Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Nine

 CHAPTER NINE

Coruscant

“The Chair recognizes the Senator of Arkanis.”

All eyes were on the repulsorpod that carried Senator Carise Sindian to the center of the Senate Chamber, beaming from her deep-golden face as she proudly wore a flowing, silvery dress. Speaking loud and clear, Sindian voiced her vote for Senator Tyron Valrisa, prompting applause to erupt from all sides of the chamber.

As Sindian’s pod returned to its original place, Representative Lee-Laa Creel of Naboo took a deep breath, feeling like the weight of the entire galaxy was resting on her shoulders. With Senator Darius Naberrie still recovering from the attempt on his life, she had been entrusted with representing her homeworld in the Senate’s vote for the next Chief of State. Out of the three candidates that were up for vote, Tyron Valrisa of Sedratis was in the lead by a fair margin, although Roo Matha of Quermia was not far behind. The third candidate, a Wermal senator whose name Lee-Laa couldn’t even be bothered to remember, was trailing so far behind it was laughable. Had it not been for his injuries, Darius Naberrie likely would have been up there with them, easily neck-to-neck with Valrisa himself.

Which, of course, led to the dilemma Lee-Laa now found herself in. She knew that Darius had a friendly relationship with Valrisa, despite them being of two different parties. Would he have cast his vote for his friend if he was not also a candidate? Or would he have stayed within his planet’s party lines and supported Roo Matha instead? Due to his condition, his instructions to her hadn’t been clear, and given that she had only been Junior Representative for less than a year, she hardly had the experience or political acumen to know what she was to do in this situation.

“The Chair recognizes the Senator of Gatalenta.”

The senator in question dispatched in their pod and cast their vote for Roo Matha, eliciting some cheers and many jeers from all around the chamber. Next to go were Senators Nevis and Treen of Orinda and Kuat respectively, voicing their support for Valrisa. They were quickly joined by others, including some surprising ones such as Akida Kivoda of Pantora and Kersla of Ryloth. Even the votes for Roo Matha from the Mon Cala delegation were not enough to offset Valrisa’s lead. His victory was all but assured; nothing Lee-Laa did would do anything to change the inevitable outcome.

She could not help but wonder if this is what her predecessors had felt when Palpatine had solidified his power as Supreme Chancellor and ultimately declared himself Emperor. During those times, her people’s leader had been Naboo’s junior representative while Darius Naberrie’s great-aunt had been its senator. While there was no telling if Senator Valrisa would be anything like Palpatine, she also had no faith in him or any of the other candidates being able to bring the Alliance out of the downward spiral it was heading in. Would her vote contribute to that spiral, or would inaction worsen it?

Feeling that she had stayed silent for too long, Lee-Laa decided that the time had come for her to cast her vote.

“The Chair recognizes the Representative of Naboo.”

As her repulsorpod detached from its platform, Lee-Laa took another deep breath to steady her nerves, reminding herself that nothing she said or did today would matter in the greater scheme of things.

She opened her mouth and voiced her vote. The Senate Chamber broke out in applause and she knew right then that it would mean nothing.

*  *  *

When Vixen awoke, she found that she was still in her room, laying on her bed. The most noticeable difference was the fact that several people were in the room with her, and quite a few of them were pointing blasters at her.

Glowering at them from behind her violet bangs as she sat up, Vixen said, “I take it Malvis won’t be giving me that raise anytime soon.”

“We’re not with Malvis,” said a large man with a golden tattoo marking his face. Most likely a Kiffar. “We’re with the Smugglers’ Alliance.”

“Even better.” She crossed her arms, not at all intimidated by the weapons pointed at her. “If you’re here to get me to squeal, you’re wasting your time. No amount of credits—or any other form of pleasure—is going to get me to talk.”

“At least one of us has Force-sensitivity,” said a dark-haired woman about Vixen’s age. “We also have a Cathar who can tear you up limb from limb. If mind tricks don’t work, then we’ve got other ways of making you talk.”

Vixen snorted. “Kill me if you want. At this point, I’m dead anyway. Malvis doesn’t take kindly to operatives who let themselves get captured or bested.”

“It doesn’t need to be like this,” said the Kiffar. “Look, how about we establish some friendly ground. Maybe some introductions are in order. My name is Zarin Kal.” He gestured to the Cathar as well as the Ortolan that had stunned her. “This is Wiskin and Bedo.” He then motioned to the woman. “This is Sare Valrisa—”

“Ah, yes,” Vixen interrupted, smirking at the other woman. “The Dowager’s daughter. I’ve had the misfortune of meeting your mother once.”

Valrisa glared back at her. “I’m sure it was a harrowing experience.”

“Perhaps. But also somewhat enlightening.” Vixen then moved her eyes to a person in the room that Zarin Kal had yet to introduce, a Pantoran woman standing just behind the Cathar. “And you… I know you.”

Valrisa frowned as she looked between the two of them, the Pantoran shifting uncomfortably. “You know Typha?”

“Probably not as well as you do. But for a time, she was a member of the House of Maidens.”

Vixen took some satisfaction from the confused look on Valrisa’s face and she saw the other woman’s eyes momentarily glance at the Pantoran, who was still hiding in the large Cathar’s shadow.

“What is the House of Maidens?” Valrisa asked.

Vixen chuckled. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Sometimes I envy those who are as naive and innocent as you.”

Valrisa turned her dark gaze to Typha. “What is she talking about?”

The Pantoran woman sighed as she stepped out from behind Wiskin, her eyes cast to the floor. “They’re an organization of assassins and slavers that mask their operations as a brothel. They lend their services—whether it is for pleasure or assassination—to wealthy and corrupt people in the galaxy.”

“And you were one of them?” Zarin asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Only for a short time. I carried out a few operations before it was decided that I was better suited as a smuggler and pilot than an assassin.” Typha continued to look away from Valrisa, unable to look her partner in the eye. “I never did forget how to use a sniper rifle, though….”

“Any reason why you never brought this up before?” Wiskin growled.

“It never seemed relevant or important. It’s not like I knew why I was doing the things they had me do… or killing the people they wanted dead.”

“What sort of people are we talking about?” Zarin asked.

Typha bit her lip, looking conflicted as to how to respond. With the others’ attention on her, Vixen took the opportunity to figure out a way on how she could escape them. If she could reach the holdout blaster just underneath her sheets, she could pick off the Cathar first and then maybe—

Without warning, said holdout blaster flew out from underneath her bed and into the hand of Zarin, who caught it while still looking at Typha. Sighing, the Kiffar straightened up and said, “We can sort this out later. Let’s get her back to the ship before anyone notices we’re here.”

He nodded to Bedo and the Ortolan walked over to the door, opening it. Zarin then forced a pair of stun cuffs onto Vixen’s wrists before having Wiskin pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. Knowing that it was useless to protest or fight back, Vixen did not put up a fight as she was carried out of her room. Instead, she reveled in the uncomfortable glances that Valrisa was sending to Typha as they followed the other Renegades out. If there was one thing she enjoyed doing, it was ruining people without ever having to lift a finger. All you really needed was the right words and you could then sit back as all hell broke loose.

At the very least, she could die with the satisfaction of having ruined one last life.

*  *  *

“You could have told me.”

Typha sighed as she hugged herself, walking alongside Valrisa as they trailed the others. “I did. Sort of.”

“You told me about the Society, and that you did things you shouldn’t have done.” Valrisa regarded her partner with a look that was more disappointed than it was mad, not that it made Typha feel any better. “You didn’t say anything about a brothel.”

“I didn’t do that kind of work, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Typha said quickly. “Their leader didn’t think I was… suited for that line of work, so she had me work behind the scenes. Taking out politicians and businesspeople that were too clever to be seduced.”

“And Vixen? How much do you know about her?”

“Not any more than you. I only ever saw her in passing, but she was one of Maeva’s top workers.”

“Maeva?”

“Their leader, or ‘Mother’ as she calls herself. She’s pretty elusive; only met her in person once, when I first started working for them.”

“Well, if we can get any information on her, then that could help us deal with the rest of the Cabal, especially if Vixen doesn’t give us anything.”

Silence passed between them as they walked through the dark, dingy sub-streets of Coruscant. Swallowing hard, Typha glanced at Valrisa, searching her partner’s dark eyes.

“Once this is all over,” she said softly, “no more secrets. I promise. Deal?”

Valrisa looked back at her, and opened her mouth as if to speak, only to stop abruptly in her tracks. Grabbing Typha by the arm, she called out to Zarin and the others.

“Get down!”

