Work Text:
“Motherhood looks wonderful on you, Senator Chuchi.”
Riyo smiles.
She has become very good at this smile.
It is pleasant, diplomatic, and gives absolutely no indication that she is imagining throwing Senator Marrek Vonn into the nearest ornamental fountain.
“Thank you.”
“You're glowing.”
“It's the lighting.”
Vonn laughs as though she's joking.
Riyo is not joking.
She has been back in regular Senate sessions for weeks, and apparently the birth of Veya has transformed every corridor conversation into a public referendum on Riyo's face.
Motherhood looks good on her.
Motherhood has softened her.
Motherhood has made her more serious.
Motherhood has made her more compassionate.
Motherhood has apparently altered her cheekbones according to one lifestyle correspondent, which is especially impressive because her cheekbones remain exactly where they were before pregnancy.
Veya isn't even allowed inside the Senate building.
Not the chamber.
The building.
An 859-year-old regulation prohibits infants after an incident involving a diplomatic delegation, a ceremonial brazier, three frightened tookas, and what the official historical record refers to only as an avoidable cascade of events.
Riyo has tried to obtain the unredacted version.
Thire says it was sealed by unanimous vote.
That makes her want it more.
“Where is the little one today?” Vonn asks.
Riyo's smile tightens by approximately half a millimeter.
“With her father.”
“How lovely. Chief Fox babysits?”
Riyo stops walking.
Vonn gets two more steps before realizing she is no longer beside him.
He turns.
Riyo looks at him.
“Fox is her father.”
“Yes?”
“So when he's caring for his daughter, it's generally called parenting.”
Vonn blinks.
“Oh. Of course. I only meant—”
“I know.”
She resumes walking.
He does not follow.
Small victories.
Her datapad vibrates.
A message from Fox.
VEYA ATE.
A second message arrives.
REFUSED NAP.
Then:
THORN CLAIMS THIS IS A STRATEGIC DECISION.
Riyo smiles for real.
She types back.
She's three months old.
Fox replies almost immediately.
THORN REMAINS CONVINCED.
Riyo can picture the situation perfectly.
Veya at Guard Headquarters, gold-amber eyes tracking every clone who passes her. Thorn trying to convince an infant that sleep is tactically valuable. Thire probably producing precedent. Hound sneaking Grizzer closer because he insists exposure to massiffs is developmentally important.
Fox pretending any of this is normal.
She misses them.
That is the inconvenient part of returning to work.
Riyo wants to be here.
She also wants to be there.
Apparently both can be true, which feels deeply unfair.
“Senator.”
Riyo looks up.
Bail Organa is waiting near the entrance to Committee Hall Three.
“Chancellor.”
His mouth twitches. “You don't have to say it like I'm about to assign homework.”
“You usually are.”
“Fair.”
They enter together.
The committee room is already full.
Representatives from former Confederate systems occupy one side. Republic senators occupy the other. Reconstruction officials, legal advisers, military liaisons, and neutral observers fill the rear seats.
Today's argument concerns surrender.
Specifically, what that word means when half the Confederacy has stopped acting like a unified state.
There is no Dooku. No Grievous. No central military authority capable of enforcing a treaty across every remaining Separatist territory.
Some systems want to rejoin the Republic. Some want independence. Some want neutrality. Some simply want someone to stop the scattered military commanders who have decided the war cannot end until every available building is on fire.
Bail activates the central map.
“We have 14 additional negotiation requests.”
A senator from the Expansion Region frowns. “Since yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“That pace is unsustainable.”
Riyo looks at him.
“Peace?”
“Negotiations.”
“Those are unfortunately connected.”
Bail's expression becomes suspiciously amused.
The map changes.
Fox's work is immediately recognizable.
The GAR no longer pushes forward like a wall.
It surrounds.
Isolates.
Protects.
Waits.
Riyo has watched Fox rebuild the entire strategic doctrine around one principle:
If a government wants to stop fighting, make stopping safer than continuing.
It sounds obvious.
Apparently it took four years of galactic war to become revolutionary.
“Chief Fox has approved ceasefire corridors for all 14 systems,” Bail says. “Republic forces will engage only military units attempting to disrupt negotiations or attack protected populations.”
“What about occupation authority?”
“None.”
The senator looks displeased.
Riyo is becoming familiar with senators who are strangely disappointed that peace does not come with free planets.
“And if local governments collapse after surrender?”
“Then reconstruction assistance will be offered.”
“And if assistance fails?”
Riyo finally speaks.
“Then we help them build institutions that don't.”
Several heads turn.
She sets her datapad on the table.
“We cannot spend years condemning the Confederacy for claiming planetary sovereignty didn't matter and then finish the war by proving them correct.”
One of the Separatist representatives looks at her carefully.
Riyo continues.
“If a world wants to return to the Republic, there should be a legal path.”
She taps another file.
“If it wants independence, there should be a legal path.”
Another.
“If it wants transitional status while its population votes, there should be a legal path.”
She looks around the chamber.
