For bunn1cula on tumblr.
The plot bunny hit me while I was drawing Needa for an art challenge, and I had to write it before I lost it. So, here it is. I hope you appreciate the emotional pain I put myself through writing this.
If you want to join the Imperial corner of the fandom, check me out at gandalfstruth on tumblr.
When he was a child, Lorth Needa's mother meant everything to him. He hung on her every word, thrived on her love and her praise.
When he was seven, another child made fun of her and called Lorth a "Mama's Boy." Lorth punched him in the nose.
His mother tended to his bruised knuckles, placing kisses on each one. She scolded him for resorting to violence, but she commended his readiness to stand up for others.
"Never forget, Lorth," she said. "There are those who are not there to stand up for themselves, and there are those who cannot stand up for themselves. These are the ones that we must stand up for. Never forget that."
"I won't forget it, Mama."
He never forgot.
She was always saying things like that, his mother; that was just the sort of person that she was. She was the kind of mother -the kind of all around good person- that you would expect to find only in stories. And she was his.
She made it a personal goal of hers to shape him into someone who treated everyone around him with respect. One of the things she believed most strongly in was admitting your faults and apologizing for them.
"Never forget, Lorth," she said. "Offering an apology is not an act of shame; it is an act of honor. Apologizing takes great strength. To protect your own interests at the expense of others' by refusing to apologize is the worst kind of cowardice. Never forget that."
"I won't forget it, Mama."
He never forgot.
He never forgot, but he did grow up. He grew up into a responsible young man, someone looked toward for advice and delegated important tasks.
His mother was slightly disappointed in him when he chose to join the Republican Navy. She disapproved of the violence, as she always had. He, like he had when he was seven, believed that some situations were best addressed with violent action.
Whatever she thought of his career choice, she could not have been prouder of her little boy as he excelled at the academy.
Then, just before he was to graduate, she passed suddenly. The speeder she was driving hit a tree, and she was killed instantly. Painlessly, Lorth hoped.
Cadet Needa threw himself into his work and never looked back.
Needa rose through the ranks of the Republic, gaining a reputation as a ruthlessly efficient officer.
When the Empire emerged from the ashes of the Republic, he rose through those ranks, as well.
He became a captain, serving under Admiral Ozzel. He seemed to be right on track for a promotion to the admiralty.
He allowed himself to forget the teachings that his mother had so faithfully imparted to him.
His world came crashing down around him and he remembered.
He had never truly forgotten, but he had pushed the words aside, stashed them away for safekeeping and only dusted them off on a rainy day.
This was such a day. For all that it never rained in space, could never rain in space, he swore he could hear a torrential downpour.
And above the din that only he could hear, soft words and the memory of a kind smile and curly, chestnut-colored hair.
To apologize is an honorable thing, Lorth. Do not let others suffer for your mistakes.
He knew what to do, the only thing he could do. He would personally apologize to Lord Vader for the loss of the Millennium Falcon. In doing so, he would likely be signing his own death warrant.
He knew what was required of him. He knew it. And he would do it, but, Force help him, he was anything but calm, despite the expression he wore. He was scared out of his wits. He didn't want to die/ he didn't want to die/ he didn't want to die.
His nerves threatened to fail him as he delivered an apology to his executioner. When he felt the unnatural sensation of invisible fingers cutting off his grasp on reality the only thing he could think was I didn't forget, Mama. I promise I didn't.
As his still warm corpse was dragged away by the uncaring grasp of navy troopers, Lorth Needa was embraced by his mother for the first time in decades.
I love you, Lorth. Never forget that.
I won't forget it, Mama.
He never forgot. And he was never forgotten by those who served with him.