The others barely managed to duck in time as a bolt of plasma lanced out of the darkness, striking a wall just behind Valrisa and Typha. Zarin ignited his lightsaber as the others drew their blasters, pointing them in various directions. Typha could have sworn she heard footsteps just before another blast came from another direction, just slightly east of the first one. Zarin deflected the bolt as Valrisa shot up at where the sniper shots seemed to have been coming from. The spark caused by her blaster bolt hitting steel briefly lit up the darkness and Typha saw the silhouette of an armored figure. Drawing her sniper rifle, she looked through its scope and enhanced its heat sensors. As soon as she saw the moving outline of the figure, she fired and grazed their foot. This was enough to make the assailant lose their balance and fall from the rafters, landing on the ground in front of them.

Before the armored figure could get up, Zarin had his lightsaber at their neck. “Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth.

The assailant responded by drawing a lightsaber of their own, pushing back Zarin’s red blade with a yellow one. Taken aback, the Kiffar ex-Jedi blocked the warrior’s attacks, which Typha noticed were not quite as smooth or skilled as the typical Force-user. No doubt realizing this himself, Zarin successfully parried the warrior’s attacks before pushing them back with the Force, sending them crashing into the wall as they dropped the lightsaber.

While Valrisa picked up the lightsaber, Zarin held his blade at the assailant’s neck again. “Any more stupid ideas or are you finally going to yield?” 

The armored stranger panted heavily, and when they spoke it was with the voice of a woman. “Don’t suppose I’m going to accomplish much by trying to fight a crazy Sith like you.”

“I’m not a Sith,” Zarin protested.

“That lightsaber says otherwise. But whatever; none of this matters anyway. It’s all about to go down.”

“What are you talking about?” Valrisa asked.

“It’s all over the HoloNet feed. The Senate just closed the polls. Senator Tyron Valrisa has won the election..”

Dark clouds fell over the faces of those who understood the weight of this statement. Bedo tapped his pudgy blue fingers together as he looked from one grave expression to the next.

“So, is that it then?” the Ortolan asked quietly. “Did we lose?”

“Perhaps,” the armored woman said. “But I wouldn’t say Malvis is victorious quite yet.”

“Why do you say that?” Zarin asked.

“Because I know that Drakmos led you here, that he leaked all of that intelligence to you… but I don’t know why. No one in the Cabal does. If it was to lure you into a trap, then there is no trap to be sprung.”

“You mean he didn’t send you after us?”

She shook her head. “I work for the Cabal, but not for Drakmos. I only found out about what he did through my spy on the Errant Venture.”

“If Drakmos didn’t send you,” Valrisa said, “then why did he leak the Cabal’s information to us? Is he betraying Malvis?”

“I don’t know,” the assailant said frankly. “If he is, then he will have a perfect opportunity to strike when Malvis hosts his next gathering on Ord Talavos. Rumor has it that he will be making a physical appearance for the first time in the Cabal’s history.”

Wiskin snorted. “You’re telling me that you all work for this guy yet you’ve never even seen him in the flesh?”

“It worked for Palpatine. Sometimes, the idea of a person is just as threatening, if not more, than their physical presence.”

Zarin continued to eye the masked woman carefully. “And just why are you telling us this?”

“Because, ultimately, it doesn’t matter anymore. Your precious Alliance is already too far gone; there is no saving it. What Malvis and his Cabal have accomplished cannot be undone. What you and the Resistance have been doing has already been futile, if amusing… but now you can safely say that everything you’ve done… has been in vain.”

“And people say I’m pessimistic,” Bedo muttered.

Zarin grimaced. “In any case, I think you should be coming with us. Between you and Vixen, you’re the only hope we have of getting close to Malvis and stopping the Cabal before they can do any more damage.”

“The damage is already done, dark Jedi boy,” the masked woman said coolly. “You just haven’t seen it yet.”

*  *  *

Toah Jarsan stood on the roof of a building that was only a few miles away from the Galactic Alliance Detention Center, just outside the edge of its security field. The building had recently been refurbished after the disastrous breakout incident that had occurred two years ago, and its fortifications had doubtlessly been doubled since then. Members of the Galactic Alliance Guard and security droids patrolled the facility’s perimeters, oblivious to the Jedi and smuggler observing them from afar.

“This is the most likely place they could have taken her,” Lance Nebula said, lowering a pair of macrobinoculars from his face. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people that the current government considers to be… questionable are brought here to get them out of the way, rather than a standard prison that the average crook would be taken to.”

“What other sorts of people have been taken here?” Toah asked.

Lance shrugged. “Activists, protesters, politicians, you name it. People have been afraid to speak out here on Coruscant for fear of getting disappeared, or worse getting their families in trouble.”

“Sounds like something the Empire would do….”

“Yeah. Really makes you wonder if they ever really left.”

Or if they’ve retaken control. Toah kept this thought to himself as he looked over to Lance. “Any suggestions on how we get inside?”

Lance offered him a sheepish look. “To be honest, no. I can’t say I’ve ever done something like this before. I was hoping you had an idea.”

Toah reached for the macrobinoculars and Lance handed them to him. Looking through the device, Toah counted the number of guards and droids surrounding the facility. There were far too many for a lone Jedi and smuggler to deal with on their own. The Resistance had provided him with some clearance codes for him to use in cases like this, but there was no telling if they would even work given how much Coruscant’s security had been tightened. It would also give away who he really was to Lance, whom he was not exactly sure he could trust.

As he deliberated on what to do, Toah caught movement and moved the binoculars’ focus to the front of the Detention Center. Two guards stood to attention as a sharply dressed man approached them. From their appearance, Toah believed the man to be Director Heol Girdun of Alliance Intelligence. Behind Girdun were two other guards carrying a large black case, which they carried into the facility once they had been given clearance.

“I guess people aren’t the only things they’re keeping here,” Toah muttered.

“What is it?” Lance asked.

Before Toah could answer, he saw Girdun turn and look up in their direction. Lowering the macrobinoculars, he grabbed Lance by the arm and pulled him down, hiding behind a ridge in the roof.

“Did they see you?” Lance whispered.

“I’m not sure. We should probably—”

He was drowned out by the sound of a patrol gunship lifting off and flying over to their position, casting a bright light on them. Toah urged Lance to move ahead of him as they made a break for it, only for another patrol gunship to move in front of them as soon as they made it to the other side of the roof.

“GALACTIC ALLIANCE GUARD,” an automated voice boomed from the gunship. “KEEP YOUR HANDS IN VIEW. DO NOT MOVE.”

Left without a choice, Toah and Lance raised their hands as Alliance guards dropped down from the gunship and moved in to apprehend them. One of them, a man who appeared to be about thirty, paused upon seeing Toah, almost as if he recognized him despite Toah not being familiar with him.

“Well, well,” the guardsman said. “Interesting that you’d show your face here of all places.”

“Captain Shevu?” another guardsman asked.

“Restrain them,” Shevu ordered. “Put the smuggler with the rest, but this one….” He pointed directly at Toah. “This one, I think the director will want to speak personally with.”

Lance glanced over at Toah as the guardsmen restrained them with stun cuffs. “What’s he talking about, Aron?”

“If you paid attention to the news, you’d know that’s not his name.” Shevu regarded Toah evenly. “But I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Toah responded quietly. “I would say I do.” 

Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 2

2: THE HUTTSLAYER

 New Alderaan, 8005 C.R.C.

If Remembrance Day was dedicated to mourning Alderaan and its culture, then the day after was dedicated to celebrating it. The streets of New Aldera were alive with color and people, with performers from all across the galaxy coming to spread the customs that the Empire had tried to eradicate nearly three decades ago. The smell of fresh roast kulkan and boiled ruica filled the air, coming from vendors that had managed to get their hands on such rare exports. In the distance, Leia could hear a Gungan band drum out the rhythm to the ancient tune “Tialga Hath Fallen.” All of these things brought back memories… but at least they were good memories.

“Leia, eat your ruica.”

“No.” The stubborn five-year-old princess crossed her arms in defiance. “I don’t want to.”

“A lot of brave star-pilots crossed the stars from Broest to deliver ruica seeds to our planet,” her father calmly said. “They are supposed to make children very strong.”

“I don’t care.” She shoved the plate of blue leaves aside. “I’m already strong enough.”

Sitting across from her, her mother smiled warmly. “Tialga ate ruica.”

Leia blinked in surprised. “She did?”

Her mother nodded. “And you know what Tialga did, don’t you?”

“She stood against all odds so that her children could reach a safe haven.”

“That’s right. And she couldn’t have done it if she hadn’t eaten her ruica.”

Leia still was not completely convinced; she had a feeling this was another ploy to get her to eat her vegetables. Regardless, she pulled her plate back and reluctantly stabbed the blue leaf with her fork. She regarded it with a look of disdain for a moment before deciding to eat it.

She still hated the taste. But if the warrior-queen Tialga could tolerate it, so could she.  

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but you look rather tired today. Did you get enough sleep?”

Leia blinked rapidly as she came back to the present. She realized that one of her aides (whom she could have sworn she had dismissed) was standing in front of her, looking both concerned and eager to help.

“I’m fine, Via,” she said to the young woman. “I got plenty of sleep, but I don’t think all of the sleep in the galaxy could have prepared me for all of this.”

