichro,” Master Yaddle continued. Luke noticed her grammar differed from Yoda’s. Why didn’t Master Yoda ever tell him how to learn patience?

Karrde looked on. “So…”

“Yes, it’s a Jedi holocron.” Luke breathed as he and Mara both continued to stare at the cube.

“Excellent!” Karrde chuckled. “Thank you so much.” He started to lift a hand to take it back, then put it back down, waiting.

The silence stretched. Mara blinked and returned to the moment. She nodded slightly at Skywalker, who likewise seemed to wake from a trance. He closed his eyes briefly. The holocron became inert. Mara handed it back to Skywalker, who reluctantly handed it back to Karrde.

A quiet beep sounded from Mara’s wrist, and she excused herself to answer the com. Karrde watched her go. Luke could sense the other man’s appreciation of her beauty. Something in Luke’s chest rumbled. He turned his focus back to the holocron.

“I’ve only seen one of these before,” Luke noted to Karrde. “I’d like the chance to trade for the New Republic to have that. I’ll need to speak to Leia about it. May I pass your details on to her? Mara has them?”

“I would be honored to hear from Councilor Organa,” Karrde smiled. “Yes, Mara has the necessary frequencies.” After a pause, he observed, “She is quite something, Mara Jade.”

Luke nodded. “Indeed.” The rumble repeated itself. “You two negotiate well together.” He’d said it before he’d realized he was even thinking it.

Karrde frowned. “Forgive me, but—you have the Force at your disposal and you…don’t—” Karrde paused, looking puzzled.

“I don’t….?” Luke prompted, curious.

“You don’t see the difference in the way she is with you and the way she is with—everyone else?” Karrde’s eyes were intense.

Luke eyes widened briefly. Then narrowed. “Oh really? And what is that tidbit of information going to cost me?” he asked.

“Jedi Skywalker, I did not take you for a cynic,” Karrde protested. “That insight was offered freely. Do with it what you will.” He looked up as Mara returned. She carried an exotic-looking bottle and three glasses.

“Shall we toast the discovery of this rare artifact? I have a bottle of Hilarants made in the Riustala valley.”

Karrde eyed the cut crystal bottle Mara held with interest. “Yes, please. How did you find a bottle of that?”

“Oh that will cost you,” Mara smiled. It seemed flirtatious in a way that set off the rumble in Luke’s chest. Luke focused, testing Karrde’s assertion. She was good at acting. There, held closely but still outside her formidable shields, was a nearly sheer mask of pretense. She turned her head sharply to Luke, just as he withdrew his focus.

He smiled a bland smile at her. “Never heard of it. Want to fill in the hick from the Outer Rim?”

“Probably better that way.” Mara set glasses on the table in the corner of the room. “You don’t have to report anything you don’t know. Particularly to your princess. Let’s just say it’s hard to come by. And known for its exquisite taste.”

“Got it. I’m not having whatever this is.” Luke pushed his glass toward her.

Glasses poured, Karrde was first to lift his. “To rewarding alliances,” he smiled.

Mara clinked her glass against the others and savored the first sip. “Those puns are your tell, Karrde.”

“It’s a risk,” he admitted. “Sometimes I can’t resist.”

“So the holocron’s been verified. Now tell us about the newest slavers in the Outer Rim.” Mara’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Chapter Text

Mara eyed the sign of the establishment suspiciously. She remembered the location. The area had changed, including the name of the cantina. As she had many other times since returning to Coruscant, she sent a fervent hope out to the universe that no one who knew her from her former life would recognize her, and stepped inside.

The light was low. She could make out tables and chairs, more empty than not. Booths lined the wall. Those in the back included curtains, and if she wasn’t mistaken, sound dampening to maintain quiet. Not that was needed here.

“Mara!” Mirax ducked out from one of those curtains and waved. Mara nodded and headed her direction. Mirax had been overbearing in her invitation. Mara would be joining herself and Iella, and possibly Winter if she came. Mara had gone through her regular collection of excuses and Mirax denied them one by one. Eventually it seemed less trouble to admit defeat.

As Mara slid into the booth, she took in the others' presence. Winter had come. And next to her, Mara realized with a shock, was Leia Organa. The princess wore her hair in a single braid down her back, like Mara’s, with an ensemble that nearly said aloud Ladies' Night. Completing the group was Iella, also dressed for an evening out with friends.

Mara usually didn’t care that she chose her clothes for utility and comfort. But she was highly experienced in being able to blend in. Tonight she stood out as the woman who wasn’t told what the others were wearing.

“Sorry, Mara, when I talked to you this hadn’t turned into a full-fledged party yet. We can go shopping before next time. Can’t get better shopping than Coruscant.”

“We did pretty much kidnap you off Varonat with the clothes on your back,” Iella smiled.

Next time? Mara’s mind spun. She searched for an excuse to discourage a shopping expedition. “Oh, I used to live here. I should have plenty of clothes at my old place.”

A droid rolled to the table and placed enough glasses for the group along with a pitcher filled with a silvery liquid topped by a white vapor.

“What is that?” Leia asked with a laugh, reaching for a glass.

“Not telling til you taste,” Mirax responded as she poured Leia a generous glass.

Winter pushed a glass to Mara. “You don’t have to,” she said in a low voice.

“You absolutely do,” Mirax contradicted her. “You don’t want to be the one that keeps everyone else from finding out what they’re drinking, do you?”

Mara shrugged. “I’m game.” She sipped the liquid, whose rich, delicious taste seemed to evaporate almost as soon as it hit her tongue.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. White vapor blew from her lips. Around the table, the other women were making similar noises of surprise, and the vapor collected and rose in the air.

“I can’t pronounce its native name,” Mirax admitted. “So I just call it ‘Now you see it, now you don’t!’”

The women laughed in unison, each pushing their glasses in for refills.

“So…do you want to tell everyone your news?” Mirax said softly to Iella.

“Sure.” Iella nodded. She looked around the table, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “You may not know that I’m married. My husband has been missing for over a year. Yesterday I learned he’s been found. He was freed from the *Lusankya* prison ship. He’s in quarantine while they check him out. But they think he’s going to be OK.”

The table was quiet, waiting to see if Iella had anything else to say.

“How do you feel about that?” Leia asked kindly.

“Relieved he’s OK, horrified at what he’s been through, wondering if he’ll be the same, wondering if we’ll be the same—” she shrugged helplessly. “So, half overjoyed, half panicked?”

Mirax refilled Iella’s glass nearly to the brim and pushed it toward her. “Com me whenever you need to,” she offered.

“I can’t stop wondering what Diric has been through in Imperial prison. Physically and mentally. And it’s not as if he was trained to prepare for any of that like I was.” Iella stared into the glass. “Will he be disabled, or paranoid, or mute, or….”

“Or fine?” Mirax interrupted. She put a hand over Iella’s. “You’re spiraling.”

“I know,” Iella admitted. “But really, what are the odds that he would be fine?”

“He’s beat the odds already,” Mara said softly. “He’s alive and coming home.”

Four heads turned in her direction. She knew more about Imperial prisons than any of them.

“It’s impossible to say what he’s been through—the command officers in charge have a lot of latitude,” Mara advised.

“The Lusankya was Isard’s private prison,” Iella spoke just above a whisper.

That was not encouraging. Mara looked into her glass and then directly back into Iella’s eyes.

“He could have been put through anything. Including sleeper agent training,” Mara warned grimly.

“They’ll test him for that,” Iella nodded.

Good luck, Mara thought. The whole point of sleeper agent training was to blend in seamlessly, undetectable until activated. Rumor had it the subject could be completely unaware of it themselves.

“There’s no way to know what’s happened to him until you see him,” Winter chimed in. “You’re just torturing yourself until then. All you know now is he is alive and coming home. Maybe you can just hold onto that.”

“I know, I know,” Iella sighed. “I’m trying. It’s just hard.”

Leia clucked sympathetically. “I just about drove myself insane worrying about Han while he was frozen in carbonite.”

“And he’s just fine!” Mirax pointed out triumphantly.

“Well, as fine as he gets,” Leia snarked, taking another sip.

“Oh, c’mon now, he is pretty fine, you gotta admit.” Mirax came back.

The table giggled, relieved by the break in tension.

“OK, time for a change of subject?” Mirax looked to Iella for permission. Iella nodded. “Mara, you said you lived here before. What’s in that closet in your old place waiting for you?”

Mara blinked at the unexpected turn. She had no idea if her old apartment would still be there, much less still housing what she had left behind when she went on her last mission. At the time, she’d planned to be gone for a few weeks at most. It had been years now.

“There’s no telling, really,” she answered honestly. “I haven’t been back — I don’t even know if it’s still there.”

“I could never leave a full closet behind and not even check it when I got back,” Mirax marveled.

“Mirax invests heavily in her wardrobe,” Iella explained.

“I have great stuff! But of course, I can only take a limited amount on the Skate. And the work requires me to dress down most of the time. Smugglers aren’t much for fashion,” she sighed. “Just hoping it might be an interest of yours. These ladies are much too smart to enjoy something as shallow as clothes.”

Various protests went up around the table.

“I enjoy it occasionally,” Mara shrugged shyly. There had been a few formal gowns that she had about thought more frequently than necessary since leaving. And plenty of tank tops when she wanted to go running. “I do miss a few pieces.”

“Great! Then let’s go get them!” Mirax’s face lit up.

Mara frowned. “I—”

Leia spoke, “Don’t let Mirax’s enthusiasm pressure you,” she said with the same smile and grace she used with galactic politicians.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Mara wanted Mirax to understand. “My life was very different then. There are a lot of memories there.” She hesitated.

“Oh,” Mirax relented. “Yeah, that can get rough.”

“If you ever feel like you’d like to go check it out with someone, I’m sure that could be arranged,” Leia suggested.

Your brother, you mean, Mara thought. Unlikely. She smiled and nodded politely.

“OK, hands up! Who’s willing to be backup for Mara as she faces the monsters in her closet?” Mirax challenged, raising her hand.

Around the table, Iella, Winter, and Leia all put a hand in the air.

Tears stung Mara’s eyes unexpectedly. These women hardly knew her. They didn’t know what she’d done. This could not be happening.

Mara gestured for them to lower her hands and took a deep breath. “Look, there are things—things you don’t know.” The words tumbled over one another in a rush to get out. “For most of my life, I was dedicated to upholding the Empire. My last mission assignment was to kill Luke Skywalker.” She locked eyes with the princess. “But I couldn’t do it.”

“He trusts you. That’s good enough for me,” Leia responded.

“Why? Doesn’t he trust everybody?” Mara retorted without thinking.

They all laughed in recognition of this truth.

“He does see the good in everyone,” Leia conceded with an authentic smile. Mara sensed a shadow fall across the princess' sense briefly before clearing again. “More often than not, he’s right. We don’t judge by a person’s past. There are too many people here we’d have to fire.”

It sounded to Mara like a joke the princess had made many times before. Still, it was kind.

“That being said.” The princess' tone and smile turned steely. “If you did harm a hair on his head, there would be consequences.”

Now that sounds like truth, Mara thought.

Winter leaned in. “She 'd say that to any of us, including me,” she said in a loud whisper.

Leia shrugged. “Han says I’m overprotective. I say I just got a twin brother after being an only child all my life. What does he expect?”

Mara studied her, still trying to gauge Organa’s sense. Much like her brother, she was not at all what Mara was told she was. Except that she was a politician whose years of practice in diplomacy made her hard to read. When she had raised her hand a moment ago to volunteer to support Mara, was she just projecting the image required by the moment?

Leia studied Mara in return. “You were at Jabba’s.” It wasn’t a question.

Mara nodded.

“And you knew the lightsaber was in Artoo,” she continued.

“I suspected it might be in one of the droids,” Mara corrected slightly.

“But instead of going after the lightsaber, you….left? Luke’s been a bit vague on the details.”

“I was doing recon the night he was in the cell. And he heard me and he talked to me. And, idiot that I was, I responded.”

“Ah—that explains it.” Leia nodded.

“Wait—not to me, I don’t get it. You’re doing recon and your target talks to you,” Iella said. “What did he say that made you change your mind?”

Mara glanced down at the table and smiled. “He started with ‘Are you here to rescue me?’ and ended with ‘Do you need help?’”

The table erupted into laughter.

"Wait, wait, wait — " The princess interrupted. “That’s the first thing he said to me, too! I’ve never seen him before in my life. He rushes into my cell, wearing stormtrooper armor, takes off his helmet and announces, ‘I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you!’”

Louder laughter pealed from the crowd.

“Exactly!” Mara was almost snorting with laughter now. “I mean, who does that?!”

“Luke. Luke does that.” Leia said with finality between gasps of laughter.

As the group tried to recover their breath, the server droid returned quietly with a full pitcher.

A few hours later, the women stepped out into the street. A trio of men, walking toward the cantina from the opposite direction, stopped in front of them.

“Well hello there, ladies! The party is just starting! Don’t you want to come dancing with us?”

Winter tossed a “We’ve had enough for one night, thanks!” as she pivoted to cross the street.

The eyes of the hardened-looking man in front widened as they fell on Leia. “Hey—is that—”

“Nope, but she gets that all the time,” Winter giggled. On cue, all the women laughed.

“Oh come on now, be friendly, we want some company.” The leader made as if to grab Winter’s wrist.

He was surprised to find his reaching arm behind his back. “I said we’re done for the night.” Winter repeated as she wrenched his wrist fast against his spine, facing back toward his friends.

His buddies sneered and moved toward her, until they caught sight of Mara’s and Iella’s blasters leveled at them.

The leader cursed at Winter under his breath.

“What was that?” she asked, tightening her grip on him. He bit down on a grunt and shook his head.

“I’d say you boys are ready to head home, too, aren’t you? It would be a shame to run into more trouble than you bargained for.” Mara’s tone was even but unmistakable.

The two nodded slowly, backing up, not making eye contact with their leader as they turned and scurried away.

“Good night,” Winter said pleasantly, and released the man she was holding, with a shove.

As he rushed off, his cursing grew in volume.

Winter turned to Leia, who now stood centered behind her and Mara in front, and Iella and Mirax behind.

“I’m fine,” she said in a tone that said she’d had to say it too many times. “I hardly need four bodyguards.”

“Of course not,” Winter agreed. “They’re just lucky they didn’t run into you alone.” She turned and resumed leading the way back.

“What did Leia say about me last night?” Luke asked Mara the next day, as their lightsabers met in a shower of sparks.

Mara snickered as she pressed against his blade and inched her feet forward.

Luke’s eyes widened as he snorted at her non-response. He whirled and ducked low, swinging his blade around the other side to sweep her legs. She managed to jump over the moving blade. Just barely.

“Nothing bad,” she responded, noting he was not sparring as gently as she expected. “We just got giggly. We couldn’t stop laughing. Just when one person recovered, someone else would start up again. It hardly mattered what got us going.” She paced the arc of a circle, then suddenly reversed direction and slashed from high over her shoulder.

“What got you going was laughing at me,” Luke guessed, parrying just in time to protect himself.

“Just your open—” Their sabers met. “—and helping—” Mara broke contact and brought her blade down again immediately, shifting just to Luke’s unprotected side. He met the new attack. “—and rescuing—” Luke broke contact and then shifted to Mara’s unprotected side where she mimicked his defense “—nature.” Luke pushed with his blade and with the Force, knocking Mara off balance.

“Ohkayyy,” he said, taking a step back and breathing hard. “And that’s funny?”

Mara chugged her water and shrugged. “Just different. We were drinking some high-powered cocktail and it didn’t take much to set us off.” She took a long drink. “Don’t tell me a little gossip bothers you?” Her eyes flashed, daring him.

“No,” Luke admitted. It was mostly true. He didn’t care if the other women were laughing at him, for whatever reason. “Just keeping an ear out for whatever secrets Leia might be spreading around.”

“She would never, and you know it,” Mara chided. Her sarcastic veneer cracked open slightly. “Honestly, none of it was mean-spirited. Think of it as doing your part in your sister’s opportunity to get out and have some fun.”

“And did you have fun?” The question was out of his mouth before he could re-think it.

The small smile that jumped to her lips and the amusement that escaped her shields was all the answer he needed.

“We chatting or sparring?” she challenged, stepping closer again and raising her saber.

“How about you take that hangover out on a remote instead?” He grinned to himself as he turned to his bag and fished out the white globe. He’d have to thank Leia for making Mara feel included.

He launched the remote in the air, where it spun and hissed.

“Trained with these before?” Luke advised. “Try deflecting the shots.”

Mara eyed the remote. “Seems to me that destroying the shooter prevents it from ever shooting again.” She argued.

“The goal of this exercise is not to prevent the target from shooting. It’s to avert blaster bolts using a lightsaber. Pretend the shots are questions you don’t want to answer. The lightsaber move is your clever deflection.”

She snorted but raised her lightsaber to a defensive position.

“Go ahead, say it,” Luke dared her.

“What?” she growled, pivoting as the remote hissed and darted to another position. It fired, hitting her shoulder just as she swung, too late.

“Deflection over destruction is weak,” Luke suggested, the slightest reproval leaking into his tone. “You still believe that.” He wasn’t asking.

“Because I was taught the best defense is a good offense. And it kept me from leaving enemies at my back to kill me,” she growled. The target dropped low and fired again. She dodged but caught a glancing bolt to the back of her knee. She bit down on a grunt.

“Yes, it does do that. And sometimes people who look and sound like your enemies are more innocent than you’d think.”

He watched her struggle, wondering how to help, how to describe actions that now came to him instinctively. He could repeat what Ben had said to him the first time Luke trained with a remote. Act on instinct. Stretch out with your feelings.

But Luke was not Ben. Nor Yoda. Some of Master Yoda’s last words instructed him to pass on what he had learned. But Yoda had never shown him how to coach a student. And even if he had, as far as students went, Mara was not Luke.

“You’re a dancer,” he recalled. “Think about your feet. Allow them to be guided.”

“Dancing is not just about moving your feet!” she retorted, her voice dripping with scorn and frustration.

Luke frowned, searching for another metaphor.

But a curious part of Mara complied, just to test these ridiculous words. Prove them wrong. She moved her feet to the default first position of her favorite dancing form. Then instinctively placed one behind the other and spun. Her saber caught a bolt. She sank into an improvised dance with the target as it increased speed and frequency, deflecting shot after shot.

Luke grinned as he watched her move through the remote’s sequence. With it’s last burst of shots, it dropped quietly to the floor, humming.

She smiled back at him. But she could see where this was going. “Well don’t get all excited. Once this mission is over—” she stopped.

He let the words hang in the air. “You’ll be on your way?” He guessed. His excitement turned to frustration as he thought of again disappointing Master Yoda in passing on what he had learned. He’d done all he could think of to fuel her curiosity. But it was not enough. Again. “So you’re just gonna keep running from him? Even after he’s dead? Keep letting him control you?”

Mara froze in place. “What did you say?” She asked softly. So softly.

He felt her anger. But it didn’t seem to matter what he did or said. She’d be angry anyway. And she would run away. “He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re smart, you’re strong, there’s so much you could do. You could make a difference here. And you still don’t get that? You’d really rather hide in the Outer Rim fixing ships? Why? What are you afraid of?”

“Look, even if I did have that potential, I couldn’t study with you. I can’t—” She stopped. She swallowed hard. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper. “I can’t call anyone master again.” She cleared her throat and spoke in a determined tone. “I won’t. So don’t bother with the guilt trip. You need students who will trust you. I won’t trust like that again. And that is what you still don’t get.”

Sure, why trust someone who’s saved your life, he thought darkly. If she didn’t trust him by now, she wasn’t going to. He’d done all he could. Not that she seemed particularly appreciative, or even aware. There were too many things he couldn’t do for her; she would have to decide for herself. He put the target away in his bag and closed it.

“Sounds like he’s won then.” Luke said dispiritedly. He walked away without looking back.

Mara carefully extinguished her lightsaber so she wouldn’t take out her frustrations on the nearest innocent inanimate objects. She spied a punching wall on the far side of the gym space they had been using. She knew she should have her hands wrapped or gloved, but she didn’t particularly care.

As she approached the spongy surface, a maelstrom of emotions rolled over her, washing away the brief satisfaction of learning the new skill. The first she noticed was a tiny bit of gleeful satisfaction. She’d finally made him mad at her. She’d broken that sunny optimistic attitude to expose the molten frustration bubbling beneath. She smacked the wall surface with a closed fist, testing it. It gave way, taking the momentum but giving just enough resistance to be satisfying.

Next she felt one of the oldest feelings she had ever been aware of — disappointing someone who expected more of her. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He might as well see what attempting to train her would be like: full of letdowns and lectures. She pivoted on one leg and let the other fly out to kick the pliant wall.

Closely following was the inevitability of vindication. Now he sees there's more brokenness than he knew. More than he can fix. She struck up and out with the heel of her palm, driving as far into the surface as possible. 

So you’re just going to keep running? What are you afraid of? Doubt and indecision washed through familiar tracks in her psyche. Picking up speed, she spun and ducked and kicked and punched and slapped til she slumped to the floor in exhaustion.

When all was said and done, she knew she would follow through on this mission to capture the slavers, as would he. Afterward, they would part ways. And how he felt about that, in the end, was Luke Skywalker’s problem.

Chapter Text

“Did you really ask Mara if she was there to rescue you while she was doing recon at Jabba’s?” Leia’s head tilted to the side.

“I was chained to a wall and heard someone outside. What else was I going to say?” Luke said with a sad smile, thinking of the way she had looked at him the last time he’d seen her.

“I just couldn’t believe it was almost the same thing you said to me. There are other ways to say hello,” Leia laughed.

“Maybe for politicians,” he returned. “I’m just a hick.”

“Ha! Even you need some game when you’re trying to make a good impression on a smart, pretty woman.”

He grunted. “I wouldn’t know. I heard you had fun.”

Leia asked. “I did — I hope she did, too. But there was a lot of liquor. Mirax was a maniac. Hopefully, we didn’t scare her off completely.”

“She didn’t say too much. I imagine it was different for her. I think most of her life has been very solitary.” And will stay that way, apparently, he thought sardonically.

"Yeah, well that won’t last for long around here, will it? Not if you or Mirax have anything to do with it. " Leia smiled encouragingly.

“She’s not going to stick around to find out. After this next mission, she’s leaving. She told me earlier. So you didn’t have to worry about scaring her off. She’ll run regardless.” Luke shook his head.

That feeling was familiar to her. “I’m sorry, Luke. Han left so many times in those first years of the Rebellion and I was sure it was for good each time.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he sighed. “I can’t keep making up new missions to keep her around. I’ll lose focus on what I need to do if I’m spending all my energy trying to make her feel safe.” He gazed out the viewport. “I suppose attachment was forbidden for a reason. It gets in the way and interferes with priorities.”

“And yet, here we are. 'Cause at least one Jedi had children.” She rarely made reference to their father. They didn’t talk about him, by mutual unspoken agreement. “I mean, I hope he was attached to our mother. Don’t you?”

“Of course!” Luke interjected. But then look what happened to him, he wanted to add.

Leia shrugged exaggeratedly. “Well, you can keep that attachment rule if you want. I won’t be able to train with you, either, in that case, but….” She trailed off.

“Why not?” Luke demanded.

“Because I’m not giving up my attachments. After all those times Han ran away and came back, I learned what my own priorities are.” She smiled.

“That’s fine! I mean — there’d be exceptions, of course.” Luke resisted.

“Oh?” She smiled at him. “An exception for me, but not for you? It’s OK that my priorities could get messed up, but not yours?”

Her sense turned introspective. “Look, I get it. I thought I had to make the Rebellion my first priority. I thought doing that meant I couldn’t be with Han or even think about being with Han because the whole Rebellion would come crashing down if I weren’t single-handedly holding it up as my first priority.” Her gaze strayed to the generous viewport of the city lights.

A beat later, she looked back at Luke. “If I’d kept going that way, living like a nun dedicated solely to this cause, can you imagine what my life would be like now?”

Luke blinked. The thought of Leia without Han was hard to conceive. If she’d continued to push him away and insisted she wouldn’t get into a relationship with him, who would she be? Would Han still be with them?

As if on cue, the doors to the living space slid open and Han entered. “Oh man, what a run. We ran into these Zeltrons—hey, kid!” A familiar lopsided smile spread across his face.

Luke looked relieved to see him as if the universe had been restored to its rightful state. Ever since Endor, Han’s commitment to Leia had been clear. These days he still spent plenty of time away on missions or trips of one kind or another, but no one doubted anymore that he would return. Luke wondered, if he were willing to get attached, would it take Mara as long as Han to make a similar commitment?

“Hey, Han. I was just about to tell Leia we got good intel from Talon Karrde. But the strike team we took to Varonat won’t be enough to attack their base. We’re gonna need more support.”

“Well you know I’m in, right? With Chewie and the Falcon again.”

“He means he wants troops.” Leia put in. “And I’m not sure I can swing that.” Leia grimaced. To her dismay, the newly hatched government was determined to crack down on the military that called much of the shots during the war. Though Luke was clear he had left the military to be a Jedi, many still saw him as a soldier.

“I want whatever I can get without making trouble.” Luke shrugged.

“Since when have you cared about making trouble?” Leia laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. Ask around — you’ve got lots of connections. There’s bound to be more out there who would love to have a clear-cut mission to go get some slavers.”

Luke nodded and got to his feet. “It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He knew when they wanted to be alone.

They smiled at him. As he neared the door, they reached for each other, embracing tightly.

As he stepped into the corridor, Luke pushed thoughts and feelings about Mara firmly aside, and considered Leia’s advice. He decided to find his friend Wedge Antilles.

“Rogue Leader?”

Wedge Antilles closed his eyes briefly at the interruption. He was sitting at a conference table, writing a report. It was his least favorite of his duties. And the more interruptions he got, the longer his suffering would last.

He looked up at the intruder. He broke into a grin. How had he not recognized Luke’s voice? Probably because it wasn’t crackling through the com in his flight helmet.

“Boss!” Wedge cried. “Please come in. Sit. Tell me a long, long story so I can forget all about this report.”

Luke chuckled. “I don’t miss those at all. Why don’t we take a walk and get some air?”

Wedge gladly packed away his datapad and joined his friend for a walk to the hangar. “I’ve been wanting to tell you about this new unit I’ve put together. Pilots in the air, commandos on the ground.”

“Sounds like the Rogues to me,” Luke noted.

“Well, sure, the Rogues can do anything,” Wedge nodded humbly. “But most squadrons are focused purely on the flying. Which is what we needed during the war—a separation of duties. But now we’re getting more and more situations where we need to use the people we’ve already got to do different things. Fly in, land, accomplish the mission, fly out. Fighting all the way in and out, if necessary. The Rogues can do it because we’re already screening for the best. This new squadron has a breadth of skills and doesn’t eat, sleep, and dream of flying all the time.”

“I remember when you weren’t sure you wanted to lead one squadron and now you’ve gone and started another,” Luke grinned at Wedge.

“As long as I don’t have to sit at a desk more than I get to sit in a fighter,” Wedge returned. “How long has it been since you’ve been in your X-Wing? I can get you a rotation on patrol if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that sometime, but not right now. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m planning an unofficial mission that may just be perfect for breaking in that new squadron you’re talking about.”

“We got the Rogues!” Luke crowed, lifting his drink. He looked around the booth, pushing goodwill into the Force. Particularly in Mara’s direction.

Mara, Han, and Wedge lifted their glasses to match. “Glad to be aboard, boss,” Wedge nodded curtly.

Boss, Mara noted sardonically. Please.

“Some people,” Skywalker replied aloud, “refuse to call me Luke.” He locked eyes with her, challenging her with a grin. Her shields had gotten lax, she realized with a start.

“I wonder why, Skywalker,” she replied smoothly. As she had predicted, they were both still determined to see this mission through. And then they could forget all about each other.

“This is Mara,” Luke said to Wedge. “She fought these guys with Mirax and Iella on Varonat.”

“Honor to meet you, ma’am,” Wedge smiled with military courtesy. “I hear you’re a great shot to have covering one’s back.”

Mara nodded curtly, thinking how long ago it now seemed that Iella had dragged her onto the Pulsar Skate to return to Coruscant.

Antilles' manner softened. “And thank you, too. Mirax and Iella are friends of mine, and from what I hear, you didn’t have to get involved.”

Embarrassed, Mara explained, “That was more about the Devaronian who was shooting at them. I saw him drag a little Twi’lek girl escapee back into the ship earlier that day. I wanted to see him suffer.” Her green eyes glittered darkly in the dim light. Her gaze wandered to Skywalker, wondering what he thought of this decidedly un-Jedi-like sentiment.

To her dismay, she recalled something else he had said. You can make a difference here.

“We’ll get them,” he said simply, confidently.

And lock them up and bring them to trial, Mara thought cynically, behind her shields. Skywalker’s soft spot for leaving beings alive who didn’t deserve it, in her opinion, still made no sense to her. Because they could be more innocent than you’d think, he’d said? How could slavers possibly deserve such mercy? It was just one more thing she would never understand about him. And vice versa.

They turned to planning the strategy for their attack on the base. Probes had been sent to the location Karrde had described to them. It gave them the details they needed for layout and rudimentary data on their numbers. They brainstormed and debated and worked out a tactical plan.

“OK, that’s good for today. Think about where our weaknesses might be and we’ll meet again in two rotations.” Wedge edged out of the booth, overdue for another boring command meeting. Han was eager to pick up newly arrived parts for the Falcon. As Mara stood, she heard Skywalker inside her head.

Can you stay for a minute? He asked privately. She stopped. She wanted to move on from his accusations that she allowed the Emperor to control her from the grave. She hoped it was about the mission instead. She slowed her movements, waiting for Solo and Antilles to take their leaves. She sat back down.

“Thanks.” He smiled. “I owe you an apology.”

“It’s fine.” She interrupted. “You’re human after all. It’s good to know.” She waited a quick beat, ready to leave.

“No, it’s not fine.” He dismissed her immediate response. “It’s none of my business where you go and what you do next. I was frustrated and lashing out at you. I didn’t mean it.”

Mara tested that last statement in her mind, feeling for the truth of it. He likely hadn’t meant to upset her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe what he said.

“You could have let me have it and you didn’t. I would have deserved it.” He observed.

“Yeah, I thought of the best comebacks later,” she shrugged.

He laughed. He waited to see if she wanted to hurl any of her delayed responses at him. But she clearly wasn’t angry or resentful. He reached to the Force for guidance on his next words.

“I can’t imagine asking students to call me ‘master’. Maybe someday — I don’t know. I didn’t get that much time to train myself.” His gaze changed as his perspective shifted inward. He wished, as he had many times before, that he’d had more time with Yoda. But that was pointless.

She frowned. “What would your students call you then?” A mischeivous smile rose on her lips. “‘Boss’, maybe?”

“Luke, maybe?” he replied in exasperation. “What would you want students to call you?”

“Mistress?” She snarked.

He laughed in surprise.

“Anyway, the offer stands, of course, but no more pressure. I did mean it when I said that you’re smart and you’re strong. I’m sure you’ll find something meaningful to do. I mean, it is pretty hard to beat that feeling when you bring a dead engine purring back to life.”

Mara thought back to the breakfast diner on Tatooine where he had apologized for accusing her of being complicit in the death of his family. Once again, his apology had gone way above and beyond given the impact his angry words had had on her. Some day, some partner was going to love that about him, she smirked to herself.

“It is a hard feeling to beat,” she agreed. “Apology accepted. We good?” Mara fought the urge to turn to leave again. Skywalker might want to make further amends.

Luke wondered at the way she waved away his words as if she hadn’t been hurt in the first place. Did she deny it to herself, or just everyone else? He’d probably never know.

“Sure. Thanks.” He gathered his things and followed her out the door.

Leia smiled tiredly at Luke as she passed through his front door and headed straight to his kitchen. She opened the cabinet where she knew she would find caf, and dropped it in the brewer.

“I could have come to you,” he pointed out. He usually did, since she was so busy.

“I’m hiding,” she explained. “I needed a break.”

“No problem,” he grinned. “They’ll have to get through me if they want you back, how’s that?”

She smiled in appreciation. “Plus I came to tell you that the urgency of your unofficial rescue mission has stepped up. Isard’s niece is missing. There are indicators the girl was taken by the slavers you’re chasing.”

“Isard’s niece?” Luke echoed. “So—we could run into Isard’s people looking for her?”

“Only if their intelligence is as good as ours. Thanks to you, we have a jump on them. We think they scooped her up not knowing who she was, and when they found out, they decided to ransom her back. But there’s a complication.”

“When isn’t there?” Luke sighed and scrubbed the back of his head with his artificial hand.

“The slavers are claiming they’re with the Alliance. So we want to get her away from them and get her back to her family—”

“—to prove it wasn’t us in the first place,” Luke finished.

“Exactly. But you’re right, Isard might have her own rescue team on its way.”

“So — get Isard’s niece back, take down the slavers, watch out for an Imperial rescue team, return her safely, and make sure everybody knows we are not the ones who kidnapped her in the first place.”

“Right up your alley, isn’t it?” Leia grinned at him. “Don’t worry about what everybody knows. You rescue her, I’ll take care of the politics. I may not be able to run around the galaxy with you the way we used to, but that will be my contribution to the team.”

“Without your contribution, the things we do ‘running around the galaxy’ wouldn’t matter.”

Luke’s door chimed. The doors slid open to reveal Han, who smiled triumphantly as his eyes landed on Leia. “I knew it! They’re looking for you, sweetheart. They’re driving me crazy.”

“Well, come on in and hide with us, then! I made fresh caf. And I have news about your next adventure.”

Luke stood at the front of the briefing room while the team gathered, some one-by-one, others in pairs or small groups. They filed in and took seats, looking around to see who else was there. A frisson of excitement surrounded the mission that included former generals Skywalker and Solo, the Wookie Chewbacca, the Millenium Falcon, the first non-training mission for the Wraiths, and a couple of civilians. One was rumored to be the daughter of Booster Terrik. The other was a mystery.

Mara stood at the back of the room where she could surveil everyone. Mirax joined her. “We’re letting the boys do all the talking?” Mirax queried.

“It’s their plan,” Mara shrugged. That was not entirely true, as she had been included in all the significant planning sessions. She had been trained to stand back, blend in, and look decorative. Presenting a briefing was not something she was eager to do.

Just as Luke was starting the briefing, a late pilot slipped into the back room and took up a position next to Mara and Mirax along the back wall. He looked familiar to Mara and a part of her froze as her fear of being recognized automatically whispered that she may not be safe. She took a deep calming breath and returned her attention to Skywalker. She stood in a room full of Rebels and the one in charge knew her history. Or as much as she was willing to reveal. So far she’d been much safer than she ever would have imagined while surrounded by Rebels. Even as she slowly told her story. It was…surprising.

“I’m Luke,” Skywalker started. A wave of amusement swept through the pilots — as if any of them didn’t know exactly who he was. “I’ll be mission commander for this mission. And for the duration of this mission, my call sign will be Rogue Thirteen.” A cheer erupted from half the pilots as the Rogues voiced their approval.

“You should all know this already, but before we go any further, I want to make it clear this is a strictly voluntary mission. It’s also not official, it’s not even military. Ha—Captain Solo and I have both resigned our commissions. Anyone who wants to leave now is welcome to, without any judgment or consequence. Anyone who stays has to understand the risk they are taking and that there is no official sponsoring organization. Furthermore, there may be some blowback from our own people as a result. I’ll do my best to take on all the responsibility but, contrary to what you may have heard, some circumstances remain beyond my control.”

Skywalker waited, letting the impact of his words soak in. He stepped back for a moment to confer with Solo. Mara suspected that was just for show to give anyone a chance to exit quietly. He was earnest about not wanting the pilots to feel pressured to join up. Always so earnest.

From the corner of her eye, Mara saw Mirax looking at the pilot who stood with them. Mirax frowned as if she was trying to place him as well.

Skywalker switched on a holoprojector, which flickered to life to display one of the Twi’lek boys they had rescued.

“This is why we are doing this.” The holo dissolved to another one of the younglings they had freed in the Millenium Falcon. And another. “These kids were taken by slavers. We managed to get these ones out. Now we’re striking at their base.”

Big Eyes stared at Mara from the hologram, mute and pleading, as she had been before warming to her rescue team. Her hologram dissipated and reformed to a human child Mara had not yet seen.

“And this is Ysanne Isard’s niece, Gora. We believe she may be held where we’re going. Our primary mission objective is to bring her back safely, along with any other prisioners. The slavers are claiming they are from the New Republic, and took Gora for ransom from what’s left of the Empire. We’re going to get her back to show it wasn’t us in the first place.”

A murmur ran through the pilots at this development.

“We’re rescuing a kid — for Old Iceheart?” A pilot queried in dismay.

“Gora is an innocent child,” Luke said firmly. “We don’t know what condition we’ll find her in. Or if we’ll find her at all. But we treat her as another victim of this slime. We hope to find her, bring her back here, and let the politicians handle the rest.”

From there, Skywalker proceeded to describe the mission logistics.

“We’re headed to Togaminda. We find Gora and any other younglings they may have there, and capture the slavers to bring them back for questioning. Captain Solo and Chewbacca will take the Millenium Falcon, General Antilles is Rogue Leader, Lieutenant Janson is Wraith Leader, and I’ll be on the Pulsar Skate with Captain Mirax Terrik—” Luke realized he’d forgotten to ask Mara if she would be using an alias.

Mara could sense the question. It’s fine—no alias necessary, she telegraphed to him.

“Along with Mara Jade,” Luke finished smoothly, indicating the two in the back.

Curious heads twisted around to see the civilians. The faces some of them made showed they recognized the name Terrik.

As the hologram faded and Luke stepped back from where he’d been speaking, Mirax nudged the pilot standing next to her. “You look familiar. Remind me.”

