During the next few years, members of the Rebel Alliance battled the Imperials wherever we could, claiming small victories on small planets, bringing more and more citizens into our fold. Mon Mothma—who wasn't merely a "Rebel sympathizer," like Rieekan had implied, but rather the leader of the Alliance—said that's how we'd win the war: by winning the hearts and minds of enough fed-up people to have a critical mass. And one day, all these minor, planet-wide uprisings would merge into galactic revolution.

That was the hope, anyway. I left that all up to the Rebellion leadership. I was no fortune teller, no soldier, pilot, politician nor diplomat. But, as General Rieekan had told me, even revolutionary firebrands had to eat sometime. And so I cooked.

I wanted the rebels to be as well-fed as possible, since they had so little else to look forward to. Since I was a little girl, I'd cooked to show love. I had brought my parents breakfast in bed on the weekends, baked sweets for my school class, and later, arranged fancy dinners for my teenaged friends. Duncan and I had taken turns cooking dinner for each other. I think we both found it easier to show affection through food rather than words. But it hurts now to think of Duncan, and my parents, and all those sweet schoolchildren whose atoms now float weightlessly around Alderaan's ruins. So let me return to the topic of the Alliance. I cooked my butt off for the rebels, in order to demonstrate how much I valued them and their work. I was too…cowardly?…to fight battles, but I admired them more than I had anyone in my life.

It's not easy to feed an army, you know. Getting enough ingredients to construct meals took a lot of creative planning. Luckily, the Alliance didn't all stay together in the same place, so I was cooking for dozens rather than hundreds. We usually stayed on ships, several flotillas spread out in the empty space between inhabited worlds. Sometimes we spent weeks, even months on friendly or barren planets. Being planetside was easiest for me; I worked with whatever foodstuffs I could find locally. Once we spent three months on a sympathetic farmer's sprawling ranch, with hectares of beautiful green and golden vegetables arranged neatly in rows and plenty of wild game for the taking. (I lobbied hard to make that planet a permanent base. Sadly, it was inhabited, so eventually we were betrayed by a local.)

But it was rare to be on a planet with edible plants and animals readily available. And so I became friendly with the Rebel pilots who made supply runs. They'd fly inconspicuously to big, anonymous cities, where they procured weapons, intelligence, clothes, medical supplies, and of course groceries for me. Han Solo and his copilot Chewbacca became my preferred errand-boys. Somehow, they knew just where in the galaxy to find random ingredients, and always brought back a little more than I'd asked for.

For example, Han and Chewbacca were instrumental in making Winter Fete possible. If you aren't familiar with that holiday, it's a tradition that began in the monarchical Tapani sector and spread to other worlds familiar with aristocracies, including Alderaan. It was an end-of-year celebration, quite beloved. On Alderaan, every town square would be decorated and filled with shopping booths for the week-long Fete. Craftsmen displayed their handmade toys and tools, florists sold winter-flowers, and bakers showcased their unique versions of the polestar, a sugar-covered lemon cookie in a star shape. Musicians would play traditional Winter Fete music, creating a festive atmosphere. All Alderaanians came out each year to the marketplace, braving the snowy weather in order to buy each other little gifts from the vendors and enjoy the ambience.

As a child, Princess Leia had loved polestars so much that House Organa's royal yacht was named after the cookie. And that's what gave me the inspiration to design a Winter Fete for the Alliance. How better to cherish the memory of Alderaan than through its sweetest, gentlest traditions?

At the time of the first annual Winter Fete, I was stationed with the fleet somewhere in the Mid Rim. I proposed my idea to General Crix Madine, who was the bridge officer of my ship at the time. A Corellian native, he had never heard of the holiday, and just stared at me with his flat blue eyes as I explained the plan. "You want to throw a party? Isn't that a bit…frivolous?"

Before I could explain the difference between a raucous drunken party and a peaceful Winter Fete, my good luck charm Han Solo piped up. He'd been eavesdropping, and liked the idea of an Alderaanian holiday. I don't remember how he convinced Madine to let us have it. Probably used his considerably charming powers of persuasion. Or maybe he appealed to General Madine as a fellow Corellian. However he did it, we got permission.