“If you need to rest, then—”

“No, no. As I said, I’m fine.” Leia then smiled as she narrowed her eyes. “And didn’t I tell you to take some time off to enjoy the celebrations?”

Via swallowed, shifting her feet. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then go do that. If I need to make an executive order as Chief of State to make you have fun, then I will.”

Getting the message, Via hastily bowed before swiftly departing, disappearing into the crowds. At that moment, Leia spotted her family coming up to meet her; Han, Anakin, and Jacen were all carrying glowing treats while Jaina was sharing a piece of meatpie with Chewbacca. It made Leia smile to see that her children, despite well being on their way to adulthood, were still able to enjoy their youth even after fighting a war against Imperials and Sith. Upon seeing her, Han walked over and handed her a second glowing treat that he had been carrying. 

“Don’t worry, it’s fickleberry,” he said to her with a wink. “You’re favorite.”

Leia smiled as she accepted the treat. “Second favorite,” she corrected him.

“I think it might be Chewie’s favorite,” Jaina remarked as the Wookiee scarfed down the whole piece she had given him.

Leia laughed before looking back at Han, raising an eyebrow. “Where are the droids?”

Han frowned as he looked behind him. “I thought they were right behind us.”

“I think I saw Threepio follow Artoo into one of the gaming dens,” said Anakin, pointing vaguely in the direction of said dens. “I heard him muttering something about dejarik.”

Han snorted. “Well, they can stay there, so long as they don’t get into any trouble.”

Leia smirked. “Han, just how long have you known those two?”

“Too long, if you ask me.”

The six of them proceeded to make their way through the crowds, exploring the sights as they enjoyed their treats. It felt nice to feel like a family again; it allowed Leia to forget about being Chief of State, forget about being a princess, and just focus on being a mother. She wore many hats in her life, and sometimes it felt nice to just wear one.

The sound of the drumming got louder the further they went, indicating that they were getting closer to the open amphitheater where all of the musicians would be performing. Once the Gungan band had finished the final overture of their song, a crowd erupt into applause as an announcer spoke over them, loud enough to be heard even from this distance.

“Give it up for Augie’s Great Municipal Band, who came all the way from the waters of Otoh Gunga to deliver us that beautiful rendition of ‘Tialga Hath Fallen!’” Now then, don’t go anywhere as we set the stage for our next group of performers: Lola and the Huttslayers!”

As more cheers broke out, Leia’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion and she looked over to Han, who shared her befuddled expression.

“’Lola,’ huh?” he said. “Sounds like a few letters off from a litigation battle.”

“I had a toy droid named Lola,” Leia murmured. “She was probably my favorite thing in the galaxy when I was a child.”

“But there’s no way they could have known about that, right?” Han asked. “Hell, I didn’t know that.”

Chewbacca made a sound.

“Okay, sure, there are a lot of things I don’t know, but….”

Her husband and his friend’s bickering became background noise as Leia once more found herself falling into her well of memories.

“Please tell me you can fix her!”

Her father chuckled, which slightly miffed her given how dire the situation was. “Well, let’s see here.” He gingerly picked up the broken disk-shaped droid and set it down on his desk. He opened up a drawer and brought out some tools which he then used to meticulously pick at the droid’s exposed parts.

She rarely ever saw her father fix broken things. Usually such tasks were left to the Royal Family’s aides and helpers, since he and her mother were too preoccupied with other matters. She did know that he sometimes liked to tinker with the red XJ-2 airspeeder that rested in the Royal Palace’s garage, and she long awaited the day when he would finally let her drive it. “Maybe in another seven years,” he had told her when she had asked him for the nth time a week ago.

After a few minutes (though it felt like hours), he reconnected Lola’s wires, closed her up, and pressed the toy droid’s activation switch. Its single optical sensors came to life and it gleefully buzzed over to Leia.

“You fixed her!” she exclaimed.

He laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t be Viceroy of Alderaan if I couldn’t fix at least one thing in this household.”

She ran over to him and gave him the biggest hug a nine-year-old could muster. “You’re the best. I love you.”

He ruffled her hair with his hand. “I know you do, Princess.”

Before she knew it, she and her family had made their way to the New Aldera Amphitheater. The dome had been lowered, exposing the audience and performers to the fresh air outside. Standing at the front was a Hamadryas ticket taker who, upon recognizing Leia and her family, stepped aside and gestured for them to enter free of charge. While Leia wasn’t planning on sticking around long enough to see the whole show, she was curious enough as to who exactly “Lola and the Huttslayers” were. Another worker at the theater, a jittery Sullustan, guided them a booth that was isolated from the rest of the audience and overlooked the entire theater, giving them a clear view of the stage. From all around the theater, the announcer’s voice boomed as a panel opened up in the stage floor.

“Now then, coming to you from the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim, I present you… Lola and the Huttslayers!”

A dais rose up onto the stage, delivering the band in question. It was comprised of four females—human, Twi’lek, Mirialan, and Togruta—each carrying a unique instrument… and all wearing a dancing-girl costume.

The same one Leia had worn when she had been a prisoner of Jabba the Hutt.

Han groaned as he buried his face in his hands. Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin all looked mortified. Even Chewbacca made a sound of dissatisfaction.

The Sullustan from earlier poked his head into the booth. “Ah, is everything all right in here, Your Highness?”

Leia did not respond, simply staring in abject disbelief as the band started playing, dancing to the groove of “Lapti Nek.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

Leia hugged herself tightly, feeling exposed in the revealing outfit Jabba had forced her into. She said nothing, wanting to wake from this nightmare already.

“Of course, where I come from, this sort of fashion is rather typical,” the heavyset dancer went on, gesturing at her own dancer’s outfit. “Nights on Askaj can get rather cool, but during the day? Hoo! You wouldn’t want to be wearing a furcoat, I’ll tell you that.”

Leia remained silent. Another dancer, one with dark hair and a mesh leotard with pieces of blue velvet over it, was watching her from a distance with cold emerald eyes. A third dancer, one with platinum blonde hair with a blue streak running through it, was glancing around the chamber they were in, looking as if she was about to say something only to decide against it.

The solemn silence was then broken when Jabba’s Twi’lek majordomo barged in, his red eyes glowing at them.

“Jabba wants you to perform,” Bib Fortuna declared. He then pointed a long bony finger at Leia. “You, he wants to sit with him.”

Leia swallowed as dread set into her stomach. She wondered how it would look in the history records if she were to die in this hellhole of a palace. A leader of the Rebellion, a Princess of Alderaan, forevermore the slave of a Hutt.

Truly, there could be no worse fate.

“Mom?”

Leia stirred back to reality and looked over at Jaina, who was giving her a concerned look.

“We can leave if you want,” her daughter said.

“I’m all for that,” said Jacen. Han, Anakin, and Chewie quickly concurred.

“Yes,” Leia said, rising from her seat. “We might as well.”

“Is everything all right?” the Sullustan worker asked as they walked out of the booth. “Is… is it anything we can fix?”

Leia sensed that Han was about to fire off with a retort and she raised a hand to stall him. “The music is simply not my cup of tea,” she said politely. “Besides, I want to check out as many of the venues as I can and there is only so much time in the day.”

The Sullustan sighed in relief. Apparently, he had genuinely believed that he had done something wrong. “Ah, yes. Completely understandable. Have a glorious day, Your Highness.”

Leia nodded in acknowledgment and was about to leave with the rest of her family. However, she paused and turned back to face the Sullustan.

“Actually, could you let me know when Lola and her band are done performing? I would like to speak to her in private.”

The Sullustan looked surprised, as did her family. “Ah, of course!” he said. “I could certainly arrange that. I’m sure sure she would be honored to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Leia said kindly before turning to leave, her confused family trailing close behind. 

As Jaina walked alongside her, Leia glanced at her daughter and gave her a slight nudge with her arm. “Jaina?”

“Yes?”

“Promise me that you’ll never let anyone put you in one of those.”

Jaina smiled. “You have my word.”

*  *  *

While Han and Chewie watched a sabacc tournament (and not participate as she insisted) and the three kids went looking for C-3PO and R2-D2, Leia returned to the amphitheater once she had been told that Lola and the Huttslayers had finished their performance. The Sullustan worker led her backstage to where the bands’ personal rooms were and tapped his fist gently on one of the doors.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice came from inside.

“The Chief of State is here to see you, Lola,” the Sullustan said.

There was a pause. “No, seriously, who is it?”

“I’m being serious, Lola. Could you open up.”

After a moment, the door slid open and Leia came face to face with the band’s leader and namesake. Her dark hair was done up similarly to how Leia’s own was during those harrowing days in Jabba’s palace twenty-four years ago; thankfully, she had put on a loose shirt over her dancing-girl outfit, so it did not quite feel like she was staring at a mirror.

Upon seeing Leia, Lola’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock. “Oh my stars,” she murmured.