He smiled warmly but Mara felt a weariness in his sense. “I was in holodramas as a child. Maybe you saw one of them.”

“That’s it! You’re Face Loran! Win or Die, right? Man, how could you spout that Imperial recruitment garbage without puking?!” Mirax marveled.

“I was a kid,” he shrugged. “I didn’t know any better.”

That was it. Mara had been forced to watch the propaganda holofilms repeatedly in her teen years, particularly when she was found to have “an attitude.” Loran was held up as an example for her to follow. Or, she corrected herself, the characters he played were held up as an example for her to follow.

A handsome, swaggering human wearing the Rogue insignia approached Mara. “I hear we have you to thank for all this,” he said with a warm smile. “Corran Horn, at your service.”

Mara shook his hand politely while Mirax leaned into him.

“Oh, she’s heard all about you. I told her to avoid pilots and here we are, surrounded by them.”

Corran laughed. “I’m sure you’re much too smart to fall for anyone,” he swept an arm to the room behind him, “else here.”

Mirax rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s funny.” She latched firmly onto his arm. “But if you’ll excuse us, we have some catching up to do.” The two turned and stepped away, ignoring all other attempts to get their attention.

Mara leaned back against the wall as the room drained of pilots, their adrenaline flowing at the inspiration Skywalker exuded.

“The Rebellion didn’t have to make recruitment holofilms,” the pilot next to her chuckled with a shake of his head. “They had him.”

Skywalker, Antilles, Janson, Solo, and Chewie conferred in the corner.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Mara asked Face suddenly. “Wasn’t it all over the holonews that Face Loran was kidnapped by Rebels and murdered?”

“Yeah, I was the same age as some of them,” his chin came up to indicate where the holo had displayed. “When a bunch of Rebels came for me and showed me how messed up the Empire was. How they were using me. So I decided to fake my death and they agreed to be blamed for my murder to protect me. Now it’s my turn to free these kids. Maybe someday they’ll join up. Go free someone else. Maybe it will make up for some of the kids I recruited into the Empire.”

The last remaining pilot walked up to them. He was human with a cybernetic implant covering one side of his face, equipped with a red mechanical eye. Still, his expression seemed natural and easy. He snorted at Face’s last comment. “Give yourself a break, Face.” He smiled warmly at Mara. “The pathological guilt with this one, I tell ya.”

The former actor scoffed. “This one,” he told Mara, jamming a thumb in the newcomer’s direction, “is a doctor.”

The doctor smiled at Mara. “Ton Phanan at your service, ma’am. I’m the guy to see if you need bacta, or bandages, or—” his grin widened. “You know, whatever else.”

“—so if I’m mortally wounded in this mission, remind him to save me. Otherwise, he might decide he wants our quarters to himself.” The two wandered off, riffing and laughing. Mara watched them go, mulling over the former actor’s words.

“Everything OK?” Skywalker’s question startled her from her reverie. They were the only two left in the room.

“That guy was kidnapped and supposedly murdered. He sees it as a liberation and a chance to fake his death. And this mission as a chance to repay the debt. Atone for his sins.” She shook her head. “Are all your ex-Imperials like that?”

Luke felt a combination of guilt, dismay, and confusion roiling around her. “You don’t owe anyone anything,” he said softly. “And no, not all are like that. Everyone has to choose their own path.”

She watched him carefully. It was the perfect opportunity to guilt her again, or at least repeat the invitation to train with him. Maybe, just maybe, he was serious about that no pressure line she’d assumed was bantha shavit. She found herself smiling back at him.

She opened her mouth to say Well, see you later, then but heard herself say, “Winter and Iella both canceled on our regular hand-to-hand sparring. Want to stand in?”

Skywalker’s grin answered the question.

To ease her dismay, Mara pictured herself smacking the smile off his face.

Chapter Text

“You’re pulling your punches.” Mara accused Skywalker as her uppercut connected just past his jawline with enough momentum to knock him backward.

“Yeah, you should try it sometime.” His blue eyes glared for a brief moment as he landed a hook on her unprotected shoulder.

She snorted. As her shoulder took the impact, she allowed it to spin her around, kicking her other leg out at his solar plexus. She heard the rush of air leave his lungs.

“That reminds me — you kept that shooter on Varonat from hitting me by deflecting their blaster bolts. You could have just taken their head off.” Mara pointed out.

Skywalker kept his balance despite her kick. He gasped to regain the oxygen knocked from him. She watched, holding her reluctant respect behind tight shields.

His breathing recovered its usual rhythm. “At the time, our objective was to let them go, so we could track them,” Luke reminded her. His voice was soft but regaining strength.

“That ship only requires one pilot. We left extra beings around that could come back to kill us. Not to mention we never got any tracking data.” She objected. She danced from foot to foot, judging her next strike.

Luke took advantage of her movement to hook her ankle with his foot, pulling on it just as her weight shifted. As she angled forward, he countered against her shoulder, knocking her back. She grunted in surprise as she hit the mat.

“Yes, we spared a life,” he nodded. “I don’t take more than I have to.”

She raised her eyebrows at him wordlessly as she sat up, recovering.

“Well, I try not to,” he amended.

“Didn’t you tell me you were taught some ridiculousness like ‘There is no try’?” she challenged, rising and brushing herself off.

Luke sighed. Is this what training with her would be like?

“Sorry,” she said, her eyes flashing in a way that communicated she was not at all sorry. “But this is who I am. Expressing doubt or being snarky could have gotten me killed before. I didn’t ask enough questions. So you don’t really want to train with someone like me, anyway.”

Luke very much doubted that but bit back all the entreaties that rose to mind. No pressure, he had said. “I think that’s enough bruises for me for one day. I’m going to get in a quick run, if you want to join.”

The next day, Mara followed Mirax up the ramp of the Pulsar Skate, followed by hovercrates.

“The first one can stay packed. The second one should supply the galley and the third the medbay. Or what serves as one, anyway.” Mirax frowned in concentration, visualizing where everything would fit.

Mara nodded and turned off to the galley with the second hovercrate.

“How much are you bringing?” Mirax followed her. “Have you gone back to your apartment yet?”

“Not yet,” Mara murmured dismissively. Her heart still melted a little when she remembered the show of sisterly support around the table when she divulged how difficult that would be. She had no intention of taking any of them up on it, of course. There had been way too much alcohol involved to take it seriously.

“Well we are going to go after we get back, then,” Mirax admonished her. “Whether you like it or not. You may not believe this, but I can get pushy.”

Mara snorted. She pushed the lid off the hovercrate and inspected the contents.

“Is there hot chocolate in here?” She peered in.

“Of course! You told me it was like a sedative last time. We have enough to last for a whole gang of younglings for three round trips! It will be plenty. Trust me.”

Seeing that Mara continued to look through the crate, Mirax grunted and joined her. Mirax pushed aside various snacks, delicacies, and beverages, uncovering the bottom layer of hot chocolate packets.

“There you go! Plenty! Now when it comes to treats for adults, I just remodeled the captain’s quarters to have enough space for a double bed. Let me know if you want to use it—I can make myself scarce.” Mirax offered in a generous tone.

Mara stopped, a bottle of wine in her hand, halfway to the galley shelf. “Use your … bed?” she asked in confusion.

“You’ll understand when you sit on it. It’s way more comfortable than the single bunks. And you never know….” She smiled slyly.

“I never know what?” Mara demanded suspiciously.

“Oh, c’mon, Luke’s cute,” Mirax shrugged. “I mean, I would if I weren’t monogamous with Corran.”

Mara’s eyes widened as she continued to transfer the contents of the crate into the galley storage. “He wouldn’t—no,” she sputtered. “That won’t be necessary, thanks.”

“I’ll bet he would. I mean, his call sign is Rogue Thirteen but he’s not flying an X-Wing? Or going with his buddies on the Falcon? There’s gotta be a reason he’s coming with us. Not to mention why he cooked up this whole mission in the first place.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Mara protested. “He wants me to sign up to train with him. He’s annoyingly persistent.”

“Uh-huh, sure—whatever you say. What about you? Do you prefer women? Like I said, I’m exclusive with Corran. But there’s that Wraith pilot—” Mirax stopped when she saw the look on Mara’s face. “No? Twi’leks? Furries?”

“None of the above!” Mara’s choked out. “That’s just not a priority right now.”

Mirax placed the last of the ration bars in a drawer and slid it shut.

“OK. Fine. After we get back, first, we go scavenging in your old apartment. Second, we find you a date.”

They’d moved to the small medical space, where Mara unloaded supplies and handed them to Mirax for storing.

Mara suppressed an objection. Mirax would forget it all by the time they returned. So why had the whole conversation thrown her so off-balance? That was disturbing in itself. A few years ago she wouldn’t have batted an eye as she lied her way through such suggestions. What was being around these Rebels doing to her?

Over the next rotation, Mara’s mind frequently returned to Mirax’s suggestions. Consternation rose and swirled and was slow to settle again. She was no prude. When she felt the need, she carefully selected a partner that would remain temporary and unattached. None had ever discovered her true identity.

She did have to admit it had been a long time. She’d focused on hiding from the Emperor, simply surviving. And then she had talked to Skywalker, and everything had turned upside down. Not that that had anything to do with her love life. She sighed in frustration. She’d come up with some story to get Mirax’s nose out of her business.

“Hyperspace in 3…2…1,” Mirax counted down, and eased down the levers. The pinpricks of light outside the cockpit lengthened, seemed to spin, and the ship leaped into the hyperspace lane.

“And we’re on our way!” Mirax announced triumphantly. “Kinda nice to take a trip where I’m not running the numbers and thinking about cargo.”

“Those kids will give you plenty to think about on the way back,” Mara chortled.

“That’s my co-pilot’s problem,” Mirax swung her chair to face Skywalker, grinning. “He’s in charge of that.” If Mirax hadn’t already proclaimed her disinterest in anyone but Corran Horn, Mara would have suspected that smile was meant to be flirtatious. If Skywalker thought so, it didn’t show on his face. Or his sense.

“OK, I’m going to get some rack time,” Mirax stood and stretched. “Need to catch up on my sleep.” She slipped past Mara’s seat and disappeared out the door.

Skywalker gazed out of the viewport.

“Ready for this?” Mara asked crisply.

It tripped a memory for Luke. I’m ready for anything, he had proclaimed when Ben had taken him to the cantina where he’d met Han and Chewie for the first time. He hadn’t been ready, of course. Not ready to lose Ben and Biggs in a matter of days. Not ready to plunge headlong into a war where he would lose more friends than he’d made in a lifetime on Tatooine. Not ready to train for an extinct order. Not ready to learn the truth about his father or sister. Not ready.

Now, though, he’d learned to take time, even if it was brief, to consider a situation. To reach for the Force and feel for the truth. He was confident their team was highly skilled and would adapt to whatever situation they found at the other end. He was confident they were acting on good intel and that innocent younglings needed their help. He couldn’t be confident that they would all survive the mission. He knew better than that now. He had reduced the risk all he could while acting quickly enough to catch the slavers before they moved on. While he risked his own life regularly, he was no longer as reckless with the lives of others.

Mara bent into his peripheral vision. “Everything OK?”

“Yes—sorry. Just thinking.”

“I assumed,” she snarked. “Care to share?”

“I was just thinking I’m as ready as I can be without giving the slavers time to escape. Yoda always told me I was reckless. But I’ve lost enough friends and soldiers-in-arms to be less so, at least with their lives at stake.”

“You wouldn’t talk about Yoda the first time I asked you who taught you besides Kenobi.” Mara wondered what had changed before he’d first mentioned the master he discussed freely now.

“Yeah.” He looked back at her. “I trained with him for awhile before—Bespin. I went back to him after we got Han from Jabba, but he died right after one last conversation.” A shadow of guilt fell over his features.

Mara shifted to the pilot’s seat and rotated it to face him. “Could you have stopped him from dying by getting there any earlier?”

“No, no, of course not. But he hadn’t wanted me to leave—and he was right.” Unconsciously he flexed his prosthetic hand. “I charged off—recklessly, of course—to ‘rescue’ Han and Leia. But I didn’t do them any good in the end. Leia had to rescue me. And Han was already frozen in carbonite.” Memories washed over him. Frustration, pain, shock.

To Mara, it had seemed a simple trick of Vader’s at the time—capture Solo and Organa to lure Skywalker out. It was effective. Vader and Palpatine knew what buttons to push.

“Don’t blame yourself. They were very good at manipulating people and situations to their will. If you hadn’t taken that bait, they would have just put more and more beings you cared about in danger until you couldn’t resist. It’s not as if they were going to give up on recruiting you.” That wasn’t compassion, Mara reasoned to herself. It was truth.

“I might have been stronger by then, though,” he responded. “Yeah, I suppose it would have been worse if they’d kept setting traps with bigger bait and hurting more beings to get to me.” He hadn’t ever considered how his father might have responded if he had not come running. He didn’t often dwell on what-ifs. But something in her analysis surprised him. He rewound her words in his head. “Wait — you knew they wanted to recruit me?”

Mara nodded with a shrug. “Sure. The Emperor saw you as a young, strong replacement for Vader. And he assumed Vader would want you for an apprentice so the two of you could kill him.”

Luke realized he was not going to get a better opportunity. He had been dreading this moment, assuming she would recoil and reject any thought of sticking around. Still, the time had come.

“Did you know—do you know who my father was?” He scrutinized her sense.

Mara swallowed. She’d known this moment would come. She’d dreaded it, assuming he would reject her outright when he learned the truth. She searched his eyes.

“The Emperor told you,” he concluded at her silence.

She was deeply tempted to let him believe that. It was an easy explanation. Still, it was time for truth.

She shook her head. She searched for words that could justify her actions. To make him understand.

“That wasn’t my first trip on the Millenium Falcon,” she whispered.

Luke frowned. Questions flooded his mind. He opened his mouth. Then stopped. His impulsiveness was not effective with her. He was learning what Yoda could not teach him: patience. He waited for her to explain.

“I tracked you to Bespin,” she started. She couldn’t hold his steady gaze. She looked out the viewport.

With a deep breath, she continued. “I was planting a homing beacon on the Falcon when I heard the ramp release and Organa and friends came charging in. I hid in one of the extra compartments Solo had installed and waited to be caught and executed. We blasted off, and I felt the ship turn around and then you were on board. I couldn’t believe my luck. I figured I’d get caught but maybe I could still accomplish my mission first.” She took a breath, risking a glance back at him.

He waited.

“When the ship got quiet, I took my chance to look around. You were in the medbay. You were dreaming and whispering.” She swallowed.

He gave the slightest of nods, encouraging her to go on. His eyes showed only curiosity.

“I watched and listened. Eventually, I could make out one word you were whispering—‘Father.’ And I realized you had fought Vader and lost your hand. And you thought he was your father. I was so shocked I couldn’t go through with it. I told myself it was because I wanted it to be a fair fight. I wanted you on your feet and looking me in the eye when you realized that choosing the Jedi was a mistake. That you had been the weak one. I wanted you to admit you were wrong. I told myself if I survived, I’d come back for you after you recovered.”

“I thought I’d dreamt someone was there with me,” he whispered. “Not talking, just…witnessing.”

“And crying,” she added ruefully.

“You weren’t the only one.” That was what he remembered. Someone was crying with him as he thrashed in pain and desperation, trying to ward off a truth that refused be denied. Ever since the day she’d shown up at Jabba’s, he’d felt something familiar about her. Something always just out of reach of his memory. Now he knew. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been her.

“I stayed there — it seemed like forever. And then I heard a noise and ran back to the compartment. I was still sure you’d find me. But somehow, we docked, and I waited, and you all left. I managed to get out and steal a uniform and leave undercover.” The breath she’d been holding slowly evaporated from her lungs. She’d said it.

Luke shook his head. “We were so distracted with my hand. And Han being frozen and—” He sighed. Shock rolled over him in waves. Of all the secrets he’d imagined she was keeping, he’d never come close to this. “We’re lucky you didn’t decide to do as much damage as possible while you were there. Did you go back and tell the Empire where we were?”

“I couldn’t go back. I’d failed. I knew the Emperor would eventually get it out of me that I got that close to you and didn’t go through with it. And would execute me for cowardice. So I decided to try again so I could return in triumph. I tracked Solo to Fett to Jabba, and got in there as a dancer. I knew you’d show up sooner or later.”

“And you came to talk to me.” The corners of his lips twitched upwards at the memory.

“I did not come to talk to you. I came to do recon on you and the cell you were in. To make sure you were still there and see how secure the locks were. I should have left as soon as you woke up.” She shook her head.

“And you figured out the lightsaber might have been hidden in the droids. If you had gotten the lightsaber out of Artoo, I wouldn’t be here now.”

She waited.

“You’d have been successful in your mission, and gone back to the Emperor. In triumph. Just like you planned.”

“And the rest of the Rebels still would have shown up at Endor without their favorite heroes, and they’d be determined to avenge your tragic deaths,” Mara pointed out. “The Emperor would have died all the same. My glory for executing you would have been very short-lived.”

“Why did you leave Jabba’s?” Luke blurted. He knew he should not push his luck. The question had begged to be asked since he’d found her at Ben’s.

“You,” she sighed. “You weren’t who you were supposed to be. You were supposed to be weak. You were supposed to be spouting sermons about Jedi, preaching love and light while murdering everyone around you. But then you talked about minimizing collateral damage and joked about eating rancor brains and asked if you could help me from inside a dungeon cell because I sounded that pathetic. No—I did,” she interrupted herself as he started to protest.

She plowed on. “It was the same feeling I’d had on the Falcon. I had been told you were one thing. My senses told me you were something else entirely. I couldn’t help but wonder if you had been trained on propaganda about the Empire. Then you found out you were lied to. Trained, lied to, armed, and aimed at the enemy. And then I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been trained, lied to, armed, and aimed at the enemy.”

She grimaced. “Of course, it was a lot easier to see in your case than mine.” That trip to Bespin had triggered an existential crisis that drove her into hiding.

She met his eyes. “And vice versa, I imagine.”

He smiled gently. “Oh, of course,” he nodded. “Clearly, you were brainwashed. My teachers were just—” his smile faltered, unable to see the joke through—“bending the truth a bit.” His voice sounded more bitter in his ears than he intended.

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” he continued. “Too much. I don’t think they truly meant to use me. The most gracious explanation I can come up with is that they put off a difficult truth for so long that they couldn’t bring themselves to do it. They started off protecting me and ended up protecting themselves. They had their flaws like anyone else.” Luke sighed.

Mara shook her head. “And the worst explanation? That’s where I like to start. And stay.”

Luke chuckled. “I don’t like to dwell on that anymore. But sure, at first, I thought they told me whatever they had to so that I would do what they couldn’t — take out Vader and Palpatine, rid the galaxy of the Empire. I thought that they must not have cared about me at all if they could lie about my father. At worst, I thought it had all been lies, and there was no point in believing anything they said.”

“But you didn’t dwell there.” She shook her head, mystified. “I don’t know how you do it. How you can keep coming back to hope and optimism and seeing the good in people.”

“I saw the good in my father.”

She met his eyes, startled.

“Yeah, that’s how everybody reacts,” he acknowledged. “I could feel it. I could feel a goodness buried way, down deep that he denied. That he hid from the Emperor so completely he wasn’t even aware of it himself. So after we got Han, after our conversation at Ben’s, I went straight to Yoda to confront him. But I didn’t really get the satisfaction I was looking for. Yoda just confirmed that Vader was my father — which I could also feel, deep down. And with his dying breath, he told me there was another Skywalker.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if you had any teachers besides Kenobi. Because Yoda was still alive then,” Mara guessed.

Luke nodded. “He’d kept safely hidden for so long. I couldn’t take that risk for him.”

“And the other Skywalker was the twin sister you hadn’t been told about.” Mara continued to shake her head. The Jedi really did a number on you, she kept to herself.

“Right. Another thing both Ben and Yoda knew all along but didn’t tell me. I had to be the one to tell her on Endor. Before I went off to face my father. To try to get him back from the Emperor.”

“So while they were playing tug-of-war over you for a new apprentice, you were playing tug-of-war over Vader’s loyalties? As if Palpatine would have ever given either of you up. Someone was going to have to die.”

“I was hoping my father would come back with me, instead of taking me to the Emperor.” When he said it out loud, he could hear why it sounded ridiculous to everyone else. There were no words to express what he had felt that night. Confident of his father’s inability to kill him. Optimistic he could turn him, bring him back, build something together.

“Vader never could have done that. And that’s not about you — that’s about the Emperor, and how he convinced his followers we were helpless nothings that no one else would ever want around,” Mara explained.

“You think so?” Luke said softly. “He saved my life. The Emperor was killing me with that lightning and I was screaming and reaching for my father, and he did it. He killed the Emperor to save me. And sacrificed himself to do it.”

“So in that moment, for you, for his son, he wasn’t like Palpatine,” Mara mused. “You were right — there was something good in him.”

She could feel a response in his sense at the words “his son.”

“You still wish he could have returned with you somehow,” she guessed.

“I don’t dwell on it.” He smiled at the number of times he’d said it in the last few minutes. “But sure, sometimes I wonder ‘what if’. And sometimes I wonder if Ben and Yoda weren’t so well-intentioned. But I do believe their teachings about the Force. I believe Palpatine encouraged my father’s worst instincts until they overtook him. Enslaved him. I can’t let that happen to me. That’s not a weakness. It’s a strength. Not an easy one at that.”

Mara nodded. “I’m beginning to see that possibility.” Her smile was wry.

Skywalker’s eyebrows went up. “Like you see that you’re not a helpless nothing that no one would want around without the Emperor?”

She snorted. “Yeah, maybe. Sometimes.”

“I think it took incredible strength to walk away from him. To build a new life.” Luke told her.

Mara snorted again. “Your intelligence guy called it going AWOL. And cowardice.”

“He doesn’t know anything about you.” His tone was sharp.

“Neither do you,” Mara replied softly, sadly.

Luke’s head snapped up, his eyes boring into hers. “I know that you weren’t like Palpatine, either. Despite being raised to be exactly who he wanted you to be. You felt compassion when you saw my pain. Sheev Palpatine would have reveled in it. He would have laughed as he slit my throat while whispering in my ear that he’d won. He wouldn’t care if I’d been lied to or used or had every last limb chopped off. He’d just be glad to be rid of me. And then he’d find a way to use my death to his best advantage. After all that brainwa—I mean training and isolation and repetition, in the end, you weren’t like him.”

She scoffed. Her sense softened, offering him just enough encouragement to push farther.

“I know you were strong enough and brave enough to walk away from him—from a Sith Lord. I know you were smart enough to survive it. I know you were compassionate enough to walk away again at Jabba’s. And to fire on slavers in defense of younglings you’d never met. There is good in you, Mara Jade. I know that.”

Tears burned her eyes. “Have you ever met anyone you didn’t see any good in?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “You used to work for him.”

She half-laughed, half-sobbed. He grinned back at her.

Down the corridor, sounds of Mirax moving around the galley reached them. It broke the spell that had bubbled around the cockpit.

Mara blew out a deep sigh and blinked. Looking back at him, she tilted her head to indicate the cockpit’s exit. “Go ahead. You’re starving, aren’t you?”

He considered that as he, too, came back to their surroundings. A grin spread across his face. “How did you know?”

She smirked. “Direct observation. You’re always hungry.”

He stood. “You in? Mirax said you two stocked some great stuff. Something about never skimping on supplies for an important mission.”

Her eyes were closed, willing the tears back inside. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things. Bring me back a ration bar when you’re done.”

“Sure. And a smashfruit? I’ve observed you too, you know.”

A smile spread across her face under her closed eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

“Exiting hyperspace in 3…2…1…,” Mirax announced as the ship shifted and the local star system coalesced into view. Mirax checked sensors for the other ships at the rendezvous point. “First here! We won!” She laughed throatily.

“Did you have a side bet with Horn?” Mara asked suspiciously.

Mirax replied with a laugh and a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to know,” Mara shook her head. Behind her, Luke snorted.

Moments later, an X-wing flight appeared.

“So close, babe,” Mirax purred into the com on Corran’s private channel.

As the last word hung in the air, a memory leaped to Mara’s mind. Vamping in front of Fixer and Camie, having established they desperately needed to be put in their place. Mara’s eyes slid to Luke and found he was already looking at her, doing his best to smother his grin. He was remembering the same day. It had been a fun day. Right up to the attack by Tuskens that put them in the medcenter.

The Millenium Falcon winked into view. More X-wings streaked by as the pilots of the Wraith and Rogue squadrons arrived.

Luke reluctantly pulled himself back to the present. He checked the display, glancing up through the viewport for visual confirmation as each pilot reported in. This was his team, volunteers who were inspired by the simple desire to take down some slime. Mara had accused them of being smug Rebels. He allowed himself a brief moment to savor his pride and excitement. Then he let them go.

“All teams, this is Rogue Thirteen,” he addressed them over the comm. “Proceed to rendezvous point according to mission schedule.”

Mirax lay in the planned course, lazily looping around the nearest planet, angling toward the asteroid belt beyond. They were to be the last into the rendezvous. They would send probe droids to get up-to-date intel on their target and recover from the long flight out. Once the data came back from the probes, they’d make any plan adjustments and launch.

“I like doing the last sweep myself,” Luke confessed as they listened to each pilot report their safe landing.

“Sure,” Mara snarked. “Not to mention it allows you to make that dramatic entrance.”

Mirax guffawed.

Luke opened his mouth to protest. Then closed it again. Their laughter was good-natured. He had nothing to prove. In Mara’s orbit, he’d rather join in her mischief.

He shrugged with a smile. “Why not? They say I’m a hero. Might as well play the part.”

Mara hummed. “Right. And you hate that so much.”

A series of beeps and chirps reached them down the corridor. “Hold on, Artoo,” Luke called. “I’ll see what that’s about.” He ducked out the cockpit exit.

Mirax’s eyes slid to Mara as she waited for Luke to recede out of earshot.

“What?” Mara hissed.

“He is not just interested in your Force skills. Give me a break.”

Mara glanced down the passageway. Luke was striding back to the cockpit. She settled for rolling her eyes at Mirax. The other woman shook her head.

“Artoo’s tracking more seismic activity on that asteroid than we anticipated. It’s stable enough but we’re going to get shaken up a bit,” Luke summarized.

“Fabulous,” Mara acknowledged.

“Aw, c’mon,” he teased. “This is where the fun begins.”

An hour later, the Skate was docked. Tremors rocked the ship at a frequency Mara found alarming initially. As the astromech predicted, the asteroid showed no signs of splitting apart. It simply shook. Often.

She was due for a sleep rotation. Some of the pilots had set up campsites outside the ship, happy for the open air. The stability of the ship appealed to her. She slipped out of the refresher in her loose sleep clothes. As she headed to her rack, the deck shifted sharply under her feet. She cursed, her arms flying out to the side to keep her balance.

“You OK?” Luke’s voice came from behind her, further startling her.

“Terrific,” she growled, glaring back at him.

“Breathe,” he encouraged. She opened her mouth to unleash a scathing response when she saw his expression change. “I mean,” he amended, “it helps me to focus on breathing out longer than breathing in.”

They stared at each other, slowly drawing breath and exhaling in sync. She felt a brush against her shields, a connection she recognized from the coordination of their fire against the slaver ship out of Varonat. Her heartbeat slowed. She felt the adrenaline jolt sluice away, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

She nodded her gratitude and slid into her rack.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

In her dreams, the whisper lingered. Her memory returned to that stay in the Tatooine medcenter, her hand over his as he calmed himself after a nightmare. Further back, her arms circling his neck when he’d appeared as if from nowhere to heal her wounds and rescue her from bad dreams. Further still, they’d cried together in the Falcon medbay as they’d faced the truths hidden by their teachers' lies. When the wake signal sounded, she was dreaming of the Skate cockpit, exchanging secrets while hyperspace sped around them.

Her hand flew to the switch on the alarm. The dream slipped away like water through her fingers, despite her efforts to hold on. No fair. Honestly, how often are the dreams good?

She heaved herself to her feet, wrenching her focus to the mission. Logistics were calming. The plan spooled out in her mind’s eye, everything going exactly as designed. No casualties, all the younglings rescued, as many slavers dead as possible. The rest in custody, just to make Luke happy.

As she reached the end of the plan, she restarted at a more detailed level. It was an old habit; she’d learned this from one of her first teachers. Her teacher had believed the more one envisioned detailed success, the more likely it became. Mara grudgingly admitted she believed it now too, despite some glaring counterexamples she’d barely lived through.

The planet Togaminda was sparsely populated and covered in networks of caves carved by waters long since receded. They had decent data from the probes about the cluster of caverns the slavers had chosen.

They split into teams. The Wraiths were assigned to subdue the guards in the chamber where the children were held. Then the pilot commando squad would get the younglings safely to the Pulsar Skate.

Luke, Mara, Han, and Chewbacca’s mission was to attack the command center. Video from the probe showed a handful of people coming and going, and they appeared to be those in charge. As long as they could be distracted and prevented from ordering reinforcements to fight the Wraiths, the mission should be successful.

The Rogues stayed in their X-Wings in the air to provide cover.

Their first targets would be the guard detail on the opening that led to the command center. But the expected guards were nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t like it.” Solo murmured, looking around suspiciously.

Chewbacca whuffed back at him. “Well if they’re that dumb, this should be real quick work,” Solo growled, sweeping his eyes and blaster around them in steady arcs.

Skywalker led the way with Mara just behind while Solo and the Wookiee covered their backs. Probe droids had revealed heat signatures in two to three consistent locations. They headed to the first turnoff, blasters drawn.

Two humans looked up from data stations in an open area, frowning at the unfamiliar faces.

“Who are you?” one demanded. The other one was insightful enough to reach for their blaster. Skywalker stunned the smarter one, then the one who had spoken. Both slumped over their stations before raising an alarm.

“Two down,” Skywalker murmured. He reached the closest one and snapped stun cuffs on him.

Mara fought to keep her eyes from rolling. Why doesn’t he just shoot them and be done with it? But she knew why. The Imperial voice inside was growing fainter and fainter every day.

The cavern was dim, barely lit by emergency lighting. It was a familiar tactic — when under attack, leave just enough light for those who are already familiar with the space to navigate. Meanwhile, attackers were nearly blind in unknown territory.

As with any defense strategy, there were weaknesses. A weakness of the dim lighting was attackers who didn’t require light. Luke could sense another sentient being as soon as he crossed the threshold. He stopped, telegraphing hold on to Mara behind him. He focused, his attention attracted to a large stalagmite that could hide a human.

There, he sent to Mara, picturing the slaver in their hiding spot.

Mara ducked inside, striding along a direct path where the target could see her. Luke moved along the wall to circle around the back of their position.

“I know you’re here,” Mara said in the tone of voice she reserved for giving orders. “Surrender now, and you don’t get hurt. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?” Her inflection on the word hurt implied something much worse.

Mara’s danger sense zinged in time for her to dodge as laser bolts broke from the target’s position.

She ignited her lightsaber. Luke sensed confusion from the slaver at the sound. The lights sitting on the floor brightened slightly, and the slaver peeked around once more, firing at Mara. The shots were wide.

“Jade?” A woman’s voice asked incredulously from behind the stone column. “Mara Jade? You’re supposed to be dead!”

Mara froze. She’d been evading anyone who could possibly recognize her for ages now. Who did she know — who knew her who would enslave children?

She transferred her lightsaber to her left hand and drew her heavy blaster. It was overpowered for the distance. Mara was past caring. She shot wide warning shots on either side of the rock formation. But not by much.

“Show yourself. Now,” Mara barked.

“So dramatic,” the woman sighed. She stood and stepped out carefully, her blaster still pointed at Mara. She touched a remote in her pocket, and the lights brightened further.

Mara stared. It couldn’t be. Laria Chorn had died. That’s what made her a good alias. Well, anagram for an alias, anyway.

“You remember, don’t you? I remember you. Mara Jade—who’d have guessed. The only Emperor’s Hand who thought she was the only Emperor’s Hand. He told us all that, you know. You’re the only one who believed him. The rest of us figured it out pretty quickly. But you were so devoted. You believed every single word he said.”

“You are supposed to be dead, too, Chorn,” Mara growled. The truth of Chorn’s words about Mara’s devotion to the Emperor stung Mara’s heart. “How many Hands were there?” Mara could not help herself asking.

“Plenty over time, but only three to five that I knew about at any one time. A handful you could say.” She cackled a laugh, overly amused at her own joke.

“So when he died, you turned to this? Child slaver?” Mara stalled. Laria had enjoyed bragging back in the day. Maybe she could get her distracted while the Wraiths got the younglings out.

“Such judgment, Mara,” Laria tutted. “You did plenty of horrible things to children, along with everyone else when the Emperor commanded. And it’s not just about younglings, or just about the servitude economy. I have a variety of income streams. I mean, it’s not as if we had a lot of options, did we? I wasn’t gonna go join up with the kriffing Imperial Security Bureau. They’d already lost the war, and they work in teams. We do our best work alone, don’t we? Or maybe you need help—looks like you’ve made some new friends.” Laria’s eyes slid to Luke then widened in surprise.

“Is that—Skywalker? Weren’t you supposed to kill him?” Laria turned toward him. “So much for your assassination attempts,” Laria cackled. “Looks like you traded one master for another.”

Luke took several long strides and leaped, igniting his lightsaber mid-air. He landed just in front of Laria and brought the tip of his green blade to her throat. “We’re going to need the locations of all the beings you’re holding,” he said conversationally. “Or you could just give the order now to free them all.”

Laria regarded Luke. “Do you know who you’re working with here, Jedi? Or should I say, who you’re in bed with?” Another cackle. Luke’s jaw tightened. The green blade twitched closer to her skin. “Okay, okay, that was a cheap shot,” she conceded. “Truth is, the rest of us Hands were all jealous of little Mara here. She was the Emperor’s favorite for being as gullible and devoted as she was. It was so annoying.”

“Those locations?” Luke repeated. With the Force, he pulled the blaster she held, sending it clattering to the floor across the cavern.

From the entrance came the sounds of blaster fire and Chewbacca’s roars. Han backed into the space, firing down the passage. “Incoming!” he yelled to Luke. “There’s more than we thought!”

“Finally!” Laria huffed. “I had to stall for ages!”

Stun her? Luke requested of Mara. Mara reluctantly checked her blaster was set accordingly and sent back an acknowledgement. Luke stepped away from Laria as Mara fired. Laria slumped to the ground, an expletive on her lips.

Luke pivoted to face the incoming attackers, deflecting blaster bolts with his lightsaber. Mara used the cover to cross to Laria’s still form and slap stun cuffs around her wrists.

Mara knelt behind the stalagmite Laria had used for cover and picked her targets. The first few fell easily, as they were targeting Luke. As the others located her position, bolts flew at her.

Luke stepped in front of her position, continuing to block and deflect incoming bolts. She used the opportunity to pick off the remaining shooters.

Chewie roared from the other end of the passage.

“It’s clear for now—but more coming. Come on!” Han shook his blaster in the direction of the only entrance and exit.

Luke nodded quickly and extinguished his blade. He turned to Laria’s limp form and scooped it up easily.

“You OK?” He asked Mara.

“Fine. I’ll cover you,” she replied, indicating he should go first with his—their—prisoner.

He nodded and followed Han out. Mara turned and swept her blaster from side to side, walking backward til she reached the exit.

She ran to catch the others as the team made their way toward their ships. Blaster fire came from random directions as other slavers joined the fight. The ground started to shake under Mara’s feet. Rocks tumbled down cliff faces. Scree shook loose.

Mara frowned. “Quake? Or self-destruct?” She shouted.

“No idea!” Solo shouted back. “Let’s get outta here before we find out!”

As they neared the ships, Chewbacca took the unconscious Chorn from Luke and headed up the Falcon’s ramp.

Mirax and several Wraiths were arrayed around the Pulsar Skate, while the remaining Wraiths shepherded the last of the younglings onto the ship. Two pilots supported a third between them. The injured pilot dragged one leg at an awkward angle, as their head lolled between their shoulders. Mara grimaced. That one’s not going to make it.

She whirled and aimed at the last incoming blaster bolt she’d seen. A figure crumpled in the distance, filling her with dark satisfaction.

She could sense Luke’s survey of the situation as the younglings and injured were safely boarded and the team retreated to their ships. The signal she expected came, and she ducked her head and ran, surrendering control to the Jedi covering her. She stopped behind him and resumed fire, as he likewise ran for the Pulsar Skate. The team continued to leapfrog in similar patterns all around them until all were back aboard.

Mara jogged to the gunner well. The ship rumbled around her as thrusters fired and the engines roared to life. Above her, rocks seemed to rain down on the hull as if the planet itself was attacking. She supposed Solo was right — it didn’t matter why as long as they got out in time. She swung into the chair and threw the headset into place, swinging the guns around to aim at the slavers on the ground.

They’d underestimated just how outnumbered they would be. Despite all the attackers they’d disabled or killed, more continued to arrive.

Verifying that there were no friendlies in her field of fire, Mara opened up the guns, broadly sweeping side to side.

Mirax’s focus intensified as she slid into the familiar pilot’s seat, reaching for all the levers and buttons that needed to be manipulated to get them into the air as soon as possible. She swore a streak at the slavers firing on her ship. The engines joined her in rumbling, whining at the pace at which she demanded they accelerate. Mirax couldn’t help but chuckle as she saw an attacker fall, dropping the weapon they’d just fired.

“That’s what you get for firing on my ship,” she muttered as she keyed in coordinates.

The planet, like the asteroid they had based their attack from, quaked under them. The ground bucked, as if trying to throw them off the surface.

In the hold, Luke checked on Threepio herding the younglings through an array of snacks, beverages, and blankets. Two Wraith pilots comforted, entertained, and cajoled the children into eating. On seeing Luke, one of the Wraiths straightened.

