A/N: Thanks again for all who read, review, and send private messages! In this chapter, I allude to a past incident involving Leia Organa and Maximillian Veers. If you want to know what REALLY happened there, please read the story "Vader's Own" by Malicean. I think you'll love it. I know I do. :) Written with expressed permission of the author.
As usual, a huge thanks to Hoplite39 for allowing me to include the troopers from "Loyal Solider of the Empire—Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper." Another amazing read that you should try! :D
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.
If it wasn't so out of fashion to claim psychic abilities, I would have asked to be tested for Force powers. This evening was going just as badly as I'd predicted.
I pondered this as I took my seat at the grand dinner table, the length of it hidden behind a table cloth so delicate and light it had to be spun of air. Plates and utensils of all types, shined to perfection, graced our seating, the Imperial crest engraved within them to perfection. Also as I had predicted. Stars forbid if any bureaucrat choose to show a spark of originality! It was all so perfectly… dull and sterile. Completely indistinguishable from any dinner I had attended on countless occasions. My only hope was that the wine was strong, that there would be a second cocktail hour after the dinner, and that I could find me a serving droid with a faulty memory that would bring me drink after drink after drink until either I died, or this evening started to make some sort of sense.
Either way, the pain would stop, right?
My chances of that happening were just as slim as my sudden manifestation of Force sensitivity. But then again, who in the right mind would what that? From what I'd heard, only the Emperor, himself, had the mental wherewithal to override the madness that came from touching the Force. Anyone with that cursed ability was rounded up and taken away—for their protection as well as the populace at large. It was a completely understandable solution, honestly. We'd all grown up watching the holo image of the Force-mad Mace Windu trying to murder the Emperor in cold blood.
Our poor Emperor. He'd been such a good-looking elderly gentleman, with such kind eyes and a smile that lit up a room, before being scarred by Mace Windu's attack. Lord Vader took the worst of that attack, from what I'd heard tell, which was why he was in that medical suit all the time. Sad, really. In my darker moments, I often wondered what Lord Vader had looked like before the attack. All we'd ever seen of him in the holos was his back and his hair. Which had been lovely, too. Again, such a shame.
These were the thoughts that chased around my mind as I started the night on Con's arm, making the obligatory first circuit through the cocktail hour. Then I was handed off to Uncle Wil, who went through the motions of introducing me to everyone. There was Moff Disra, Moff Thound, and Moff Pliiff, and their wives. Then Admiral Daala, and Admiral Ozzel, and Admiral Prittick. THEN there was Captain Drusan of the Chimaera, Captain Kand of the Peremptory, Captain Niriz of the Admonitor, Captain Piett of the Executor, Captain Ronoe of the Dark Star, Captain Needa of the Avenger…and each one of THOSE had their own entourage of underlings.
I'd never thought I would be so grateful for Uncle Wil's lofty superiority complex. It saved me from having to meet every single one of them. It saved them from having to listen to me prattle on with insipid things like "Oh, how charming!" or "Oh, how delightful you could join us! Uncle is such a kind man to allow you to escape your duties for this night. Thank you for coming!" until I thought my head was going to explode.
I was returned to Con in time for dinner to be served, and the conversation therein was just as devoid of substance as the past hour had been. My saving grace this time was the fact that I wasn't expected to participate. This was time for "officer small talk," for their own exchanging of pleasantries. They went on and on about what it was like in this sector of space, how many rebellions were put down, who had leave and which planet they intended to visit, who had the best ship...
Seated next to Conan near the head of the table, there was very little for me to do but smile. Smile, and barely taste any of my food. Women of worth and breeding were expected to eat like doves, pecking here and there at barely a mouthful of each item on the plate. The only thing that both men and women had in common when dining was that their mouths were never to be too full to answer a question or give commentary when it was due. No bite larger than could be wedged beneath a tongue went into anyone's mouth.
It made me long for Sholt's Cantina again back on Alderaan and a thick brexi burger just dripping with sauce and grease. Taking mouthfuls so large that one could barely close their lips around it to chew…
Uncle Wil sat at the head of the table, then Conan to his right and Cassio to his left as was their right as his second and third officers. I was nestled between Conan and Grand Admiral Batch. And across from me was my only alleviation from this boredom. Admiral Natasi Daala was a vision I just couldn't keep my eyes from. For one, she was absolutely lovely. For another, she was a woman bearing an Admiral's rank. She, above anyone else, could float between the two segregated groups of conversation.