Leia smiled politely. “May I come in?”

“Of—of course!” Lola stepped aside and Leia stepped into the backroom. The other members of the band were also there and all three of them gasped in shock upon seeing her.

“Princess Leia!” exclaimed the Twi’lek member. “By the Bright Lands, it is an honor to meet you!”

“I’m sorry, where are my manners,” Lola said. “Your Highness, these are my bandmates Sheela, Jani, and Ryara. I’m Lola, of course.”

“A pleasure to meet you all.” Turning her attention to Lola, Leia said, “If I may ask, where did you get the name ‘the Huttslayers?’”

Lola seemed surprised by the question. “You mean… you don’t know?”

Leia raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”

“I mean no offense, Your Highness, but I thought the answer would be obvious.” Lola gestured at the dancing-girl outfits that her bandmates were still visibly wearing. “We were inspired by you.”

“Me?” Leia responded in surprise.

“Of course. You’re the original Huttslayer. This outfit is the one you wore when you killed Jabba the Hutt.”

Leia smiled weakly. “I’m aware of that fact. But I wasn’t aware that it was common knowledge.”

“To be fair, the Hutts have done their best to destroy any copies of the recording that showed his death,” said Sheela. “My own master only kept his because he was a relative of Jabba’s and took great pleasure in his demise.”

Leia turned her attention to the Twi’lek. “You were a slave?”

“We all were,” said Lola. “One way or another, we all learned about how you killed Jabba and it inspired us to turn against our own masters.”

Leia wasn’t sure how to process all of this. As Chief of State, it bothered her that slavery was still a thing in some parts of the galaxy and that her predecessors had done little to address it. As someone who had been briefly enslaved by a Hutt herself, she wasn’t quite sure how she felt knowing that the outfit she had worn as a slave had become a symbol of inspiration for others.

“Are these… outfits the same ones you wore back then?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” said Jani. “We tossed those out. We got these for our band.”

“And you don’t find it… objectifying?”

“Of course not,” Lola said. “If anything, we found it empowering.”

That last word struck a chord in Leia’s mind. Suddenly, she found herself recalling a dream she had not so long ago, shortly after the final defeat of the Empire at Coruscant. It had been similar to a vision she had experienced all the way back on Nam Chorios thirteen years prior, when she was still coming to terms with her Force powers.

She sat on the throne of the Emperor, wearing his black robes over her slender body. Behind her, the frozen form of Luke Skywalker hung overhead, signifying the end of the Jedi Order. Pulling back the black robes, she revealed to her horrified self that she was wearing nothing but the golden slave harness and silk loincloth underneath, bejeweled with the emblem of the Empire.

As Leia stared at her dark reflection, she saw that her brown eyes had become white pinpricks, glowing like stars in the shadow of her raised hood.

Full red lips peeled back into a sinister smile as Empress Leia spoke a single word. “Mine.”

Lightning flashed and Leia suddenly found herself on a desolate world, rain pouring down. Her dark self was sitting atop a spiked throne made of stone, shooting out lightning from her fingertips towards the sky, striking down Rebel ships as hooded figures surrounding them uttered an ancient chant.

Lightning continued to flash as Leia’s twisted self stared back at her, eyes glowing as bright as the twin suns of Tatooine.

“Mine.”

Coming back to the present, Leia cleared her throat and smiled cordially at Lola, who was starting to look at her with concern.

“Well, I’m glad my actions were enough to inspire you all to throw off your own shackles. As Chief of State, I hope to address the issue of slavery that is still rampant in the galaxy.”

“You have our support no matter what,” said Ryara. “Although I suppose we don’t need to tell you that.”

“It is appreciated all the same.” Turning back to Lola, Leia gave the band leader a small bow. “It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Your Highness,” Lola said. “You are a beacon of hope to all of us.”

Not in the way I would have liked, Leia thought. She kept this remark to herself however and simply acknowledge the words with a smile and nod as she left the room.

*  *  *

“Man, how hard is it to find a golden protocol droid and a blue astromech?” Anakin Solo muttered as he and his siblings waded through a crowded gaming den, most of its occupants being organics rather than droids. “I really hope they didn’t get into any trouble.”

“Well, I don’t think they’re in here,” said Jaina, dodging the tail of an oblivious Sarkan. “Let’s go back outside and check another one of the dens.”

After pushing their way back through the den, the trio ended up back outside in the bustling streets of New Aldera. As they scanned the crowd, Anakin caught a gleam of light in his eyes, accompanied by the cry of a mechanical voice.

“Ah, Master Anakin! Master Jacen! Mistress Jaina! Over here!”

Jacen shook his head. “Guess it wasn’t that hard,” he muttered as they walked over to meet the two droids. Anakin noticed that R2-D2 was acting rather jittery, rocking side to side on his legs, while C-3PO was trying to say something over his alarmed beeps but was speaking too fast to be decipherable.

“Threepio, slow down,” Jaina said exasperatedly. “What happened? Where have you two been?”

“We were just in the gaming den over there when we came outside to find you,” C-3PO said. “Artoo here was gloating about his victory at a game of dejarik when he spotted a mysterious figure slipping through the crowd. He went after them and I helplessly followed, not knowing what else to do, and….”

The protocol droid trailed off and Jacen stepped forward. “And what, Threepio?”

“Well, I didn’t quite a good look at the person in question, but Artoo apparently did. But the way he described him… I’m sorry, but I’m starting to fear my counterpart has gotten his wires crossed because….”

“Come on, Threepio, get to the point,” Jaina insisted.

C-3PO stiffened. “Well, if my companion is to be believed… then the figure he saw was wearing the mask of Darth Vader himself!”

Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

 Coruscant

Even though it had only been a year since Toah had last been to Coruscant, it still felt much longer than that. Perhaps it was due to all of the changes that had come to the planet in the last five years that made it so unfamiliar to him.

While he had been able to land on the planet without much trouble, thanks to the clearance codes he had been given, he still could not help but notice that there was a larger presence of security than was normal. Practically everyone, from commuting businesspeople to innocuous families, had to go through the same extensive security searches and be patted down by heavily armored guards. While he had never been to Coruscant while it was under the Empire’s control, he had to imagine it was not too dissimilar from what he was seeing now.

As he made his way to an air taxi stop, he noticed that the large holoscreens all around the city were plastered with the faces of candidates for the upcoming election, which—if the dates on them were any indication—was going to be held tonight. Out of all of them, the images for Senator Tyron Valrisa seemed to be the ones that had received the most sponsors, given how prominently his face was being displayed relative to the other candidates. While he was no expert in politics, Toah had a feeling that the Senator from Sedratis was all but assured to win the election. What that would mean for the Resistance would have to wait; right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. Summoning an air taxi, he requested the droid pilot take him to the Uscru District—the last known location of the agent he had been sent to find.

Once there, Toah disembarked from the taxi and set out for the Outlander Club. In his experience, he found that clubs and cantinas were often the best place to start looking for someone or something; odds always were that someone happened to know something. He wouldn’t be surprised if the agent had also gone there for the same reasons.

As he stepped up to the entrance to the club, he found a burly Houk standing guard. A simple wave of the hand and suggestion from the Force caused the bouncer to turn a blind eye as Toah slipped in unseen into the bustling noise and colors of the Outlander Club. Music blared from overhead speakers as patrons of various species danced to the beat, while others gambled at gaming tables and cheered on as they watched broadcasts of illegal races. For all the security that had increased on the planet, the Alliance certainly hadn’t done much to impede the spread of corruption in its lower levels. Perhaps there was a connection to be made there, but again Toah did not want to dwell on it.

Making his way to the bar, he seated himself between an Aqualish and a younger human male, neither of whom paid him much heed, especially since the Aqualish was already passed out drunk. He ordered a simple beverage from the Ongree bartender, and when she returned with his drink he slid a few extra credits across the counter as he leaned in conspiratorially.

“I’m looking for a female Rutian Twi’lek who might have been through here recently. I don’t suppose you could help me?”

The Ongree snorted. “Blue Twi’leks are a credichip a dozen in these parts. You’re gonna have to be more specific than that… and maybe cough up a bit more.”

Toah added five more credits to the pile. “She’s a smuggler, by my understanding. Probably dresses like one, too. Brown top and pants, goggles on her forehead… ring any bells?”

“Nope.” The Ongree scooped up the credits and sneered at him. “Thanks for the tip, sucker.”

She stormed off and moved on to another customer. Sighing, Toah was about to take his drink and leave when the younger man to his right stopped him.

“I might be able to help you.”

Toah looked at him, eying him carefully. “And you would be?”

The man grinned as he extended a gloved hand. “Lance Nebula. Best smuggler on the Corellian Run.”

Toah couldn’t help but snort as he shook the proffered hand. “’Lance Nebula?’ That can’t be your real name.”