“Lieutenant Myn Donos, sir. And that’s Flight Officer Tyria Sarkin. Our X-Wings were disabled on the ground by the enemy. We thought we’d be of most use with the kids. I have a lot of younger siblings, so…” He shrugged self-consciously.

“Thanks,” Luke nodded. “Threepio will be grateful for the backup.” Scanning the room, Luke recognized Ysanne Isard’s niece Gora. The girl appeared healthy and uninjured. She stayed close to an older girl who kept close watch on her. Had the slavers taken the girl’s nanny as well?

The deck rocked underneath him as the planet continued to shake off the invaders. Luke shifted his attention from the younglings, nodded at the Wraiths, and jogged to the second gunner’s position. He reached out in the Force to sense Mara, Mirax, the rest of his strike team, and the attackers outside. The numbers were still not on their side, but he was used to that. They could get the children out safely with some luck and some skill.

He swung into the seat and found he could coordinate with Mara without bothering with comms. Just as they had fought in the skies over Varonat, they picked targets and covered each other’s fire with ease.

Mirax took the ship into a steep climb as soon as the thrusters got them off the ground. To her dismay, there were already enemy ships in the air. Some were old TIE fighters, others were clunky combinations of different ships. There were even some vintage X-Wings. The targeting computers painted any unknown transponder as an enemy.

Though they each lifted off as they could, the ships rendezvoused as planned. Leading the way to the hyperspace jump point were the Rogues, followed by the Skate, followed by the Falcon, and finally trailed by the Wraiths. The Skate’s priority was to get the younglings safely out of the system. All other craft’s first priority was to protect the Skate.

The enemy pilots varied widely in their ability to fly as well as shoot. As Luke and Mara continued to coordinate through the Force, their headsets filled with chatter from the Rogues, Wraiths, and Millenium Falcon. They heard the Wraiths swearing over one particularly slippery enemy who flew with the skill and expertise of an experienced combat pilot.

“I see 'em,” Han’s voice joined the chatter about the mystery enemy. “I’ll get 'em. C’mere, you little—hey! You son of a—”

Han’s comm went silent. Luke instinctively reached out in the Force, where two familiar presences continued to burn brightly, flaring temporarily in…anger, perhaps? Luke’s display reflected the Falcon as usual, so their transponder was undamaged.

He thumbed his comm to a private channel for the Falcon. “Han, you OK?” Silence greeted him. He sighed and switched to the team channel. “This is Rogue Thirteen to Millenium Falcon. What’s your status, Chewie? Do you read me?” More silence.

Mara took on the incoming targets as Luke addressed the rest of the team. “Anybody got a signal from the Falcon? Who’s got eyes on her?”

“This is Wraith Eight. Falcon took some solid hits but is flying OK. Closing in for a fly-by.”

“Copy, Face, thanks,” Luke responded, swinging around to target a broken-down TIE fighter. Frustration trembled through his trigger fingers as he waited for word.

“Looks like they punched through the shields around the comm dish and did some damage,” Face Loran’s voice came into his ear again.

“Copy,” Luke confirmed. “Swing around to starboard, and look for the signal light. Check if it’s flashing.” Luke hoped they still trained pilots how to read the old code that only required a working light.

“Yessir, it says….‘No further damage. Comms down in and out, no further damage. Comms…Yeah, that’s it. Comms down in and out, no further damage.’”

“Good, Wraith Eight. Signal an acknowledgment. All ships, the Millenium Falcon is deaf and mute. Keep an eye on her.” He heard his buddy Wes, now the Wraith Leader, assign a flight to accompany the Falcon.

“Approaching jump point,” Mirax came in on the Skate’s internal frequency. “We ready, Luke?”

“Ready,” Luke responded. The priority was to get the younglings away. They’d lost two X-Wings, which the military would consider “acceptable.” Luke had felt those pilots' lives wink out in his core. He firmly set aside the thought of informing their loved ones.

Mara’s hands dropped from the weapon system as the ship streaked toward the jump point. She was thrown against her restraints as space appeared to rotate around her. When the deck’s rumbling settled, she unstrapped herself and stood.

“Nice shooting,” Luke greeted her in the passageway. He turned toward the hold where the younglings were being cared for, and after a beat, she turned to follow him.

The scene was similar to that in the Falcon, seemingly ages ago now. Younglings of various species and ages stood or sat alone or in small groups. Most were quiet. Some were frightened, others raced around playfully, still others ate as if they would never see food again.

Luke stepped over to confer with C-3P0. The 'fresher door slid open, and a Twi’lek girl stepped out. Mara smiled. It was the girl she had seen on Varonat, dragged back into the slaver ship by the Devaronian. The girl whose scream had haunted Mara’s dreams.

The girl looked relaxed now, as she took a smashfruit from the makeshift buffet table and collapsed on a cot. She flopped over to face the bulkhead, pulled the light blanket over her, punched the pillow and lay down as if she lived there.

Mara’s eyes played over the rest of them, landing on Luke talking to Gora. The dirt and wrinkles in the young girl’s clothes could not hide that they were made from expensive materials and fit as if tailored. She sat on the lap of a teenage girl who held her protectively.

Mara could feel the soothing energy Luke poured into the Force in Gora’s direction. It was effective, as Gora seemed to reach for him. Her caregiver kept her just out of reach. The nanny regarded Luke with suspicion.

Yeah, I used to look at him like that too, Mara thought. Good luck, girls. She ducked back out to the passageway.

In the cockpit, Mirax showed Wraith pilots Donos and Sarkin the latest upgrades she’d made to the Skate. Mara sat down. The adrenaline of the fight was receding but she could still feel its effects.

“Nice defense there, Jade,” Mirax said approvingly. “You can protect my ship any day.”

“I let Skywalker have most of the shots,” Mara shrugged. “Heroes gotta hero, you know.”

“That is a bare-faced lie,” Mirax called her out. “You two work together like you’ve had each other’s wing for years.”

The Wraiths slipped out, sensing the conversation was turning private.

“Mirax!” Mara scolded.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me enjoy the getaway, will ya? We came out with less damage than the Falcon. That doesn’t happen often.”

Mara grunted. “Solo’s probably enjoying the quiet without comms.”

“Probably. Maybe somebody should send Leia an update.”

“I’ll do that,” Luke stepped in and sank down in a seat opposite Mara. “She’ll be thrilled to hear we have Gora along with the rest. The younglings are shaken up but doing all right, mostly. It’s nice to have some of the pilots on board. We underestimated all the numbers — the slavers, their ships, the younglings. The probes must not have been able to get to all their hiding spots.”

“And yet we got all the kids and got away. And lost how many?” Mirax queried.

"Two in the air. We won’t know about the injured they loaded onto the Falcon until we get back but at least one looked bad. Yeah, we did OK. " Luke nodded his appreciation.

Mara’s head felt heavy. She found herself thinking about the rack she’d left reluctantly hours ago.

“Go ahead,” Luke said to her softly, tilting his head back in the direction of the bunks.

A sound at the doorway attracted his attention. “Hey, Stelio.” Luke smiled at Gora’s nanny. He stood, blocking her entrance to the cockpit. “How can we help?”

The teen looked up at him with innocence and confusion. One arm reached out to him.

Luke frowned. Mara’s danger sense flared. The girl’s hand wrapped around the blaster in Luke’s holster, freed it, pressed it to his side, and pulled the trigger.

Stelio’s face twisted into rage. “My entire family was on that first Death Star. You murdered them all, you kriffing Sithspawn,” she hissed at him.

Luke’s eyes widened as he sagged against her, a strangled grunt escaping his lips. The blazing light Mara was accustomed to sensing in his presence dimmed alarmingly.

With a war cry, Mara was on the girl, ripping the blaster from her hand, tossing it back into the cockpit, and twisting the girl’s arms behind her. Mara bellowed for Lieutenant Donos. She watched in horror as Luke continued to sink to the deck, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Get us to a medcenter, Mirax!” Mara shouted, blood rushing in her ears. She felt footsteps behind her.

She spun Stelio around, offering the teenagers' wrists to Donos. “Bind her and lock her up somewhere. Tell the others to stay armed and on high alert. Just in case.”

As Donos relieved her of her prisoner, Mara sprang to Luke’s side, where Mirax had positioned him on the deck between cockpit seats. A singed hole in his tunic revealed an open black wound in his side. The blaster could not have been set to stun.

Where’s that Wraith pilot doctor when we need him? Mara thought.

Luke shivered. Mara stripped off her jacket and covered him as best she could, willing him to open his eyes and sit up with that annoying grin. She was vaguely aware of Mirax’s voice.

"Veggies, Luke is injured. He needs a medcenter. We’re dropping out of hyperspace in five minutes. With him out and the Falcon out of comms, they’ll need a mission commander. " Mirax must have been on a private channel.

Antilles' voice answered with concern. “How bad is it? Is Luke gonna be OK?”

“He’s unconscious, took a blaster shot at very close range.” Mirax didn’t want to say more than that for fear of bringing bad luck on the Jedi, either way.

“Did you get the shooter? Are the rest of you safe?” Antilles nearly barked.

“Yeah, it was one of the kids. A young Imp looking to avenge the Death Star. Good thing you weren’t here.”

“Someone should update Leia,” Mara broke in. She’d want to know.

“Yeah, got it. I’ll take command and get a message to Leia,” Antilles answered. His voice softened. “Watch yourself, Myra. May the Force be with you.”

“Back at you, Veggies,” Mirax murmured and cut the connection.

Luke moaned. His limbs thrashed.

Mara pressed her hand over his. C’mon, Luke. If he received this message, he didn’t show it. Neither did he answer.

The dim light of his presence wavered, flared, and guttered.

Chapter Text

Leia Organa sat bolt upright in her bed on Coruscant. The time on the glowing chronograph reflected the middle of the night. She was wide awake, holding her side. “Luke!” she cried.
 
She looked around her. “Threepio! Get me the Falcon. Now.”
 
The droid hurried in. Somehow he managed to look worried. “Right away, Mistress Leia.”
 
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped gently to the floor. The robe she slid over her shoulders did nothing for the chill that seized her.
 
She reached out through their twin bond and found Luke’s light at the other end, flickering and dull. She poured all the strength and life she could toward him, willing him to be all right.
 
“Threepio?!” He should have them by now.
 
“I’m sorry, mistress, there’s no answer from the Falcon.” Threepio sounded as desperate as she felt.
 
A shrill whistle sounded at the comm station. Leia snatched the comlink from her night table. “Han? What’s happening?”
 
“Han’s comms are down, Leia.” Wedge’s voice answered. “Luke’s hurt. Mirax is rerouting to the nearest medcenter. I don’t have details other than he took a blaster shot at close range.”
 
In the side, Leia thought. “Where was the Falcon en route to when she lost comms?”
 
“Coruscant. She didn’t report any course changes. But her comms were taken out just off-planet. Things could have changed.”
 
“Right,” Leia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Send me the medcenter coordinates. If you talk to Han before I do, tell him I’m on my way there.”
 
“Acknowledged.” Wedge knew Leia well enough to know she hated letting Han and Luke out of her sight precisely because of situations like this. “He’s awfully hard to kill, you know. You know that better than anyone.”
 
“Yeah, he is. I can still feel him with us, Wedge. But it’s too faint. I’m getting underway. May the Force be with us all.” She cut the connection.
 
“Get us a ship for the coordinates Wedge is sending, Threepio.”
 
“Yes, mistress.” Threepio prided himself on the support he provided the humans around him. But he knew they did not consider it the same as support from other humans. “Miss Retrac has asked how she can help.”
 
“You woke Winter?” Leia snapped. “That wasn’t necessary.” Still, if her friend and aide was already awake…She hated the thought of traveling alone to a medcenter to find Luke while Han was out of contact. Nothing to do but worry the whole way.
 
Leia grabbed up the comlink again and keyed Winter’s frequency. “Winter, I’m leaving for Kaal. Luke’s hurt badly and Han’s comms are down. You’re welcome to come if you like but there’s plenty of work to do here if you’d rather stay.”
 
“I’m coming with you,” Winter replied simply. “I’ll meet you in the hangar.”
 

 
Mirax guided the Skate to its docking bay on Kaal, still grumbling about the bureaucrats she’d had to bully to get emergency clearance.
 
Mara could see the X-Wing of Wraith pilot Ton Phanan already on the ground. He’d volunteered to meet them to assess Luke’s injuries.
 
Mara stepped aside as Phanan entered the cockpit and knelt to Luke’s side.
 
“An emergency team is on its way,” Ton noted, not taking his eyes off the patient. He carefully peeled away burnt clothing to get a better look at the wound.
 
Mara thought she might burst out of her skin before the former doctor-turned-pilot spoke again.
 
“He’ll need surgery. His spleen’s damaged—I can’t tell how badly without a scanner.” Phanan stood as an emergency medic came up the passageway. The two conferred in low tones.
 
Mirax stood close to Mara. “He’s survived worse,” Mirax pointed out, trying to be helpful.
 
Mara grunted at this. It was probably true. But it didn’t actually help.
 
More emergency techs arrived with a grav-stretcher and set about getting Luke on it without doing further damage.
 
The ship’s comm chirped. “Captain, how long will we be here? The kids are restless—they want to get out and move around.”
 
Mirax bit her lip. Mara shook her head. “Go. Get them back where they belong. I’ll stay. You’ve done all you can.”
 
Mirax had already reached this conclusion and was relieved Mara thought the same. “Wedge said Leia is on her way,” Mirax informed her. Mirax turned her head back to the direction of the comm and denied the younglings’ request to disembark.
 
Mirax squeezed Mara’s shoulder. “He’ll be OK,” she said, trying to have confidence for both of them. When Mara did not reply, she moved back to the pilot’s seat and started the calculations for the jump to Coruscant.
 
After an interminable process of loading Luke onto the grav-stretcher, the emergency workers slowly guided it down the passageway.
 
Mara lingered just a moment in the doorway. At the rate they were moving, she could catch up with them in a few quick strides.
 
She looked over her shoulder at Mirax, busy at the ship’s dashboard. “May the Force be with you,” Mara said. The words had left her lips before she’d even realized she was thinking them.
 
Mirax stopped what she was doing and turned in her seat. “And with you,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “Let me know when you’re back on Coruscant.”
 
Mara nodded and slipped away, following the grav-stretcher just closely enough to see what was going on but keeping far enough away to avoid speaking to the techs.
 
Behind her, she heard a familiar trio of treads. Irritated, she spun to snap at the astromech. “You can’t help this time,” she scowled.
 
Artoo issued a stream of beeps and whistles that was pure resistant determination.
 
“That’s the problem—I can’t understand you like he does.” What was the advantage of having the astromech around without C3P0 or Luke to translate?
 
The small hatch concealing the data access adapter he used to plug in to universal connectors slid open, and the adapter extended. Mara took this as a reminder that when he plugged in, he could communicate in Aurabesh via the connector’s display.
 
She faltered. She did not want to expend any energy debating a droid at this point. Luke would want to have Artoo there if he woke up. When he woke up. She recalled the droid slicing into the medcenter on Bestine to get all the data they wanted on their conditions.
 
“Fine. But if you cause more trouble than you’re worth, I’ll swear to him I have no idea what happened to you.” Mara spun back to the passageway.
 
Outside, the emergency team loaded the grav-stretcher into an ambulance and took off with surprising speed, the siren blaring its warning through crowded streets. Mara joined Phanan, who studied the coordinates for the medcenter. She looked around the crowded hangar for ground transport and found a long line of beings waiting for rentals.
 
She strode purposefully to the front of the line and leaned over the counter with a smile and a commanding tone of voice. “We’ll take a ZRB-77”.
 
The human man at the front of the line grabbed her elbow. “Hey, lady, wait your turn. That speeder is mine.”
 
Mara turned her authoritative air to the man and stared him down with icy green eyes. Her hand went to the heavy blaster still mounted on her right hip and idly stroked the grip. “I think you’re mistaken. We’d hate for there to be a misunderstanding, wouldn’t we?”
 
The gleam in her eye made the man stutter and step back. “Yeah sure, whatever you say.”
 
As Mara strode toward the rental, she could feel the grin on Phanan’s face. “I like your style, ma’am,” he chuckled. He followed her to the speeder and stepped toward the driver’s seat.
 
Mara beat him there, swinging into the seat and firing up the speeder while Artoo was still wedging himself in. “Luke doesn’t need to know about that.”
 
“Course not.” Phanan nodded. As he moved awkwardly around to the passenger seat, he considered pointing out that as a fighter pilot he could get them to the medcenter faster. He decided against it.
 
Mara maneuvered the speeder into traffic, missing the vehicles she dodged around by centimeters, pushing the speeder to its limits. A few short minutes later they closed on the ambulance.
 
“You ever fly an X-Wing, ma’am?”
 
Mara scoffed. “Call me Mara.”
 

 
Han Solo stretched his lanky limbs and sighed. It had been too long since he’d slept and he was going to enjoy this. It was a pain that the comm dish had been damaged. He was mentally running through the list of parts he had at home he could use to repair it. Would he need anything he didn’t have?
 
The quiet was nice. He didn’t have to update anyone or respond to anything. Just keep that prisoner Laria Chorn under control and get his ship home. He tried not to think about the body they were transporting. He hadn’t known the pilot in Wedge’s new squadron but they looked way too young to Han.
 
Cause I’m getting old, he reflected. He closed his eyes and thought of his much more comfortable and spacious bed on Coruscant, falling asleep with a beautiful princess beside him.
 
Just as a highly enjoyable dream about that princess formed in his sleep, Chewie’s roar cut through Han’s consciousness. Han rolled out of his rack out of habit. He blinked rapidly, listening for Chewie’s explanation. All he heard was howls of frustration. He followed the sound.
 
He found his friend thundering down the passageway, holding an empty pair of binders. She’s not in the hold, Chewie rahrred in Shyriiwook.
 
“What the—? Where does she think she’s going to go? We’re in hyperspace!”
 
Chewie shrugged. He’d already checked all the obvious possibilities — the cockpit, the passageways, all three holds, including the one holding the pilot’s corpse. She had disappeared.
 
“Great — now we gotta check all the hiding places. I’ll get starboard, you take port.”
 
Han grumbled expletives under his breath as he pulled panels away, checking no fugitive was behind them. What is the point of hiding in a ship in hyperspace? Reluctantly he started running scenarios—in her place, where would he hide? What would he possibly be up to — sabotage? Was this woman willing to sacrifice herself to hurt or kill her abductors and damage the ship? Was she trying to blow them all up?
 
He stared at the empty passageway over the hidden compartments. Surely she couldn’t see them. With another sigh, he heaved the first open with one hand, brandishing his blaster in the other.
 
She was crouched inside, staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes. There was no weapon in her hands. “Found her, Chewie!” Han shouted. He waved the blaster in a motion to tell her to climb out. She complied.
 
“I—I don’t know what I was thinking,” she stuttered as she stood up fully next to him. Chewie joined them and patted her down.
 
“Oh yeah?” Han spat back at her. “What did you do? Plant somethin’? You steal somethin’?”
 
She burst into tears.
 
Chewie shook his massive head side to side, finding nothing. He slapped the binders back on her wrists. All three walked back to the hold.
 
Han located a second set of binders and snapped them around her ankles.
 
“Do a thorough scan, Chewie, automated and manual. Find out what she did to our ship. And bring back some chains.”

 
Mara watched the surgeon’s retreating back. Phanan watched Mara.
 
“You never know with spleens. He may recover quite smoothly.” Phanan started.
 
“Or he may not.” Her face was impassive.
 
The surgeon, who had introduced herself as Dr. Greene, had explained that they had stopped the internal bleeding and applied as much bacta as they could. It was impossible to tell if Luke would recover from the hemorrhage. They’d done everything medically to be done. Now, it was a matter of waiting. Mara and Phanan would be allowed in Luke’s room after he had been moved in.
 
Time ceased to have meaning. At some point, they were ushered into a brightly lit room where Luke lay, eyes closed, connected to a variety of devices. Mara automatically reached for the lights and dimmed them.
 
They sat, watching and waiting. Was time passing?
 
Phanan’s organic eyelid grew heavy. He shook himself and picked up his datapad. He grimaced at a message he saw there.
 
Mara’s eyebrows shot up in alarm.
 
“No — it’s nothing. Not about him. It’s just the Wraiths. Not important.”
 
“Distract me with something unimportant,” Mara murmured. “I mean, let’s distract ourselves with unimportant things.”
 
“Command heard about our unofficial mission and is punishing the Wraiths and the Rogues with some tedious long-range patrols in the middle of nowhere.” He shook his head at the datapad.
 
“Go.” Mara ordered. “Go be with your squadron.”
 
Phanan frowned. “No, I’m the only one spared so I can be here.”
 
“What can you do for him? I appreciate your help, really, especially meeting us here and explaining what was happening before the emergency team showed up. But unless you think the doctors here aren’t up to giving him the best treatment, you should go. I don’t need babysitting or translating. I’ve got him. I’ve got this.”
 
Phanan sighed. “You really don’t want to keep me around to sound smart while I explain things?” He put a hand to his chest as if injured.
 
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” She tried to manage a smile at his joke and failed.
 
Ton Phanan knew it was not fine. Luke Skywalker was fighting for his life. Phanan had only met Mara Jade recently, but he’d seen enough people sitting with patients in medcenters to know she was not fine. Some part of him wanted to comfort the beautiful woman in any way she saw fit. But she had shown no interest in him.
 
And she had a point. Other than keeping her company and talking to the staff, he’d done all he could do. He’d left medicine behind to be a pilot. The shiny equipment and young, fresh faces surrounding them made him realize his training was becoming increasingly out-of-date. He felt much more at home in the cockpit of his X-Wing, trading barbs with Face over comms. Who would be flying Face’s wing on this forsaken punishment mission?
 
He would need to sleep before he flew.
 
“I’m going to get some rest. If you still feel the same way when I wake up, I will leave you to it. Of course, Jedi Skywalker will be much better by then.”
 
“Of course.” She joined in his faked optimism.
 
Ton Phanan nodded and stepped out, leaving Mara alone.
 
She looked around the room, widening her focus to include all the machinery, sounds, lights, smells. Her experience with medcenters had been as a patient only. She couldn’t recall a time she sat with anyone, waiting for news, waiting for them to heal.
 
Troopers had been hurt on missions following her orders, but she’d never visited them. The few times the Emperor had been seriously ill, she worried about him privately in her rooms. She was not allowed to visit.
 
So this is what it was like. To see the sights and hear the sounds and smell the smells but not be the one in the bed. She was powerless to help. She hated feeling powerless.
 
Luke’s presence continued to glow faintly, growing or shrinking erratically. 
 
She focused on that light, breathing slowly. C’mon, Luke, answer me. Can you hear me?
 
She felt as if all her senses were reaching out, feeding oxygen to the light, protecting it, fanning it. She remembered a survival test in which she had to build a fire in pouring rain. It had been easier than this.
 
She’d seen him in her dreams more and more often. Some were so explicit she hoped not to have to look him in the eye the following day. Others were more innocent. While they planned this mission, she’d used the focus as an excuse to bury her growing attraction. As they executed the mission, she used the action as an excuse to bury it deeper. Way down deep, on top of all the other feelings she did not wish to feel, she layered all the things she felt about Luke Skywalker.
 
Now there was nothing to do but think and feel. No excuses. Mirax claimed Luke was interested in more than training her Force potential. But what did Mirax know? She hadn’t been there when he’d accused Mara of being too much of a coward to stick around Coruscant.
 
Never…a….coward.... The message was so weak she wondered if she dreamt it. Her focus snapped to Luke’s eyes. They remained shut.
 
She crossed to him and put her hand over his organic hand. Luke?
 
Never…called you…a coward. Never will. The light grew just a bit brighter.
 
Never mind about that now. Focus on healing. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, weakly.
 
Sing me a song?
 
She frowned. A song? When had he ever heard her sing?
 
In her mind, she heard him humming an old children’s song she’d been taught to focus on when being interrogated. It was supposed to help keep her from breaking. She had found it soothing in a variety of circumstances. Had someone sung it to her when she was too small to remember?
 
She found herself humming along out loud, glancing around to be sure no one would hear. Time fell away as she stood, her hand gripping his, keeping their connection open, humming every song she could think of.

 
A few hours later, the door slid open, revealing a familiar astromech.
 
“Where have you been?!” Mara whispered. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to tell him you were MIA.”
 
The droid rolled to a data access jack and plugged in. Letters scrolled on the screen nearby.
 
Medcenter security exceptionally hostile to droids. Much easier to get into datacenter than patient rooms. Have been querying medcenter systems for data.
 
Mara nodded. “What’s it say about him?”
 
Patient Luke Skywalker in critical condition with laceration to spleen and internal bleeding. Recovering from partial splenectomy. Hemoglobin levels indicate significant blood loss. Under continuous observation while remaining unresponsive.
 
It sounded much like what the doctors had told her. At least they weren’t hiding anything.
 
"Did you find out anything else interesting?” Mara asked. The droid had been gone for hours.
 
PD Spade is concerned about Luke Skywalker’s potential death.
 
They’re not alone, Mara thought. She frowned. “Who is that? A doctor? A surgeon?” Perhaps Dr. Greene had not been straight with her after all.
 
Director of Public Relations.
 
She blew out a sigh. Mara’s natural tendency was pessimistic. For Luke’s sake, she was trying to be hopeful. There is no try. He would quote his master at her. What kind of bantha poodoo was that?
 
Also, staff communications indicated excitement about false rumors that Leia Organa and C-3P0 had come in with Luke Skywalker.
 
Mara frowned. “Someone thought I was Leia? And…Phanan was Threepio?” She was glad Phanan was not there to read this.
 
Administrators have sent numerous messages to correct the misinformation—that the woman is not Leia Organa, and the human mistaken for C-3P0 had multiple cyborg implants.
 
“Great. Are they giving out my name?”
 
Negative.
 
She cocked her head. “So…I’m just ‘the woman’ who came in with him?”
 
Doctor Greene refers to you repeatedly as ‘the girlfriend’.
 
Conflicting emotions rolled over her. She could not tell whether she felt more anger, excitement, or amusement. Again, she pushed these questions down for later examination.
 
Meddroid is in transit for regular assessment of patient. Must leave now to avoid detection and restraining bolt.
 
The droid abruptly unplugged and rolled to the door. It gave a soft beep that Mara interpreted as “Later!” and rolled out the door before she could ask where to find him.
 
She shook her head. R2-D2 was certainly not a typical astromech. And he seemed deeply worried about Luke Skywalker.
 
As the droid sped away, Phanan stepped into sight over the threshold. “How is Luke?”
 
Mara was not about to tell him about Luke’s request to be sung to. Following that request, Luke had not reached out to her again. His presence remained a dim light.
 
“You tell me.” Mara swept a hand to the instruments surrounding him. “He’s not woken up at all.”
 
Phanan’s frown at the instrumentation told her all she needed to know. 
 
“I can stay,” he offered.
 
“No, your squadron needs you more than I do,” she replied firmly. Sensing his lingering hesitation, she added, “Leia is on her way here. We will be fine. Thank you for all you’ve done. I’ll be sure your commanding officer knows it was appreciated.”
 
This was the final permission he needed. His shoulders relaxed. “He is lucky to have you looking out for him,” he murmured. Without waiting for her reaction, he bowed his head slightly and turned on his heel.
 
Mara moved the chair to Luke’s bedside. She placed her hand over his organic one once more and resumed her focus on that dim light. She could hear something. Then realized she had resumed humming.
 

 
Han returned to the hold to relieve Chewie. The prisoner Chorn was sleeping. Or appeared to be.
 
“Well, doesn’t that look nice?” Han snarked, remembering the sleep he almost got when she pulled this little stunt.
 
Chewie had been awake even longer. They couldn’t sustain this all the way home.
 
“Go get some sleep. I’ll keep her in the cockpit with me.”
 
Chewie disagreed.
 
“We’ve got to sleep, buddy. I’ll lock her up if I have to.”
 
Han approached Lorn and nudged her with a knee. “Hey, get up, we're movin'.”
 
The three of them walked single file to the cockpit. Chewie conceded that he had been falling asleep anyway and disappeared down the passageway to his rack. Han secured Lorn’s chains to the co-pilot chair. Her eyes slid around the cockpit even as her eyelids blinked sleepily.
 
“That’s it, go right back to sleep. One unexpected move and I’ll just shoot you.”
 
She whimpered at the threat. Han was unimpressed.
 
As he turned to check the time left to Coruscant, he heard a roar that chilled his blood. That particular roar signaled a Wookiee in pain.
 
“What did you do?” he bellowed at Chorn. He grabbed his blaster out of its holster, set it to stun, and pulled the trigger. Chorn slumped in her chains.
 
“On my way, buddy!” He charged out of the cockpit.

Chapter Text

Mara’s eyes opened. She found her head resting on someone’s chest. She could see their form under a medcenter sheet and thin blanket. She knew this form.

Leia will be here in a minute, she heard Luke in her head. She raised her head and turned her face to look at him. His eyes were open. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. He looked tired and weak. And awake.

She jerked upright. “What—how are you feeling?” What about Leia? What was he talking about?

“I’ve felt better,” he said aloud and then coughed from the effort. His artificial hand moved to the surgical wound. She snatched the water cup and filled it from the pitcher on his bedside table. He took it and drank greedily.

“Oh, Luke!” Leia Organa stepped into the room and crossed to his bedside, opposite Mara. Mara moved her arm to withdraw her hand from Luke’s, but he caught it and held fast.

Suddenly aware that she’d just woken up and was now in the presence of another person—royalty and a high-ranking official at that—Mara used her other hand to straighten her clothes and smooth her hair. This is what he had been trying to tell her—Leia was on her way, pull yourself together.

Stop it, you know that’s not what I meant. His objection came through clearly.

“How are you feeling?” Leia repeated Mara’s question unknowingly.

He took a sip of water. “I’ve felt better,” he repeated softly. “And I’ve felt a lot worse. I’ll be fine.” He coughed and tipped the cup to his lips again.

Mara realized with a start that the dim light of his presence had brightened dramatically. She smiled. Hope that had eluded her in the night suddenly swelled in her chest.

“Mmmhmmm,” Leia murmured. She turned to Mara. “What does the doctor say?”

As if on cue, the door slid open to reveal Dr. Greene. She stepped in, nodded at Leia, and introduced herself, directing her comments to Luke.

She surveyed the various instruments' readouts. “The damage to your spleen caused a lot of internal bleeding. It’s good to see you awake.” Beneath her professional tone sounded a note of surprise.

“I’m a good healer,” Luke smiled. “Lots of practice.”

“Well, you’re going to get even more practice. All that internal bleeding takes its toll, and your spleen needs to recover. You’re still vulnerable to complications. So get plenty of rest, fluids, follow our orders, and we’ll see how you progress.”

Luke nodded his gratitude. The 2–1B droid trailing the doctor adjusted the settings on the instruments and entered data into the console where Artoo had plugged in.

Mara wondered briefly where the astromech was now and whose private messages he was slicing.

The doctor nodded acknowledgements at Leia and Mara, and stepped back out of the room. Moments later the droid followed.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I need to stretch my legs.” Mara said. She pulled away from Luke’s hand. This time he let her go. She turned the opposite way down the corridor from the doctor, the direction Artoo had taken when she’d last seen him.

“Follow their orders and they’ll see how you progress,” Leia repeated at Luke. It was a question.

“Yeah, that’s not likely. Is Han OK? The Falcon’s comms got knocked out.”

“I don’t know. Wedge said they were on their way to Coruscant, and no one had heard from them otherwise.”

“He signaled before he jumped to hyperspace — no other damage. Just comms,” Luke reassured her.

“Good,” she sighed. “But I’ll still be happy to hear his voice.”

“Then let’s get back to Coruscant. You can see him in person.”

“Not following doctor’s orders?” Leia’s eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, like it’s the first time,” Luke snarked back. “I’ll go into a hibernation trance for the trip home. If I do that here, they might think I’m dead. My spleen can heal on Coruscant as well as it can here.”

“You just want Mara to play nursemaid so she’ll stick around longer,” Leia said.

Luke’s eyes widened. “She is not going to stick around for that. She’ll be off again as soon as we’ve debriefed. She doesn’t like Coruscant. Who knows — she might not even come back with us.” He frowned as this possibility rolled around in his mind.

“Mmmmm—we’ll see.” Leia held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m not judging you know — you wouldn’t be the first to try it. Remember that Corellian virus I had? The one Han had as a child, so he was the only one who could be around me until I recovered.”

Luke frowned. “Of course I remember. We were all worried about you—you faked that? To get Han to stay?”

“It was real. It was serious at the beginning. But when it turned around, I recovered quickly. I’m a good healer too.”

“So you just milked it to keep Han around.”

Leia shrugged exaggeratedly.

Behind her the door slid open, revealing Artoo on the other side. Mara followed, checking to either side to see if they’d been observed.

“Artoo!” Luke exclaimed. He looked at Mara. “You brought Artoo.” His tone was grateful.

“Don’t look at me,” she replied. “He insisted.”

Artoo blatted a string of binary.

“Message from Han for Leia?” He looked to Leia, who nodded. “Play it.”

“Hey sweetheart,” Han’s wry tone floated on the air. “Keep an eye on Luke for me. I’m stayin' on Coruscant. Chewie was wounded on the way home. We took on a prisoner and she got loose and planted explosives in our rack pillows. The doctor says he’s gonna be OK but I don’t wanna leave him yet. Let me know when Luke’s on the mend and you’re comin' home. Or I can come get you both on the Falcon when Chewie is better.”

The volume of his voice dropped. “Love you,” he growled. “Oh—and, I know you would ask—I’m just fine. Put my pillow in the Falcon’s safe to bring back to Cracken. Take care of yourself and the kid — we gotta get these two through this.” The message ended.

“Explosives in a pillow?!” Leia said. “That’s crazy. And how did she get loose?”

Luke looked at Mara, wondering how much she wanted to reveal to Leia.

Mara shrugged at him and sighed. “She was trained by the Empire, too. I knew her years ago. She knew techniques for escaping and defeating binders and locks, and planting explosives. When I…. A few standard years ago, they had been experimenting with making explosives smaller and smaller that would still pack a punch. I heard about the pillow thing in theory — small enough to go unnoticed in a sweep but close enough to the head to do real damage. She was probably trying to get control of the ship without incapacitating it.”

Leia shook her head. “She should have been in a brig.”

Mara grunted. “A fortified brig.”

“We underestimated her,” Luke said thoughtfully, looking at Mara.

“Being underestimated is a powerful advantage. You have to strike before the enemy figures you out. But we didn’t know who was behind all this. If we had, we would have planned for it. We didn’t take a ship equipped for—someone with her skills.”

Luke nodded, clearly speculating about Mara’s past adventures as an underestimated Hand.

Leia looked from one to the other, knowing she was missing something.

“That settles it,” Luke said firmly to Leia. “We’re going back. To check on Chewie. You and Han can join forces to fuss over us like mother porgs.”

Leia scoffed. But she was eager to get back. She hadn’t liked Han’s tone in his message. His words assumed both Luke and Chewbacca would recover, but he would never admit fearing otherwise.

The door slid open. “Hey! You’re doing better!” Winter smiled at Luke. She turned to Leia “We’re set up for an indefinite stay.”

Leia chuckled. “Thank you, but you can cancel those plans. Chewie’s been hurt so we’re going back. Doctor says he’ll be OK. But Han’s worried.”

Winter nodded, absorbing this. “Well, let’s hope they’re right.” She turned to Mara.

“I haven’t hit anyone or anything since you left,” Winter accused Mara mockingly.

Mara scoffed. “You should have come with us. We had plenty of targets.”

Aboard Leia’s ship, Mara channeled the frustration and helplessness of sitting at Luke’s bedside into punches, kicks, and jabs at Winter.

“Ouch!” Winter fell on her back with a loud thump. “Am I this out of shape?”

A wave of guilt washed over Mara. “I have been accused of not pulling my punches enough. Sorry.”

Winter stood slowly. “One last round. Work on that pulling thing — we already have two friends under doctors' care.”

Mara consciously focused on tempering the force of her strikes, though she suspected Winter was doing the opposite. When Mara was caught off-guard by a sudden sweep of her leg, the ever-so-slightly-vindictive smile on Winter’s face confirmed it.

“Oh, sorry — was that too much?” Winter snarked.

Mara grunted. “Message received.”

Mara stood. “I said I’d been accused of not pulling punches. My last partner was more understanding.”

“I’m sure he was,” Winter smiled. “Kinda goes with the whole Jedi philosophy. I get to be more petty.”

“Yeah,” Mara agreed. “There’s another reason not to study the Jedi way. I’m not sure I could give up being petty.” Mara sat and drank deeply and noisily from a water flask. “You take the first sonic.”

Winter shook her head wordlessly as she crossed to the door.

“What?” Mara demanded. Winter usually refrained from expressing any judgment.

Winter stopped in the doorway and turned slowly. “It’s none of my business.”

“Too late for that. Spit it out.”

“Have you considered that you may be finding excuses not to explore what you are capable of?”

Anger flared hot in Mara’s chest. The memory of Luke asking her what she was afraid of flooded her brain. She forced herself not to follow her first instinct to snarl in response. After all, she had prodded Winter to speak her mind.

“No,” she ground out. She stared at the flask in her hand, running a finger around its mouth.

Winter nodded briskly. “Right. None of my business.” She turned and disappeared.

Finding excuses. The nerve, honestly. As she swallowed the last of the water in the flask, Mara noted it was out of character for Winter to make baseless accusations. She’d found Winter to be intelligent, observant, compassionate, and utterly devoted to Leia Organa and her cause. Why would Winter say something like that?

A familiar feeling crept into Mara’s chest, just below the ribs. She’d felt it at the medcenter when she reflected on how deeply she’d buried her feelings for Luke. His nearly fatal injury had forced the feelings to the surface. Was something else surfacing? Kark it, could Winter be right?