The rebels of Alderaanian heritage went to work making winter-flowers out of colorful paper and finding recordings of the proper songs. Everyone got into the spirit of the event—why wouldn't they? They were all likely to die soon, so why not celebrate life? My concern, of course, was the food. Most beings in the galaxy associate their favorite holidays with the foods of the season, and so we couldn't have Winter Fete without three things: polestar cookies, oladkas (crispy fried potatoes with a sweet fruit sauce), and glow-wine (normally a Toniray red wine served hot, with cinnamon, cloves and a few other secret-ingredient Alderaanian spices).

It didn't take long for me to convince Captain Solo to go on a scouting mission and bring back the requisite ingredients. Obviously, fifty liters of Alderaanian Toniray Red were unavailable, but I gave him a list of suitable alternatives. I found it charming that Han was so willing to risk his life for cookies and glow-wine. Of course I suspected it might have something to do with our Princess. Captain Solo would jump through any culinary hoop I gave him if I simply mentioned that a particular dish was Her Highness's favorite. They'd only known each other for, oh, about eight months at this point, and they argued incessantly, but I could tell that he was utterly loyal to her. She never went on a dangerous mission without him guarding her, and he pampered her in little ways. Every time he went on a supply run, he'd bring back some little delicacies he knew she liked, and ask me to present them to her. He wanted the gifts to be anonymous, so I never let him find out that I always told the Princess exactly who had bought the treats for her. Captain Solo would've been embarrassed to know that she knew.

The first Winter Fete was held only on our ship, though most of the Alderaanian and Tapani-sector soldiers came over for the occasion. General Rieekan complimented my version of glow-wine, and Princess Leia happily accepted my plate of leftover polestars after the party. It was the first time I'd seen her giggle. I made sure Han was watching her when she did; I thought it might please him to know that his efforts had brought her some small joy.

The following year's end, we celebrated Winter Fete on a hot, sticky jungle planet—totally the wrong vibe for the holiday, but we made do. Most of the rebels participated that year, having heard about it from their mates. I remember seeing Lieutenant Shara Bey with a mug of my special alcohol-free blend of glow-wine. Her husband Kes couldn't stop caressing her swollen belly, even though all his fellow soldiers made fun of his romantic nature. Shara and I had become friends in the mess hall that year. She was having a difficult pregnancy—her first—and often sought my help in choosing snacks that didn't nauseate her. Shara had a wicked sense of humor and was passionate about the Cause. Despite being a daredevil A-wing pilot, she had a very sensible sense of self-preservation. Shara left the Alliance soon after that Winter Fete to have her baby on her homeworld of Yavin IV. But her devotion to the Alliance brought her back until the end of the war, while her little son Poe stayed tucked away with his grandfather on Yavin. So many people sacrificed so much for the Rebellion. (Shara and Kes went back to Yavin IV for their little boy after Endor, but Shara died of Gordian Pox a few years later.)

I'm off topic again, though. I was talking about Winter Fete. My third year with the Alliance, we had an even bigger celebration, with much more appropriate weather: the frigid world of Hoth. That year, there was a slight problem with a Tauntaun. Zev Seneska gave one of the snow lizards an oily oladka, causing several hours of…uh, extreme intestinal distress. The whole Echo Base reeked for a few days, making Zev the least popular member of Rogue Squadron. Or of any squadron in galactic history. He pulled night duty for the remaining time we were on Hoth, redeeming himself only by finding Luke Skywalker and Han after they'd spent a night in the cold outside of base. Just when we'd all finally forgiven him for the Terrible Tauntaun Trouble, Zev was killed in his snowspeeder during the Battle of Hoth.

When I think back now on my time with the Rebel Alliance, these are the sort of memories that are the strongest. The friendly fraternity of the soldiers. The small gifts we gave each other. The pranks, secret trysts, and held-back tears after a friend's death. And our celebrations, like the gambling and drinking parties that the pilots threw, or the yearly Winter Fetes, or the firework-filled blowout we had after the Battle of Endor. The rebels knew the importance of cherishing life in the face of death and defeat.


Author's notes: I didn't make up Zev, but I did invent the reason that he was out so early in a snowspeeder.

The Organa's yacht, according to Claudia Gray's novel Leia, really is called the Polestar. I stole the cookie idea from a German Christmas tradition (along with Glühwein). And oladka is just the Russian word for the Chanukah latke. Happy holidays to all, and happy Winter Fete to you Alderaanians and Tapanis.