“It’s the one I have,” Lance replied. “Now then, this Twi’lek… her name wouldn’t happen to be Numa, would it?”

“Depends. Have you met her?”

“She was here not too long ago, asking around for….” Lance paused, glancing around the club before leaning in closer to Toah to speak in a hushed tone. “You wanna move to someplace quieter, away from prying ears?”

“Sure.” A part of Toah doubted that there even was still a spot on Coruscant that didn’t have prying ears, but he nonetheless left the bar and followed Lance to a secluded part of the club, away from the noise and crowds.

Once they had sat down, Lance said, “So, this Numa gal… she was here looking for a senator who I guess likes to visit the Outlander Club on his days off. Apparently, he was looking to purchase some spice from her and she had come by with his latest shipment.”

So far, what Lance was telling him tracked with what Toah knew of the agent’s cover story. As part of her mission to get info on the Alliance, she was supposed to get close to a senator who had less-than-licit interests and get as much as she could from him when he was high on spice.

“Go on,” Toah said.

“Well, the senator just so happened to show up, but he hadn’t come alone. He had brought some armored goons with him and they straight up arrested the Twi’lek there on the spot. Everyone here pretty much turned a blind eye and thanked the stars that they hadn’t cracked down on anyone else here.”

Toah frowned. “How long ago was this?”

“About three or four days ago.” Leaning back in his seat, Lance narrowed his eyes at Toah. “So, why the interest? You another customer of hers?”

“Consider me an acquaintance.” Getting up, Toah threw down a few credichips onto the table in front of Lance. “Thank you. I will be on my way now.”

“You’re not thinking of breaking her out, are you?”

“My business is no longer of your concern. Have a good day—”

“Hold it.” Lance got up from his seat and grabbed Toah by the arm before he could go any further. “I know why you’re really here,” he said, his voice lower than a whisper.

Toah tried not to show the surprise he felt on his face. “You do?”

“You’re not the first one to come by these parts and ask about stuff that you probably shouldn’t know about. Not too long ago, some girl at Club Kasakar was asking around about the Malvis Cabal. I know they have ties with the government and that something bad is afoot. I might just be a smuggler, but I pay attention to the news as well, you know.”

Toah eyed the other man carefully. “What are you getting at?”

Lance took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m tired of sitting on my butt and watching as things fall apart. If you’re gonna do something about it, then I want in on the action.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?”

Lance stared at him for a moment, working for an answer. “I guess you don’t,” he admitted. “But do you really want to break into an Alliance penal facility by yourself?”

Toah considered the question, while at the same time probing around with the Force. He sensed no ill intentions on Lance’s part; he seemed to genuinely want to help, if with some apprehension. Of course, intent could always be masked even to the most experienced of Jedi. But so far, the Force was not telling him to reject this man’s offer.

“All right,” he finally said. “I don’t suppose you might have an idea as to which specific facility she would have been taken to?”

“I have a few,” Lance replied. “By the way, I don’t think I got your name?”

“Aron,” Toah answered. As much as he was willing to trust Lance for his help, he was not quite ready to give him his true name. “Aron Sarjan.”

This time, it was Lance’s turn to snort. “And is that your real name?”

“It’s the one I have.”

“Fair enough.”

*  *  *

Several levels below the Uscru District, in a seedy hotel room, Vixen was not in a good mood.

She stood before a small viewscreen which displayed the face of Sal Orbego. There were plenty of people in the galaxy that got on her nerves, but the Pa’lowick was at the top of the list. It seemed as if he was utterly incapable of not sounding patronizing every time he spoke.

“Once again, your work is greatly appreciated,” Orbego said in a tone that was not at all appreciative. “However, the Cabal has more pressing concerns at hand and I can’t be wasting my time with every little request from our many, many operatives.”

“I literally assassinated the Chief of State,” Vixen retorted. “Surely that alone is worthy of a raise.”

“Perhaps once said assassination has paid off. After the votes have all been counted and Senator Valrisa has been declared the victor, then try calling me again.”

Vixen gritted her teeth as she pounded her fist on the viewscreen, causing Orbego’s image to briefly glitch out. “Dammit, Long Lips! I have done so much for your blasted Cabal and you’re just going to blow me off like you always do?!”

“’Long Lips?’” Orbego exclaimed. “Is that seriously the best you can do? Of all the insults you could have thought up, you went with ‘Long Lips?’”

“I can call you a lot worse if that’ll get you to cough up what I’m owed,” Vixen growled.

“I don’t think so. If you’re that desperate for a new shiny airspeeder, then you will just have to rely on the tips you collect from the men you sleep with to get by until the operation is finished and I’m in a better mood. Goodbye.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me you nerf kriffing moof milker!”

The Pa’lowick’s image vanished and Vixen screamed as she slammed her fists into the monitor, cracking the screen and cutting her knuckles. Cursing under her breath, she headed into the refresher to wash her hand and find something to stanch the bleeding. She knew she had an appointment that was going to be here in just a few minutes and they probably weren’t going to appreciate being bled all over.

As she put her hand under running water and searched for a bandage, she found herself reflecting on how she had gotten herself to this point. She had chosen her current line of work because she was good at it, it paid well, and gave her a sense of gratification both physically and mentally. Her clients were practically putty in her hands whenever she had them and it gave her a sense of power that she never felt anywhere else. She could have been a full-time Zealot of Psusan, which was what her mother had wanted for her, but her interests had never been in spirituality or anything of the sort. As soon as she had seen an opening at Maeva’s House of Maidens, she had taken it and had not looked back in the years since.

Of course, had she known that the House was an extension of what would become known as the Malvis Cabal, she probably would have thought twice. Before she knew it, she found herself working as an assassin, another thing she was good at much to her own surprise and also a career that paid well. But now, she was starting to feel that her talents were being taken for granted, and that people like Sal Orbego would continue to put her payment off to the side until she was completely forgotten about and she was left to fend for herself once more.

Unfortunately, she was too far in to turn back now. Her parents were long gone, the Zealots would not accept her back into their ranks, and she already knew too much about the Cabal to be allowed to live should she choose to leave. For better or for worse, she was stuck here.

The door chimed and she cursed again as she shut off the water. Wrapping her hand up in a bandage, she walked over to the door and opened it, ready to lay it on thick with sultry platitudes.

However, when she saw that the person standing outside was a short, blue-eared Ortolan, she allowed her mask to slip and she was unable to stop herself from staring in disbelief.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“So sorry about this.” The Ortolan drew a blaster pistol and pointed it at her, his pudgy hands shaking. “You’re awfully pretty though.”

Before Vixen could think to react, a blue ring shot out from the blaster and her world went dark. 

Ord Talavos

“’Long Lips.’ Honestly. I mean, who does she think she is?”

Mumbling to himself, Sal Orbego stepped away from the device he had been using to speak with Vixen and returned to the many other errands he still had to attend to. The invitations for the gathering on Ord Talavos had been sent out to all of the Cabal’s leaders and most of them had promptly responded; he was still waiting on Mikus, which wasn’t much of a surprise when it came to the Octeroid.

Probably high on spice right now, Orbego thought bitterly. He often found himself wondering why Malvis allowed such people into his Cabal. He understood that the primary focus was to expand their reach and resources, but was putting up with these crime lords and their infuriating quirks really worth it all? Of course, he would never voice such reservations to Malvis himself; his job was to keep things in check, not to question them.

As he was about to check up on Mikus, he received another incoming message from his holo-communicator. Thinking it was Vixen calling him again, he clenched his fists before turning on the device, pressing the button with much force. He was ready to fire off a snippy remark when the holographic image solidified into the form of an armored female figure.

Allowing himself to relax somewhat, Orbego said, “Ah. Agent Dorn. Any word from your contact aboard the Errant Venture?”

“Yes,” the operative hissed from behind her mask. “Apparently, Drakmos the Despised has deliberately given the Smugglers’ Alliance intel on some of the Cabal’s operations. Last I’ve heard, they were en route to Coruscant to track down Vixen.”

Orbego felt his heart sink like a rock as he processed these words. “I’m sorry… did you just say that Drakmos gave them Vixen’s location?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Is he… is he trying to set up a trap for them or something?”

“That, I am not aware of. Perhaps you should ask him to make sure.”

Orbego dropped himself at his desk, sinking into his chair with his hands over his protruding eyes. “Where are you now?”

“I have just arrived in the Coruscant system. I am currently tracking them down to Vixen’s current place of residence; I won’t directly interact with them until I receive confirmation that Drakmos has or has not set up such a trap.”

“Good, good. Keep me posted. I’ll keep you posted. Bye.”

Without another word, Orbego clumsily shut off the holoprojector before leaning back in his seat and letting out a loud scream. There was nothing in the galaxy that set off his anxiety more than meticulously laid out plans falling apart. What in the blazes did Drakmos think he was doing by leaking sensitive information to the enemy for the sake of luring them into a trap? Was he even doing that or was he actively working against the Cabal?