Luke focused on holding on to the last shred of patience his tired body possessed, as the 2–1B droid checked equipment readings while the doctor quizzed him.

“I’m feeling much better. The splenectomy surgery went well. I’ve been resting to recover from the internal bleeding. I checked out against Dr. Greene’s orders because I wanted to get back here to heal at home.”

Leia smiled inwardly. Luke was hardly a smooth-talking politician, but he had picked up a technique or two for spinning a situation to its most positive light. Even without using Force-fueled mind tricks.

Dr. Solomon nodded, tapping on her datapad. She used instruments to look into Luke’s eyes and ears. She undressed wounds, inspected them, and redressed them.

“Thank you for taking me through it, Jedi Skywalker. I’ll order some more scans, so what I’m about to say is a preliminary analysis. Your vitals and physical exam are consistent with what the doctors at Kaal told you. Best case, you’re healing as quickly as usual. If it’s not the best case, we’ll keep you here a bit longer and recommend a new treatment plan.”

Doctor Solomon held Luke’s gaze for a moment before making eye contact with Leia and Mara.

“I’m glad we’re back, Doctor Solomon,” Leia smiled. “It’s a relief for Luke to be under the care of someone we know and trust.”

The doctor glanced over at the 2–1B, then at the empty data port next to it. “No Artoo?”

Luke and Leia looked at each other as if they expected the other to know where the droid was.

“He’s getting some maintenance of his own,” Mara said. She looked at Luke. “I sent him for an oil bath.”

He grinned. “Oh, he’ll like that. He may not roll in for a while.”

“Well, enjoy your rest in the same spirit,” the doctor advised. “We’ll get these scans as soon as we can.”

The 2–1B finished its work and rolled to the doctor. As she and the droid exited, Han appeared, nodding toward the two. “He gonna live, doc?” Han asked, looking at Luke sitting up in bed.

“This time,” she replied cheerfully.

The door slid closed behind Han. “They’re sayin' you almost got done in by a little girl,” he ribbed his friend.

“Never underestimate little girls,” Leia retorted, looking at Mara, who nodded in support.

“How’s Chewie?” Luke ignored the dig.

“He’ll be OK. They released him already. That little pillow bomb wasn’t enough to penetrate a Wookiee skull. I’m always telling him how thick it is. Now there’s medical proof.”

His light tone belied the fear he’d felt for his friend. He would not soon forget the sight of Chewie’s fur matted with blood all down one side of his face, howling in pain, shock, and rage as blood pooled onto the deck.

“We’re gonna have to tune our sensors to catch smaller bombs now. They’re studying the one that was meant for me.”

“And Chorn?” Mara asked softly.

“In custody,” Han responded. “She better stay out of my sight for a good long time. Every time I see Chewie’s scar, I’m gonna remember we shoulda knocked her out from the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “They’re saying you nearly got taken out by—”

“We’ll let you get some rest.” Leia cut him off, playing her usual peacekeeping role. It was nice to have some things returning to normal. “Comm me if Dr. Solomon gets results back before we’re back.”

Han hit the door controls, and Leia led the visitors out.

As Mara followed Leia, she felt the tug-of-war within herself between the desire to go home to sleep and the reluctance to leave Luke on his own. Don’t be ridiculous, her logical side snapped. He’s recovering in a New Republic medcenter with his own doctor. Of course he did not need someone looking out for him while he slept now.

And yet, since he had slumped to the deck in the Pulsar Skate, Mara had been close by–following the ambulance, sitting in the Kaal medcenter, on the ship back to Coruscant. Returning to the space she had rented marked the end of—something. This brief moment in which she had watched over him was coming to a close. She felt immense relief that he was recovering. And she felt a pang of loss.

In her office, Leia watched as the figure of Ysanne Isard flickered in the holoprojector.

“These illegal and immoral Rebels kidnapped my own family. It’s not sufficient that they have invaded our capital and murdered our precious Emperor. They are coming for our children to indoctrinate them in their cultish beliefs.”

“Switch it off,” Han advised, stepping in.

“You haven’t heard what she said—”

“I don’t have to. It’s all lies anyway. It’s just going to make you mad for the rest of the day.”

“Well unfortunately it is my job to listen to galactic politics, remember?”

“Yeah, well I can think of much more interesting things to do than your job,” he said with a rakish smile.

“It is the middle of the day, and I’m working. Down, boy,” Leia laughed.

Days passed. Mara resumed her sparring schedule with Winter and Iella.

As Winter landed a particularly well-aimed blow, a smile spread across her face.

“Yeah, nice,” Mara scowled begrudgingly as she bounced on the balls of her feet, looking for her next opening.

But the expression on Winter’s face and the way her eyes focused behind Mara made Mara turn. Luke had just stepped into the gym. He hid his injury expertly from anyone who didn’t know him well.

Without a second thought, Mara walked away from the sparring match to meet him.

“You sure you’re in the right place? They say you got hurt.”

“By a little girl. So I’ve heard.” He grinned at her. “I can’t lay around anymore. I promised Leia I wouldn’t run yet, so I’m just here to do something.”

Mara hummed.

“I’ll be fine. Not even gonna let you beat me up today.” He rummaged in his bag. “Although…” He pulled out his lightsaber. “You got yours?”

“Always. I’ll just finish up with—” Winter materialized at her elbow as if summoned. Iella trailed behind.

“You must be feeling better,” Iella said to Luke. “Thank you so much for getting all the younglings out. It’s unbelievable that one of them attacked you.”

“It was one contingency we definitely didn’t plan for.” Luke noted ruefully. “But I was a lot luckier than the pilots we lost.”

The three women nodded silently.

“Indeed.” Winter agreed. “I have to run. If I see Leia, did I see you?”

“Yes, please. Tell her I looked healthy.”

The women chuckled. Winter and Iella moved off. Luke and Mara paced out the space they preferred for lightsaber practice.

Luke moved slowly but precisely as they traded slashes and blocks.

“I’m not going to break—you don’t have to take it so easy,” Luke observed.

“Make up your mind, Jedi,” Mara returned. “Should I learn to pull my punches or fight a little harder?”

His lips twitched at the snark. He landed a lunge with unexpected momentum on her exposed side. Even on the training setting, it stung.

“Oh fine,” she sighed. She stepped in and started a gradual advance with determination.

“That’s enough for me. I’m ready to go back to bed now.” Luke shut down the lightsaber, sweat running down the sides of his face.

Mara nodded and extinguished her blade. She returned it to her bag and fished out the water flask.

As she drank, she felt Luke’s eyes on her. “Something on your mind?” she asked. Memories of his judgemental anger flooded back to her. They’d been in this same spot. What are you afraid of?

He was remembering, too. He chose his words carefully. “You’re still here.” It was the safest thing he could think of to say. He didn’t trust himself to say more.

“Observant,” she snarked. Another sarcastic remark came to mind. Her eyes dropped to the floor. She swallowed. “Look—” She stopped. She cleared her throat. “How about I walk you back? Make sure you don’t fall over or anything.”

Luke did not feel in any danger of falling over. “Sure, thanks.” Questions rose rapidly in his mind, one erupting into another. Master Yoda, if you can hear me, give me patience.

Chapter Text

Luke and Mara fell into step together in the early afternoon light. Beings of all shapes, sizes, and species moved in all directions around them. Luke was used to seeing the occasional double-takes, as beings recognized him from the holonews. This time, everyone seemed preoccupied with their own business.  

Traffic buzzed lightly in the lanes overhead, filled with speeders, swoop bikes, and a variety of transports.

Mara drew a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I had a lot of time to think on Kaal,” she started. “Maybe Coruscant is not so bad.”

“Yeah?” Luke responded in surprise.

“Maybe I could find a way to be here. A career counselor once suggested I could dance, or find security work, or intelligence. Turns out I can operate with a team without wanting to kill them after all.” Much to my surprise, she thought.

“Well, the right team, sure,” he agreed. “You thought that career counselor was an idiot, if I recall correctly.” It seemed ages ago that he’d given advice she’d not asked for as they sped away from Tatooine in a shiny new E-wing.

She chuckled. “Yeah, I might have misjudged him, too.”

They walked in silence.

“My quarters are in the old Palace,” Luke noted, remembering the haunted look in her eyes as she had stared toward the building when they’d stood outside the NRI headquarters.

“Right,” she replied. “Might as well start facing the demons.”

He smiled. “Sounds like you have done a lot of thinking.”

“You gave me a lot of time,” she accused him.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “That happens. I’m a target.”

She absorbed this. Of course he was. He used to be her target. It felt so long ago now.

They neared the Palace. Luke turned toward a street that led to a discreet side door, but Mara kept determinedly toward the main entrance.

He took a few quick strides to catch up. “You don’t have to do it all in one day, you know,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I made myself some promises. The sooner I follow through, the less time I have to wuss out.”

They reached the entrance. She paused, taking in the sight. Tall stone columns dwarfed the beings moving among them. They passed between two columns, and Mara’s gaze widened to include the ancient friezes on either side of the solid security doors. Beings from various planets twisted around each other in scenes of battle, celebration, and ceremony. She had passed by them countless times in the life that seemed increasingly foreign to her now.

Colorful moss had been allowed to cover parts of the friezes, cut carefully so as not to obstruct entire sections. Mara squinted at it in curiosity – the Empire would never have allowed such a thing.

“Is that—” she started.

“Alderaanian moss,” Luke replied. “There’s just a handful of public displays of it now. As a tribute.”

She pressed forward. Most of her instructors had taught her to ignore fear, to push past it, to push it down. Push, push, push. But there had been one trainer. She hadn’t lasted long, but she advised Mara to look at her fear directly, accept it, and allow it to walk alongside but not take control. It had been a useful technique undercover and under fire. She’d never thought to use it in her home. She hadn’t realized she needed to.

She inhaled. Without realizing it, she reached her fingers around Luke’s. They were warm and strong. They moved to the doors, between the flanking guards. One guard nodded in recognition at Luke, and the doors slid open. They stepped in.

In her home office, Leia rubbed her temples. She had an hour before she would have to leave for her meeting in the Senate building. It would be a long one, she was sure.

Han slipped onto the sofa beside her and placed two warm mugs onto the low table where she had just set a datapad. Leia sighed.

“Isard is making this so—”

“Uh-huh,” Han pulled her into his chest, effectively smothering the end of her sentence.

She allowed it, inhaling his scent deeply and chuckling on her exhale.

“OK, OK,” she mumbled against him. He was the only one who would do this. Who could do this.

They remained there a few moments, savoring the quiet togetherness.

Finally she pulled away and reached for the warm mug. She took a sip and leaned her back against him.

“Come to my late meeting today. I could really use someone who tells it like it is. And who has a keen insight into minds like Isard’s.”

“Dirtbags, you mean? I can do that—but my time limit is an hour. I can’t take the political banthashit for any longer than that.”

“Deal,” she replied, with another sip.

“You…wanna talk about that other thing?” he offered. 

“The wedding? Our engagement? When we’re going to tell everyone? Which other thing, specifically?” Leia smiled.

“Whatever you find most distracting,” he replied.

Mara dropped Luke’s hand as other beings came into view inside the Palace. She hoped the guards on the door weren’t the kind to dish to the holosludge press about what they saw on shift. Luke did not need that.

Mara’s head tipped back as she surveyed how the new occupants had redecorated. Some spaces were completely transformed. The larger-than-life portrait of the Galactic Emperor was replaced by a colorful tapestry of the founding worlds of the New Republic, surrounded by smaller tapestries as more member worlds joined. New Republic banners hung over doorways. Portraits of Imperial officers were replaced by those of Rebel war heroes.

Mara wondered where Luke’s portrait had been placed.

Other decorations had barely changed. Much of the ancient art, such as that at the entrance, had been preserved and restored.

Memories rose and faded, more muted than she expected. The monster in her closet lacked teeth.

Luke walked alongside. Her emotional shields were relaxed and he felt a range of feelings roll through them. Awareness of the oll the workout had taken on his energy crept over him. For all his bravado he was still healing. Quickly, but not yet completely.

He felt a mix of relief and regret as his door came into view. It meant sleep. It also meant Mara would leave.

He motioned to the door. They stopped.

“You OK?” he asked.

“I am, thanks. I’m fine. It’s—not easy. But it’s not what I thought it would be either.”

“Good. That’s great. I appreciate your coming back with me. And the bravery it took.”

She took a deep breath. “I promised myself something else if you woke up. It takes a lot more bravery than that.” He felt her apprehension.

She looked up and down the hall, empty of other beings. Her eyes landed on a security camera.

Luke’s gaze followed hers. He focused, a furrow appearing between his brows. Mara heard a buzz and a pop. Small sparks jumped from the camera.

She shook her head, and he felt her envy, not for the first time.

Words suddenly deserted her. She’d thought of several ways to phrase what she wanted to say. She had rehearsed the perfect speech. Now her mind was blank.

But there was one perfectly natural course of action.

She tipped her face up to his and stepped into him. She pressed her lips to his briefly, tasting their warmth and softness. Just as quickly she retreated, gauging his reaction. 

He grinned and drew her to him, returning the kiss. Their lips opened and their tongues met in exploration.

Mara felt his arms circle around her. His muscles squeezed her close to him. A melting sensation rose from her stomach up through her shoulders. She thought she might be able to stay just like this forever.

Luke’s shields relaxed and his exhaustion swept over Mara. She pulled back. Forever would have to wait.   “You need rest. We can talk about this another time.” She retreated further.

“Or—you could stay? Be here when I wake up?” Luke asked.

Her eyebrows shot up, deciphering the request.

“No, no—I mean…” Words floated outside his grasp. The memory of her lips filled his mind. The thrill of her stepping up to him with clear intention tinged with apprehension. The sensations mixed with the fatigue to rob his verbal facilities.

He bent his forehead to touch hers and focused on the feeling he’d known when she was near while he was unconscious. On the Skate, in Kaal’s medcenter, in a trance on the ship back, he’d always had some level of awareness of her. He couldn’t quite distinguish her words, or breathe her scent, or see her face. But he’d known they were there the same way he knew a shadow revealed where something blocked the light. The knowledge sparked feelings of warmth and relief and safety.

“Oh,” she said aloud as understanding crystallized. “Sure, I can stay. I can do that.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as his forehead remained resting on hers. 

“But you have to open the door,” she whispered.

He laughed. Reaching for the controls, he keyed the necessary code. The doors slid open with a quiet swish. He waited for her to enter first.

A comfortable-looking sofa and chair were arranged for conversation in the main living area. Around the room, model ships sat on display shelves. A holo of a middle-aged couple standing in front of the farm on Tatooine had pride of place on the low table in front of the couch. Owen and Beru Lars, Mara assumed.

A viewport dominated the opposite exterior wall, flooding the space with the afternoon light. Above, the spacelanes bulged with traffic. The old Senate building rose in the distance, prominent among the cityscape. Even the familiar silhouettes looked and felt different to her now. How was that possible?

“Make yourself at home. There’s caf and smashfruit. Must be some ration bars around somewhere.” Luke waved toward the kitchen. "Down that way—"

“I’ll figure it out. Go to bed,” she ordered. “Before you actually fall over. In five minutes, I’ll be in to check you’re asleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighed in relief and headed down the short hall.

She went to the kitchen and started caf. Staying alert was a requirement while keeping watch. As was knowing your environment.

Her curiosity led her around the cooking area. The kitchen was stocked as he promised with caf, smashfruit, a small collection of ration bars, hot chocolate, mallow paste. The refrigerating unit held blue milk, blue cheese, leftovers of unknown origin, spicy condiments, and Jawa juice. You can take the boy out of Tatooine, she thought wryly.

An hour later, Mara poured her second mug of caf and mentally checked on Luke. His sense was peaceful. She’d looked in on him once since the promised five-minute check. To her surprise, he’d been fast asleep as ordered.

His bedroom was more cluttered than the front room. The decor ran along the same themes. A battered T-16 model sat on a table opposite the bed. Right behind was projected the hologram of the suns Tatoo I and II sinking over the horizon. More holos were scattered around the room. One included Organa, Solo, and Luke in an unguarded moment of laughter. Another featured an X-Wing and a handful of pilots. Mara recognized Luke, Antilles, and Janson.

She’d smiled to herself, crossed to him, and kissed his forehead. He’d murmured happily in his sleep.

Remembering the moment, she marveled at how her circumstances had changed. Had she ever kissed another being on the forehead? Her upbringing had not allowed for personal relationships, and certainly none where she provided care for anyone else. Once she was old enough, she was expected not to require care herself. It had been an isolated life.

She sipped the caf. It was as hot and as dark as she could make it.

He’d asked her just to be there. Luke Skywalker had no need for a bodyguard. It was laughable. Amused by the thought, she fetched her bag and found her weapons. The lightsaber was a comfortably familiar weight on her hip. The wrist holster settled into its usual spot holding her blaster at the ready.

She heard the distinctive hiss of the front door sliding open. In one swift motion, she set the mug down and dropped into a crouch behind a cabinet. She flicked her wrist to drop her holdout blaster into her hand. Slowly, she peered around the cabinet with the blaster pointed toward the door.

A shrill droid whistle split the air as its camera detected the threat.

“Shhhhhhhh! Artoo, he’s sleeping! It’s just me!” She hastily holstered the blaster and approached the astromech, hands empty.

R2-D2 fell silent, apparently studying her. Abruptly, he changed direction and rolled down the hall to the bedroom where Luke slept. His dome spun as he inspected the room from the door Luke had left open.

Mara watched from the main living space and again reached out for the now-familiar connection. To her surprise, Luke had slept through the disturbance.

Artoo’s dome swiveled back toward her as if to acknowledge he’d confirmed Luke’s status. Without another sound, he turned and rolled to the room at the end of the hall.

Curious, she followed him. The room contained a collection of parts, wires, tools, and projects in progress. Artoo had plugged into a power port in the corner of the room. With a soft beep, his exterior lights went out as he entered recharging mode.

Well, you sleep well, too, I guess, she wished him silently. She returned down the hall and sank into the luxurious couch. Great, now there’s two to guard. She smiled as she took another sip of hot caf.

Ysanne Isard’s holo loomed larger than life in the stale Coruscant light. “Everyone knows the illegal takeover of Coruscant by Rebel criminals can never last! Those losers will get what is coming to them.”

Leia had to consciously force herself to close her mouth. Her head tipped back, trying to make sense of what she saw.

“What is she doing?” Leia asked Winter.

“Trying to rally public opinion,” Winter reasoned. She hustled Leia toward the Senate building entrance before anyone noticed them.

Entering the stark conference room, Leia breathed deeply and found that internal place where she anchored herself. It had helped her through countless meetings. She suspected it enabled her to speak in that way that galvanized support. She settled into her seat, nodding at each of her colleagues as they gathered.

“We’re getting reports of a small Imperial Remnant fleet on course for Coruscant. Their numbers are not great enough to invade. Their objective is unclear.”

“We will be ready,” Admiral Ackbar replied confidently.

“Good,” Mothma acknowledged. “We need to prepare for other possibilities as well. General Cracken, what can you tell us?”

Cracken scowled. “Not enough. There are still active Imperial cells here, of course, but nothing to suggest there are sufficient numbers to retake the planet. They’d need an overwhelming ground effort to compensate for such a small air assault.” He shook his head. “We’re widening the scope of our investigations.”

“This doesn’t sound like Palpatine’s Empire,” Leia mused. She was reminded of the pillow bomb attempt on the Falcon. “We may need new strategies to meet theirs.”

A combination of thoughtful nods, snorts, and snuffles swept the table. Leia took this for an expression of agreement as she was learning to read the Council’s senses. Luke had suggested that her ability to tune into her own peace as well as persuade others might demonstrate her Force connection. She had rolled her eyes. She did that a lot, she knew.

The meeting moved on and resumed its usual rhythm of administration.

Luke stirred.

Mara sensed the change first, then heard him moving around. The distinctive sound of a sanisteam made her shoulders relax. She still hadn’t taken one since her workout, she realized with a start. I must look and smell special, she thought.

As the sanisteam shut off, she moved to the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

Luke appeared, wearing light loose sleep pants, running his hands through wet hair. Mara’s gaze was drawn to the lightning scars fading across the muscles of his shoulders and neck, becoming smaller and smaller into his chest and back. She’d caught glimpses in the medcenter on Tatooine. But this was the first time she’d seen him shirtless. Was she staring?

He gratefully put the water cup to his lips, tipped his head back, and finished it in several swallows. Mara took one last look and busied herself with tidying the caf station.

“Thanks,” he breathed. He set the cup down. She picked it up and refilled it.

“Oh, the medcenter on Kaal gave me your jacket with my stuff. It’s got a bloodstain. As soon as I get to laundry, I’ll get it back to you.” He took the refilled the cup and sipped.

“Trade you. I still have the shirt you loaned me on Tatooine. Oh—and the one I ran in. They’re clean.”

“No rush. I have plenty.” He drained the cup again. She took it and turned to refill it.

“I did not ask you to stay here to wait on me.” He moved to take the cup back and refill it himself.

She ignored him as she handed him his third glass of water. “Do you have plenty of shirts, though? Because it looks like you ran out. Or did you ask me to stay here to wait on you and do your laundry?” Her eyes sparkled over a mischievous grin.

“You want me to prove it?” he asked with a grin. “You want me to go put on a shirt?” His eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.

She closed the distance between them. “Well, I suppose I believe you. I mean, Jedi are supposed to be trustworthy, aren’t they?” She peered closely at the scars stretching across his clavicles. He reached for her hand and placed it on his chest.

“It’s OK,” he said softly. “It hasn’t hurt for a long time.”

Mara let her finger trail along the spidery lines, out over a shoulder, behind his neck, into his hair. Pulling Luke down to her, she kissed him. She could sense the difference the rest had made. He was still recovering, though. For multiple reasons, they would take things slowly.

He lifted his lips away to nuzzle into her neck, kissing just below the jawline and moving back toward her ear. She breathed in deeply.

His forehead dropped to rest on the top of her shoulder. “Leia,” he whispered.

She frowned. Did you just call me—, she asked him.

He straightened and took a step back. “My sister is on her way.” He backed away slowly. “I’m going to find that shirt in my clean laundry. Do not run off, OK?”

“No more running off,” she said softly. His grin widened. He turned and moved out of the kitchen.

Mara sighed. The interruption was probably for the best anyway. She poured the last cup of caf and started another carafe. Leia would want some.

She took her caf back to the couch. She reached for the gradually loosening braid that wound in a halo around her head. It was a good way to keep her hair out of the way during a workout, but would be disheveled from all the sparring. Moving with the speed of years of practice, she twisted a single central braid. She straightened her clothes, as she remembered going through these same motions before Leia’s arrival at Luke’s room on Kaal.

The door chime sounded. Mara glanced down the hallway. It was empty. The door to Luke’s bedroom remained closed. She waited.

The moment stretched on. Her training in manners moved her to the front door where she activated the controls. Leia barreled past her with a terse, “I need caf.”

“It’s fresh,” Mara said.

Leia turned as recognition dawned. “Oh! Hello, Mara. I’m sorry, I’m a bit distracted.” She looked around. “Is Luke here?”

On cue, he stepped from the bedroom and covered the short distance to the entry. “Right here.” He was dressed in a white tunic and pants, looking as if he might have just stepped off the farm.

“There’s caf,” he offered.

“Yes! I heard. Thank you.” She moved to the kitchen as Luke sank down on the couch.

Awkward, Mara sent in Luke’s direction. He grinned.

She sat in the chair next to the couch and drank deeply from her caf. A mug was an effective shield.

Leia returned and eased on to the couch. “How are you feeling?” she asked Luke.

“Fine. Great. Strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark. I took it nice and easy in my workout.”

“Did he?” Leia asked Mara.

“For him,” Mara shrugged.

“Master Yoda did not believe in easy days,” he explained.

“Were you ever recovering from surgery on Dagobah?” Leia countered. “I do agree with Winter, though—she said you looked healthy.”

Luke nodded in appreciation. “You done with meetings for the day then? Headed back?”

“No, just thought I’d check on you during a break. I have to go back and play ‘Try to get inside Ysanne Isard’s head’ with the rest of the gang.”

Luke made a face. “Good luck with that.”

“What’s she up to now?” Mara asked.

“That is what we are brainstorming. There are Imperial ships heading to Coruscant, but not enough to invade. Cracken says they don’t have enough strength here on the ground to mount an overthrow. So why are those ships on their way? Could Cracken be wrong?” Her eyes squeezed shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mara frowned in concentration.

Just as quickly, Leia’s eyes opened as she straightened. “Not what I came here for.” She looked appraisingly at Luke. “Of course you say you feel great. And you are looking stronger.”

Playfully, Luke turned himself this way and that, giving her different angles to inspect. Damp hair around his neckline caught her eye.

“I’ve just gotten some sleep and had a sanisteam following my barely-a-workout, thank you very much. Mara was kind enough to keep an eye on things for me.”

Mara internally sighed with relief now that he had addressed the bantha in the room.

Leia nodded. “Of course.” She drained her mug. “The caf is really good,” she noted. She stood. “I’d love to stay all afternoon. If I don’t move now, I might just do that. And then where would the New Republic be?”

“Completely directionless,” Luke said cheerfully. He rose from the couch along with her. “You’re our only hope.”

“OK, wiseass. You must be feeling better.” Leia chuckled.

“I need to go take my own sanisteam,” Mara put in as she unfolded herself gracefully.

Luke felt emotion rise—fear she would bolt, followed by the temptation to make things happen the way he wanted. He was always aware that he could. He breathed, letting the feelings flow and crest.

They moved to the door. Leia activated the controls. Mara stood back to allow the other woman to exit first.

Mara looked at Luke. I meant what I said. No more running off. I’m going back to get a sanisteam and let you rest, but I’m not going anywhere.

He smiled back in understanding.

Mara glanced out the open door and was surprised to see Leia had stopped, waiting a discreet distance away.

Mara whispered, "No falling over. You want me to check in on you later, too? "

“Yes, please.”

She smiled at him and stepped out the door. Mara strode quickly to catch up to Leia, wondering what she might want to discuss.

“Did I ever thank you for staying with him at Kaal?” Leia asked, as Mara drew close enough to match Leia’s pace.

“You did,” Mara confirmed. Multiple times, both women knew. Mara wondered what Leia was warming up to. Did she want to interrogate Mara for information about Ysanne Isard? Was she hoping for details about Mara and Luke’s relationship?

“Good. Well, I’m still grateful you did. I’m glad you’re here and looking after him.”

Mara nodded. “He does seem to be doing better. He really doesn’t need looking after. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Leia scoffed. “Oh, that’s not going to stop. I worry about him when he’s perfectly healthy. Him and Han and Winter and Chewie and so many others.”

Mara made a sympathetic noise. “Sounds like a lot.”

“I’ll worry less with you around.”

“Really?” The shock Mara felt showed in her reaction before she could stop it.

“Really. I mean, I’ll worry a little less with you around. I can’t seem to stop.”

Mara considered the information that her presence caused Leia Organa to feel less anxious, instead of more so. She was almost as befuddling as Luke. Maybe it’s a family thing.

“We said that night we all went out that we’d come help you check out your old place here. Are you still interested?”

They’d made their way out the discreet side exit that Luke had planned to use earlier for an entrance. As they reached the street, Mara stopped where they would part.

She’d forgotten about the offer to support her as she faced the past that lurked in her former quarters. She hadn’t even taken it seriously at the time, dismissing it as the effects of the alcohol and camaraderie. Yet here was Leia, of all people, reminding her. 

“I—Maybe. I might be.” As hard as she tried, she found she could not focus. Her mind spun with images of Luke without his shirt, damp hair hanging over his forehead, muscles flexing as he swung a sparring blow, blue eyes she had dreamt of since first gazing into them at Kenobi’s.

And now Mara had fulfilled the promises she’d made herself in the dark night while Luke’s sense swayed between life and death. She’d admitted the feelings she’d long denied, out loud and to his face. He hadn’t laughed or run away or, worst of all, kindly let her down. He’d been thrilled. Would he stay that way?

Chapter Text

 
An hour after parting ways with Leia, Mara stepped out of the sanisteam and reached for a towel. She dried herself, feeling the towel absorb the water on her skin. The air was chilled compared to the steamy hot water she’d allowed herself to luxuriate in. It was another small pleasure she’d denied herself in a former life.
 
Her lips still tingled with the memory of Luke’s kisses. Her world had stopped spinning at least for a moment. She made plans to check on him later. Not so late that he’d feel forgotten. But not so immediately as to turn her reality on its head again too soon. 
 
She’d stalled and run away and denied and overthought for a couple of years since they had met. Formally met through the bars in Jabba’s dungeon. Now that her feelings were out in the open, there was no reason to rush things along.
 
She combed out her thick, wet hair. It waved and snarled in places. She patiently set about working out the tangles. This was one of those physical tasks that had a rewarding end state. Like cleaning her blaster.
 
Leia had reminded her of that discussion of her old quarters and the wardrobe and other belongings that might still be there. Or not. They may have been looted or repossessed by new occupants. Or shot up or exploded or burnt down. There was no telling without going.
 
Which she hadn’t. She’d been sidestepping Mirax’s invitations.
 
As her comb finally passed smoothly through the last tangle, she smiled with satisfaction. She divided her hair carefully into sections and started to braid.
 
Now that she knew Luke was not repulsed by her interest, perhaps it was time to consider letting Mirax introduce her in her circle of friends. Perhaps it was time to settle in a bit more comfortably. Perhaps it was time to see what state her old quarters were in. Perhaps.
 
 
 

 
 
 
From across the meeting room, Han recognized the clues in Leia’s posture that she was not enjoying the conversation she was having. It had taken a long time to learn her tells. Her diplomatic experience and royal training provided thick cover for her true feelings.  
 
Han strode across the room. He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Princess, I hate to pull you away from this important conversation but we have a situation that requires your attention urgently.”
 
Leia’s smile was more than polite. “I’m so sorry, but this can’t wait,” she said to her conversation partner towering over her. The man nodded as she edged away but continued his story.

“Does he think someone’s listening?” Han wondered.
 
“He assumes so,” Leia explained.
 
“I don’t know how you do it.” They ignored all attempts to get their attention. Han grasped Leia’s elbow as if steering her toward the fictional urgent situation. They cut a direct path to the door.
 
Outside the room, their pace slowed. His hand dropped from her elbow, interlacing his long fingers with her petite ones.
 
“All right?” he asked.
 
“Perfect,” she sighed. She appreciated the partnership they were building. It had been so hard, especially after Alderaan, to let anyone help. To lean on anyone else’s support. But Han had waited it all out, consistently showing up to see if she was ready to let him in. Not that he didn’t have his own issues. Perhaps that is what made them a good fit.
 
“Luke’s?” He asked. 
 
“Ah….” They frequently stopped at Luke’s quarters on their way home from the Senate building. She poked at her twin bond. Do you want company? Are you alone?
 
She felt amusement behind his response. Yes to both.
 
“Yeah,” Leia replied to Han. “We’re clear for Luke’s.”
 
“Clear? That’s new. Did he tell you to start ’calling ahead’ or something? Did we stop by one time too many?”
 
“Mara was there when I checked on him earlier.” The memory made Leia smile. “Made me realize I just take it for granted he’s available.”
 
“’Mara was there,’” Han repeated.
 
“Later,” she hissed back good-naturedly. “I’ll tell you all about it later. I just want to make sure he’s still getting better, and then go home and collapse.”
 
Han pictured Leia collapsing on Luke’s couch. He wondered what kind of escape velocity she would require to pull back out.
 
Minutes later, Leia leaned her head back against the back of Luke’s couch as she allowed the facade of proper formality to melt away. She closed her eyes and sighed happily.
 
Han set a hot cup of caf on the low table in front of her, and opened the ale he’d brought in for himself.
 
“How ya doin’, kid?” Han asked. He sank into the couch next to Leia.
 
Luke nodded affably. “Better every day.”
 
“Uh-huh. And how’s Mara doing?” Han replied with a half-smile.
 
Her eyes still closed, Leia spoke. “Sorry I interrupted earlier. I’ll check first from now on.” She opened her eyes, straightened, and leaned to pick up the caf. She sipped and smiled. “You two looked cozy.” She glanced sideways at her brother.
 
“It was innocent—thanks to your interruption. But I accept your apology anyway. I’m in no hurry. She says she’s not going anywhere. Gonna stay awhile and give life on Coruscant another shot. So she’s doing fine, to answer your question, Han.”
 
“She’s giving Coruscant a chance, huh? Well, isn’t that nice?” Han took another pull off his drink. The fading light reaching from the viewport behind them glinted off the glass bottle.
 
“I don’t care how she words it. Or even thinks about it. She’s staying—that’s all I care about.”
 
“You know, if that smile gets any bigger, your face is just going to split in two.” Leia smiled too, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “I think it’s great that you’re allowing yourself an exception to the ‘attachment is forbidden’ part of that ancient code.”
 
Luke leaned forward. “The Jedi code is still very important to me,” he said, his voice rising. He caught himself. “I mean—I don’t know. At some point, I realized it was too late. I was already attached. Whether she was interested or not. I’m still trying to work out what that means and how to think about that part of the code. But I’m not going to keep pushing Mara away because of it.”
 
The three of them sat, grinning and looking at one another. After another moment, Luke frowned slightly. “What?” he demanded.
 
Leia frowned back. “What do you mean ‘what’? I said I was happy for you. Not that he’d say it, but he’s probably happy for you too.” She elbowed Han in the ribs.
 
“Oh—sure, I mean—” Han started.
 
“No, not that,” Luke interrupted. “What are you not telling me?”
 
Han and Leia shared a look. Even without the Force, an unspoken understanding was reached.
 
“We’re getting married!” Leia’s own smile almost split her face in two. “Don’t tell yet—you’re the first to know. Of course.”
 
Luke vaulted to his feet to draw them both up in a hug. “Congratulations! That’s so great.” They let go of each other. 
 
“I didn’t think this day could get any better,” Luke marveled. “I mean, it’s about time, but still.”
 
“Yeah, we could say the same about Mara,” Han growled.
 
“Oh, come on, we’re moving at lightning speed compared to you two,” Luke protested. “So when is the big day?”
 
“We don’t know yet—there’s a lot to work out, so much to plan.” Leia shook her head. She longed to sit back down but knew if she did, she’d remain there for hours. “But we didn’t want to keep the secret from you any longer. And now we have to go, or I’ll just fall asleep here.”
 
She felt Han’s hand land lightly on her waist. They turned to leave.
 
“So what’s the cover story when people ask why I’m so happy?” Luke teased, stepping toward the door with them.
 
“You say, ‘Her name is Mara,’” Han rejoined.
 
 
 

 
 
 
Mara stood in front of the door of her old quarters. Arrayed in an arc behind her were Leia, Winter, and Iella.
 
“Mirax says she wants to hear all about it as soon as she and Corran are back,” Iella reported. She slipped her datapad back into her bag.
 
“Yeah, I probably should have waited for her,” Mara conceded.
 
“And you still can,” Leia put in firmly. Her tone softened. “But we’re here now. So, either way, it’s fine. Whatever you want to do.”
 
Mara nodded definitively at that and punched in her old security code. The door slid open. Interesting that no one had changed the passkey.
 
She stepped inside. It was much smaller than she remembered, even though she was an adult when she last lived here. She inhaled deeply, smelling dust and neglect. Underneath, the smell of…home. Memories flooded over her. 
 
She remembered returning here after countless missions. This place meant safety. Privacy. Whatever danger she had risked in the last mission was over, regardless of how the mission had gone.
 
That’s how it had felt at the time, anyway. The privacy was likely an illusion. The trust she had placed in the Emperor, and his Empire, had been naïve. If she scanned the place, would she find mics? Cameras?
 
The safety was definitely an illusion. She was at risk for being reported or framed for any offense, if it had served a high ranking individual. She’d fought off an attacker here more than once, always successfully.
 
Winter broke the silence. “We can turn around right now if you want.”
 
Mara focused on her breathing. Her memory suddenly shifted to a much more recent scene. Again, she was staring into Luke’s eyes on the Skate as they breathed in tandem while the ground quaked underneath them. He’d been purposely calming her, she realized, synchronizing on a long, slow inhale with an even longer exhale. 
 
“Not necessary.” This place had been home, such as it was. Whether it was private or safe or anything else was irrelevant. She didn’t live here anymore, literally or figuratively. “It’s just walls and furniture.”
 
Iella’s experience in intelligence informed her glance around the rooms. “And dresses! You want to start with the closet?” In her place, Iella reasoned, looking at old clothes would be less triggering than some other belongings.
 
Mara turned, facing the others. “Yeah, dresses, good. Over here.”
 
They followed her through a doorway off the main room to a bedroom. The square footage was modest. As with all other aspects of her life, her usage of the space was efficient. 
 
Leia thought of the regal upbringing she’d had, and the royal palace that had gone with it. Mara’s rooms were comparable to the old servant quarters that her family had repurposed for storage. From the sparse decoration, you wouldn’t even guess it belonged to a young woman, Leia marveled.
 
Mara crossed straight to the closet doors and released them. They revealed a curious combination of plain black clothing designed to accommodate movement and a handful of colorful formal dresses. Hooks lined the upper section, holding various hairpieces and wigs.
 
The same thought formed in Iella’s, Winter’s, and Leia’s minds. Spy. Not that they hadn’t known or suspected that already. Still, the proof hung in front of their eyes in a variety of fabrics and textures.
 
Mara contemplated the  wardrobe in front of her. “I was either invisible or dressed up like a doll,” she murmured. 
 
“We could burn it all,” Iella suggested, surprising herself.
 
The women chuckled, breaking the tension.
 
Leia felt herself drawn to the last gown on the rod. She stepped closer and pulled it toward her to have a better look.
 