And she did so with ease, engaging me in conversation when it was clear that I was too far away from the wives of the Moffs.
"What do you think of this magnificent station, Miss Motti?" she asked, surprising everyone into silence.
In that moment, I loved her. Loved her brash boldness and the cold calculating glint in her steely eyes.
"It is very impressive," I said as was expected of me, smiling. "It must be quite an undertaking to manage."
Again, it was the proper thing to say, passing the conversation back to Conan or Uncle WIl, or even Cassio.
"I suppose it is," Natasi continued, almost sounding bored. "But I wasn't asking how anyone else managed the station. I was asking how you found it."
A dangerous political opening. So much so that Con kicked my foot gently under the table. So much so that Cassio had even turned his interest towards the conversation. Cassio Tagge, who was known as the 'Unpolitical General' by his less than kind compatriots, who had spent the entirety of dinner focused solely on the course before him, glanced up at me. A warning look in his eyes. He hated politics as much as I did. Only he was in a position to utterly ignore them, both by virtue of his rank, his military successes, and his gender.
I had none of that.
The socially acceptable thing to do would be to titter out a vapid laugh behind my hand, thank Natasi for making me feel part of the conversation, and either direct it to something inane like flowers or the ever overused toast to the health of the Emperor. That would be the safe thing to do, to convince her and everyone present that I really was little more than arm decoration. But something in those eyes challenged me, something that saw straight through my ruse to the utter disgust I felt at this whole sham of civility.
I picked up my wine, being so gouache as to actually lean back and let my back touch the back of my chair… and met her challenge. "Given all I've seen of it is from the schematics and maps available in the archive, I must say that it's truly a remarkable and frightening piece of machinery."
Natasi picked up her wine as well, and mirrored my pose. "Interesting use of the term 'machinery.'"
"Isn't it? And yet I find the description apt. It is nothing more than steel and mechanisms at its base levels. It's what it represents that truly matters."
"My sister speaks the purest of truths. It represents peace and security for the Empire," Con cut in, lifting his glass as well. Slanting his own warning look in my direction. "To the glory of the Emperor. May he reign forever."
There was a lifting of glasses all around, a chorus echoing the last sentence. Natasi's eyes never left mine, and mine never wavered.
"You've yet to tour this mechanism of peace and security?" she continued, as if Conan hadn't tried to derail this whole topic.
"Not at as of yet," I replied. "My arrival on the station was rather sudden."
"I have heard as much," Natasi smiled, that expression implying she knew every detail of my detainment. A smile that grew when Con went slightly pink around the collar. "Your efforts to promote peaceful welfare on rebellious planets such as Alderaan have not gone unnoticed by the Admiralty. I admit to a certain degree of curiosity and pleasure at finally meeting you face to face."
I kept my expression carefully neutral. So that was the story Conan was telling everyone? I had gone off on a diplomatic foray across the galaxy, postponing my own marriage to Count Averstan in the name of Intergalactic Imperial Peace? Even I had to admit that it sounded better than 'ran away from a horrible prospect of marriage.'
I nodded my head in a formal acknowledgement of her claim. "We all do what we must to ensure peace and happiness. I think my accomplishments pale in comparison to your own, Admiral."
"My sister's lack of familiarity with this station will be corrected shortly," Con added, wiping his mouth with his napkin, hiding the grimace of anger at Daala for not allowing him to change the topic. "Grand Admiral Batch, himself, has offered to give her a tour of the station."
"I have," Batch replied, smiling gently in my direction. "Miss Motti has graciously accepted my offer. I can only hope I can keep up with the many questions she will ask. Miss Motti, if you don't mind me saying, has the most inquisitive and intelligent mind."
"She is challenging," Con put in, turning his words into a warning and curse, all wrapped up in a compliment. "She is a Motti through and through."
"I am merely who I was born to be," I retorted with one of my patented dazzling smiles. "Nothing more, nothing less."
Natasi's smile took on a slight tinge of real amusement, obviously not missing the tete-a-tete between Con and I. "I think you sell yourself short, Miss Motti. I sit behind a fleet of Star Destroyers. You stand side by side with those that would rip out your heart and eat it. Tell me who is the braver?"