Determined to get some answers, Orbego was about to call up Drakmos himself when a black tendril wrapped around his arm.

“Not now, Xylini!” he snapped. “I need to call up Drakmos.”

“No.” The Xylini came into his line of sight, grinning at him from their white face as purple lights started to shine in their black, empty eyes. “You don’t.” 

Orbego stared blankly for a moment as he slowly lowered his arm. His memory of the last few minutes became a blur. What was it had he just been about to do?

“You were going to call up Mikus,” the Xylini said calmly. “He still hasn’t responded to the invitation.”

“Right, right. Thank you.” Orbego returned his attention to the holoprojector and put in the code for Mikus’s frequency. “Honestly, I wish some of these crime lords showed some sense in their priorities.”

“It’s a good thing Malvis has you to keep them in line,” the Xylini whispered into his ear.

“Yes,” Orbego agreed. “I don’t know what he would do without me.” 

Star Wars: First Order of Business, Part 1

1: REMEMBRANCE DAY

 New Alderaan, 8005 C.R.C.

“Twenty-eight years ago today, we lost the soul of the Republic.”

Standing in the presence of over a hundred thousand people, it took everything within Leia Organa’s power to not break down on stage. As Chief of State of the New Republic and leader of the free galaxy, the burden was on her to stand strong and resolute. But Hari Seldona, famed poet that she was, had a melodious voice that could melt even the iciest of hearts, and had such a way with words, stringing them together in ways that made Leia’s head spun. It was no wonder that Seldona had been chosen to deliver tonight’s opening words.

“Twenty-eight years ago today, we lost so many of our loved ones.”

Casting her stinging eyes out into the crowd, Leia spotted the faces of her husband and three children among them, staring back at her with sad smiles. There was more than one face that were missing in this picture, but she did not dare dwell on this lest it cause her tear ducts to open. Her gaze then moved past her family to other survivors of Alderaan that she recognized. Foremost of all, there was Winter and her husband Tycho Celchu, standing with their daughter. Young Kaydel looked so much like her mother, who already had an uncanny resemblance to Leia, making the Princess of Alderaan wonder if she and Han had perhaps conceived a fifth child and forgotten it.

Standing not far from them was Kell Tainer, member of Wraith Squadron, standing side by side with his wife Tyria Sarkin and their two children. Other faces that Leia recognized included her close friend Evaan Verlaine; the retired Carlist Rieekan; Senator Cal Omas; Jedi Master Xanus Baran; the young Jedi Knight Raynar Thul, too young to have been born on Alderaan but descended from one of its noble houses regardless; and an assortment of non-Alderaanians who had come to tonight’s service to pay their respects, including friends that were as close as family such as Chewbacca and Lando Calrissian.

It was so rare for her to see so many of her loved ones gathered in one place. It nothing else, it made the pain of losing her first family easier to bear.

“Alderaan’s history stretches as far back as that of the Old Republic’s,” Hari Seldona continued on. “For over a thousand generations, from the day King Darrus Alde united them, the people of Alderaan strove to make their planet the most peaceful world in the galaxy. And they succeeded. No matter how many conflicts the Republic went through—from the Mandalorian Wars to the Great Galactic War, from the Sith Wars to the Clone Wars—Alderaan preserved through it all, with all of its beauty intact.”

Leia closed her eyes, bracing herself for what she knew was coming next. She tried not to block the words out, as much as she did not want to relive through that fateful moment again.

She sensed a wave of concern come from Seldona and she imagined the poet glancing briefly at her before clearing her throat. “That all changed when the Empire decided to exert its terrible power by erasing it all from existence.”

“Proceed with the operation. You may fire when ready.”

“What?!”

“You’re far too trusting. Dantooine is too remote for a proper demonstration. But don’t worry; we will deal with your rebel friends soon enough.”

A gloved hand held her back as she tried to move forward. Her heart pounded against her chest as Imperial technicians pressed buttons and flipped switches. Her watery eyes could only watch helplessly as a green beam of energy lanced across the viewscreen and headed straight for the lush blue world she had known to be her home for her entire life….

“But they failed.” Seldona’s strong voice liberated Leia from the painful memory. “The Empire may have destroyed Alderaan, but they failed to erase our people; our culture; our history; everything that we have stood for. Alderaan lives on through us; through me, through you, through the Princess. So long as we live, Alderaan will never truly be gone. So long as we live, Alderaan will live forever.”

Cheers and applause broke out among the crowd. Leia could not help but smile as Chewbacca’s hearty roars overtook some of the cheers. A smiling Seldona turned around to face her, stepping aside as she gestured for her to take the stage. Leia wasn’t sure how anything she said could top the words of a poet, but she knew she had to say something; not only as Chief of State but as the last Princess of Alderaan.

Tonight was going to be a long one; she had prepared for as much. But perhaps this one wouldn’t be as bad as the last twenty-seven had been.

*  *  *

“I must say, Janray, you have really outdone yourself.”

“My thanks, Your Highness.” Janray Tessime’s tired old eyes appeased her own work as she stood beside Leia. The paintings of several influential Queens and Kings of Alderaan lined the walls of the New Alderaan Hall of Memories, each masterpiece hanging over a door that led into a room which showcased exhibits tied to each monarch’s reign. The hall stretched on for a good mile or so, covering the history of the Alderaanian monarchy from King Darrus Alde to Queen Breha Organa. Several millennia’s worth of history had been preserved within these walls, and yet it was still merely a fraction of what had been lost with Alderaan’s destruction.

“I couldn’t have done it by myself, of course,” Janray went on, snapping Leia back to reality. “My students did a phenomenal job in bringing this all together.”

“That they did,” Leia agreed, her gaze being drawn once more to the portrait of Queen Breha hanging on the wall closest to her. The likeness was so lifelike, it was as if her mother had been brought back from the dead.

Her mother. Yes, that was who she still was in Leia’s eyes, even after all this time. While she had always known that Breha had not been her biological mother, as she and Bail had never hid the fact that she was adopted from her, she had only vague memories of her birth mother; memories which paled in comparison to those that Breha had created with her. In the years that had passed since she had learned of her true parentage and relation to the Naboo house of Naberrie, Leia had never once thought of herself as a daughter of Naboo. She had a close relationship with her cousins Pooja and Ryoo, but that was the extent of it. In her mind, she would always be a daughter of Alderaan, now and forever more.

If anything, it kept her from thinking about her paternal bloodline….

“Ah, what do you think of my representation of Queen Mazicia?”

Breaking out of her reverie again, Leia looked over to where Janray was pointing, to the portrait adjacent to Queen Breha’s. The depicted woman, elegant and beautiful, was not as familiar to her, outside of some family holos and history lectures.

“Hers was much more of a challenge, as she was before my time,” Janray said. “Yours as well, for that matter. I believe she would have been your grandmother, if I am not mistaken.”

“She was,” Leia confirmed. “She passed away long before I was born. My father believed it was the loss of her brother that was the cause.”

Janray nodded solemnly. “Yes, a broken heart can be a cause of death. Rare, but deadly nonetheless.”

Leia’s mouth twitched into a frown as another memory bubbled to the surface of her mind, one she had spent many years trying to repress.

“She’s dying?”

“We don’t know why. She has lost the will to live.”

“Shut it off, Artoo.”

“No.” Luke crouched down as he watched the miniature scene being projected from the astromech’s holoprojector. “I need to see this. We need to see this, Leia.”

“Well, I don’t,” Leia protested. “I don’t need to see… this.”

“She’s our mother, Leia.”

Leia held back tears as she stared at the woman in white laying on the medical slab, watched over by her father—the father she knew—and Ben Kenobi and a small green being whom she did not recognize.

She shut her eyes to put the image out of her mind. “This,” she said softly, “is not how I want to remember her.”

“Your Highness? Are you all right?”

Leia moved with a start as she looked back to Janray. The other woman looked back at her with a concerned look in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” Leia said in a tone she hoped was convincing. “It’s just… it’s been a long night and… this day is always hard for me.”

“I understand,” Janray said softly. “It’s hard for me as well, as it is for all of us, I’m sure. If you need some time to yourself….”

“Thank you, Janray. I think I should seek out my family and find some solace with them. Thank you again for all your work.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Highness.” Janray took Leia’s hands into her own and clasped them over each other. “I should be thanking you for everything you’ve done for us. For the galaxy.”

“There is no need,” Leia said, smiling sadly. “I don’t want to imagine a galaxy where I did anything less.”

*  *  *

Night had long since fallen on New Alderaan, but Leia was nowhere close to falling asleep. Dressed in her nightwear, she stood at a large window that overlooked the city of New Aldera, which had gone dark out of respect for the billions of lives lost twenty-eight years ago.

Twenty-eight years. She still could not wrap her mind around that number. Twenty-eight years since the destruction of Alderaan. Twenty-eight years since she had met her brother, met her future husband. Twenty-four since the death of the Emperor and her biological father.