The green material shimmered and sparkled even in the dusty light. It had a high neck and a single sleeve, leaving the other arm bare. 
 
“Wow. This one was clearly meant for dancing. It looks like it’s moving on its own.”
 
Mara stared at it, remembering. It was the last dress she had tried on in this room. It had been made for a ball in which she would be on her most routine assignment: collect information on disloyal officers and members of court. She had liked the dress but was unimpressed with the work. Out in the field she could do so much more. Hearing Vader had been commanded to set a trap for Skywalker, she’d headed out to track him. She had not come back.
 
Leia allowed the fabric to slip from her fingers. The dress swung gently back into its place. “Bad memories?” she asked softly.
 
“I never wore that one,” Mara said. “But it couldn’t possibly fit anymore.” A requirement of her job had been maintaining the court’s ideal feminine figure, which was nearly impossible for an adult. She’d gradually relaxed her discipline since then just enough to avoid feeling chronically hungry.
 
Winter could not let Mara’s comment slide. “What are you talking about? You’re in great shape! I have all the bruises from our sparring to prove it.” 
 
Mara smiled for the first time since entering. She rubbed a spot on her rib cage. “You get your shots in,” she returned.
 
Sensing a good time for a shift, Leia announced, “Whether you want to keep any of this or not, I can refer you to a fabulous dressmaker, Mara. You’ll all be getting invitations to a ball soon. So you’ll want something for that.”
 
Three heads turned toward Leia. “Han and I are engaged.” The Skywalker grin blossomed across her delicate features. She reached to the nape of her neck and pulled out a chain nestled under her blouse. She held out the ring that hung from it.
 
They all leaned in to oooh and aaah over the glittering gemstones.
 
 “I can put this on after we’ve made the official announcement. Between the holopress and all my friends working in intelligence, someone was bound to notice.”
 
Mara studied Leia’s features. Had Mara imagined it, or had Leia made eye contact with her as well as she had leaned on the word friends?  
 
“Well, we wouldn’t be very good at our jobs if we didn’t notice something like an engagement ring,” Winter laughed. 
 
“OK, OK,” Leia stepped back. “Today is about Mara, not me. Let’s get back to business.”
 
Mara surveyed the clothes again, then cast an eye around the rest of the room. “It’ll be quick. I don’t need much here.” The finality of the statement rang truth through her soul. “And I don’t need today to be about me, either.”
 
She made shooing motions with her hands. “Go on. I’ll try on that green one. You can open the cabinets and drawers just to make everything visible out there and then we should be done. Don’t bother with the black cabinet—it’s a safe, and it’s locked.”
 
The women filed out, happy to have orders to execute. They spread out to the degree they could, sliding open storage spaces. The contents were as neat and organized as the rest. Winter, Iella, and Leia respectfully left everything in place despite their varying levels of curiosity.
 
Job done, they waited. 
 
And waited.
 
Leia stepped to the bedroom door. She had great insight when she could see the one she was talking to. She knew Luke would be able to read Mara’s sense through the closed door. Perhaps she needed to make more time for the repeatedly offered training.
 
“Can we help?” Leia called softly.
 
“I’m just … not sure.” Mara’s voice contained an uncharacteristic note of uncertainty.
 
“Second opinion?” Leia offered. “And third and fourth?”
 
The door slid open, and Mara stepped out. The green mystery fabric tumbled down one arm and along her form, silhouetting it very clearly yet somehow allowing her to move unrestricted. It gleamed with every reflected scrap of light in the space.
 
Iella sucked in a breath. Winter grinned. Leia clapped her hands together. “Oh yes, absolutely! Mara, how can you not be sure?”
 
“Is it too much? I mean, the Imperial style was as showy as possible. But you—now—I….” She faltered.
 
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Leia reassured her. “There’s always a wide variety at these things. I mean, sure, some New Republic folks prefer to look more understated. But so many are just glad to have an excuse to dress up like they’re at some kind of court again, whether from their homeworlds or Imperial. I mean, if you want to fly under the radar, then yes, you want a different choice. But why would you want to do that?”
 
She’d been hiding for so long that this question felt foreign to her. 
 
The fabric shifted around her, whispering. It spoke to her of grace and celebration and romance. She pictured herself in this dress next to Luke in his sharpest Jedi blacks. She nodded.
 
A whoop of affirmation went up from the women. 

Mara looked around at the open doors and drawers. “Good, I’ll be right out.” She grabbed a bag she’d brought with her and ducked back into the bedroom.
 
Moments later, she stepped back out, holding the dress on a hanger. The bag in her hand was slightly bulkier. She draped the dress over one of two chairs in the front room.
 
Mara inspected the contents laid open around her. Belongings that once seemed essential no longer interested her.
 
“Right. This is it. The dress, plus a few of the nicer wigs.” She closed the drawer nearest her, and the others followed suit.
 
“We can send someone, or a team, to get rid of everything that’s left,” Leia offered.
 
Mara’s eyes strayed to the safe. “Thanks, but not yet. There are still some things I need to go through. That you can’t help with.”
 
She reached for the hanger and held it over her shoulder, the dress cascading down her back. “OK—I’ll drop this at home and meet you for drinks? I need one. At least one.”
 
“And we have so much to toast to!” Iella declared. “Meet you in thirty!”
 
 

 
 
The next day, Luke and Mara stood in front of the same door, in the same place the ladies had backed her the day before.
 
Luke poured reassurance into their growing Force communication. She smiled without looking at him, and reached for his hand.
 
“Thank you,” she whispered.
 
“Whatever you need,” he replied.
 
She keyed the code again. They stepped inside. She didn’t require any more time to take it in. As the front door swished closed behind them, she strode to the safe and dropped to one knee, reaching for the lock. 
 
Inside sat stacks of datapads and flimsi, looking undisturbed since the last time she’d been here. Looking, she reminded herself. Surely when she’d keyed in her security code yesterday, somewhere, an alarm had sounded. It was unlikely anyone was monitoring it. She hoped.
 
She sorted the stacks in two. Luke waited.
 
“Feel free to snoop,” she waved a hand in his direction. “The sensitive stuff is all here.”
 
He moved around a bit, trying the controls to the closed door. “Snoop into what?” he teased. “You’re saying this place hasn’t been looted?” She heard the closet door slide open, and Luke let out a low whistle. “OK, no, it has not.”
 
She picked up the next datapad she hadn’t yet examined. “You could see if the caf station still works,” she called out. “They say you’re good with fixing things.”
 
He laughed and reappeared from the bedroom. “A challenge! Do you have any tools in here?”
 
She snorted. “Do I have any tools in here?” She rose to her feet in one swift motion. Brushing past him into the bedroom for a moment, she returned with a compact toolkit. “What do you need these for anyway? Can’t you just wave at it and move everything around with the Force?”
 
“Maybe,” he shrugged. He took the offered tools. “I prefer the old-fashioned way.”
 
They worked in parallel, taking a break when he successfully made a cup of caf. She took the first sip and sighed in deep relief. 
 
“Yes, this will help immensely.” She handed it back, inviting him to drink. “It’s this or water, I’m afraid. I never stocked hot chocolate.”
 
“I’ll make do.” He sipped the caf and handed it back to her. 
 
He glanced around the spare surroundings again. “What did you do in your downtime? To entertain yourself?”
 
“Downtime? What is that?” she smirked, placing the datapad in the pile to her left. “I dunno. Cleaned my blaster. Went to the gym or the flying simulators. If I was here and awake, I was plotting evil schemes. Wondering how to track Luke Skywalker without getting killed. Dreaming of racing around the galaxy, serving the Empire. ”
 
“While I was just dreaming of racing around the galaxy, getting away from Tatooine,” Luke murmured.
 
“Beggars Canyon was way more fun than the simulators,” she murmured back. A stack of flimsi landed on the right side pile.
 
He smiled, remembering their trip on the T-16 Fixer had rented them. Luke’s attention had been divided between re-living his teen years and trying to impress the beautiful woman beside him. Both had been terrific fun.
 
She uncurled an old flimsi. A strangled noise emanated from her throat, as a shadow fell over her sense. 
 
Luke looked up sharply. “What is it?”
 
“I—this one—I—I just kept it because it was his handwriting, which was rare. It’s not sentimental or even interesting. Just an address he sent me to before he stopped writing altogether.” She sat frozen, her sense filled with uncertainty.
 
 Luke’s hand fell gently on her back. 
 
“They must have samples of his handwriting, right? This wouldn’t be of any use to them.” Her tone belied her words.
 
“Who?” Luke asked.
 
“Cracken, Iella, your—the intelligence org.” One hand fluttered gracefully over the right pile.
 
“Mara.” He caressed her cheek with his organic hand. “You’re handing this over to them? Are you sure?”
 
She nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m keeping the most self-incriminating stuff. For now. And the personal stuff. I don’t know how helpful any of it is to them anyway. Maybe it’s all as useless as an address in his old handwriting. I don’t know.” A frustrated sound escaped her.
 
“Let them sort all that out. They can decide. Regardless, it’s very brave. And very generous of you. You know you don’t have to prove your loyalty, right? Not to the New Republic. And certainly not to me.” He brushed the tear that escaped her eye with his thumb.
 
Her glance moved from the flimsi to his eyes. “It’s not about that. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just want to move on. I don’t have any loyalty left for them.” She gestured with the flimsi. “If it can help Iella or her people then…all the better.”
 
He leaned toward her and kissed her. Her lips melted with the contact. As usual, his sense was calming and grounding and entirely distracting from the matter at hand. 
 
Drawing back, he rested his forehead on hers.
 
Gently he took the handwritten scrap from her hand and laid it on the pile on her right. “You never know.”
 
“You sure don’t.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Who would have thought we’d be…” Her hand moved between the two of them to indicate their relationship.
 
“That we’d be a ‘we’?” He grinned.
 
“Certainly not the woman who used to live here.” She smiled back.
 
He took both her hands without breaking contact with her forehead. “There’s no rush. We can come back another time.”
 
“Everyone keeps telling me that. It’s OK. I’m OK.” She kissed him, lingering just a moment on closed lips. She allowed herself the time for one more wave of warmth, liquid honey filling her.
 
She turned away and picked up the next flimsi. She breathed in sharply. The stacks of datapads rattled. The flimsis rustled as if a gust of air rushed through them. Loose objects around the room trembled. As suddenly as it had started, everything went still again. 
 
Mara turned back to Luke, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again. I just--” The fear in her eyes was that of a young girl scared of punishment. His heart broke to see it.
 
“Mara, I would never hurt you.” He placed his hands gently on her upper arms. “What are you apologizing for? What’s wrong?”
 
She angled the flimsi in her hand so he could see. The same spidery handwriting spelled out “For the Emperor’s Hand.”
 
“The Emperor’s Hand. This made me feel special. He made me think I was special to him.” Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks. “It just upset me so much, that I lost control. I didn’t mean to. That hasn’t happened in…ages.”
 
“Were you punished when you lost control? And made things move like that? Is that why you are apologizing?”
 
She nodded, one hand moving to her abdomen. “You remember my scar that wouldn’t heal, after that second Tusken attack on Tatooine?”
 
He nodded. She’d said the Emperor had used Force lightning on her.
 
“That was for losing control.”
 
Luke had known this process might be difficult for Mara. He had not anticipated the explosive protectiveness it would stir in him. It burned white hot in his chest, begging to be released. He breathed. 
 
Bastard bastard bastard bastard. He focused on his breath.
 
When he trusted his voice again, he asked, “Where’s the burn pile?”
 
One corner of her lips twitched. She shook her head.
 
He took the flimsi from her, got to his feet, and held out a hand to her. She took it and rose up beside him. He stepped to the sink in the corner that served as kitchenette. 
 
“Lightsaber?” He prompted.
 
She took her lightsaber off her hip and offered it to him.
 
“Light it,” he said.
 
She stepped back and flicked the switch. Luke held the flimsi over the sink. “OK, slowly now.”
 
Gradually, she brought the tip of the lightsaber toward the flimsi. At first contact, sparks flew, and a wisp of smoke curled into the air. She continued just until a flame grew up the side of the flimsi. As it burned, she withdrew the lightsaber and watched the paper curl and crisp. Luke dropped it, and it fell, lying dead in the drain.
 
Mara shut down her lightsaber and placed it back on her hip. “Thank you,” she whispered. She stepped close to him.
 
He nearly crushed her with the strength of his hug.
 
 

Chapter Text

 
 
Mara smirked as the pile of flimsi in the sink darkened, danced, and shrank. Luke’s suggestion of a burn pile earlier in the afternoon had proved inspirational. She’d found several candidates since that qualified for the treatment. She shut down her lightsaber as the last remnants of flimsi turned to ash.

She returned to the sorted piles. Next to the spot where the burn pile had grown sat two stack of datapads. Luke drew up behind her. 

“I’ve finished with the refrigeration unit,” he reported. “Threw most of it away.”

“You didn’t eat anything, did you?” Mara snarked. “Food poisoning is the last thing you need while you recover from surgery. You remember you’re recovering from surgery, don’t you?”

“I often am,” he snarked back. “Where are those stack of datapads going?”

“It’s the burn pile—the electronic one. Sadly not very flammable.”

“Magnets, maybe?” Luke suggested. 

“Trash compactor?” Mara mused aloud. “I don’t want to take any chances with these.”

The sudden reaction in Luke’s sense startled her. She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “No?”

“It’s fine—I had a close call once, that’s all. I wouldn’t trust one to destroy my data. You never know what might get stuck in there.” He smiled at his own private joke.

“Like some smug Rebel?” She made a small sound of disbelief. There had been a time when she thought she knew everything there was to know about Luke Skywalker. And I thought he was smug.

The datapad stacks stood a dozen high. “Physical destruction for sure,” Mara murmured. An idea tickled the back of her brain just beyond reach. 

“You’ve been making decisions for hours. Enough for today?” Luke ventured.

She hated acknowledging she had limits. She’d been trained to ignore pain, push past it, and do whatever was necessary to execute the mission. Her needs had not mattered. Now, they were important to him. A lump rose in her throat.

“I guess it’s waited this long,” she conceded. “I can deal with the rest later.” She shut the door on the empty safe more forcefully than necessary.

They bundled the separate stacks of flimsi and devices into her bag. As she hoisted the bag to her shoulder, he took it from her and returned it to the floor. His arms closed around her and pulled her close. 

“It’s hard to sift through the past, Mara. Give yourself a little credit. Just for a minute.”

She surrendered to the feeling of him. The warmth that always accompanied being this close. Had she ever felt this safe in this room before, deluded as she was? Had she ever felt this cared for? Had she ever felt the truth in it that she did now?

It felt meaningless to say thank you again. She turned her face to his and kissed him with some ferocity. Her sense expanded with gratitude, knowing her shields were relaxed enough for him to feel it.

Mara gave the spanner one last twist, knowing the bolt was as tight as it could be. She swiped her forehead with the sleeve of her rust-colored flight suit. The hangar Mirax favored had been warming up steadily through the morning.

Activity had also picked up over the time she had been working with Mirax on the Pulsar Skate. Pilots, mechanics, crew, and passengers of various species crisscrossed the duracrete floors, voices echoing in the cavernous space. The air was stagnant, the smell of fuel and solvents wafting over hot metal.

Mara broke from her reverie and jogged up the Pulsar Skate’s ramp.

“Give it another try,” she called ahead as she made her way to the cockpit.

Mirax twisted a dial and threw a switch on the dash. She closed her eyes and listened.

“Wow—purring like a tooka kitten. Thanks!”

“Sure.” Mara dropped into the co-pilot’s seat. “I suppose I owed you for cleaning out the apartment while you were gone.”

“That’s right—you all had way too much fun without me. Iella told Corran and me about it last night right after we got back.” Mirax’s eyes gleamed with envy. 

“Which is why you commed me first thing this morning and demanded I help you with repairs?” Mara guessed. When her comm unit beeped that morning, she had considered ignoring it. She was still feeling worn thin from the previous day’s trip to her old quarters. 

“You got it. And you can finish making it up to me with another get-together,” Mirax declared.

Mara’s memories of her Imperial days, triggered by sifting through the contents of her safe, left her raw and ashamed. Luke had convinced her that he accepted her regardless. She still struggled to think the same could be true for the diverse collection of Mirax, Leia, Winter, and Iella.

“Well, my plans this weekend are to set up my old datapads for target practice and blast them to bits. So you all will just have to go have your fun without me.” She heard the note of petulance in her voice.

“Oooh, nice! Blaster practice would be a great Ladies’ Night. You want company?” Mirax’s features lit up.

Mara’s eyebrows arched. “Ladies’ Night? Really?”

“For this group? Which of us do you not imagine firing a blaster?”

Mara considered. She had witnessed Iella and Mirax firing on slavers the day after she met them. All of her sparring with Winter made it very likely that the woman would know how to shoot. 

And then there was Leia. The Empire had painted her as an insurrectionist who would shoot any Imperial within range. Like many other Rebels whom Mara had come to know, Leia turned out to be nothing like the caricature the Empire had portrayed. The woman Mara had come to know was a practical diplomat who passionately believed in her cause. Mara’s ever-present curiosity poked at her. Could Leia even shoot? 

“I suppose.” Mara opted to remain noncommittal. “I’m going to a spot I know in the lower levels tomorrow afternoon. I can send you the coordinates, and you can spread the word if you want.”

“Yesssss!” Mirax cheered. “I’ll borrow a new model I’ve been wanting to try.”

The following day, as the late afternoon Coruscant light filtered into the deep levels, Mara watched the alley that opened to the meeting spot she had chosen. She felt impatient to destroy the devices from her old life. If she didn’t get started soon, she’d lose the light. Would Mirax even remember? Surely the other women would have laughed at Mirax’s invitation.

The temperature was perfect: cool enough for the protective clothing required but not cold. Occasional breezes would add a modest challenge to targeting.

Mara made another restless check on her datapad inventory when she heard Iella’s voice float through the alley. 

“Here it is!”

Iella emerged first, followed by Mirax. They were dressed to shoot in high necks, long sleeves, and low boots. Mirax carried a blaster Mara had never seen before.

Mara began to turn to lead the way to the next spot when Leia and Winter came into view.

Leia was dressed unusually casually in a loose-fitting ensemble of cream fabrics designed for safety in a variety of activities, including target shooting. Her hands were bare; Mara suspected she was still wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck.

They had all turned out. They were all ready. They were laughing about whatever they’d been chatting about on the way. Surprise robbed Mara of speech momentarily.  

And now they were all looking at her expectantly.

“Right, good.” Mara found her vocal cords again. “This way.”

She led the way to a demolished building site. Crumbling brick walls of various heights outlined the perimeter. At the center, Mara set up a table she’d left earlier in the day while scouting the site. She swung the heavy canvas bag from her shoulder and unloaded blasters of various sizes and shapes. 

Next came the devices she’d brought to destroy. 

And old instinct made her wonder if anyone in the group would just quietly pocket one. Unlikely, though, as she had tagged each with a location tracker so she could collect them after this exercise to ensure total destruction. Her newer instincts told her no one here had ulterior motives.

Mara chose a wall with an appropriate height and scattered half a dozen devices on its crumbling top. She strode back to the table, where the women were examining the various blasters.

“Who’s first?” Mara asked brightly.

“Iella, you go,” Winter suggested. 

Iella looked at Winter gratefully. 

“Sure. It’s been a hard day.” Iella sighed as her hand moved over the options. She picked up a blaster that was overpowered for the distance.

Iella aimed carefully at each device in turn, hitting more targets than she missed. She reversed at the end, shooting again at the ones she missed.

The women watched quietly, careful not to distract Iella’s focus.

One stubborn datapad wobbled on her last shot but stayed atop the wall.

Iella made a cry of frustration and fired three more times, moving closer with each shot.

The datapad tumbled to the ground. A cheer went up from the women watching. Iella muttered something under her breath. She dabbed at her right eye and sniffed. 

Clearing her throat, she flicked the safety back on the blaster. She returned to the group.

“I’ll tell you about it over drinks.” Iella’s voice was husky. She placed the blaster on the end of the table.

Mirax clapped a hand on Iella’s shoulder, rubbing a circle on her back before withdrawing wordlessly.

Winter picked the smallest blaster, identical to the one Mara kept in her wrist holster. She stood surprisingly far away from the wall. Squaring her stance, she closed one eye and fired the blaster three times in succession.

Meters away, there was a metallic ping, and the datapad slid off the crumbling brick wall, falling to the ground behind it.

Winter grunted in dissatisfaction and jogged to the wall, rounding it and finding her target on the other side. “Just nicked it!” she reported. She placed it back on the wall. 

Mara, Mirax, and Iella waited patiently for her to walk back. Leia surveyed the array of weapons and selected the heavy carbine Mara had procured on Tatooine for defending against Tuskens.

Mirax chortled at the sight. “Isn’t that a tad overkill for a datapad?”

“Who says I’m aiming at the datapad?” Leia challenged. 

“Winter, remember that game we used to play with nock fruit on Alderaan?” Leia said mischievously.

“Oh yes!” Winter’s eyes lit up as she drew close to the weapon selection. She chose a longer-range weapon with a site mechanism.

The two friends paced out a distance between them. The others looked at each other, intrigued.

“3…2...” Leia started the count.

“ONE!” They shouted in unison. 

Leia’s heavy carbine fire hit the wall a meter under the datapad. The bolts made a steady line upwards, collapsing the support directly underneath the device. As the wall crumbled, the datapad started to fall into the void, and then met the line of Leia’s fire. The datapad jumped higher in the air. Winter’s rifle zinged, burning a hole through the flying datapad right through the center. The datapad fell to the ground, utterly useless.

Winter and Leia whooped like little girls.

Mara had to remind herself to close her mouth. 

“Oh my….” Iella trailed off as she stared. 

“How the kark did you do that?” Mirax bellowed. “That is one hell of a party trick.”

“Yeah, somehow, the boys never wanted to see it more than once,” Leia snarked. “Can you imagine?”

Mirax took her own favorite blaster from the table serving as an armory. She surveyed the top of the wall that still stood and the number of datapads still there. 

With a war cry, she swept fire across the top of the wall and back, until the weapon could not sustain the repeated blasts. She replaced the gun as they all went to survey the damage. 

Leia picked up the victim of Winter’s bolt. “May I take this one?” she asked Mara. “Han’s got to see this. He’s never believed my shooting practice stories.”

“Sure.” Mara shrugged. “Maybe next time we’ll invite boys.”

A doubtful murmur swept through the women. 

“As targets?” Mirax suggested.

The reaction shifted to laughter and cheers.

“OK, that’s all the devices. Any that still could have accessible data go here.” Mara instructed, dropping a dirty but intact datapad on the ground a few meters from the armory table.

Scorched metal, bent casings, and occasional sparks greeted them as they sorted out the few lucky targets that were not ruined beyond repair. Mara picked up her holdout blaster and stood halfway between the table and the handful of datapads on the ground. To her surprise, everyone picked up a weapon and formed a wide semi-circle around the targets.

With a small smile, Mara ordered, “Ready…aim…fire!”

A storm of bolts rained down on the devices from five directions. Smoke rose, wires danced and the smell of fried electronics wafted toward the women. 

After they stopped firing and placed their weapons back on the table, Mara loaded the remaining destroyed targets with the others. As she packed up the armory, relief flooded over her. She never had to wonder again if the contents of her safe would be discovered and used against her.

Mara had planned to come shooting alone. Then she had thought that suggesting a night of blaster practice would discourage the interest from her so-called new friends. Unlike her shooting, her intuition had been off the mark. She had misjudged them. Again. 

Their senses revealed they enjoyed the activity for its own sake. But they also suggested the women had gathered for solidarity in offering Mara support and friendship. It had the same flavor as their concern for Iella and whatever was frustrating her. The women had come to assist in the destruction of Mara’s past.

It was a different kind of support than Luke offered, naturally. But it was more similar than she’d imagined: consistent, nonjudgmental, attuned. They had offered her a chance to belong in a way she’d never experienced. She’d disbelieved them. She’d questioned their motives. She’d resisted. She’d pushed any warm feelings down, down, down. Just as she had with Luke. It had required hours of soul searching while Luke hung between life and death for her to accept her feelings for him. Perhaps it was time to apply that lesson and embrace the women’s offer without waiting for another near-fatal injury.

“What do you think, Mara?” Leia asked.

“Think about what?” Mara asked sheepishly. “My mind was elsewhere there for a minute.”

“We’ve been discussing whether to go home and change or just find a place where we won’t stand out dressed like this. The consensus so far is we’d rather just go drink. And wherever we go, I’d prefer not to be recognized.”

Mara had chosen a cantina during her scouting trip that happened to fit the requirements. “Yes, let’s stay comfortable. I know a place.” 

Mara slung the packed bag over her shoulder. She led the procession back down the alleyway and through a series of turns and twists in the lower city. The women chatted as they rejoined the beings on the streets. They observed a greater diversity of species, clothing, and economic background here than in the upper levels, particularly around the Palace. 

Mara approached a grey Wookie. She held up five fingers. The Wookie looked the group of women over and nodded. He pushed a button on a datapad and the door behind him slid open.

The interior was dimly lit, Leia noted, offering her that much more anonymity. Tables were filling up. Mara looked to Leia to select her preference of the empty tables. To no one’s surprise, Leia chose the only available booth on the back wall. Leia slid into the center seat. Winter sat on one side, followed by Iella, while Mara took the place on Leia’s other side. Mirax signaled for a server, then sat next to Mara.

A purple-skinned Twi’lek approached the table. She took drink orders and slunk away, doing her best not to exist. 

When the server returned, drinks were handed around the table. All eyes in the booth turned to Iella. Iella picked up the drink that had just been served and held it aloft. The dim light sparkled against the exotic ingredient around the glass’s rim.

“To moving on,” Iella declared, her voice strong and clear.

They chorused, “Moving on!” with feeling, knocking the rims of the glasses against each other.

“It’s not a big deal. Diric’s been back from that Lutsankya hell-hole for awhile now. I thought it would get easier, that’s all. Not that we ever had”—she gestured at Leia— “a traditional love match. He’s older and our families were business partners, and…” She waved a hand dismissively. 

“Anyway, he’s seeing someone to talk about what he went through, even though he says he doesn’t remember much, but…..I don’t know. I just remember being—” Her voice dropped. “Happier.” She closed her eyes and breathed out. She opened them again, clear and dry, and looked around the table.

“That sounds rough,” Winter said sympathetically, touching Iella’s arm. “I hope it gets better. Who knows what he went through—in prison.”

Sympathetic murmurs went around the table. Mara had told them on her first Ladies’ Night that the prisons varied widely, usually according to the commanding officer. 

“I don’t know.” Iella bit her lip. “Sometimes I think I’m the one who’s changed.”

“We all have,” Leia said. “How could anyone live through what we have in the last few years and not be changed by it?”

Iella felt pretty sure her situation was unique among her friends. She was the only married one. The closest parallel she knew of was Leia and Han’s separation while he was frozen in carbonite. Leia’s rescuing Han from Jabba’s had firmed up their relationship like duracrete.  Leia would not know how Iella was feeling. It was fine. Iella didn’t look to anyone else to solve her problems.

Iella beckoned the server for another round. “Enough about me. I’ll figure it out, one way or another.”

The Twi’lek server returned and set the drinks down carelessly, slopping and spilling some. As she turned to go, Mara caught a sleeve and spoke in a low tone in her ear. The server nodded in acknowledgment and moved away to take orders from some noisy Ugnaughts crowding the next booth.

“Everything’s different from the way I remember it.” Mara realized with a start that she’d said it aloud. “I’ve changed that much. The people who knew me before would hardly recognize me.” She found she didn’t much care what those people in her past would think.

“Good!” Mirax cheered. “I like you now. So you have to stay this way.” She turned to Iella. “And you, unfortunately, have to stay strong. Which I know you will. But tonight you can just let your hair down with us and drink.”

Leia made an involuntary noise at the thought of releasing her hair. Mara looked across the table at the princess, who wore a single braid down her back. Was Mara daring her? 

Leia returned the look as she reached for the band holding her braid and pulled it free, shaking the entwined strands loose with her fingers. 

Winter laughed and clapped, delighted. Mara accepted Leia’s challenge and unwrapped the red-gold braid she’d wound around the back of her head. Mirax and Iella whooped in encouragement and likewise removed clips and pins until they all had locks spilling down their necks and shoulders.

“To letting our hair down.” Mirax raised her glass. Her friends toasted with enthusiasm. 

The server approached the table slowly, as if the newly freed tresses might behave unpredictably. She set down two baskets of hubba chips and backed away.

“This is why I like this place.” Mara lifted out a greasy chip. “Best I’ve found on Coruscant.” 

The group fell on the baskets as if they’d fasted for days.

Leia wished she’d stopped drinking earlier the previous night.  She blamed the salty hubba chips. She’d tried all of Han’s best hangover remedies. Still the lights seemed a bit too bright and the sounds a bit too loud in the command center. 

The noise level was hushed compared to the usual bustle in is room. The intent of the incoming ships was still a mystery to the New Republic leadership. Cracken’s team had gathered all the intelligence they could and rated probabilities. The Council had reviewed their analysis and theorized and brainstormed. 

The regular staff in the command center was augmented by Mon Mothma, Leia, Admiral Ackbar, and General Cracken, all of whom sat around the central circular holoprojector which displayed the enemy ships. Mothma had asked Leia to request Luke’s presence. As he leaned against a back wall wearing his full ceremonial Jedi attire, he wondered if he was more important to those present as a symbol or for the ways he could potentially use the Force against the enemy.

He sensed the tension in the room like a heavy blanket. There were swirls of fear and confusion. Overriding all was a layer of strained patience.

Leia gulped a hot caf and focused on the five incoming Imperial Remnant ships. She was highly skilled at ignoring personal discomfort, even when it was self-inflicted.

Admiral Ackbar provided continuous updates on scans of the incoming ships. Rogue Squadron had launched, awaiting orders while maintaining holding patterns at a safe distance. Wraith Squadron were on standby to launch if needed.

“Isard’s Star Destroyer, a Gozanti-class Cruiser, and three escort ships.” The Mon Calamari declared as the ships came out of hyperspace. “If they fire, Rogue and Wraith squadrons should be sufficient for a first pass. We have additional squadrons ready to launch if there are any surprises. Risk of successful tactical attack by the enemy remains low.” Ackbar’s tone was confident.

“Then what are they doing?” Mothma murmured.

“Incoming holomessage from Isard,” the experienced communications officer announced crisply.

“Finally.” Mothma turned to the comm officer and gave a quick nod.

In the central holodisplay, the images of the ships resized, shrinking and floating further up in the air. In the blank space beneath, Ysanne Isard’s image flickered and rose to a meter in height, visible by all in the command center but not large enough to be intimidating. 

“This is Ysanne Isard of the Galactic Empire. The illegal insurrection that calls itself a ‘Rebellion’ has kidnapped an innocent teenager. She will be returned to us unharmed immediately.” Isard paused a moment to glower dramatically before the transmission ended.

Mothma looked around the display at the gathered leaders. “OK, they want Stelio Predimo. We did run that scenario, though not as a very likely one. Leia, would you like to communicate our refusal?” Mothma offered. “Or perhaps Jedi Skywalker?” She looked to the back of the room.

Luke demurred. “The Council has my full trust.” There were still members of the Council who preferred to think of him as a military leader. Luke preferred to remind them at every opportunity he had left that firmly behind him.

Oh, sure, we do. Leia sent along her twin bond. “I’m happy to handle it,” she responded to Mothma.

Mothma nodded again to the comms officer. Leia stepped into the holoprojector field, drawing herself up to her full height. 

“Ysanne Isard, the criminal in question is awaiting trial for attempted assassination at the highest level.” Leia filled herself with protective rage on Luke’s behalf, stepping closer to the holoprojector. Matching Isard’s glower, she hissed, “She nearly killed someone critically important to me. We will not be releasing her to you under any circumstances.”

The comms officer cut the transmission as soon as Leia finished without waiting for direction.

Mothma gave a small smile of approval. Sometimes the Imperial bluster had to be met with drama to match. The woman focused her gaze on the hologram of Isard’s Star Destroyer, wishing she could see into the mind of its commander. Was the demand for the prisoner’s release just an opening move of a larger plan? What would come next? Was it simply a front for something else entirely? 

She waited another beat. Another.

“Admiral Ackbar? Any changes? What is their weapon status?”

“No changes. Their weapons are ready but not targeted, as are ours.”

Mothma reviewed her options. She had just settled on ordering the enemy ships to leave their space, when the comms officer reached again to activate the holoprojector.

“Rebel terrorists,” Isard addressed them. “You will regret this foolish move. You cannot hold Coruscant for long. Imperial citizens will soon be free to live the life they loved under the glorious Empire once more.” The hologram flickered out.

“They are firing up engines.” A technician reported from their station. He looked young. And nervous.

“All of them?” Mothma confirmed.

“Yes, all five.”

The air in the command center stilled as all those gathered held their breath. All eyes tracked the Imperial ships across the holodisplay. None of the ships showed any sign of straying from an expected course away from Coruscant. Minutes later, the small fleet followed one another into hyperspace.

A quiet sigh hissed from the group in the command center. Luke sensed the blanket of tension evaporate, making way for a swell of relief.

“Was that it?” Mothma murmured to herself, looking up to see the same bafflement reflected on her senior advisers’ expressions.

Threepio brought a tray of dinner plates heaped with food and set it on the dining table in Leia’s quarters. Around the table, Leia, Mara, Han, and Luke were seated. For once the droid was quiet, Mara noted.

“We went into session immediately after they jumped, and we just adjourned an hour ago. It’s not clear why Isard would come here personally to make that kind of demand, and then just leave?” 

Mara wondered if she’d been invited due to her inside knowledge of the Empire. Either way, she was here. 

Threepio served Mara’s plate first. The spicy aroma triggered a memory. She remembered sitting in a diner in Mos Eisley listening to Luke apologize for saying she couldn’t understand grief because she’d grown up without a family. Tatooinian sand crabs—that’s what she was staring at.

Luke breathed in deeply when C3PO served him. “Ah, my favorite. Thanks, Leia.”

“Well, I didn’t have a whole lot to do with it, but you’re welcome. I wanted to thank you for being there today. It was good to have you at Central Command, especially when we found out they want Stelio.”

Mara’s curiosity got the better of her. “Why not give them Stelio?” she asked. “If Isard really wants her, she’ll trade for whoever is at the top of the Council’s list of desired prisoners. They might get several prisoners back.”

Leia looked at Luke. 

Luke pursed his lips. “Is there any reason to keep her?” He asked Leia, then turned to Mara. “What kind of life would Stelio have if she were released back to them?”

“She’d be celebrated as a war hero. Her days serving the Isard family would be over. It would be a nice life for her.” Mara used to imagine the accolades she would have received for killing Luke. The only ones she wanted at the time were from the Emperor. It felt like someone else’s life now.

“The reason to keep Stelio,” Leia said, “is that she tried to kill you, Luke. You may be about the most forgiving being in the galaxy, but I’m not.

“She’s hardly a risk,” Luke returned. “It’s not as if she planned an assassination. I showed up to free her and the others, and she took her shot. Literally. It’s not going to happen again.”

Leia raised her eyebrows skeptically but said nothing.

“Would they train her?” Han asked Mara. “You know—turn her into….” He trailed off.

“Me?” Mara asked with a half-smile. “I suppose they might offer her an ISB position but it would likely be ceremonial. You don’t go straight from an accidental run-in to advanced wet work.”

“I have thought about visiting her,” Luke mused.

Leia groaned. “To tell her you understand? To recruit her for our side?” 

“To let her tell me about her family. On the Death Star.”

“No.” Leia, Han, and Mara chorused.

Luke looked up at Mara in surprise. “You too? Wow.”

Mara turned to Leia. “If they decide to make a trade, let me talk to Stelio.”

Leia smiled. “Yes, I like that better. I’ll see what I can do. Now, Threepio, would you please make some fresh caf and hot chocolate and bring in the ryshcates and Whyren's?”
                       

Luke walked Mara back to her apartment as they reviewed the dinner conversation. 

Mara faced him as they reached her door. “Did I pass? Do I get the job for Isard Analyst?” She smiled.

“That is not why I invited you,” Luke protested. “You never have to say more than you want to volunteer.”

Mara’s raised eyebrows implied her question. 

“I invited you because I have dinner with Leia and Han every week. And this week I wanted you to be there.”

Her eyebrows didn’t move.

“Just to be there with me. To eat and talk. See if you like it. See if you want to come again sometime.”

Her eyebrows dropped. “Weekly family dinner. Sweet.” She meant to add an edge of sarcasm to her voice. She didn’t quite manage it.

“Ready for another invitation?”

“Sure.” Mara could feel a rare nervousness in Luke’s sense. 

“They’re holding a ball to celebrate Leia and Han’s engagement. I should warn you first that the holopress comes to these things and sometimes—”

“Oh, I’ve seen your holo in the society section,” she chortled. “I’m aware.”

“Of course you are,” he said under his breath. “So, I’ll understand if you want to keep a low profile. But if you’d like to, I’d be honored to take you.”

She could not stop herself smiling at his formal wording. Again, she imagined herself in the dress she’d kept from her old life, green fabric shimmering next to his Jedi blacks.

“Sounds like fun.” 

They stepped toward each other. Her lips caught fire as they pressed to his. When his arms closed around her, her heartbeat quickened. She breathed in his scent and wondered what she ever could have done to deserve this feeling of bliss.

Chapter Text

As the date of the engagement ball approached, Mara found herself working out with increasing frequency. A week after the invitation, she waited for Luke near the gym entrance. It was uncharacteristic of him to be late.