“If our only answer to instability is military control, Palpatine taught us nothing.”
That kills the room.
Good.
Riyo is discovering motherhood has not made her softer.
It has made her much less patient with people wasting time.
Perhaps the commentators can write about that.
Three hours later, Riyo emerges into the Senate corridor with a headache and 17 new amendments.
A journalist immediately intercepts her.
“Senator Chuchi!”
Of course.
Riyo turns.
“Senator, you've become one of Chancellor Organa's most prominent voices on postwar reconstruction. Has becoming a mother changed your approach to the issue?”
There it is.
Again.
Riyo smiles.
“If he had a child, would you ask Chancellor Organa whether fatherhood affects every appropriations decision he makes?”
The journalist freezes.
Someone behind him snorts.
“No, Senator, I was only asking because you've spoken frequently about future generations—”
“I spoke about future generations before I had one.”
“Yes, but surely motherhood—”
“Has made me very familiar with interrupted sleep.”
A few nearby aides laugh.
Riyo keeps going.
“My position on constitutional reconstruction is based on law, wartime evidence, economic projections, and several years of Senate work. Veya is three months old. She hasn't developed a position on federalism.”
More laughter.
The journalist actually smiles.
“Not even an informal one?”
“She has strong views on feeding schedules.”
“Bipartisan?”
“Extremely.”
Riyo leaves before he can ask whether motherhood has changed the way she walks.
Her comm vibrates again.
This time it is a holo.
Fox.
Riyo accepts.
A tiny projection appears above her palm.
Fox is sitting behind his desk at Guard Headquarters in black duty uniform, voice implant apparently off because when he speaks she has to turn the volume almost all the way up.
“Meeting?”
“Finished.”
His red mechanical eye and gold organic one shift together toward something below the projector.
Veya rises into view.
Not under her own power.
Fox is holding her beneath the arms.
Her head still requires more support than the Human developmental charts insist it should, but once Fox settles her against his chest she immediately locks her eyes onto Riyo's hologram.
Riyo melts.
Completely.
Every sharp argument from the last three hours evaporates.
“Hi, little star.”
Veya stares.
Then smiles.
Riyo's heart performs an embarrassing maneuver.
Fox notices.
Of course he does.
“She recognizes the projection now,” he whispers.
“She recognizes my face.”
“Yes.”
He sounds absurdly proud.
Riyo leans against the corridor wall.
“How was your day?”
Fox looks toward his desk.
The entire surface is buried beneath military reports.
“Seven ceasefires. Two prisoner exchanges. One evacuation. Three commanders refusing surrender orders from their own governments.”
“Quiet, then.”
“Relatively.”
“And retirement?”
Fox gives her a look.
Riyo laughs.
He had mentioned the possibility once.
Not seriously.
Mostly while sleep-deprived and holding Veya at four in the morning.
Bail had heard about it somehow.
The Chancellor's response had reportedly been, “No.”
Fox had asked whether that was constitutionally binding.
Bail had said, “I'll find a way.”
“I have no intention of retiring,” Fox whispers.
“I know.”
“Bail remains concerned.”
“Bail currently treats you like a load-bearing wall.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
Veya makes a tiny noise and grabs one of Fox's command ropes.
Fox looks down.
“Veya.”
She pulls.
His head dips.
Riyo bites her lip.
“She's attacking the chain of command.”
“She is attempting to eat it.”
“Revolutionary.”
Fox carefully removes the rope from her fist.
Veya glares at him.
There it is.
The Fox glare.
Miniature, furious, and attached to cheeks Riyo desperately wants to kiss.
Fox stares back.
Veya stares harder.
Riyo watches her husband lose a staring contest to his own infant daughter.
“Don't encourage her,” he whispers.
“I didn't do anything.”
“You're smiling.”
“I've been told motherhood looks great on me.”
Fox goes very still.
Riyo's smile widens.
“How many?”
“Four today.”
His expression turns dangerous.
“Names.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Riyo.”
“One also asked if you were babysitting.”
Fox's mechanical eye narrows.
Riyo laughs.
Veya sees him narrow his eyes and immediately imitates him.
Now both of them are glaring at the holo.
Riyo presses one hand over her mouth.
“You're making another you.”
Fox looks genuinely alarmed.
“Half of her is you.”
“Yes, but she got your glare.”
“That is not genetic.”
Veya glares harder.
Riyo raises an eyebrow.
Fox looks down at his daughter.
Then back at Riyo.
His whisper becomes resigned.
“Evidence suggests otherwise.”
Somewhere behind him, Thorn shouts, “TOLD YOU.”
Fox closes his eyes.
Riyo laughs so hard that two Senate aides look over.
The Republic is still rebuilding.
The war is not completely finished.
Fox still spends his days moving fleets around people trying to stop fighting, and Riyo still spends hers trying to make sure the peace does not rebuild the same Republic that created the war.
Neither of them is done.
Neither intends to be.
But in the middle of it all, Veya grabs Fox's collar and smiles at Riyo's hologram.
For the moment, that is enough.