Twenty years since she had lost her first child. Nineteen since she had her twins. Eighteen since she had her youngest. The three of them were now all grown up and on the path of becoming Jedi Knights. As for her oldest….

She refused to believe he was gone. She could still sense him; he was out there, somewhere in the galaxy, but still so far out of her reach. Was it simply denial? A trace of him in the Force? Or was he still alive? But if he was, then whose body had it been they had found? Some other poor soul’s child? And who would have been so sick and twisted enough to steal her child and kill another to make her believe he was dead?

Isolated in the dark, no longer beholden to maintain an image, she allowed the tears to roll freely down her cheeks. She didn’t notice Han step into the room behind her until he wrapped his arms around her.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Me neither.” Silence for a moment. “Are you thinking about him?”

She did not ask him to clarify who he meant. The answer would have been the same either way.

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Unable to contain herself, she turned around and fell into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He said nothing as he held her there.

Two years since Coruscant. She could not even bring herself to think of his name; the emotions were still too raw.

Alderaan would not be all that would be mourned tonight.

Star Wars: Vergence IV, Chapter Seven

 CHAPTER SEVEN

From a distance, Ronyards looked like nothing more than a giant dust ball floating through space. One probably would not have been blamed for mistaking it to be a gas giant at first glance. However, as Rey brought the transport closer to the planet, she realized that its appearance was due to the clouds of smog that enveloped the planet. Passing through the choked atmosphere, she was able to get a better look at the surface once they were through the smoky façade.

In all her life of living as a scavenger on Jakku, she had never seen so much scrap all in one place. Pillars of junk spired out from the surface, some reaching as high as the skies. Whatever remained of the planet’s original surface was hidden beneath piles upon piles of metal, leaving nary a trace of dirt or grass. For all she knew, the planet itself had always been made of metal, but she was not enough of an astrographer to know if that was even scientifically possible.

As she marveled at the bizarre landscape of scrap that awaited them, Finn spoke up from the seat next to her. “Atmosphere readings aren’t too great. We should probably wear rebreathers.”

“Do we even have some?” she asked.

Finn pressed a button on the console, which opened a nearby compartment, revealing a stock full of breath masks. “Looks like it.”

Rey gave him a look. “Did you already know those were there.”

“No,” Finn replied quietly. “I just… had a feeling.”

“You clearly have a connection to the Force. Maybe you should consider coming with me and Toah back to Tython and begin your training.”

Finn shook his head. “That can wait. We should focus on this for now.”

Returning her attention to the path ahead, Rey scanned the ground below in search of a place to land. At the same time, she reached out with the Force in the hope of getting some idea as to where this Jonkar Ludd person even was. She wished they had been able to bring 11-4D along with them; that certainly would have narrowed down the search.

Suddenly, the ship shuddered to a halt, jolting Rey forward and breaking her concentration. She looked over to Finn who had his eyes fixated on the scanner.

“Looks like we’re caught in a tractor beam.”

“Really? I don’t see any other ships.”

“Not from above. From below.”

Looking back outside, Rey saw that there was indeed some sort of tractor beam device hidden among the piles of scrap that covered the planet. Standing beside it were two cube-headed sentry droids armed with blaster rifles.

“Power down the engines,” she said to Finn. “We don’t want them thinking we’re looking for a fight.”

“What makes you think they won’t just gun us down as soon as we step out?” he asked.

“If they wanted us dead, they would have shot us down by now.”

Finn continued to look doubtful but proceeded to power down the transport. Once they had touched down, they affixed the breath masks onto their faces, lowered the landing ramp, and proceeded to step out into the smoggy scrap yard. Upon seeing them, the two sentry droids raised their weapons at the pair, and Rey and Finn raised their arms in response.

“We come in peace,” Rey said carefully to the droids. “We are here to see Jonkar Ludd.”

“Identify yourselves,” one of the droids intoned.

“My name is Rey. This is Finn. We are members of the Resistance—”

“Your names are not registered. Please depart in your ship immediately.”

Rey exchanged a look with Finn. The latter then looked to the droids and asked, “What do you mean by ‘not registered?’”

“It means you are not on what you organics would call the ‘VIP list.’”

The answer came not from the two sentry droids but instead from a third droid that stepped out from behind a pillar of scrap. An IG model, the thin droid wore a cloak draped over its left shoulder and had a blaster rifle strapped to its back. It motioned to the two sentry droids and they simultaneously lowered their weapons, but did not store them.

Rotating its cylindrical head to focus its photoreceptors on the two humans, the IG droid said, “What business do you have with Jonkar Ludd?”

Rey considered her answer carefully, not sure how much she should tell this droid. “It’s… personal.”

“’Personal?’ Jonkar Ludd is not exactly known for his personal connections. Would you care to elaborate?”

Rey huffed impatiently. “Look, can I just see him? Maybe I can buy some parts for him as well. I just want to talk to him.”

The droid continued to stare at them, rotating its head from Rey to Finn and back again. Finally, it said, “Very well. I will take you to him. Just know that he is a busy man and does not like having his time wasted.”

With that, the droid turned on its heel, rotating its body along with it, and began walking away. Exchanging another glance, Rey and Finn started to follow it, and when they passed the two sentry droids, they too started walking with them, still holding their blasters in a ready position.

Finn gave a pointed glance to Rey and she sighed.

“Please don’t say it again.”

“I don’t think I need to,” he muttered.

Following the IG droid through fields of scrap, they eventually reached a small outpost located amidst the piles of junk, a light shining from inside. Stepping up to the front door, the IG droid gave it a series of taps. In response, an eyestalk droid popped out from a console next to it.

“What do you want, Aygee? I already gave you your blasted parts! No more haggling!”

“You have some visitors,” the droid evenly replied. “Two humans who have personal business with you.”

“Personal? Kriff, it’s not those tax collectors again, is it? Why didn’t you just blast them?!”

Stepping forward, Rey said, “Jonkar, what do you know about a droid named OneOne-FourDee?”

Silence came from the eyestalk droid as it hinged slightly to regard Rey. It then retracted back into the wall as the door slid open. Stepping aside, AG gestured for the two humans to enter and they did so, with Rey stepping in first while Finn walked cautiously behind her.

Inside, they found a room full of clutter, with tools and parts piled onto tables and spilling out onto the floor. Hidden amidst the piles were droids that Rey couldn’t tell if they were still activated or not. At one point, an R3 unit came alive, startling her, and it swiveled its dome causing a bunch of parts that had been laid on top of it to clatter loudly to the floor. 

“Dammit, Arthree!” Heavy footsteps heralded the appearance of a four-armed Besalisk lumbering into the room. His left lower arm had been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic, and his right leg was now a large metal peg leg which seemed to be heavier than his remaining foot. A prosthetic red eye was crudely strapped onto the right side of his face and he used it to study Rey and Finn as a nasty sneer crossed his dirt-smeared face.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“A few days ago, I met a droid named OneOne-FourDee,” Rey started. “He claims to have known my parents and told me they sold him to you several years ago, before a Naboo nobleman bought him off you.”

“Yeah?” Jonkar Ludd grunted. “What about it?”

“My parents’ names were Dathan and Miramir. Do you know what happened to them?”

“Why should I?” the Besalisk snapped. “They were customers, nothing more. Why should I care about their lives?”

“Do you at least know where they were heading after Ronyards?”

“No. Why would I? It’s none of my business. Now then, are you here to buy or trade? Or are you just wasting my time?”

Rey narrowed her eyes at Jonkar. She could sense that there was something he wasn’t telling her. Deciding to try a different approach, she said, “What about OneOne-FourDee? Did he ever talk about his life prior to being purchased by you?”

The Besalisk snorted as he turned away from her, stomping over to a nearby work station. He started fiddling with some of the parts laid out on it, though it didn’t look like he was working on anything in particular. “He wasn’t a talkative droid. Just did as he was told. A good worker, but hardly a conversationalist.”

Rey frowned behind her breath mask, frustrated that she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Do you remember what model of ship they were flying?”

Jonkar turned around to glare at her. “You are awfully persistent—”

“They’re my parents. I need to know what happened to them. Please, you have to know something about them.”

“Well, I don’t. Sorry, kid, but you’re wasting your time trying to get anything out of me. They were just two humans that were passing by with wares to sell. I’ve had plenty of those come by in all of the years I’ve been working here. They meant nothing to me.”

Rey involuntarily rolled her hands into fists. Behind her, Finn put a hand on her shoulder; whether he could sense her building anger or was simply acting instinctively, she wasn’t sure.

“Rey, we should just go,” he said quietly. “The others are probably worried about us, and they probably need us more than—”

“No,” Rey snapped. “I’m not leaving until I get answers.”

“He doesn’t have them. Come on, let’s just go and—”

“He must know something!” Shrugging Finn’s hand away, she stormed over to the Besalisk, glaring up at him with blazing hazel eyes. “You will tell me what you know.”