The gym inside the Imperial Palace had been extensively remodeled by its new occupants. All the Imperial gears decorating the walls had been completely removed, along with the motivational propaganda for improving oneself for the greater good of the Empire. Mara noted the New Republic had not simply replaced the symbols with their own insignias, nor posted new propaganda. Now it looked like any other well-equipped gym.

As she waited in the hall outside the main door, Mara’s feet started moving nearly automatically through basic dance form warmups, like a ship on autopilot. She was stretching to her full height, arms straight above, shifting to her tiptoes, when Luke jogged around the corner toward her. She allowed her heels to drop back to the floor and lowered her arms.

“Sorry, Han and Chewie commed. They found a part for that ship the Rogues are working on,” Luke explained.

Luke had told her about a project some of the Rogues were working on. They were building a ship together. Just for fun. Mara had offered to help, but was politely told it was strictly limited to Rogue pilots and mechanics. Information about the project was also limited, as the Rogues were keeping it secret until its unveiling.

“Yeah? Is the part on-planet?” Mara’s curiosity was piqued.

“Yeah, it’s on the Falcon. They got in last night. I’ll go get it later.” Luke turned to the gym doors.

Curiosity poked at Mara. “No time like the present,” she countered. “We can keep up that jog for a warmup.” She wore her usual workout clothing, an olive drab modest tank top over loose but light pants, and shoes fit for running. She started to shift from foot to foot, ready to launch into a run.

“Yeah?” Luke grinned. He was eager to get his hands on all the pieces they needed. “It’s just a sensor array. It’s not going to tell you anything about the ship.” He, too, was dressed in his usual workout gear in a white sleeveless shirt and grey pants.

“Can’t hear you!” She called over her shoulder as she took off in the direction of the Falcon’s hangar.

They jogged through the halls of the Palace to the private hangar where Solo kept the Falcon. The Empire had remodeled and expanded the hangars attached to the palace for use by the highest-ranking officials. Mara wondered vaguely if Solo was aware that the hangar he favored had also been favored by Vader for his private TIE fighter.

Luke and Mara weaved in and out of the increasing traffic of droids and organic beings as the business day was beginning. Mara pushed herself past her usual pace, forcing Luke to keep up. The pair didn’t break stride until they were under the hull of the Falcon. Luke keyed the ramp release. Mara wiped her forehead in the crook of her elbow and focused on getting her breathing controlled while the ramp lowered. She noticed with some satisfaction that Luke’s chest was heaving as well.

Mara followed his lead to the hold. “He said Chewie left it in here.” Luke stopped in the center of the room, looking around. He sighed when his eyes landed on it. “Nice, Chewie,” he muttered. The Wookiee had placed it on a shelf out of human reach.

Mara snorted and looked around for something to stand on. A rattling sound made her turn back.

Luke stood in the middle of the hold, his right hand stretched out in front of him. A furrow appeared between his closed eyes as the sensor array shook itself free and floated through the air to him. He caught it with both hands.

Mara considered intercepting it in midair but settled for a look of disapproval. “Show-off,” she accused him.

“Chewie’s got his gifts, I have mine.” Luke shrugged, turning the machinery over in his hands, inspecting. Without looking up, he added, “I could show you how that technique works, if you’d like to try.”

Right on cue, Mara scoffed. “I’m fine with ladders, thank you.”

He let it go. It seemed ages since he had promised to drop any pressure to train with him. Keeping his word on the matter had been a real challenge but it had worked wonders, he continued to remind himself.

“I mean, that’s just lazy,” Mara continued. “Now, something like shorting out a camera that’s not only out of reach but requires the rest of us to use tools, now that’s useful.” She sensed his surprise at lazy. But she could not bring herself to make a correction. Although he had not applied pressure about her training, his use of the Force sometimes annoyed her.

Luke had felt her genuine envy when he had taken out a camera to protect their privacy for their first kiss. “I could—” he started, then realized an offer to show her how he’d done it would just get shot down once again.

Inspiration struck. Luke shrugged and restarted. “It’s just a matter of imagining the internals. The better I know the equipment, the more likely it is to be successful. Then I visualize heat, or pressure, in just the right place, and that usually does it.” He paused, wondering if this had triggered her interest.

Mara rolled her eyes. Luke had not reacted any further to being called lazy. Typical. “Must be nice to melt things with your mind. So is that the array you wanted?”

“Looks good.” Luke put the part in his workout bag, wrapping it in a hand towel. He did his best to let go of his disappointment at her contempt.

“I can’t run back to the gym with this thing. But feel free to tire yourself out with another jog,” he said.

“You wish,” she growled. “I’ve been brushing up on some of my old hand-to-hand techniques.” She feigned a jab at his jaw with her right hand, then drove her left fist toward his solar plexus, pulling the punch at the last minute. “I could show you how those are done.”

“I’d love to,” he replied, wondering if she would ever say the same about his training offers.

“Mmmmm…see if you’re still saying that in an hour,” she threatened, eyes flashing. A part of her wanted to stay annoyed and pick a fight. First, his unnecessary use of the Force, then his Jedi nonreaction to her baiting him. Was that disappointment she felt leaking through his shields? Who does he think he is?

A Jedi, another part of her answered. She’d known that since the day they met. It wasn’t going to change. Why was it making her mad today?

“Yeah, let’s see after you’ve beaten me up for a while,” he replied. He hoped the workout would give her a release valve for her frustration.

Iella watched the morning commuter traffic racing past out the viewport in the main communications center for the New Republic. A passing junior officer offered her a cup of caf, which she accepted gratefully. Iella turned back to the woman she had come to see.

Dismay darkened the comm officer’s features. “It’s got to be here. What other possible reason does Ysanne Isard have to come all the way to Coruscant with just a demand? A demand that could have been sent from anywhere?”

Iella shook her head. “I wish we knew. That’s why we’re chasing down all sorts of theories.  You’re right—the leading likelihood is a signal or some kind of drop that they could only deliver close by.”

The comms expert put a single headphone to one ear and listened, spinning a dial on the expansive comms unit with the other hand. “I’ve listened again and again and again. It’s as if I can almost hear it, but it’s just out of reach.”

“Understood. Let me know if you find something, Captain Marki.” Iella turned to go.

“I will get it. I just need more time.” Marki’s eyes looked into the middle distance, concentrating on the sound in her ear. Lines creased her forehead. Deeper shadows under her eyes suggested she wasn’t sleeping well.

“Of course,” Iella acknowledged. She wanted to tell the woman to put down the headphones and take a break. There were so many intelligence agents working on all the possible (and some seemingly impossible) motives for Isard’s personal visit. Most of those investigations were going to come to nothing. There may not be a signal to find. But Kleya Marki did not seem willing to hear this just now.

With a final nod, Iella retreated and left Marki to the hunt.

Mara tapped on the door chime outside Leia’s quarters. She felt refreshed straight from the sanisteam that followed the all-out workout she’d had demonstrating her best hand-to-hand moves on Luke. It had been an effective drain for the frustrations of the morning.

Now, just after midday, she did not expect Leia to be home—the councilor would be working in her office in the Senate Building. Mara planned to drop off her spare holdout blaster, most likely with the protocol droid. Leia had admired the blaster’s design at their Ladies Night target practice, and Mara had offered to lend her one to evaluate.

Han Solo answered the door. “Oh, hey, Mara. What’s up?”A greasy rag slipped around his fingers, absorbing the oil on his hands.

“Oh! Hey, Solo. Just dropping this blaster off for Leia.”

He stepped aside. “Why don’t you put it down on that table? I don’t want to get the grip all oily.”

“What are you working on?” Mara glanced around without locating any dismantled machinery.

He tipped his head back, indicating down the hallway behind him. “I got a shop back there. I heard this ancient receiver couldn’t be fixed and took it as a challenge. But they might have been right. Don’t tell Leia.” He smirked.

“Oh?” Mara asked. She wondered if Solo’s shop resembled the back room in Luke’s quarters.

“You wanna see?” he offered.

Mara dipped her chin. Solo was interesting to her as a former smuggler whose pre-Rebellion story seemed to have so little in common with his fiancée and his best friend. Plus, he had even less sensitivity to the Force than Mara. Mara wondered if Leia used the Force to fetch things out of reach. If so, did it annoy Solo? Would he give the Force-sensitive princess a hard time about it?

It seemed likely he would. And Leia would absolutely react with a sharp comeback, not quiet disappointment. But then, Leia and Solo seemed to give each other a hard time about just about everything, and it rarely mattered. For all the bickering, they were very much in sync. Luke would never be a bickerer. He was not going to fight with her. Could they reach a level of compatibility like Han and Leia’s in their own way? Did she want to pursue the relationship long enough to find out?

Mara moved further into Leia’s living space. Someone had ripped out the Imperial standard grey floor covering and installed a cream pile carpet. It seemed most appropriate for Leia. Similarly, the sharp edges and corners found throughout the old Palace had been replaced with rounded edges, waves, and curves. The effect was soothing. Mara wondered if the style originated on Alderaan.

Han and Mara made their way down the hall. Through an open door, Mara saw a pile of assorted electronic boards, ship parts, lights, and unidentifiable detritus. A few meters away, a sturdy work table stood with a bright light illuminating the internals of a communications receiver. “Ancient” did indeed seem an apt description to Mara. It was emitting a quiet hiss.

“I’ve replaced as many parts as I could find, and it hasn’t made one bit of difference. I’m about ready to take a sledgehammer to it.”

Mara felt some sort of pull to the device that she couldn’t explain. She picked it up off the table and held it in her open palm, examining it.

“You want to take a turn?” Han suggested. “I’ll bet you fifty credits you can’t get any more frequencies out of it.”

“I’ll pass on the bet, but if you’re done with it, I’ll take it.” She didn’t know why she wanted it. But she felt confident a use would present itself.

“Sure, fine,” Solo agreed. “I’ve got plenty of other things to spend my time on.”

Mara surveyed the pile again, wondering which device would be Solo’s next victim.

“Actually, I shouldn’t start anything new. Turns out getting engaged and planning a wedding are way more time-consuming than I thought. I hear you’re coming to the big shindig with Luke tomorrow night?” Solo ventured.

“I am.”

“Look, it’s none of my business, but…”

Mara looked up from the comm receiver that had reclaimed her attention. Her eyebrows arched toward her hairline.

Solo gathered his thoughts. “It’s just—if you don’t want to stick with him, just—tell him sooner rather than later, huh?”

“I’m hardly his first date to a formal event. He’s taken plenty of women to these things. I’ve seen the holos,” Mara answered. Why is he telling me this?

“Sure, but you wanna guess how many he’s invited here to have dinner with Leia and me?” Han challenged.

OK, not a lot, clearly. “Twenty percent? Ten?” Mara surmised.

Solo held up an index finger. “One. Including you, exactly one.” He turned the index finger to point at her. “And he hates Tatooine. If he hadn’t had to come back for me, I don’t think he would have gone back there ever again. And then suddenly he’s going a bunch more times to meet with his mystery contact. Also you.”

Mara absorbed this information. She had presumed that there was no telling when Luke’s interest would fade and he would move on to someone else. As a closely connected third party, Solo’s information was valuable.

“So just let him down easy, is all I’m saying.” Solo finished his appeal with an awkward shrug, thoroughly uncomfortable.

“What makes you think I’m going to let him down at all?” Mara was surprised to hear her own words.

It was Han’s eyebrows turn to jump. “I dunno—you’re a tough read. You must clean up at Sabacc.”

Mara smiled. “Now that is an accurate read. Thanks for the hardware.” She placed the comms receiver in her bag and started to make her way back to the front door. Her emotions swirled around Solo’s words. What if Luke was more serious about her than she’d realized? What if his interest didn’t fade and move on to someone else? If she walked away from Luke at some point, would it break Luke’s heart? Would it break hers?

Mara sat in her quarters, mulling over the trip to Leia’s with a cup of caf. She had expected a brief encounter with a droid. She’d gotten a lot more than that. Including the old receiver, which she picked up and turned over in her hands. Why did I want you? she wondered.

It’s just a matter of imagining the internals…. I visualize heat, or pressure, in just the right place, Luke had said. Must be nice, Mara had retorted sarcastically. It wasn’t as if she could do it. She should prove it to him. Prove once and for all that she didn’t have the potential he thought she did.

A twitch of her thumb activated the device, and the soft hiss whispered from it once more. It was easy to imagine the inner workings of the receiver. She had seen enough of them, and the technology hadn’t changed much. If it were open in front of her, she could disable it completely by pushing a hydrospanner hard enough against the most critical wires—

The hiss went silent. Mara’s eyes flew open, and she checked the power switch. It remained in the on position. She flicked it off, then back again. Nothing. She turned it over and back again, examining the exterior. No change. She toggled the power again.

Silence.

Coincidence. Solo’s tinkering could have done it. She set it down on the low table in front of the couch. Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Move on. She drained the caf cup, stood, and carried the cup back to the caf station. She started brewing a second cup, searching her mind for something to distract her.

She found herself back on the couch with the refilled cup in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. She removed the screws in the corners of the receiver’s outer plate, lifted it off, and set the cover plate aside on the table. She stared at the exposed wires. The two thickest wires lay frayed and disconnected, as if pushed powerfully from their mounts. Just like she’d imagined. There was no reason for Solo to have done that. Maybe not coincidence, then.

She took small sips of caf while she glared at the offending wires, trying to absorb that it might have worked. She may have done it. What if she had?

She made a mental note to collect some electronics to conduct further tests. This could still be a fluke. There was no need to tell Luke about it.

A memory rose in her mind. She had been questioned by General Cracken when she first landed back on Coruscant with Mirax and Iella. Luke had sent her messages through the Force while she sat in the interrogation room. She learned that day that Luke could hear her in the same way. Anger had flashed through him when he’d realized the Emperor had never revealed to her that the communication ran both ways. Now Luke had shown her something else she might be able to do. He was so convinced she was capable. She had answered him with equal conviction that she was not.

As her thoughts spun and emotions chased each other through her psyche, her comm station interrupted with a buzz. She crossed to the station and pushed a button.

“Jade,” she said in a clipped tone.

“Ah, Ms. Jade, this is Talon Karrde.” If Karrde noticed her brusqueness, his tone did not reflect it. “I have recently returned to Coruscant and would be honored to buy you a drink.”

“A drink,” she repeated, instantly on high alert for his motive. Some sort of trade, she assumed.

“Perhaps lunch, or caf, if you prefer. Feel free to choose the establishment.” He was trying to allay her suspicions already. He was unsuccessful. “I have a question to discuss with you. A strictly honorable one, I assure you.”

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she had trusted Karrde more than most from the beginning. The information he’d bartered had been good. He was as honorable as a smuggler and a mercenary could be. She might as well hear him out and satisfy her curiosity.

“Sure. Meet me at Kruax tomorrow.” Mara chose a cantina known for making high-powered business deals over artisanal cocktails.

“Excellent. I look forward to it.” Karrde clicked off.

Kruax was dark but not in the dim and dusty way of most cantinas. Soft lighting was distributed at wide intervals. Music played just loudly enough to prevent conversations from carrying to the next lushly appointed booth. Beings conducting business in pairs and trios sat scattered throughout, sipping drinks that glowed, steamed, and effervesced.

Mara positioned herself in a booth that had the widest view, her body angled so Karrde could see her from the door. She felt a drop in her shoulders at the familiarity of the place. She’d done deals here in the past. She had always had a cover and a disguise. This was the first time she sat in her everyday clothes, the usual single braid down her back. She had avoided places like this from her past, lest she get recognized. With her increasing visibility over the last several months, she was beginning to think no one cared about a former Emperor’s Hand.

Talon Karrde stepped through the sliding door and nodded graciously at her. He made his way across the room as if he could see in the dark.

“So lovely to see such a lovely woman again,” he said as he slid into the booth opposite her.

“Karrde,” she acknowledged. “Does anyone fall for all that flattery?”

“You wound me, Ms. Jade. Surely someone as discerning as yourself cannot be unaware of the effect of her beauty. But to answer your question, yes, you’d be surprised how effective a few well-placed compliments can be.”

A sleek, black metal serving droid rolled up to their table. “What may I bring you?” the smoothly synthesized voice asked.

“What do you recommend?” Karrde asked Mara.

“The bartender’s special,” Mara replied. Karrde nodded.

She turned to the droid. “Two drink specials of the day, please,” Mara ordered.

The droid gave a short affirmative chirp and rolled away.

“What’s the special?” Karrde inquired.

“No idea. But it’s always good. At least, it used to be.”

They were both skilled in talking about nothing when the situation called for it. They did so until a droid rolled back with the drinks. Thick fuchsia liquid bubbled and popped in two squat glasses. “Two Zeltron Delights,” the droid announced as a serving arm placed the drinks on the table.

“Oh, I haven’t had one of these in a long time. An excellent choice. Have you been to Zeltron?” Karrde sipped his drink appreciatively.

Mara was done with the small talk. “How can I help, Karrde?”

“First, you must call me Talon. The entire crew is on a first-name basis.”

“Crew? What’s the mission?”

“I’m not here to discuss a single mission. My dear friend Quelev Tapper has left a gap in my team. My grief has prevented me from replacing him, but I can no longer ignore the need. You have shown yourself to be intelligent, good with ship repair, talented at reading others, the list goes on. I think you would fit in well.”

A job offer? That wasn’t even on the list of possibilities she’d anticipated. She maintained her features in a mask. She let the surprised pause lengthen to suggest her respect for the dead man. She wasn’t sure she was interested in a job, but she may as well hear Karrde out.

“I’m sure I couldn’t replace your friend Captain Seoul.” She lifted her glass in a salute to the man she had met briefly before he’d died doing whatever he and Karrde were up to on Varonat. Tapper had been the pilot of Karrde’s ship Uwana Buyer on that mission. There had been no other crew. “What did he do for the crew?”

“At first, you would take on general tasks—whatever needs to be done. I suspect if we both agree after a period of getting to know one another, you would become second in command. At which time your compensation would change to match.”

“And your people would accept that? Would I have to be on guard for a knife in the back from a crewmate?”

“No, they are happy doing what they are doing. If you don’t like them, or they don’t like you, we will part ways. But I have difficulty imagining that. I put my team together very carefully. I have an excellent eye for recruiting.”

He even flatters himself, Mara thought. She didn’t know what to make of the job offer in the moment. She was capable of making snap decisions when required. If it were in this case, she would reject it outright. But if he had the time, perhaps she would give it some consideration.

He slid a compact datapad across the dark wood tabletop. “This would be the starting salary. On average, your shares of jobs would come out to another 50% of that per standard year. We would negotiate an increase if you stay on.”

It was a decent number. More than she expected, and certainly more than she made as a mechanic. She had been living recently on the remainders of accounts she had squirreled away on Coruscant that no one had discovered and raided. Eventually, she would need a new income.

“When do you need an answer?” she asked. She drained the fuchsia drink, which had thinned out as it warmed up.

Karrde considered. He’d hoped, of course, she would accept on the spot. But thinking it over was better than a quick rejection. He wondered what factors she would be weighing. And whether one of them would involve a certain Jedi.

“Three days. After that, we will be planning our next run.” If she didn’t know by then, the answer was no.

She nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

Mara slid from the table and strode to the door. The surprises of the last several days were crashing in on her. There was the startling conversation with Solo, the experiment with the receiver, and now a job offer from Karrde.

She absentmindedly picked out a path to a junk dealer where she could buy more electronics to experiment with to test whether she truly had a new skill for breaking them. Of all the new ideas she had to think about, this was the most straightforward.

She arrived back at her quarters with a collection of electronics. As she spread them out on the coffee table, she chuckled. This is how Solo and Luke both ended up with a shop space at home. If she continued on this path, perhaps she would have one too, in time.

If I continue on this path. Solo had encouraged her to step off the path of seeing Luke if she wasn’t—what? Sure? Serious? In love? Willing to make a long-term commitment? If she continued to enjoy the time they were spending together, would that be leading him on? If he felt more seriously than she did, should she break it off now to prevent hurting him more later?

Luke would, of course, continue to use the Force. What if this continued to annoy her? How could they sustain a relationship under those circumstances? Would he be able to continue to hold himself back from offering to train her? Explaining how he used the Force when she hadn’t asked? Would she resent it? Would he eventually resent her? Would it be kinder to him in the long run to free him now so he could find someone who didn’t have these problems?

Karrde had just offered her as easy an exit vector as she could get. Even if it didn’t work out, it gave her something to do, away from Coruscant, and would replenish her funds.

There were parts of her life on Coruscant she would miss if she flew away with Karrde. Luke, first and foremost, even if it was for his own good. And Leia, Winter, Mirax, and Iella. Even Solo. They’d included her in their circle surprisingly quickly. Would Karrde’s crew offer the same level of acceptance?

The increasingly quiet Imperial voice inside her woke up and chortled. Acceptance? Friendship? It’s a job, not the kinderblock. Hanging out with these Rebels has made you soft.

None of Karrde’s crew would be Force-sensitive, she was confident. She would not have to watch anyone flexing Force skills, nor disappoint anyone who hoped she could do things with the Force that she was not capable of. The crew would be all business, just looking to get the job done. Simple. Straightforward. That would be a nice change.

She stared at the parts scattered on the table in front of her. If she were powerful enough in the Force, would she be able to ask it what to do with her future? Would she understand the answer? Is that how Luke made decisions? Was that how he decided to return to Tatooine to visit his family graves and Kenobi’s old place?

At times like this, she missed the old days of her moral certainty. For the few issues that had been hers to decide, her loyalty to the Emperor guided all her decisions. But that loyalty had flagged when she had started to question what she’d been taught. Ever since, she’d had to create a new standard for decision making. For much of that time, she decided on the option that kept her safest. The choice that hid her from anyone who could associate her with her old life.

Now that standard was changing, too. She had been emerging from hiding. Dating Luke was certainly going to elevate her profile. Running around the galaxy with Talon Karrde and crew might bring her into contact with someone who would recognize her from her work for the Emperor. Did that matter any longer?

If not, what did matter? Her growing feelings for Luke? The friendships of Leia, Mirax, Winter, and Iella? Finding some sense of meaning or contribution in how she spent her time?

What did Mara want now?

Chapter Text

Kleya took a deep sip of the strong, hot caf. Her body had finally rebelled and slept for hours, forcing her to reset. Even her hearing seemed clearer than last night. Today would be the day she would find the key in Ysanne Isard’s comms that would give away Isard’s purpose. She would save the Rebellion once again. And someone else would get the credit. Again. That was fine—she had never been in it for the glory.

“Captain…uh…Markli? Marko?” A young man appeared through the open doorway. His long blue hair and civilian clothes identified him as non-military. He must be the slicer she was told to expect. His youth was not encouraging.

“Marki,” she corrected. “You’re Mr. Ghent?”

“Just call me Ghent. You have some comm signals you want help with?“

Kleya hated admitting she needed help, particularly from someone who looked like he ought to be studying for exams and flirting with dates. But thanks to her rested state, she managed to keep from snapping at the earnest young man. The war had robbed her of the youth she should have had, too. And she’d been frequently underestimated herself.

“I’ve been analyzing them over and over, and I’m missing something.” She called up the list of files. “Be my guest. Here is everything that was recorded from the minute they came out of hyperspace to the minute they left.”

Ghent looked around eagerly at the collection of hardware and sat at a keyboard. “You got any more of that?” He indicated her caf cup.

Wondering if she was drugging a minor, Kleya led him to the caf station.

Hours later, Mara stared at the mirror, her hands working the last strands of hair into place. She had been looking forward to this since the day Luke had asked her to the ball. Before she started snapping at him for no reason. Before Solo suggested she “let him down easy”, whatever that meant. Before Karrde offered her a spot on his crew that could, if all parties found it agreeable, turn into a job.

She was still looking forward to this night. When she hadn’t been snapping at him, Mara enjoyed the time she spent with Luke. Falling back on the habit of years, she could shut Solo’s comments and Karrde’s offer in tight little boxes in her mind. When she was alone, particularly just before falling asleep, the internal pressures burst the boxes open, and their contents kept her awake. She felt certain that at some point, matters would clear and she would have a decision for Karrde. She was uncertain if that would happen before the three days Karrde had given her to decide.

The door chime at Mara’s quarters sounded. Out of time, for now. The errant tendril of hair that refused to cooperate sprang from her slender fingers. Heaving a sigh of surrender to the hair gods, she went to the door release.

Luke stood on the other side, dressed in black undertunic, tunic, tabards, belt, and pants. At Jabba’s, he’d worn a brown robe over this combination. A black robe fell from his shoulders now, the hood thrown down his back.

He gazed at the creature who’d answered the door. Her familiar red gold hair was drawn back as usual in a braid down her back, though the braid looked more intricate than her day-to-day style. A green dress flattered her form in all the right places. It caught and reflected the light in an undulating pattern. As his survey ended back at her eyes, he could swear they, too, reflected the light in the same pulsation.

“Leia is going to be so mad,” Luke tutted.

Alarm fell over her senses. “Why? She’s seen the dress. She told me to wear it!”

Luke took her hand and drew her out into the hall. The door slid shut quietly behind her.

“Even farm kids from the Outer Rim know that no one is supposed to upstage the bride.” His lips pressed together in the slightest reproach.

Mara’s hand fluttered to the braid. “No, but, my hair is down, and hers will be up and all complicated and no one—”

Luke took her other hand and faced her full on, one small piece of him delighted in her flummoxed reaction.

“You’re missing the point,” he said gently. “I’m saying you look gorgeous.” Through his carefully modulated shields, she glimpsed a clear ribbon of desire.

“Oh!” Her shoulders relaxed with the realization. “Oh. Well. You’re not bad yourself. You always make black look good.”

He grinned. Jedi were supposed to shed their ego. Still, her appreciation filled him with liquid warmth.

He kissed her, slow and savoring. “You sure you want to go to this thing?” he asked softly in her ear.

“After all this prep time, I am absolutely going.” She kissed him back. “We can pick this up later.”

“Fine. I guess I’m mission-ready, then.” His strong organic hand closed over her long fingers.

“Try to sound a little enthusiastic. It’s not like there’s a high casualty risk,” she said, amused at his military reference. “Now let’s move out, Jedi.”

Leia surveyed the growing crowd, many of whom streamed toward her to wish her well, show off their finery, or curry favor for their personal and political agendas. She kept her composure, focusing on her delight with Han’s willingness to participate in an engagement ball. She could get through anything with him at her side.

“Ready to get this shindig started?” The object of her thoughts muttered out of the side of his mouth as he watched the guests alongside her. “You’re going to have to hold all that hair up for a long time.”

Her smile widened at his joke. She’d patiently sat for hours as her stylist and their assistants braided and looped and fixed her hair in place. They had separated her hair into vertical sections. Each section was woven into a lattice that lay over a flexible cast-plast surface that fit behind her ears and curved around the back of her head. The stylists had first suggested a much bigger surface, one that would require adding hairpieces to Leia’s already voluminous hair to cover. Negotiations continued until they arrived at the current arrangement.

As a teenager, her peers had been envious of the ornate headpieces and complicated options Leia had available to her as the princess. For most of her life, she had preferred to keep her personal choices simple and practical.

For a wedding and all its associated events, she had relented. As a politician, she knew the festivities served multiple purposes. It was a morale boost for those who felt sentimental about dressing up for court. The mix of guests allowed for informal conversations at all levels that might bear fruit in the future. The symbol of a high-ranking bride and groom performing rituals familiar across the galaxy inspired hope and optimism.

Even the venue for this evening was chosen for political reasons. As well as security considerations, of course. Planning required coordination with officials from multiple departments. The Grand Ballroom inside the Imperial Palace emerged as the frontrunner for the engagement ball due to its history, power as a symbol, and well-known layout.

Convincing Han to go along with a state wedding had been the biggest challenge of her diplomatic gifts. They had negotiated on a variety of fronts. She had hit on the idea of giving him total control of the honeymoon, and that had turned out to be key. For two weeks, they would be incommunicado unless the galaxy were burning down. Even she would not know where they were going or what they were doing.

Leia smiled at the irony of it. After working so hard for so much of her life to have the freedom to make her own choices, she was allowing the expectations of her position to plan much of her wedding. Her husband was in charge of the honeymoon. Leia Organa would have to settle for controlling the rest of their lives together. Luke would probably say that sounds like the Dark Side.

Han looked at her. “What are you laughing at?” He cast his gaze around the room, looking for potential sources of amusement.

“Me. I crack myself up. You’ve always loved my humor, haven’t you?”

“Oh yeah, that’s what everyone says about you. ‘What a clown.’” He helped himself to two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing droid. “See what this does for your comedy.” He handed her one. “To the funniest, not to mention most beautiful, princess I’ve ever met.”

They touched glasses, lost for a moment in each other’s smiles. The soft lighting shone off the ring on Leia’s finger.

Leia only had time for a quick sip before the first guest reached her. “General Dodonna, it’s so lovely to see you. We’re honored to have you with us.”

Holographers stood behind the barrier in the entry to the ballroom. The foyer around them reflected the grand design touches of the ballroom with tall ceilings, grand pillars, plush crimson carpet, and muted acoustics. Approved members of the press were restricted to the third of the space farthest from the ballroom doors. Delicate gold posts had been set up to delimit the area. Standing one meter high, their appearance suggested they were merely decorative. But if a careless reporter or holographer got too close, a defense shield materialized between the two nearest posts, barricading their access to the remaining two-thirds of the area.

Luke and Mara stopped just inside one of two side entrances to the foyer, where guest traffic flowed in front of the posts to the ballroom.

Ready? Mara heard Luke’s voice in her head.

Years ago, Mara had played her part as decoration for the court balls, looking as innocent and harmless as possible while she listened for intel and plotted assassinations of those disloyal to the Emperor. She figured she’d been to many more balls than Luke had. This would be her first since she had transformed into something—someone—new.

Mara knew how to be holographed when she wanted to be, and how to be invisible when she wanted to be. What did she want tonight? Invisibility was her instinctive choice. She still avoided the places she thought she would be recognized as Imperial. Agreeing to be seen in public with Luke Skywalker, however, was not going to be compatible with staying invisible for much longer.

Are you ready? She snarked back at him. He hated the limelight. He hated being the warrior hero. He hated small talk. The thought of meditating alone for hours would have suited him much better. Still, he took the position nearer the holographers, placing her on his left.

His hand slid to the small of her back. They stepped out together into the open space. The holographers’ attention was on the other arrivals until the whisper “Skywalker” spread among them. They moved to get their best angle on the press-shy Jedi and his date, whoever she was. From the right angle, with the right light, it would make a valuable hologram to the right outlets. They jostled one another, trying to get that shot.

The objects of their attention did not make it easy. The couple turned away from them, despite their cries of “Luke! This way! Jedi Skywalker, over here!” and “What’s your name, miss?” Luke Skywalker only had eyes for his date, and the two appeared to be deep in private conversation.

Luke and Mara followed the crowd, often using them as a shield, until they stepped over the threshold and out of public view. Luke’s shoulders settled. “First wave of enemy contacts complete. Zero casualties.”

“If only the New Republic knew what really scares their hero,” she replied.

They both knew that there would be an official holographer, possibly a team for an event this size, roaming around. They also both knew that despite efforts to the contrary, some guests would have smuggled devices in to take their own snaps. These “candids” were often the ones that showed up in the sludgiest of the holopress.

The couple’s steps were swallowed in the lush carpeting. As with many other spaces, this one had been updated but not entirely redecorated. The central color theme remained in the carpet and wall coverings. The Imperial insignias had been removed but not replaced with New Republic ones, at least, not this evening. White banners with silver designs looping gracefully across them hung in evenly spaced intervals from the ceiling. Mara suspected this was a preview of the wedding decor to come.

In addition to the sights, the sounds and smells in the ballroom washed over Mara in a wave of memories. Ambition, determination, frustration, and disappointment rose up as one to flood her nervous system.

Luke stopped. “You alright?”

Mara’s chin bobbed fractionally as she waited for the wave to pass.

“We don’t have to do this,” Luke said. “We can sneak out the back. Leia will understand.”

He always gave her an out. Every single time. Which, in a way that mystified her, allowed her not to need it.

“Relax, Jedi.” The return of her sarcastic tone of voice made him do just that. “I’m not that fragile.”

“Fragile is the last way I would describe you.”

“Excellent. Shall we greet our hosts?” Mara’s gaze landed on Han and Leia on the far side of the vast space. They set off toward the receiving line that formed to congratulate the engaged couple. Tranquil music, crafted to welcome and relax the gathering crowd, drifted lazily from the direction of a small orchestra of Bith musicians. Serving droids circulated up and down the line, offering drinks to sweeten the wait.

Han and Leia looked resplendent in their formal wear. Leia’s white gown sparkled with silver thread that caught and reflected the light. Her neckline fell modestly across her collarbone, with a teardrop opening hanging in the center. A sheer silver fabric covered the opening, then extended out to form cap sleeves that floated over her toned upper arms.

Han had been outfitted with a vest that resembled a cross between a formal tuxedo vest and his everyday favored style. The rounded neck descended into a deep V, forming a crisp contrast to his white dress shirt. Silver stitching glinted at the edges. The stripes of his traditional tuxedo pants appeared black at first glance, but in the right light, gleamed scarlet.

Leia was as fresh-looking as ever. Han was already showing signs of weariness.

“Oh, I knew that dress was the right choice. Especially against the black. You two look wonderful.” Leia smiled graciously as Mara and Luke drew close.

Looking at Mara, she pointed her index finger to the floor and rotated it in a tiny circle.

Luke took the cue and lifted Mara’s hand above her head. Mara spun a graceful pirouette. Leia’s grin widened. As Mara completed the turn, their arms dropped, and Luke freed her hand.

Mara stepped closer to Leia, inspecting her gown. “Well, if this is your engagement dress, I can’t imagine what the wedding gown will be.” Mara returned the compliment, falling back on old court manners effortlessly.

Han and Luke looked at each other with sympathy. Han angled away so as not to be overheard. “Gonna be a long night.”

“Indeed. How many drinks in?” Luke murmured.

“She caught me on my second. I’m restricted to water for another twenty minutes.”

Luke chuckled at this and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You will survive this op, General,” he promised.

“Former General, and you know it.”

“You keep rejoining, though. I can’t keep track.” Luke feigned helplessness.

“Scram. You’re holding up the line.” Han growled.

Luke complimented his sister and kissed her on the cheek. He withdrew with Mara. Finding a serving droid, he picked up two glasses and handed one to Mara. He offered his left arm, and she threaded her arm through it.

Mara took a small sip of champagne as she surreptitiously surveyed the room. While her eyes slid across the surface of the crowd, her attention was still occupied by the man beside her. Mara would have spun for Leia easily without assistance. His lifting his arm to support her balance had surprised her. Pleasantly surprised her.

“What first?” he asked her, gesturing to the rest of the room.

It had been years since she’d been in this ballroom. Old instincts surfaced. “Always start with a perimeter check,” she said definitively.

He nodded. “Yeah, I like those too. From above, naturally.” He motioned to the staircase to the inner balcony that ran the entirety of the room.

“Naturally,” she replied. They moved toward the stairs. As she brushed by an elegant-looking flowering plant, Mara discreetly emptied the champagne flute into its base.

Luke chuckled, surprise reflected in his face. “You don’t like the champagne?”

“No, it’s just habit.” Mara frowned. “I always wanted to create the impression I was drinking, without actually drinking. Then I could act anything from slightly tipsy to falling down drunk when I needed to.”

“You don’t need to pretend tonight,” Luke murmured. Mara felt a warmth curl up in her solar plexus that had nothing to do with the champagne.

They mounted the grand sweeping staircase on the broadest step. Mara breathed in the smell of the ceramine oil that had recently been rubbed into the wroshyr wood bannister until it shone. The steps gradually narrowed as the staircase wound around to empty onto the ballroom’s inner balcony.

As they moved off the top step, a familiar face greeted them. “Ah, Mara Jade and Jedi Skywalker. Lovely to see you again.” Talon Karrde smiled broadly. He lifted Mara’s free hand to his lips.

“Karrde,” Luke acknowledged. “I assume you heard that intel you gave us proved correct. Helped us help a bunch of kids that would be much worse off otherwise.”

“I was delighted to hear that,” Karrde confirmed.

Did Luke feel embarrassment spilling out of Mara’s shields?

“Coruscant certainly has its charms,” Karrde noted. “There are few places in the galaxy you will find an event like this.”

Luke sensed Karrde wanted to say more but was holding back. Mara’s shields were suddenly so strong as to make her unreadable. He waited for Karrde to move off so he could ask her about it.

Karrde’s feet remained fixed in place. “Is there anything else I can keep an eye out for? Holocrons, always, of course. Anything else? Always a pleasure to help out the New Republic.” Karrde was addressing them both now.

For the right price, Luke thought, surprising himself with his own cynicism. “Has anyone engaged you about Isard’s last visit?” The last he had heard, a satisfactory answer still eluded the New Republic’s top experts.

“Indeed.” Karrde’s features darkened. “I’ve lent them my best slicer. He’s working with their comms commander. If anything else relevant comes to my attention, I will alert Princess Organa immediately. Isard is…bad for business.” Karrde did his best to avoid political biases. But he had his limits.

“It’s good to see you, Karrde.” Mara did not want to linger with the man who’d offered her an escape next to the man who would want her to stay.

“Talon, please,” he replied. But he took the hint. “Have a delightful evening.” He nodded acknowledgement at the two of them and moved off.

Everything OK? Luke asked Mara silently.

“Fine,” she replied. “Just another habit I’ve developed—keep moving. Don’t get caught in any one conversation for too long. Let me know if you want to make an exception.”

Music drifted up from the floor below. Melodies shifted from background music to a dance beat as the crowd swelled and couples started to move to the dance floor.

Towering over many of the other couples, Chewbacca and his wife Malla moved with a surprising grace. Malla and their young son Lumpawaroo had come from Kashyyyk for the festivities. Although the ballroom setting was a far cry from their forest home, they glided with an ease that suggested years of practice.

“What’s your rule—I mean, habit—for dancing?” Luke inquired.

“Never be the first on the floor, and sit out the first few, or at least until the perimeter check and initial data gathering is done,” she replied confidently. “And you?”

“Depends on how good a dancer I’m with,” he responded off-handedly. It was partially true. It depended on whether his date was more gifted at dancing or talking. Since Mara was gifted at both, he was looking forward to the evening.

“Oh really—” she started. Luke nudged her attention toward the oncoming Lando Calrissian.

“Well, hello, hello, hellloooo.” Lando bowed slightly to Mara. He straightened and pretended to notice Luke for the first time. “Luke! I didn’t see you there.” He hugged his friend, his cape swirling in a shimmer of purple and silver behind him.

Luke chuckled as he returned the hug and stepped back. “Lando, allow me to introduce Mara Jade. Mara, this is Lando Calrissian.”

She smiled her best courtly smile. She had researched Calrissian’s background and involvement with the Rebellion back when she had planned to return to the Emperor, brimming with newly gathered intelligence. She knew much more about him than he did about her. But then that was true for many in the room besides Calrissian.

Mara allowed Calrissian to take her hand and press his lips to it. “My, my, my, Luke, where have you been hiding this one? You look ravishing, Ms. Jade. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Mara noted Calrissian’s silver silk shirt, dark fitted pants, and purple cape finely embroidered in silver. His reputation did not include subtlety.

Her first instinct was to fall back on her court manners and purr fake compliments back at the man. To her surprise, the words froze on her tongue, and she found herself searching for alternatives. “I understand you introduced Luke to hot chocolate and changed his life.”

Both men laughed at this. “I try to change as many lives as I can,” Lando responded suavely. His charm exterior shifted fractionally. “But I couldn’t believe he’d never even heard of it, much less tried it.”

Lando’s eyes caught a face in the crowd. “Oh, it was lovely to meet you and I look forward to picking this up another time. If you’ll excuse me.”

As he passed Luke, Lando thumped his friend on the back a few times.

Mara smirked at Luke. “Guess he saw someone more ravishing.”

“Impossible,” Luke responded.

Mara angled toward the railing to get a better view of the floor. The dancing crowd was building steadily. As the music grew in volume, those who were not dancing either lined the floor to watch, or receded to quieter corners. Mara noted several New Republic leaders, including Airen Cracken, Mon Mothma, and Admiral Ackbar engaged in various conversations. She knew from experience that many deals would be made over the course of the evening.

Beside her, she felt Luke turning to greet more friends. “You’ve got to get out there and show off that dress,” Mirax’s familiar voice sounded on her other side. Mara turned to find Mirax with her husband, Corran. Mirax’s dark hair fell in a smooth wave to her shoulders. A plunging neckline divided her dress’s black bodice, which flowed into a dramatic red satin skirt. Corran’s black tuxedo coordinated perfectly with the black in Mirax’s dress.

Next to Mirax stood Iella, her blond hair braided in an elegant twist down one side, resting on a bare shoulder. In keeping with a new asymmetrical trend, one arm was sleeveless while the other was fully covered. The shade of pink of her gown reminded Mara of the coloring of the cocktail she’d had at Kruax. Beside Iella, a man Mara assumed to be her husband wore a deep midnight blue tuxedo--the shade that had become popular this season.

As expected, Iella introduced the man as Diric to Luke and Mara. Mara listened and chatted while a part of her surveyed her friends on another level. Mirax and Corran, as usual, were enjoying themselves and each other. Iella was more reserved than usual. She showed no outward signs of the disappointment she’d expressed with her husband’s return from the Imperial prison on the Lusankya. But Iella’s sense felt concerned and drawn.

The conversation looped back to the starting point with Mirax looking at Mara expectantly.

“You all go ahead, we’ll join you soon,” Mara said, waving toward the floor below.

Corran and Mirax needed no more encouragement than that. Iella and Diric followed more slowly behind.

As they continued around the balcony, approaching their starting point, Mara scanned the crowd for specific faces. She saw the Rogue and Wraith pilots who had flown to Togominda to free the children, minus the casualties. And one other.

“Is Wedge here?” she asked Luke.

“No, he volunteered to take the patrol duty so Rogues or Wraiths who wanted to come here could. And he’s not big on these events anyway.”

Mara hummed. “Right. Patrolling so others don’t have to. Doesn’t have anything to do with Iella, huh?”

A look of surprise crossed Luke’s face. Every time she surprised him felt like a personal victory. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, another couple stepped into their path.

“Jedi Skywalker, my name is Osabo, and this is my sister Tionne. She’s a talented historian and archaeologist who’s been studying Jedi artifacts. Talking to you would be a tremendous help to her work.”

Tionne was flustered, barely able to keep eye contact with Luke as she shook hands.

Luke smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Osabo and Tionne. Sounds like your work would be a tremendous help to me, too.”

The four walked as they talked. As they reached the top of the grand staircase, Osabo led the way down.

When they stepped off the bottom stair, Osabo noted, “My sister is a great dancer. Plus, it really gets her mind off her nervousness.”

“Osabo! You can’t—” Tionne objected.

“Would you like to dance, Tionne? Or we can schedule a meeting sometime, if you prefer,” Luke offered gallantly.

Tionne gave a quick nod, and Luke offered her an arm.

“I’d ask you, but I have two left feet. I’ve crushed a lot of toes.” Osabo shrugged at Mara. His eyes slid to Tionne and Luke, clearly pleased with himself for getting his sister the Jedi’s attention.

Mara’s gaze followed. Tionne was indeed a natural dancer, and as her limbs relaxed and moved, her sense also relaxed. Mara could see her lips moving rapidly and imagined words tumbling over one another, racing to get out first. Luke was nodding and listening carefully.

A sensation just below her ribcage tickled Mara’s attention, growing to an unfurling resistance. Luke was holding a beautiful, graceful woman in his arms while she spoke to him passionately about his very favorite subject. The couple moved together easily. Tionne would not be annoyed to see Luke use the Force—she’d be delighted. If he thought she had Force potential, Tionne would be—

“May I have this dance?” Talon Karrde materialized from nowhere.

“Sure,” Mara breathed.

She led to the dance floor, then turned to accept Karrde’s hand. Mara rested her other hand lightly on his shoulder, over which she could see Luke with Tionne.

Karrde opened his mouth, but Mara interrupted before he could make a sound.

“I do not want to discuss your offer. Not tonight. I’m thinking about it.”

“I just wanted to clarify something; I’m not asking you to respond tonight. It occurred to me that I wasn’t clear that we are often in the Core between jobs. We even bring guests along with us sometimes. Especially…highly skilled guests. So being on the crew does not preclude maintaining one’s relationships. That’s all.”

Karrde led her into a series of pivots that required Mara’s concentration.

“Highly skilled, such as, hypothetically, a Jedi.” Mara’s tone was sardonic.

“Hypothetically.” Karrde agreed.

“Look—” she started.

“Ah, ah, ah, no more of that tonight. I’m dropping it as requested. It is not often I get a chance to dance with such a talented partner.” He turned and guided them through a sequence of advanced moves.

So this is Karrde’s way of showing off. Whenever the angle permitted, Mara tracked Luke and Tionne moving across the floor. If Luke was aware she was dancing with Karrde, she could not tell.

After what seemed like an eternity, the music faded to the end of the song. Karrde dropped Mara’s hand and made a small bow. “Thank you, Ms. Jade.”

“Mara,” she murmured, automatically.

Talon smiled, nodded to someone behind her, and faded back into the crowd.

Mara turned around to find Luke. His hand slid into hers. “You want to go again or take a break?”

“Dance,” she replied. Would Luke seem as relaxed and entertained dancing with her? Would he wish he were dancing with Tionne?

Luke nodded and took her hand. He knew he could not compete with Karrde’s moves and hoped Mara would not be disappointed.

“Wait! Take yours back to 1:30,” Kleya barked.

Ghent tapped keys, then looked over his shoulder at her, fingers hovering over the board.

“Now,” Kleya instructed. Their fingers descended in sync, and the two signals played simultaneously, the combined data scrolling across the screens. Kleya frowned.

“Cueing up the other three ships’ signals at one minute thirty seconds,” Ghent reported. Kleya reminded herself to breathe as his fingers moved. Was this what she had been searching for? Was the reason none of the individual signals seemed to carry sensible extra information that they had to be combined back together?

They watched as the five signals’ subharmonic frequencies slotted together onscreen like puzzle pieces.

“That’s it!” Kleya reset the signals to their beginning and set up a capture of the combination. “We should be able to decode that.” Her shoulders settled for the first time in weeks.

“They didn’t teach us to dance on Tatooine,” Luke cautioned Mara. “Leia’s been trying to get me to learn.” He stopped talking before he admitted he always bargained that he would learn more formal dances when Leia started training her Force potential. That was the last thing Mara would want to hear.

“No problem,” she responded. “It’s not as much fun when your partner is trying to prove something.”

“So…you don’t want to go back to dancing with Karrde?” He wished he could swallow the words as soon as they left his lips. If only he knew a Force technique for that.

“No!” The ferocity of her answer surprised them both. They froze for a moment before moving again. “But then,” she added more softly, “I can’t tell you about my studies of Jedi archaeology, either.”

Luke shook his head. “It was all fascinating, but not the place for it. I’ll meet with her next week.”

“Does she want to train as a Jedi?” Mara asked. Pathetic, just pathetic. Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?

“She’s curious about it, but she seems more interested in studying the history. Mostly, she went through a long list of planets and asked if I’d found the artifacts there. I hadn’t been to most of them, hadn’t even heard of some of them. And the ones I had been to, like Yavin IV, I was busy doing something else at the time. Not …to change the subject, but…are you leading?”

They were moving together easily. They lacked the sophisticated steps Karrde had preferred. Yet they appeared as if they’d danced together for ages.

Mara hesitated, searching for a way to craft the answer to his question. “A little? I can stop.”

“Not at all. I don’t mind. I’m glad one of us knows what we’re doing.”

“Yeah? You’re better than you think. We could do this big showy dip coming up if you want—” Mara suggested.

 “Do you want our holo on the top of the society section tomorrow?” He asked. He looked around pointedly for the stealthy holography team.

It sounded like a dare. But she knew how he felt about it. She wasn’t ready for that herself.

“Good point—no showy dips.” She agreed. She had been subtly leading their steps, but the longer the song went on, the less Luke needed it. Her mind flashed on the time they had worked together to defend the Millennium Falcon, coordinating fire in their gunner stations with minimal comms. They’d also tuned into one another’s intentions and movements on the ground on Togominda rescuing the younglings. Apparently, the same dynamic worked on the dance floor.

She wondered if he created that link with every dance partner, including Tionne. Had he changed the subject on purpose? Pushing the thought to the side, she focused on the sound of the music, the pounding of her heart, those blue eyes staring into her own.

Luke didn’t ask at the end of the song if Mara wanted to stop. He kept his arms in place around her and followed her new steps. Breathing in her scent, he savored their connection as they shifted and swirled together across the floor. He wished for a Force technique that could make a moment last forever.

Ghent watched the display scroll through names of ciphers and decryptions as his program tried each of them with the combined signal data. It had to be one of them.

The display stopped during one algorithm so long Ghent considered resetting the program, wondering if it had hung.

As he reached for the keys, a new line of text appeared. Unlike the previous yellow lines of decryption names, this text was blue — the color he had programmed for the decrypted data.

“We got it! We got it!” he yelled.

Kleya appeared in the doorway, a cup of fresh caf in her hand.

“The first line is a sequence of numbers.” Ghent pointed to his display.

Kleya banged the caf cup down behind her, spilling some over the rim. “Yet another code.”

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…..” Ghent breathed as the two of them leaned in, waiting for the next line of data.

“‘Princess’ — OK, some kind of code or ID, and Princess…I’m guessing that’s Princess Organa?” Ghent waited for more.

Kleya swore. She grabbed for her mobile comm unit and strapped it around her wrist. “Let me know if there’s more!” She dashed out the door. “Vel!” she shouted into her wrist as she ran. “Order security in the ballroom to get Organa out of there. Isard issued a kill order on her.”

Ghent stared after her, frowning at the doorway.

The last chords of a particularly energetic beat faded over the dance floor. Couples finished their steps, dropped arms, and recovered their breath, laughing. The musicians stood, put their instruments down, and stretched.

“OK, I need something I will actually drink now,” Mara conceded, her chest heaving under the green layers of shimmer.

“Good idea,” Luke nodded. They turned toward a crowded beverage station.

At the front of the room a white dais with a looping silver pattern that matched the rest of the decor. A technician dressed all in black placed a microphone on a stand and adjusted its height. The crowd gathered in anticipation of hearing from the engaged couple.

Mara went still, then looked around on high alert.

What? Luke asked her. He stretched out with the Force. Tension and anxiety were rising intensely in a handful of individuals somewhere nearby. But where?

Luke reached out along his bond with Leia to check on her. She was just becoming aware of the shift herself. He started moving in her direction, toward the dais, Mara at his side.

The unmistakable high, piercing note of a blaster bolt rang out.

Stunned silence followed. The crowd froze.

Luke and Mara turned immediately to find Leia. Luke could feel his sister’s sense as strong and healthy. He also felt a sudden shock and the winking out of a life; someone else had taken a fatal hit.

Seconds after the first, a second bolt flew across the ballroom.

The lights went out. With no windows in the enclosed space, everything was plunged into blackness.

Chaos followed.

Luke drew his lightsaber and activated it, planting his feet, feeling for the direction of the next bolt. Behind him, he heard Mara do the same. Luke could not help but wonder briefly where she had been carrying it. He tore his focus back to the room, feeling for the direction of the next shot.

The green and purple lightsabers buzzed and glowed, the only light in the room.

A third blaster bolt squealed, but was a much shorter shot than the first two. Luke barely saw its light at the back of the room, near the front door. Luke sensed pain and anguish, then nothingness, through the Force. A second death.

Emergency lighting came online. Dim lights flickered around the perimeter of the room.

Near the dais, smoke wisped around the two figures wielding lightsabers back to back. The Jedi known to all already as Luke Skywalker held his familiar green blade, and the woman he had been dancing with gripped a purple one. Their eyes searched the crowd for any further fire.

The youngest and bravest of the holography team dropped to a knee a meter away from the pair, clicked a button, and dissolved back into the crowd.

Everyone there knew which hologram would lead every newscast the next day.

After drawing a long, calming breath, Mara extinguished her lightsaber. Luke hesitated. You sure there’s no more?  He asked.

I don’t sense any more danger. But I have my holdout blaster ready anyway.

He nodded and flipped the switch on his lightsaber. Leia’s sense was still strong, but he did not see her in the ballroom.

I was rushed out, Leia responded along their bond. We’re OK. You?

He assured her they were fine.

Mara could make out Iella about a meter from the front door, kneeling next to the prone form of Diric. A blaster lay on the carpet centimeters from Diric’s hand. Iella was allowing a security agent to take her own blaster from her hand as she stared at the husband she had just shot, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter Text

The chief of security stepped between Diric and Iella and the rest of the crowd and raised her voice to make an announcement.

“It’s all right, everyone. You are safe. Please exit in a calm and orderly fashion.”

A security team assembled on either side of the chief and directed traffic to the door.

The frightened crowd rushed toward the doors amid whispers, tears, and shock. Stragglers attempted to see around the security team for a glimpse of the body on the floor. Speculation passed from one to another about who the dead person was.

Mara crossed toward the spot where Diric’s body was being covered and hoisted onto a gurney. Airen Cracken stood next to Iella, speaking in low tones, attempting to persuade her to leave with him for debriefing. But Iella stood frozen, still staring at Diric, tears still streaming silently down her cheeks.

Mirax reached the scene just before Mara and Luke. She put an arm around Iella’s shoulders, waking her friend from her trance. Iella started to nod along with Cracken and slowly turned to follow him. A security escort team closed around the two of them.

“She was so sure they hadn’t programmed Diric as a sleeper agent when he was a prisoner. But she was always afraid that something was wrong,” Mirax explained to Corran, Mara, and Luke. “She blamed herself.”

“Do you know who the target was?” Mara asked her.

“We were standing back here, just a meter that way. He shot toward the front of the room, just as Leia and Han were getting up to speak.”

“Probably Leia, then,” Luke murmured.

Mara took his hand and squeezed. He’d told her once that he was a target. His closest friends and family were, too. Mara knew Luke would rather be shot himself than see something happen to them.

“Go ahead—go check on her,” Mara urged.

“I will. I’m walking you home first.”

Her eyes widened. “You think I need a bodyguard?”

His shoulders lifted just a little and fell again. “I was hoping you’d be mine.”

She mock glared at him. Luke continued, “I just want to make sure you get back OK, and…salvage a few more minutes of this night?” He grimaced. “It sure hasn’t gone to plan.”

She grunted at that.

They made their way more slowly than necessary back to her quarters. The holographers had been herded away as soon as the chaos broke out, despite vociferous protest. Other ball patrons passing through the palace corridors hurried past. An eerie quiet fell.

“How many prisoners were released from Lusankya with Diric?” Mara asked.

Luke watched security personnel down the hall scurry towards their headquarters. Their commander spoke into her wrist comm as she moved.

I don’t know. Hundreds, I think. Luke switched to using the Force to communicate just to be sure they weren’t overheard. There could be a lot of sleeper agents out there. We didn’t catch it in Diric—who else did we miss?

They absorbed that possibility. Mara felt old fears rumbling in her gut. Luke squeezed her hand and poured reassurance into his sense. We’ll figure it out, he sent.

She almost wanted to laugh out loud at his optimism. When she met him, she could not take it at face value. It had to be a front for something. Now she saw up close and personal that it was completely authentic. It made so much sense. She wondered if it was something she could learn.

Mara hadn’t seen the halls of the Palace so deserted since the times she’d roamed them in the dead of night, contemplating the Emperor’s latest mission, or planning the hypothetical missions she hoped to be sent on. Even then, stormtroopers patrolled. She suspected the New Republic would add surveillance here as quickly as they could deploy them.

Without prying eyes or greedy holographers around to see, she reached for his hand and their fingers interlaced. Their minds turning over the events of the evening and their significance, Mara and Luke traded observations and theories.

Despite their leisurely pace, they still reached her door.

She faced him and kissed him, soft and slow.

As she pulled away, Luke leaned his forehead against hers. “What terrible timing.”

“Is there good timing for an assassination attempt?” Mara wondered.

“For assassins, maybe?” he asked.

She stared at him in shock for a moment, wrapping her brain around what he’d said. “Joking about my dark past? Wow. Unexpected.”

It delighted him to surprise her. The corners of his mouth lifted a fraction. He forced himself to drop her hands. “I’ll comm you tomorrow.”

“Give Leia my best.” Mara pivoted and punched a key code into the door controls. As the door slid shut again, she threw Luke a kiss over her shoulder.

Luke allowed himself to imagine the kiss landing on his lips. Bringing himself back to reality, he backed up a few steps, turned, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

Mara went straight to her bedroom, pulling pins from her hair and loosening her braid. She sat on the edge of her bed and pushed buttons on the comm unit next to it.

“Hey, Mara,” Mirax’s worn and tired voice answered.

“Hi. Is Iella all right? Is there anything I can do?” Mara was not used to feeling helpless. She hated the feeling.

“She’s still in shock, I think. Her and Diric’s quarters are being searched. After she gets a few things together, she’ll stay the night on our couch.”

“Oh. She’s welcome here, too, if you and Corran want privacy.”

“Don’t you and Luke want privacy?” Mirax replied with a suggestive smile in her voice. “What are you doing talking to me, anyway?”

“You have a one-track mind, Mirax,” Mara snarked at her. “If it were any of your business, I’d tell you he’s gone to find out more about what happened tonight.”

“Yeah, I suppose he would. Oh—there’s Iella at the door. I’ll tell her about your offer. She may not want to go right back there tomorrow.”

“Sure—offer’s open when she needs it.” Mara’s fingers closed over the fiddly clasp on one earring and worked to release it.

“Luke’s place is private, just sayin’. OK, gotta go.” The connection dropped.

Mara snorted at Mirax’s last observation. She stood, earrings in her palm, and crossed to the jewelry box to store them.

She shed her dress as if it were a molting skin. It pooled at her feet, and she stepped carefully over it. The straps on her heels released easily. The holster on her wrist that held her holdout blaster showed signs of wear as she freed the weapon along with its case. She made a mental note to look for a replacement. Finally, she reached behind her and focused on freeing the lightsaber hanging between her shoulder blades.  

A sigh of relief escaped her as she slipped on a loose t-shirt and sleeping pants. As fun as it was to dress up, this was always her favorite part.

Next, she sat in front of her mirror to undo all the work she’d done earlier to arrange her hair just so. The remainder of pins were tugged free, some with significant effort. The music from the last dance ran in a loop in her head as she released her hair. Her breathing quickened at the memory of Luke’s strong arms, his ease in learning the moves, those blue blue eyes.

Damn Solo to all nine of his Corellian hells. He’d made her feel that she would break Luke’s heart if she wasn’t already prepared to make a long-term commitment. But the real target of her anger, she knew, was not Solo. It was herself for allowing him to get inside her head, spark such thoughts, and allow those thoughts to take root as they had.

Her fingers searched her scalp for any recalcitrant pins. When she was satisfied that they were all out, she pulled the braid apart, easing the strands away from one another. She reached for her hairbrush and started to pull it through the red gold cascade.

There had been a few moments of clarity in the evening. How long she would want to explore a relationship, she still didn’t know. But one thing crystallized when she saw Tionne, a beautiful woman with a keen interest in Jedi history, held in Luke’s arms. Mara knew then that she did not want to open the society section in any news site, in any part of the galaxy, and see Luke Skywalker with anyone else but herself.

The sensation sat in the same place inside her chest as the realization she’d had during that long night on Kaal. She’d sat in a medcenter watching that faint light of Luke’s presence, willing it to burn bright. It was impossible to do without admitting to herself that her feelings for him were so much more tender than she pretended. That way down deep, she longed for a night just like this. A night when his attention shone on her like Tatooinian suns, and she melted from its intensity. A night when his pride in her was on display for all to see. A night that would have continued right here, in this room, if not for the blaster fire.

Blaster fire that could have been aimed at Luke. He was a target. His friends and family were targets. And he saw himself as a protector. Her thoughts came full circle to the memory of worrying for his survival. Staying on Coruscant, staying with Luke, wouldn’t always be easy. But that didn’t make it easier to leave. She would worry about him anyway. And it would be far more difficult to do so from across the galaxy.

Her tresses shone from the thorough brushing. She set the brush in its place and ran her fingers through the silky hair ends. Peace curled around her shoulders over her glossy mane.

Tomorrow, she would tell Karrde she was declining his offer.

Luke’s quick stride slowed as he drew close to the guards standing on either side of the hall that led to Leia’s quarters. A squat, balding man stood in front of the guards, his arms waving in the air.

“I came all the way from the Outer Rim to represent my world at this event. She would want to see me! Ask her!”

“I’m sorry, sir. The Councilor is not admitting visitors tonight.” The guard on the left addressed the man, unaffected by the encroachment of the man’s flailing appendages in his personal space.

Luke lowered his hood and caught the other guard’s eye. The guard on the right turned just enough to permit Luke entry.

“Hey! She is taking visitors! You let that guy in.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The Councilor is not admitting visitors tonight.” The guard repeated. He could repeat this line all night with the patience of a droid. It was one of many reasons he’d ascended the ranks to guard Councilor Organa in times of emergency threat.

Luke announced himself along their bond. Leia, I’m here. Are you up for talking?

He felt her grateful assent.

A second pair of guards stood on either side of her front door. Most nights, there were two security droids here instead, and no security at the hallway entrance. Throughout his trip through the Palace passageways, he’d seen pairs of security personnel taking up watch stations. Most recognized Luke before he lowered his hood. Some seemed reassured by his presence. Others were unnerved.

One of the guards lifted a wrist and spoke into their comm. “Councilor Organa, General—I mean—Jedi—Luke Skywalker is here.”

“Let him in, please,” Leia instructed.

The guard pressed a sequence of buttons on a panel to one side of the door, then nodded to the other guard. The other pressed a different sequence of buttons on the panel on the opposite side. The doors slid open with a soft shhhhh.

Leia sat in the corner of the low couch in her front room. Her posture was nearly regal, her back straight, her dainty stocking feet flat on the floor. Her arms crossed over her waist. Her head tilted back over the top of the seat with eyes closed. Her face was ashen. Her formal dress remained fresh and crisp.

Next to her sat Han, as if by hemming her in her seat, he could keep her from all harm. He’d shed the vest and shoes he’d been wearing earlier. His front shirttails spilled over his lap. He leaned into one hand, covering his mouth, elbow propped on his knee.

As Luke approached, Leia opened her eyes and lifted her head from the top of the couch. She smiled her relief. Luke Skywalker, here to rescue me, she sent along their bond.

The fact that she did not say it aloud signaled she was still keeping up appearances in front of the person sitting in the chair opposite the couch, holding a datapad. Luke recognized her as the head of Leia’s security, Nalah Danakar. Officially, this woman was responsible to the Council for Leia’s safety.

“Beffur Symus was killed,” Leia sighed. “She was on my detail. She was standing maybe a meter away from me?”

Luke remembered the sensation of a life blinking out of the Force after the first shot. He’d known it wasn’t Leia but didn’t know who it was. Now he did.

“I’ve been tel—reminding the Councilor how proud Ms. Symus was to be on this detail. This is what she dedicated her life to. She would have considered this a good death. A high honor.”

Leia bit her lip. “I understand. I’ve explained it to survivors over and over again through the years. Today we lived. Others died. They were willing to die for our noble cause, and now our job is to honor their sacrifice.” The expression in her voice faded to monotone as she repeated the speech.

“I can’t tell,” Leia continued in her normal tone, “if it’s lost meaning for all the times I’ve said it, or if I’m just terrible at following my own advice.”

“You’ve had bodyguards since you were little—I mean, young. You’ve never liked other people putting themselves in danger for you, war or no war.” Han spoke softly.

“‘Young’ because I’m still little?” Leia hadn’t missed the dig, knowing it was meant to distract her by making her smile. Or shift her frustration onto him. Or anything that would make things better. “You’re right—I’ve never liked it. Most days, I just take it for granted, and it doesn’t matter. Beffur isn’t the first one to die protecting me personally, but…” Her words drifted away, her usual eloquence lost in the tragedy.

Danakar stood, sensing there was nothing more to be done there for the night. “A lead investigator’s been named, and I’ll keep you up-to-date on what they learn. Comms officers found a signal from Isard’s visit that looks like an assassination order. The working theory is that Wessiri had been programmed in captivity to activate on that order. And he did. They didn’t find any other orders in the signal.”

“So maybe all those freed prisoners are sleeper agents, and they don’t even know it? Just undercover assassins waiting for the magic signal?” Han’s lips twisted into a snarl at the possibility.

“Working theory,” Danakar repeated. “I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

Luke accompanied her to the door. “Please let the investigator know I’m at their disposal if I can help,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” she responded and activated the door controls.

He didn’t bother to tell her to call him Luke. She probably wouldn’t, and it hardly mattered just now.

The next morning, Mara half-sleepwalked to the caf station and started her first cup for the morning. She picked up a datapad and tapped over to the holonews to see what it reported about the events of the previous night.

A hologram sprang from the micro projector on the pad. She’d splurged on a high-end datapad with a hi-res projector, and now she could see every detail of her own green dress on her own form. She stood back-to-back with Luke, lightsabers up and ready for combat. The looks on their faces were alert, concerned. Even if it were not a holo of herself, she’d feel the adrenaline vicariously.

“Fabulous,” she muttered. It wasn’t the first time she’d been featured in the news. Never this prominently, though, and never under her own identity.

Her comm beeped. She tore her eyes away from the hologram, moved to the comm next to the caf, and connected. “It’s Winter, Mara. Just checking in.”

“I’m fine,” Mara said automatically. “And you?”

“Oh, fine. Tycho and I were about halfway between the two ends of the room. It was all so quick. But you sure got everyone’s attention with that lightsaber.”

“You mean, we got everyone’s attention with our lightsabers, right?” Mara leaned heavily on the plural.

“Everyone is familiar with Luke waving a lightsaber around. You are news.”

“Tell me about it.” Mara poured her caf and looked at the holo still projected from her datapad.

“Yeah. Still glad you went?”

“Yes,” Mara answered without thinking. She took a deep gulp of caf and considered. Was she still glad? Did having her holo all over the news change anything she had decided last night? She had planned to comm Karrde after the first cup of caf. Now what?

She ran the scenario in her head. Suppose she’d told Luke no, she did not want to attend the ball after all, because it was for his own good to break it off now rather than lead him on and make it worse later. Suppose she’d accepted Karrde’s offer on the spot, packed a few things, and started a new era of her life as a member of a smuggling crew. Then, suppose she was reading the news this morning somewhere in hyperspace. Seeing Luke’s holo by himself? As she anticipated last night, her heart would stop a moment, just as it had a few minutes ago, for very different reasons. She would wonder if he was alright. If he were the target of the next kill order. She would debate sending him a message, something light, just to say she was glad he was OK. But she wouldn’t send it. And then she’d throw herself into work, and working out, and anything else she could think of. To distract her from thinking about him.

On balance, she’d rather be here, guarding his back.

Winter was talking. Mara focused.

“So, you might want to think about that,” Winter concluded.

“I’m sorry, Winter, I just got my first sip of caf. What should I think about?”

“The holopress,” Winter spoke in an exaggerated, drawn-out cadence, teasing her. “What do you want them to know? Do you want to speak to any of them directly, and if not, who do you want to speak for you? Leia’s staff can handle it, if you want.”

“Oh. Ah…” Mara’s mind went blank.

“Right. Just a heads-up—you don’t have to decide anything now. I’ve got to prepare for the public Council meeting. See you there?”

“There’s a public Council meeting? About the assassination attempt?”

“Yes. I need to go finish up some prep with Leia. Just wanted to check on you.”

“Thanks, Winter. I’ll see you at the meeting.” Mara clicked off and drank the rest of the caf. She poured a second cup, hoping the first dose would soon clear the whirl of thoughts, plans, and questions that tumbled around her brain.

The comm chirped again. Mara tapped a button on the console and recognized Luke’s frequency. The one he had written for her on a piece of flimsi so long ago. A warmth started in her chest, and spread outward.

“Hey there, Jedi,” she answered.

“Hi. You doin’ all right?” She closed her eyes as she listened to his voice and sipped her caf.

“Yes, I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. You’ve seen the news?”

“I have. That’s quite a holo.” She tapped a button on her datapad to project the holo again. “Flattering angle for you.”

“No one is looking at that guy, trust me. People are very curious about the beautiful woman with the purple lightsaber at his back, though. But we can talk more about that later. There’s a public Council meeting in a little while. I usually watch from a private viewing room. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Thanks. Privacy sounds good.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about enquiring eyes in the crowd on her. No doubt she would be more comfortable in a private room with Luke.

“Great. I’ve got Viewing Room Leth. Shall I pick you up?”

Mara glanced at the chronograph as she poured a third cup of caf. Her eyes widened. “Ah—I’ll meet you there. I’m running late.”

“Me too. See you there.” The warmth in his voice left no doubt that he was looking forward to it.

Her mind automatically started calculating the time it would take for a sanisteam, get dressed, do her hair, and get to the Council meeting. First, she had a priority comm to make.

“This is Talon Karrde.” He sounded as smooth as ever. No one would guess he’d been to a grand event, danced, drank, and witnessed a shooting a few short hours ago.

“Karrde, this is Mara Jade. I’m afraid I can’t help you out on your crew.”

“Ah, yes, as I feared. What a shame. You are a natural at security, as everyone saw last night. Of course, I already knew.”

“Still with the flattery. Someday someone’s just going to shoot you in the middle of one of your flowery speeches.”

“And I will have someone not quite as talented as you defending me when that happens.” He chuckled. “I do hope we can continue this mutually beneficial friendship.”

Karking hells. She was shocked to realize what she was about to say was true. “I hope so, too, Talon.”

Mara hoped her hair had dried sufficiently so that her rushed preparation was not obvious to all who saw her. Even in her nondescript dark grey jumpsuit, she noticed more eyes following her. She amped up the energy that encouraged looks to slide off her, to focus elsewhere. Either she was out of practice or it wasn’t working as well as it used to.

Mara scanned the luxury conference area, where the Councilors would sit for their deliberations. Transparisteel windows separated the space from an elevated gallery, allowing the public to watch the proceedings.

Mara climbed the stairs to the next level and continued to pour her energy into misdirecting the curious glances from the crowd ascending to the public gallery.

She passed the entry doors that the crowd pressed into, following the curved corridor to the smaller, private rooms. As she approached the room marked Leth, the door slid open.

Luke stood from his chair. Like the previous night, he wore black pants and a black tunic, though of a sturdier material. His tabards were brown. A brown cloak was thrown over a chair in the corner. Unlike Mara, he looked rested and recovered from recent events. He welcomed her with an embrace and a lingering kiss.

“How are you? You getting any looks or questions?” he asked.

“Looks, yes. But those I can redirect. Questions, no.” She pulled the chair next to him out from the narrow table and sat. His inquiry sparked her curiosity. “What kind of questions do you get? What do you tell them?”

“Leia’s got people I can direct the press to. And the press has been asking about you—so far, they’ve just been given your name. But Leia’s staff won’t say anything you don’t want them to.”

Mara considered. As usual, her experience with the press was limited to her undercover work. She had spun a few effective stories to aid in manipulating her targets. But she’d never been reported on under her true identity. If her cover had ever been blown publicly, the Emperor would have had her executed.

Now she had to decide how to answer questions about herself. But, like many of the decisions she faced since meeting Luke, Mara Jade was at a loss.

“I’d prefer to go with ’no comment,’ but I suppose that will just make them more curious.” Her teeth caught her lower lip.

“It’s the lightsaber they’re asking the most questions about. I imagine we could backstop any story you want to tell,” Luke mused.

Through the viewing window that stretched from one wall to the other in front of them, Mothma was calling the meeting to order.

The Jedi is suggesting I lie? She sent it in the Force, although the private room prevented anyone else from hearing her anyway.

Luke shook his head at her teasing. He settled in as the ceremonial meeting openings were performed below.

First on the agenda was a report on the assassination attempt investigation, presented by Airen Cracken.

“There were two casualties, Diric Wessiri and Beffur Symus.” Holograms of the two sprang from the holoprojector in the center of the conference table. “Had Wessiri not been killed, it’s doubtful we would have gotten valid intel from him, as he had already been questioned repeatedly and frequently following his release by the Empire. Correction: Imperial Remnant.”

A murmur spread through the crowd at the realization that, despite New Republic Intelligence scrutiny, a sleeper assassin agent had gone undetected and roamed free.

“Agent Iella Wessiri has been put on leave. Investigation is ongoing.”

Mara felt a flash of anger at that. The last thing Iella wanted now was to be at loose ends. Cracken had just admitted that Diric’s assignment had been undetectable to the NRI. Yet they thought Iella may have known? Or been involved? Iella was the only one quick enough to stop Diric from assassinating Leia. It had cost Iella everything to pull that trigger.

Luke’s hand reached over and settled over hers.

“Thank you, General Cracken. We look forward to the investigation’s results.” Mon Mothma paused just a moment, signaling her frustration. “The New Republic is grateful for the service of Beffur Symus. We honor her family’s sacrifice.” She paused again, this time for respect for the dead.

“We’re escalating the alert level throughout all public agencies until we have reason to believe it is not necessary.”

Leia shifted in her seat. She had offered to attend this meeting remotely for the safety of the other council members. They refused. Security for the meeting had been tripled. The Council had reminded Leia that they all had risked their lives for years. Making the meeting public was as much a public relations event to assure New Republic citizens as it was a business meeting.

Leia and Han knew they had to make significant changes to their wedding plans. The Councilors may be willing to take the risk for themselves, but the bride and groom were not going to ask that of their guests.

Leia dragged her focus back to the meeting. When the public meeting agenda items were finished, they would continue in private with the agenda items whose optics were not as favorable. She took a gulp of caf.

Mothma held up a hand for silence and pressed the other hand to her ear, listening with an intense expression. “Yes, yes. We need just one moment to prepare. We’ll be there shortly.” Her chin came up. She lifted her gaze to the gallery.

“This concludes our meeting for today. We will take up the remainder of the agenda next time. Councilors, please remain so we can settle some scheduling logistics.”

Luke and Mara turned to each other in their viewing room. Mara’s danger sense rumbled. “Something’s up.”

“Yeah. I’ll see if Leia knows.” He reached out along the twin bond and found her already reaching toward him.

Come to the Command Center with us, she requested. Isard’s requesting contact.

“Isard’s calling,” Luke reported. He stood and tilted his head back to the door. “Let’s go.”

Mara stood and followed Luke through the door, doubt bubbling through her sense.

“You sure I’m invited?”

“I’m inviting you,” he responded. His strides were long and determined down the corridors to the Command Center.

The two caught up with Leia, who lingered just outside the door of the Command Center. As Mara expected, a guard there eyed her, looking for rank or identification. “Miss—” he started.

“She’s fine,” Leia interrupted. “I authorize her.”

The guard’s eyes went to Mon Mothma, who was watching from a meter inside the door. Mothma didn’t have time for drawn-out decision-making. She trusted Leia implicitly. And the holo of Mara Jade brandishing a lightsaber alongside Luke Skywalker had been convincing. Mothma’s chin lowered a few millimeters, and the guard stood down.

Airen Cracken, however, looked doubtful. His lips moved as he spoke into a tiny comm receiver.

Mara put on an air of confidence mixed with I-am-not-a-threat. Luke took a position just inside the door. Mara stepped around him and stood on his other side.