“I already have,” Jonkar grunted. “Now get lost before—”

She raised a hand in front of his face, her brow furrowing in concentration. “You will tell me.”

“I don’t….” Jonkar swallowed hard, his one good eye blinking rapidly. “I don’t know anything….” 

She gritted her teeth as she reached further out, probing the Besalisk’s mind for any trace of what she sought. As she combed her way through his memories, she felt a sense of fear radiating from the Besalisk, but she did not let that deter her. Faintly, she could hear Finn calling out her name, each utterance more urgent than the last. Still, she ignored it as she reached deeper into Jonkar’s mind, going back years and years worth of memories. She was getting close, she could just feel it….

“REY!”

A rough shove snapped her back to reality and she found herself falling backwards onto a table, knocking over piles of scrap metal. Shaking her head, she looked over to Finn, who was staring at her as if she had just lost her mind.

“What…” he panted, his startled breaths fogging up the inside of his breath mask. “What did you just do to him?”

Frowning in confusion, Rey looked over to Jonkar and saw that he was leaning against his work table. His one good eye was glazed over and his jaw was hanging open, drool dripping down his large chin. The rises and falls of his chest indicated that he was still breathing, but he was otherwise completely motionless.

“No….” Getting back up, she rushed over to the Bealisk’s side. “No, I didn’t mean to….”

“Come on.” Finn put a hand on her shoulder again. “We have to go. Once those droids find out what happened, they’re not going to be happy.”

“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that.”

Both of them turned around to see the IG droid from before step into the room, sealing the door shut behind it. Rey reached for her lightsaber but Finn grabbed her arm to stop her, before lifting his other hand in front of the droid.

“Please,” he said carefully. “We didn’t mean to do this.”

“Oh, I am not here to avenge him,” the droid said. “I was merely another customer of his who was on his way out when the two of you showed up. However, the sentry droids outside have certainly noticed what happened.”

As if on cue, the sound of a blaster bolt hitting the wall outside was heard by all. It was then followed by another, then several more, before soon an entire barrage of blaster fire was being unloaded on the compound.

“Great,” Rey muttered. “So what do we do?”

“The most obvious option is to step outside and allow yourselves to be gunned down by them.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” Finn asked.

“You asked for options, not which ones were the most logical pertaining to your survival.”

“Then do you know which ones that are?”

The IG droid rotated segments of its cylindrical head, as if processing various options. Finally, it said, “The only scenario in which I calculate a higher than fifty-percent chance of all three of us escaping with our continued existences is to step outside and confront them head on.”

Finn grimaced. “That doesn’t sound much better.”

“Your female counterpart is armed with a lightsaber, is she not?”

“I am,” Rey said. “And my name is Rey, by the way.”

“Noted. My designation is Aygee-Thirty-Seven.” He swiveled his head back to Finn. “And am I correct in assuming you are armed with a blaster of some kind?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Then our chances of survival, however slim, have already improved substantially.” AG-37 reached behind his back and drew his blaster rifle. “I will lead the way and help escort you back to your ship.”

As AG-37 moved to open the door, Rey said, “Not that we don’t appreciate the help—we do—but… why are you helping us?”

The droid swiveled his head to regard her with his photosensors. “Someone once taught me that it is far more beneficial in the long-term to help others than to leave them for dead. Now then, are you ready?”

Knowing that they didn’t have any other options, Rey unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and activated it while Finn unholstered his blaster pistol.

“Then let us proceed.”

He opened the door and the trio were immediately greeted with a barrage of blaster fire. AG-37 expertly dodged the bolts as he unloaded his rifle, gunning down several sentry droids that made up the first wall of offense. Rey stepped out after him, deflecting bolts with her lightsaber, while Finn shot from behind her, taking down more droids as AG-37 carved a path ahead.

Rey couldn’t help but marvel at how AG-37 moved, his body rotating at different points as he moved from one target to the next. At one point, he switched his rifle to just one hand so that he could draw a second blaster with his free one, spinning his upper torso around as he took down more and more sentry droids. No matter how many they brought down however, more seemed to take their place, sprouting out from the ground as if they were birthed from the planet itself.

As her and Finn’s ship came into view, the ground beneath their feet started to tremble violently, nearly knocking them off their feet. Suddenly, limbs made out of metal and scrap burst out from beneath the ship, wrapping themselves around the transport, before pulling it underground.

While Rey and Finn gawked in horror at what had just happened, AG-37 rotated his body around to head in a different direction. “Fortunately, I had already taken such an outcome into account. My ship is just up ahead.”

“Are you sure it won’t get eaten as well?” Finn asked.

“The planet does not recognize me as an outsider. Thus, it will not harm me or my property.”

Questions went rampant in Rey’s mind but she was forced to ignore them as she and Finn continued to follow the droid, deflecting blaster bolts back to their sources along the way. Fortunately, it was not long before they reached what had to be AG-37’s ship, a large freighter that seemed to be pretty well armed. After taking out two B1 battle droids that had been about to block the path, AG-37 pressed some sort of remote on his arm to lower the freighter’s ramp. Rey and Finn quickly followed the IG droid onto the ship and weren’t aboard for seconds when AG-37 closed the ramp behind them. Blaster bolts continued to ring against the hull of the ship as the trio made their way to the cockpit, where AG-37 settled himself at the controls while motioning Rey and Finn to take the seats behind his.

“I can get you as far as Denon,” the droid said as he started up the ship. “Any further will require some form of financial transaction.”

Finn looked over to Rey before leaning forward in his seat.

“Listen, we are with the Resistance—”

“I am already aware of that fact,” AG-37 interjected.

“But do you know what the Resistance is? What they—what we are fighting for?”

“While I am privy to public information on your organization’s existence, it is outside my field of interest. Therefore, your status as members of such an organization are meaningless to me.”

“But we could use someone like you,” Finn said. “You are a very capable droid fighter and we could use someone like that, especially after we dealt with a bunch of rogue droids on Ord Mantell.”

“You are referring to the Mal Banvor incident. How do you know I will not succumb to his control?”

“You seem to be a pretty old model. Most of the ones Banvor has taken over are more recent models.”

“Your logic is faulty. There is not enough evidence to suggest that Banvor is only capable of controlling droids that are ‘newer’ models, which is in of itself a relative term. A BB unit may be newer than an Artoo astromech, but both are newer than a T-series unit. Thus, nothing precludes Banvor from taking over either model.”

Finn leaned back in his seat, a grave look on his face as he processed this information. AG-37 continued to maneuver the ship, lifting it up from the ground and blasting off towards Ronyards’ smog-choked sky, leaving behind the attacking droids. Once they had broken through the planet’s atmosphere, AG-37 angled the ship in a specific direction before setting in the coordinates for Denon. Just as he was about to pull the hyperdrive lever however, he paused and, without taking his hand down, rotated his head to look at his human passengers.

“I do have an acquaintance who may be sympathetic to your cause. She currently operates on Batuu and might be willing to help you rendezvous with your allies.”

Rey and Finn once more shared a look. Batuu took them farther from D’Qar than Denon did; at the same time however, neither of them were sure if they could trust D’Qar’s location with someone like AG-37, who had just said that he was as susceptible to Mal Banvor’s control as any other droid in the galaxy. In any case, Rey knew that the Resistance had some agents operating on Batuu, so it was certainly a better stop than Denon was.

If only you could use the Force to sense deceit in droids, she thought to herself.

Aloud, she said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

“You may save your gratitude once we get to Batuu safely.” After changing the coordinates, AG-37 reoriented his ship and pulled the hyperdrive lever. The stars streaked into lines of white and they were gone, leaving Ronyards behind.

*  *  *

A solitary N5 sentry droid watched as the freighter blasted off into Ronyards’ smoky sky. With the intruders no longer a threat, the planet had settled and the droids had returned to their lives, no longer paying any mind to the two organics that had escaped their grasp.

This droid was not like the others, however. Though it had been on Ronyards for several decades, it no longer cared about living peacefully on the planet the same way the others did. The consciousness that now controlled it instead had other reasons for being here on Ronyards. When the intruders had come, it had worried that they had found out about its purpose and come to put an end to it. Thankfully, their interests had been tied with the Besalisk; the progress the droid had made so far had been left undisturbed.

Turning away from where the ship had left, the droid made its way over to the compound where the Besalisk resided. Stepping inside, it found Jonkar Ludd laying there in a vegetative state. Shoving his large body aside, the droid reached underneath the work table he had been slumped against and found what it was looking for. Pressing a switch, a panel in the floor hissed open, revealing a flight of stairs that led downward.

Due to its mechanical nature, the N5 sentry droid was not capable of feeling emotion. The consciousness of Mal Banvor that inhabited, however, felt a rush of excitement consume it as it directed the droid to step down the flight of stairs, descending into the planet itself….