The New Republic Council had not changed this room much. The walls remained grey. The obnoxiously large Imperial gears had been replaced with much more unobtrusive New Republic insignias. The space was dominated by technology, particularly the central holoprojector. It had been upgraded, and the New Republic replaced the rectangular device, which doubled as a table, with a round one. Councilors took plush leather seats around its perimeter.

“Quickly, everyone, we’ve stalled as long as we can. Kleya, I don’t suppose we know where her signal is coming from?” Mothma was grateful at least that this message was coming remotely. The situation was serious enough without Isard’s ships hanging in the atmosphere.

“Leia, would you do the honors, please?” Mothma allowed herself a rare smirk at the thought of the woman they had ordered killed answering the comm.

Leia drew herself up and put on a fierce energy smoldering under a royal exterior. She marched into the holofield.

Kleya Marki pushed a button, and Ysanne Isard sprang from the holo projector, the hologram stretching to a meter in height.

“Ysanne Isard.” Leia greeted her without title.

“Princess!” Isard purred. “It’s so good to see you looking so healthy.”

“Your assassin’s dead,” Leia informed her. “He failed his mission.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. But whoever is responsible, you must be wondering…. Are there more? Could the dead assassin you refer to have been the only dangerous man wandering among your highest security levels completely undetected?” She smiled the smile of a snake hunting its defenseless prey. “I mean…. How would you know? When or where the next attack might come? I’d be most disconcerted. The resources you would need to investigate at that scale. Does the New Republic even have those kinds of resources?”

Looks, whispers, and messages flew among the Council, outside the holofield.

Leia weighed her response. This is exactly what they’d been asking themselves. Was Isard telling them their worst fears were confirmed? Was she bluffing?

Ideas? She sent to Luke.

Luke grimaced to himself. The Force was not much help here. Isard had strong shields around her sense, likely learned from years of avoiding Palpatine’s wrath. She’d also learned Palpatine’s techniques for manipulation and gaslighting.

His memory cast back to the day he stood in front of the shriveled, cackling husk of a figure entombed in his throne. Luke had met him with confidence that Luke knew something Palpatine did not. Which, of course, turned out to be wrong. Palpatine had engineered it all. Mara had tried to warn him. The day after he’d first heard her voice through Jabba’s dungeon cell window. All that time ago, she had crouched on Ben Kenobi’s couch, her eyes reflecting the light of her blade. She’d advised him to assume Palpatine was always several steps ahead.

Is she like him? Luke asked Mara in the Force. Is Isard capable of carefully constructing illusions?

Mara made an audible grunt. She’s not that smart. But she may have trained more sleeper agents at Lusankya. Or not. No way to tell just now.

Sorry, Leia. Your political instincts will serve you best. Luke made eye contact with his sister.

Mara surveyed the room. The Council was not prepared with a response. Waves of uncertainty and anger crashed into one another as conflicting strategies were proposed, debated, and discarded in seconds.

Let me talk to her. Mara poured the request into the Force, intending for both Luke and Leia to receive the message. She’d never communicated this way with Leia, though. She felt unsure about how it all worked, as the Emperor had lied when he’d told Mara she could only receive such messages.

Leia’s eyes locked on Mara’s. Then glanced at Luke. She pushed the mute button on the holocam. “Mara, would you be willing to speak with Isard?” Her voice carried the regal tone that made a request sound like an order.

“Wait--” Airen Cracken stood. “You want a former Imperial agent who has no official role with this Council or anywhere in this government answering Isard for us? She could be a sleeper agent herself, and not even know it!”

Go, Luke urged.

Mara stepped forward. “You can put it on a delay. Cut me off if you don’t like what you hear.” As she spoke, she unstrapped her holdout blaster from under her sleeve and handed it to Luke along with her lightsaber.

Kleya tapped buttons and looked up from her panel toward Mon Mothma.

Mothma’s patience had worn thin. She’d lost sleep for days over Isard’s mysterious visit. The Council had squabbled, and the investigators investigated, and now they finally had more information. Yet it still wasn’t clear how to respond to a threat of this shape.

“Do you have a better idea, General Cracken? We’re out of time.” Her tone of voice was a warning.

“Councilor Organa was doing a fine job.” It did not sound as confident as he intended.

Leia looked at Mon Mothma with a slight shake of the head. But Mothma knew Leia would resume if asked. Mara Jade stood just outside the holofield. All eyes turned to Mothma, awaiting the order. Could Jade make it any worse? Mothma wondered. Again, she saw the holo of her standing with Luke from the previous night in her mind’s eye.

“Kleya, you have a delay ready to go?” Kleya gave her a quick nod. “Ms. Jade, please proceed.”

Mara traded places with Leia. Before their eyes, Mara transformed. Her shoulders dropped. Her posture straightened as if her spine were steel. The Council members fell silent.

Her eyes narrowed at the holocam. She reached over and punched the button to unmute. When she spoke, the chill in her tone lowered the temperature in the room.

“Isard, you are the one who ought to be worried.” Mara paused, waiting out the delay. She maintained her posture of complete control.

“Mara Jade. So that really was you in that hologram. I didn’t think you’d turn traitor so easily. You were so devoted to him. Does your new boyfriend know about that?”

“You should be thinking about what I know. About you.”

After a beat that was even longer than the delay, Isard laughed. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t even know you weren’t the only Hand! What could you possibly know about me that I should be worried about?”

Mara’s eyebrows climbed upward. Her head angled slightly to one side. Her lips pursed. “It’s true that I believed what the Emperor said, even when he lied. That doesn’t change what I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears. I had effectively...“ She made the tiniest of shrugs. “...unlimited access, you know.”

The silence stretched.

“You’re bluffing.” Isard’s tone was flat.

Mara allowed the accusation to hang in the air. She waited for that certainty that she knew would come, to tell her just when to speak again. Her voice turned to ice.

“Am I? Try me. If you activate another sleeper agent, I’ll get very talkative. You know what I’m referring to.” She let the implication hang. When she’d held the dramatic moment long enough, Mara made a slashing motion with her hand outside the holocam’s range.

Kleya cut the connection.

The room exhaled audibly.

“Don’t get too excited,” Mara warned, looking at Leia. Her gaze shifted to Mothma, and finally to Cracken, in turn. “I was bluffing. I don’t have much on Isard that you probably don’t already know. But she had a lot of secrets, and I’m willing to bet there’s plenty she wouldn’t want either the New Republic or the Imperial public to know.” 

“You did bet on it,” Cracken pointed out. “You bet the New Republic’s security.”

“Kleya, is Isard trying to get us back?” Mothma asked.

“No, she’s closed the connection on her end as well. We’ll start analyzing the recording for any sign of embedded orders.”

“Excellent, thank you. Council, shall we adjourn to our usual room to debrief and review the remainder of our agenda? Ms. Jade and Jedi Skywalker, the Council will be meeting privately but if you would keep your comms open in case we need to contact you, that would be most appreciated. We’re adjourned for, let’s say, twenty minutes.”

Leia gathered her things and walked over to Mara, and together they joined Luke at the back of the room.

“That was great.” Luke’s tone was proud. “Very convincing.”

“Maybe,” Mara replied skeptically. “Now we wait to see if Isard goes for it.”

“It bought us time, which we desperately needed,” Leia put in.

Mara could feel the looks from the other Councilors. Some stood in knots of conversation, while others milled about, and a few exited as quickly as possible, speaking into their wrist comms.

There was no going back now. The New Republic Council had watched her confront Ysanne Isard, the woman she’d most feared finding her since the Emperor’s death. Her undisguised face was in the news headlines. There was nowhere left to hide.

Chapter Text

Luke and Mara, dismissed by Mothma from the Council meeting, left the Command Center. Councilors in the corridor stood alone with their datapads, and in twos or threes, discussing Isard’s call. Luke felt their glances. Some nodded at him in acknowledgement; others averted their eyes. Looks lingered even longer on Mara.

A memory triggered of a comment Mara had made earlier in the viewing room.

“Did you say you were getting looks but you could redirect them?” he asked.

Surprise washed over her sense. “Sure.”

“How?” Luke hesitated to ask if she was drawing on the Force.

She would have stopped to have the conversation face-to-face, but the Councilors walking in the corridors around them were still paying a bit too much attention to the pair. So she continued to walk, lengthening her strides.

“You know—you just become very uninteresting, so eyes go elsewhere. They look at the being next to you, or the decor, or whatever. As if when the gaze lands on you, it slides off because it can’t stick.”

Luke absorbed this without comment. Mara could feel the confusion in his sense.

“You should really use it. You are way too easy to track sometimes.” Like a sun.

“And yet, still alive.” They continued to stride away from the Council members drifting to their reconvened meeting.

“Sooo smug!” She tutted. “So you’re on alert until the Council meeting is over? In case they want you back?”

“We are on alert. You are the one they might want to ask about Isard.”

“And you are the one they might want to ask about me. So where are we going?”

Luke laughed, stopped, and looked around. They’d left the Councilors behind in the last corridor. Typical midday foot traffic flowed around them. Luke saw a few glances that lasted longer than usual, but most beings focused on their own business. He made a mental note to return to the topic of redirection.

“Where would you like to go? I try to stay within, say, ten minutes travel time.”

“First, I need caf.” The adrenaline of her encounter with Isard had sluiced off with time and the walk through the corridors.

“Shocking,” Luke snarked. He knew she preferred a specific caf bean she kept stocked in her quarters. “Want to make your own?”

“Mmm—yes,” she replied. There were closer places to buy caf, but she was feeling a bit weary of being in public.

They walked back to her quarters, each absorbed in their thoughts about the events of the morning. As Mara resumed deflecting curious looks, she noticed Luke’s eyes slide to her, as if studying. It’s not hard, she noted in the Force. Don’t tell me they don’t teach this in the Rebellion.

Beside her, Luke gave a slight smile and shifted his attention back to the hallway in front of them. His focus remained on Mara and the effect she was having on those around them.

They reached her front door, and Mara keyed the door controls. “Hot chocolate?” she offered as they crossed the threshold.

“Not right now, thanks.” Had she stocked it just for him? He wondered behind strengthened shields. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should find some of those caf beans for his place.

“You were really something with Isard.” Luke’s pride was obvious. “Was that…I mean…did you always…” He searched for the right words.

She knew what he meant. “Yes, that was the Hand. That’s how I presented myself as the Emperor’s Hand. That’s who they trained me to be. Who I thought I was for a long time. Or who I was trying to be.”

He pulled her into him. “But you couldn’t quite. Because it was never you.”

She allowed herself to relax against him. The adrenaline of the day had drained from her. “What makes you so sure? I worked so hard at it.” Her eyes squeezed shut against his shoulder. Old memories surfaced.

“You couldn’t kill this guy without a hand who was crying for his daddy.” Luke felt the warmth of her against him. His own memories leaked through his shields.

“Mmmmm, he broke me, for sure. I went back to try again when he was locked up in Jabba’s dungeon and he flirted with me.”

“Bastard.” He smiled against her hair.

She gave a low chuckle. She pulled back enough to kiss him. “OK, time for caf.”

She broke away and went to the kitchen. Luke’s words echoed in her mind. It was never you. Never? She wondered at that. It had seemed to her that her questioning—her rebellion—had been recent. Something that had developed just in the last few years, starting on that unintended trip in the Falcon in which she’d found him floundering. She had been the Hand, and then she started to change. And now she was different. Was it possible the Hand had never fit her as well as she thought? Had that been part of the conditioning? Another lie?

The caf station waited for her, blinking.

In the living room, Luke looked around. He had been in her apartment before, and had noted the similarity to the quarters he’d helped her clear out weeks earlier. Her new apartment was more spacious but was likewise minimally decorated. There was a marked absence of tchotchkes, holograms, or any kind of ornamentation. He’d seen military quarters that looked cluttered compared to this.

He heard the caf station running, then deactivating, and the scrape of the caf mug disengaging. He imagined her bringing it to her lips. Those lips.

“That’s better,” she muttered under her breath. She carried it to the kitchen entry. “Caf? Water? You want anything?”

He looked at her, her shoulder resting on the doorway, her ankles crossed. Her sense was regaining energy with each sip from the mug.

He closed the distance between them.

“What I want,” he responded, “would take way more than ten minutes.” He dropped his head to the base of her neck and nuzzled there.

She tipped her head back, eyes closed. “You trying to make me spill caf all over you?” She reluctantly stepped away from him and set her mug down on the counter.

Luke took a deep breath and cast his mind about, looking for another focus. “Okay, new idea. You got something that caf can travel in? And don’t worry—no one will stare.”

Realization dawned as Mara followed Luke’s lead around another Palace corner. “The hangar?” she guessed. “The Rogues’ mystery ship? The one with the sensor array that required the Force to get off a tall shelf? Do I get to see it?”

Luke had been working with the Rogues to refit a ship they’d been keeping under wraps. He smirked at her jab about his elevating the sensor array out of the storage in the Millennium Falcon, where only a Wookiee could reach.

“Don’t tell. I’ll be in trouble.” He keyed in the code for the hangar door. On the far side of the open space, a tarp covered a ship-sized object. No other beings were visible.

They crossed the space. Luke walked to one end of the tarp and pulled it away, gradually revealing the craft.

“A yacht?! What do the Rogues need with a luxury yacht?”

“Don’t underestimate the Sorusuub 3000. We’ve made several modifications,” Luke declared.

Mara nodded, her lower lip extended. She stepped close to the hull and toured the side, inspecting.

“Upgrades? Other than the new sensor array, that is.”

“That sensor array looks standard, but it has an advanced collection of hardware on the inside for ship identification,” Luke boasted. “And its own transponder can toggle between three separate codes.”

“Not bad,” Mara admitted. Her hand ran along the hull as she disappeared around the stern. Luke followed.

“SSP05 hyperdrive generator plus Aurum thrusters.” Luke rattled off the specs. “Correllian leather interiors, even a jetstream pool.”

“That’s a lot of customization,” Mara noted. They reached the nose. “But what does an X-Wing squadron need with an amped-up luxury yacht?”

“They don’t. The Rogues aren’t keeping this ship. It was a gift, and the New Republic can’t officially accept it.”

Mara’s head tilted to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. “Ohhhkayyyy.” She drew out the word. “Then why are they fixing it up?”

“The volunteered. They saw me working on it and asked what I was up to and started proposing upgrades.”

“You’re keeping it? You can accept gifts because you don’t have an official role?” Another explanation unfolded in her mind, but she pushed it away.

“It’s from Sansia’s family. That Twi’lek girl in the group we took off Togaminda?”

“Yes, sure.” She’d learned that the Twi’lek girl that she first saw being dragged back to a slaver ship by a Devaronian when she was working on Varonat was named Sansia. The girl had haunted her nightmares until Mara saw her making herself at home in the Millennium Falcon as they raced away from the slavers’ headquarters with a holdful of freed younglings. In some ways, the rescue was Sansia’s fault to start with.

“Turns out her family is wealthy. They were overjoyed to get her back, so they gifted us this ship. Our mission was completely off the books, all volunteer, not at all sponsored by the New Republic. So, accepting this ship is not a violation of regulations.”

Are you going to make me keep asking? Mara’s expression was dark. The explanation she did not want to believe was becoming more likely by the minute.

“Mara, it’s for you.”

And there it was.

“I can’t.” Mara shook her head vigorously. “That’s…it’s too much. I didn’t…It wasn’t about…” Words failed her.

“You instigated that mission out of the goodness of your heart, I know. It’s OK to—” Luke started.

“The goodness of my heart? Oh, c’mon, Luke, I planned that mission out of rage. Rage for that Twi’lek girl and all the little girls like her.” Mara scowled.

He faced her and took both of her hands in his. “Rage for all the little girls who weren’t protected. But should have been.” Pools of blue bore into her, seeping into places others were not allowed to see.

“You can back off on the psychoanalysis,” she said. But her soft tone belied the words. A part of her did wish someone had come to rescue her at Ansia’s age. Ironically, young Mara would have resisted such an extraction, not realizing she needed to be rescued.

“OK, let’s talk about the practicalities then.” Luke changed strategies. “The ship is here. We accepted it a while ago and have modified it pretty heavily. The New Republic can’t take it, since it was a gift. So, what else are we going to do with it?”

“Lots of people were on that mission. Why don’t you take it? Or Solo or Mirax or Antilles or any of the Rogues or Wraiths who want a personal ship?”

“I’m happy with a T-65. Han has no interest in any ship other than the Falcon; Mirax loves the Skate. And the pilots all have their X-Wings. I asked them all, Mara. It was unanimous. This was your mission, you can fly, and you don’t already have a ship. You went to get those kids because you wanted to. It’s still OK to accept a thank you. If it helps, the way Ansia’s family talked, they used it as an excuse to upgrade to something bigger.”

“So, donate it. Give it to that organization we used that finds homes for trafficking survivors and gets them back. It’s just not right for me to keep it. It’s not right. I didn’t go after those bastards to get a prize or reward or fee. It’s too much.” Her chin dipped, and her eyes looked up through her lashes at him. “You don’t even like getting medals for your insane stunts. Don’t tell me you would accept something like this. You must understand.”

He pursed his lips. She had a point. “I understand. I do. But I wish you’d take it, anyway. It will give you the freedom to leave whenever you want, if that’s what you want.” His eyes were searching hers now. He was giving her the opportunity to run away from him. While hoping she chose not to.

She looked at the ship, her eyes tracing its lines. Her gaze was drawn to the coupling above the bridge. “Does that docking ring work?”

“Yup. We replaced it with a new standard coupling. I tested it with my T-65—works great.”

“So, if I did want to get away, I could take someone with me. And their X-Wing.”

“If you wanted.”

“And if they wanted.”

“Anyone would be crazy not to go anywhere with you.” He drew her close. “Just think about accepting the ship.”

“Oh, you want to tell me to meditate on it, don’t you?”

“Whatever it takes. Go beat up the combat wall in the gym. Think about it on a run. Ruminate over caf.”

“There you go.”

They were both startled at the sound of the ship’s main hatch opening. The ramp lowered. Artoo rolled down, beeping and squealing updates.

“That’s where you’ve been! Sorry we put the tarp on, buddy.” Luke grinned. “He’s been working on the programming. I didn’t quite catch all that, but we’ll get a full report. I know he was working on some remote functions, like warming up engines and setting navigation remotely.”

Her curiosity was piqued. “I worked on a ship on Varonat that had a remote summoning system. You think it could work on a ship this size?”

“Hmmm—I don’t know. It’d be fun to try.” An idea sparked. “While you think about whether you want it, you could work on it, too.”

She grunted. At the least, she wouldn’t mind playing with a ship with no owner to tell her to stop, or they couldn’t afford it, or it wasn’t worth it.

Her eyes fell to Artoo, who had gone silent a few meters away. It wouldn’t hurt to see the report of the software he had customized. She suspected he would also have sliced in a few features that would not appear on the report. Allowing Artoo to play with a ship unsupervised was questionable.

The droid’s dome spun back and forth, looking innocent.

“You want to look inside?” Luke offered, trying to gauge Mara’s level of resistance to accepting the ship.

“No,” she replied. He could feel her meaning as “not yet”. He’d kept a keen openness to her sense. It had transitioned from confusion to dismay to understanding to curiosity. The curiosity felt like a good sign to him. If she worked on the ship, perhaps she would develop some affinity for it. If she didn’t, maybe it wasn’t the ship for her after all.

Luke felt a tug on his bond with Leia. The Council’s finished up here; you and Mara are free. 

“Right, Leia says they’re done. And I think we’re finished here. It’s been a big day—you need some downtime?”

Mara looked at him. I need some you time, she sent in the Force.

One corner of his lips lifted in a half-smile. He took her hand, and they set off for her quarters.

The next morning, Mara nestled into Luke’s shoulder with a deeply contented sigh. She pulled the bedcover to her chin.

“Camie was a fool,” Mara murmured.

“What?!” Luke thought he must have misheard.

“She could have had this, and she chose Fixer?! What an idiot.”

“And which one’s the idiot?” Luke asked, understanding eluding him.

“Take your pick. They deserve each other.”

“I think I heard a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you.”

He lifted his head to check the chronograph on her nightstand. “I wish I could stay here all day and see just how happy I can make you.”

“But you can’t,” she guessed.

“Committees to meet, generals to handle, and so on. I’d much rather be here.” He gently extricated his arm out from under her and sat up.

“It’s fine. Go do your Jedi thing. I’ll meet you back here for more of this later.”

He leaned back to kiss her goodbye. “I’ll put some caf on to brew on my way out.”

“Mmmm.” She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him back for another kiss. “You know the way to my heart.”

Days passed. Tension ran high with every reported act of violence or potential Imperial Remnant incursion. As each was systematically investigated and eliminated as Imperially motivated, things started to shift ever so slightly toward normal.

Mara scanned the headlines of the holonews, noting with relief their mundanity. The holo that had splashed her face across the galaxy was nowhere in sight. It had been appearing less and less frequently.

Mara walked to the comm station and tapped some keys.

“This is Mirax.”

“Hey there, it’s Mara. Just wanted to see how Iella was doing.”

“She’s been putting on a stoic front, but I’m not buying it. We need to get her out. It’s been too long. I’ve been thinking we need to break atmosphere. There’s this ship that needs a shakedown cruise.”

The Sorusuub 3000. Did everybody know about this but me? Mara wondered grumpily. “Yeah, you in the market for a new ship?” she snarked.

“Maybe, for the right ship. C’mon, aren’t you itchy for open space? I’ve been telling Corran you wouldn’t want a sluggish yacht, and he’s been telling me how much they’ve tuned the SSP05. I gotta settle that bet one way or the other.”

“You don’t need me or any of the rest of us for that.” She wondered if Luke had put Mirax up to this.

“OK, let’s put it this way. I’m going to take that ship out with Iella to get her mind off things. And I’m making it into a party cruise. You’re invited, and so are Leia and Winter. You don’t have to fly or navigate or anything. You don’t have to come at all.”

Mara snorted. “You drive a hard bargain, Terrik.”

“Yeah, I learned from the best. Honestly, the galaxy drops a ship in your lap and you won’t even check it out?”

Mara opened her mouth to object. Nothing came out. She closed it again.

“Tomorrow at noon. We meet in the hangar. I’ll let you know if we’re going to be gone overnight. Anyone who isn’t there misses out.” Mirax clicked off.

Mara’s gaze wandered to the window while she thought about what Mirax had said. Mara wanted to support Iella. She stared out at the crowded spacelanes, while a tiny part of her imagined taking the yacht into orbit. Mirax was right; her space legs did yearn for freedom. Maybe a test flight wasn’t the worst idea.

“Hmmm. Well, I suppose there’s potential there.” Mirax sounded dubious as she surveyed the Sorusuub 3000.

Leia chuckled. “When I first saw the Falcon, I was grateful to have a getaway ship, but I had serious doubts about whether it could actually get us away. Han loved surprising people who judged it by its looks.”

“At least it was a freighter and not a yacht,” Mara sniped.

“Looking a gift eopie in the mouth.” Winter shook her head in mock judgment.

Mirax keyed the entry, and Iella, Winter, Leia, and Mara followed her up the ramp. They looked around, peeking down passageways and around corners, but did not turn from the direct route to the cockpit.

Mirax dropped into the pilot’s seat and ran her hands over the controls. Her head turned side-to-side; her eyes seemed to be everywhere at once. “OK, right, yep, as it should be,” she murmured.

The cockpit was dominated by the stretch of viewports usually reserved for larger bridges. The Corellian leather seats positioned at the pilot, co-pilot, and navigation stations showed slight wear. Displays blinked blue and green LEDs from black and dark grey panels. White noise hummed in the background.

“I hear there’s a remote warmup on the engines, but Corran didn’t have the remote. This will give us a chance to judge the time it takes for ourselves, anyway.” She punched some buttons. A rumble started somewhere behind them. The deck plates vibrated beneath their feet.

Mirax’s head inclined to the side. She closed her eyes. “Not too noisy, pretty smooth.”

Iella drifted back down the corridor to find a seat to strap into. Leia followed.

“I’ll take navigation.” Winter volunteered, sinking into the seat at the back of the cockpit.

Mara sat in the co-pilot chair and strapped in. “You all knew,” Mara accused Mirax and Winter in a low voice. “All the Rogues, Wraiths, and you all knew. How would you feel being the only one left in the dark?” Mara could hear the whine in her voice. She didn’t care.

“Oh, poor Mara, her boyfriend got his friends to fix up a free ship for her as a surprise,” Mirax replied with a sarcastic twist. “I would feel like I’d won a lottery I didn’t even enter,” Mirax replied.

As they lifted out of the hangar and blasted through the layers of atmosphere, Mara had to admit the viewports afforded great visibility. Her eyes adjusted as bright light gave way to a blanket of black velvet punctuated with stars.

“Where are we going anyway?” Mara directed the question over her shoulder.

“We’re going in circles,” Winter responded cheerfully. “Leia can’t get away overnight, so we’re just taking a joyride. Punching in a leisure cruise toward Stentat and back. Maybe go to the edge of The Covey if there’s time.”

“How’s the navicomputer? Any good?” Mara asked.

“Yeah, top of the line, looks nice. Certainly more than we need today.”

Mara watched as Mirax tried out various features of the controls. As her curiosity grew, Mirax maneuvered through various turns and rolls.

“Sure, go ahead and look bored, Mara. I know you’re paying attention.” Mirax smiled as she completed a stomach-lurching roll and sighed with satisfaction.

Mara grunted, freed herself from the constraints, and stood. “I’m going to check things out.” As she moved into the passageway, she heard Mirax chuckle in victory.

Mara found Leia and Iella sitting at the edge of a sunken tub in the floor of a central lounge, their bare feet dangling in bubbling water. Boots, shoes, and socks were lined up next to the door on the deck. Plush, muted green carpet gave way to beige around the tub.

“We were just saying that after a battle, you could fill it with bacta.” Leia motioned toward the water.

Mara shuddered involuntarily. She sat next to Iella and went about unzipping her boots and peeling off socks. “How are you holding up?” she asked Iella.

“Oh…you know,” Iella evaded. “All I felt for a while was dazed and confused. That’s beginning to clear, but now I’m not sure what I feel. I mean—my circumstances are the same as they were when I assumed he’d been killed by the Empire. I’m a widow again.”

Not long ago, Mara would have pointed out the differences between having a spouse who was murdered by the enemy versus one you were forced to kill to protect your friend. Being around these people had taught her that there were times when such observations were more harmful than necessary. She reached for words that could help instead.

“Don’t blame yourself for not seeing it. They’re very good at making the lies look like truth.” Mara spoke the words just above a whisper, staring at the bubbles rising, moving, and popping on the water’s surface.

As the meaning settled in with Iella, she looked up, as if suddenly remembering Mara’s complicated past.

Mara returned her gaze. “I met Diric that night. I had no idea either. If Luke had sensed anything, he’d have told me. All I got from Diric was guardedness. Which was a perfectly logical response in that room, particularly for a recent POW.”

Iella’s sigh of relief seemed to come from the soles of her bare feet. “You don’t know how much that means.” She reached over and squeezed Mara’s elbow.

To her own surprise, Mara reached an arm around Iella’s shoulders and squeezed. Iella twisted her torso toward Mara, reaching both arms around her. The two women who were trained to give away nothing allowed their emotions to spill over and share a moment of solidarity.

As they pulled away, Winter and Mirax stepped into the room.

“We wanted to check things out too,” Winter said. “Autopilot’s on. It claims it’s got integrated pilot droid programming.”

Mirax’s eyes grew wide; she grinned at the sight of feet dangling in bubbling water. She hopped on one foot, pulling off low boots and socks, letting them lie as they fell. She rolled up her pant legs and dropped to the floor, kicking splashes onto her friends.

“Heyyyy!” Iella objected. Leia and Mara grunted and gasped. Leia scooted backward. Mara splashed Mirax back. Winter cautiously approached, her bare feet and her shoes tucked neatly next to the rest by the door.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Winter insisted. “Or we’ll all end up looking like drowned rats.”

“Who would put a hot tub on a ship?” Mara shook her head. And who would accept such a ship as a thank-you gift? she wondered ruefully.

“Someone who likes to live a little,” said Mirax. “You all are so used to military ships and making do with old parts and stretching hardware as far as it will go. Some beings have the resources to prioritize comfort.”

Winter and Leia shared a look, remembering luxurious days on Alderaan years ago. That life had exploded, destroyed in an instant. They had thrown themselves into the work of the Rebellion and embraced the lifestyle that came with it. Leia’s family would have been perfectly comfortable on this ship, and Leia and Winter would have shrieked and chased each other around the hot tub, dipping in and out and laughing.

Mara had been exposed to the highest levels of riches, often in that same ballroom in the palace where she had danced with Luke. She’d been dressed up like a very expensive doll to look pretty, entertain the rich and powerful, and gather information. Those people would have had hot tubs on their ships. Some of them would have had more than one.

“It just doesn’t seem…I don’t know...fair, I guess? To accept this ship. I mean….” The others looked at Mara, and she realized with a start that she’d spoken aloud. “Never mind—this trip isn’t about that.”

“Fair?” Iella ignored Mara’s backtracking. “Is it fair that my husband was turned into a sleeper agent against his will, so I was forced to kill him? Is it fair that Leia and Winter’s homeworld and loved ones were blown to dust? Is it fair that you were recruited for Imperial service before you were old enough to understand?”

Her friends stared back at Iella, brought up short by her naming their deepest wounds.

“Both good and bad things happen so randomly that you just have to grab on to whatever happiness the galaxy sends your way. At least, that’s what I’m going to try to do.” A small smile crept across Iella’s lips. “Recent widows get a free pass for speaking harsh truths. I appreciate you all being here for me, where I can say anything. I needed this.”

Smiles spread across the group.

“Coming up on The Covey asteroid belt,” an automated voice announced over the comm.

“That might be a pretty view out that aft viewing deck,” Winter observed. Just before the ship lurched and tilted, sending them all sliding across the deck. They crashed into the bottom of the conform couch lining the aft bulkhead.

Water spilled out of the tub and drained again through the beige carpeting designed just for such occasions.

“MLR-8, what was that?” Mirax demanded of the autopilot.

“Asteroid Chasing Protocol 1138. A new feature just installed last week.”

“Disengage protocol and cruise from a safe distance. Announce any more sudden moves as soon as you can,” Mirax ordered.

Leia reached into the couch, her fingers sliding along the smooth leather, searching for crash webbing. She tried to pull herself up to a sitting position, but found her limbs were entangled with her friends’. Her grunt turned into a chuckle, which in turn became a laugh. Mara was next, first laughing at Leia, then the situation, as she unwrapped herself from the heap on the floor.

The others joined in, dragged themselves onto the couch, and buckled in with restraints. The women continued to laugh, the stress of the recent days and weeks working itself from their bodies, heaving and twisting in relief.

A few days later, Mara’s door slid open, and Luke stepped inside.

Mara smiled. “Nice.”

Luke wore the yellow jacket from the Yavin medal ceremony all those years ago. Underneath it, a silk black shirt caught the light in its sheen. His usual black pants and boots completed the outfit. Though the boots looked recently shined. His lightsaber hung at his hip.

“Why the lightsaber? You worried there’s a sleeper agent among the guests?”

“No, it’s all good friends. Han asked me to bring it. He’s still nervous that Leia could be in danger, and it makes him feel like she’s safer. Feel free to bring yours—or your blaster. If you want.”

“I always want. Just one minute.” She disappeared into her bedroom and returned looking much the same. She wore a deep purple chemise dress, the neckline diving just enough to distract Luke but not everyone else in the room. He suspected she’d strapped her holdout blaster to hide neatly under the bell sleeve. He wondered if she’d also donned the shoulder harness that laid her lightsaber along her upper spine under the high back. The red-gold braid that usually fell down her back sat wrapped around the crown of her head.

They wound their way through the Palace passageways from Mara’s quarters to Leia’s, chatting softly about the events of their days.

They reached Leia’s door, where heavily armed guards stood watch. The guards nodded at the couple, and the door slid open.

Luke and Mara stepped into an empty front room.

“So, this is basically a more formal version of the family dinner?” Mara asked.

“Yeah, every so often, Leia turns it into more of a dinner party.” Luke turned toward the kitchen, looking for Leia. Mara followed.

Winter stood at the counter, arranging cracknels on a tray. The sleeves of her silver silk blouse were rolled up against the creamy skin of her arms to prevent them from dipping into the food. She stood a centimeter away from the counter to protect her charcoal-grey slacks.

Leia counted off guests on her fingers. She pointed to Luke and Mara as they entered. “These two, you and Tycho, Mirax and Corran, Han and me.”

“So, you decided against asking Iella?”

Leia removed the apron she had on to reveal a muted green long dress. She’d swept her hair up and pinned it in a twist at the nape of her neck. “I did ask her, but she wasn’t up for it just yet. I think she was afraid I’d invite someone else to match her up with, though I swore I wouldn’t.”

Mara didn’t realize she’d grunted out loud until all eyes turned to her.

“Oh—sorry—I just, you know…” she stuttered.

“Have a suggestion?” Leia gave her a genuine smile.

“Obviously, it’s Antilles, but I understand she needs time. It’s been a rough road for them.”

“Them? Wedge and Iella?” Winter’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, well, you know, the way they light up around each other. But of course, they couldn’t act on that with Diric back from Isard’s prison.”

“Light up around each other? Really? I’ve missed this?” Winter’s eyes swung from Mara to Leia.

Leia’s voice was soft. “I’ve noticed it, too,” she admitted.

Winter’s lips pursed.

“It’s subtle,” Leia assured Winter.

“Oh, is it a Force thing?” Winter nudged each cracknel on the tray to be perfectly equally spaced.

“No!” Mara interjected. “Just, you know, body language, tone of voice, word choice, that stuff.”

“Hmmm. So I have missed it. All I’ve ever noticed about Wedge’s body language is that it’s about as military as it gets. For us, anyway. I think it’s the one thing he kept from his days at the Imperial Academy. And the only time I’ve seen light Wedge up is talking about blowing up a Death Star. I must be losing my edge.”

“Spending too much time arranging appetizers,” Mara snarked at her.

The door chime sounded.

“That will be Mirax and Corran,” Leia noted. “Best greet them with food or Corran may not leave any dinner for anyone else.”

Winter moved past Mara and Luke with the tray. Leia followed.

Mara grimaced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to gossip about Wedge there. I just assumed everyone knew.”

Luke shook his head. “You don’t owe me any apologies.” He’d sensed Wedge and Iella’s mutual attraction as well. Winter was also correct, though, that Wedge hid his feelings behind his military veneer.

Luke had promised that he would not pressure Mara about learning more about the Force. If she were not willing to attribute such perceptions to her Force sensitivity, he would not be the one to convince her.

“I want some of those appetizers before Corran eats them all. Shall we?” he said instead, his hand settling on her waist.

“OK, the real reason we asked you all over was to help taste the Whyren’s samplers we got for the wedding.” Han’s lopsided grin went wide. “So, if Corran and Luke are done eating…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke pushed back from the table.

“I’ve got just enough room left for the finest whiskey you can offer.” Corran patted his stomach.

Chairs scraped against the dark wood floors as the guests groaned and protested at moving in their full state. Han shepherded them into the living room, where Threepio had set up the whiskey tasters.

Mara hung back, picking dishes up from the table with Leia.

“You really don’t have to do that, you know. I’m going to leave all this in the kitchen for the droids.”

“Well, it gave me an excuse to ask you something in private.”

“Ah. How can I help?”

“You said earlier you’d noticed the same thing I had about Wedge and Iella, but it surprised Winter. Is it a Force thing?”

“You’re asking the wrong person; you already know that. But I can tell you Luke would say that absolutely it is. I always used to attribute it to intuition, when I could tell things about people that they don’t communicate in words or tone or expressions. I thought I could sense them accurately just from years of practice in politics.”

They placed armfuls of dishes on the kitchen counter and returned for more. Leia continued, “But Luke pointed out that other experienced politicians can’t do the same thing. And when other people look at me the way Winter looked at you earlier, I double-check my read of the situation with Luke. And he confirms he’s sensed the same things I have.”

With the last dish cleared, Leia turned to the caf station. “Which is a very long way to answer your question: yes, I think it probably is.” She lifted the carafe of fresh caf out to take with them.

“Which is not the answer you wanted,” Leia observed.

“Oh, as if I know what I want. Maybe you could ask the Force for me.” Mara sighed.

A light flashed on the kitchen comm station with a soft beep. Leia set the carafe down on a serving tray.

“That might be the update I’ve been waiting for. I’ll take it at the other station. I hope it’s quick. If not, please pass along my apologies and tell them not to wait. Not that they aren’t already drinking anyway.” A half-smirk crossed her features. She seemed to float down a back hallway to check on the awaited update.

Mara counted out mugs as Leia’s response danced in her head. Could the Force be responsible for perceptions she had assumed came from more typical sources? Was that how she had picked up on Wedge’s and Iella’s feelings? For that matter, when Luke had asked how she redirected strangers’ attention…could that have been a Force skill, too? The Emperor had taught her that himself. He’d never mentioned the Force. But she was learning she could no longer rely on any information that had solely come from her old master.

She had resisted so much. First, her feelings for Luke, which had become undeniable that dark night when Stelio’s laser blast had nearly extinguished his light. Then her desire to run away from Coruscant and Luke and her new friends to work with Karrde, which she’d surrendered the night of the ball. She was teetering on the edge of accepting a new ship that she still felt she didn’t deserve. Now she was considering whether she just might know more about the Force than she ever had dared to think. If her path continued along this trajectory, where might it take her? And would it be more terrifying or exciting?

A burst of laughter from the tasting party broke in on her reverie. She placed creamer and sugar on the tray with the mugs and carafe and rejoined the group of people that was changing the direction of her life.