The wives at the table made appropriately upset sounds at so vulgar an image as cannibalism being spoken at the dinner table. As if these women were innocent of the cold-blooded actions of their husbands, or the plots that they, themselves, hatched for their own amusement. But it was their way of telling Daala that she was being both rude and uncouth. Though by the way they treated her in the cocktail hour, shunning her and her mannish uniform, their dislike of her was already known. I bit back another sigh.
This was exactly why I had run away. Looking at those women was like looking at my own impending future if I married Count Averstan. Would I truly become as spiteful and petty as they? Would a cold marriage finally erode the last of my moral center until all I wanted was someone to numb the pain?
I glanced at Admiral Natasi Daala from beneath my eyelashes, saw her watching me with unabashed boldness. She was proof that a different future was out there. She wore the dislike of these women as if it were another medal to pin on her chest.
"No one doubts the bravery of either of you, Admiral," Grand Admiral Batch said, cutting through the sudden tension at the table. "As the lovely Miss Motti has put it, we all do what we can for the Empire. Fear inspiring mechanisms of war can only physically ensure the peace of our august Emperor. It takes heart and courage, the grace to see each member of the Empire as an individual, that can turn the desire for peace into a reality. For that, Miss Motti, and for your bravery to face anger with gentle grace, every one of us at this table owes you their lives. We bring the peace, yet you show us why we do what we do."
"I could not agree more," Uncle Wil put in, lifting his glass again. "To Admiral Daala and my treasured niece, Jentessa. Two warriors in their own right, two bringers of peace. Let us count our blessings to share their company on this night."
More glasses raised, more murmurs of agreement and fake smiles in my direction. Those I could ignore, had spent a life time learning to ignore. What I couldn't ignore in that moment was the way Uncle's eyes glittered when he made his little speech, the way they shifted between two people at the table—and one wasn't me. One was Admiral Daala, and the other was Grand Admiral Batch. Or more to the point, the way Batch was staring intently at me.
"I don't want you interacting with Admiral Daala anymore than you have to," Con instructed, swirling me across the floor as we danced.
The party had left the dining hall shortly after dinner, gathering in the large principle observation deck. Before us stretched a huge transparisteel viewport, easily the size of a capital ship. Nothing but stars filled that port, so beautiful as they glittered against the backdrop of black space. It was so impressive, so… overpowering… that the room needed little else in the ways of decorations. Some colorful banners upon the walls in this house's color or that, a few pots of flowers strategically placed to soften the military coldness of the room, and that was about it. And a small stage, upon which several uniformed men played elegant music on their instruments for which to dance.
I had to wonder just how much effort went into ensuring that none of the Star Destroyers and capitol ships and yachts ever touched that view of the stars. I wasn't completely blind to the fact that more Fleet power was present at the Death Star than I had ever heard of at a non-war-related event.
Further proof that Uncle Wil was up to something, that I was nothing more than a smokescreen.
Uncle Wil had the right of the first dance, and given that the dinner was supposedly in my honor, I was to dance with him. After that, he had passed me along to Grand Admiral Batch. Which wasn't a surprise at all. I knew now, at least in part, what Uncle wanted with me. Marriage to a Grand Admiral, by Uncle's own arrangement, would further promote House Tarkin in the eyes of the Imperial Court. There were only twelve Grand Admirals in all of the Empire, after all. Tying one of those twelve to a house through marriage guaranteed prestige and wealth. Not to mention choice assignments and quick promotions for military members of that family.
After that dance, I was passed to Con, as my brother. But only after I promised the next two dances to Batch.
I kept my smile in place. "I don't see the harm in idle conversation, Con. Remember, I was the one that didn't want to come here in the first place."
His hand tightened a bit on my waist, a little too tight. "She's dangerous, Tessa, very dangerous. You don't want to become tangled in her web."
"As opposed to being tangled in yours, or Uncle Wil's?"
His smile stayed in place, too, though I had a feeling that was through real effort. "Don't count on your gender as an exclusion to her plots. She's an Admiral just as I am, with ambition to spare. If lopping your head off and putting it at the feet of Lord Vader would earn her further power, she'd do it in a blink. I'm trying to save you from heartbreak."
"If you wanted to spare me all this, then why did you bring me here? I was happy on Alderaan."
"Your life was in danger on Alderaan," he countered.
I lifted an eyebrow before I caught myself. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing, Tessa. Forget I said anything."
"Kind of hard now that you've said it. Con, I have friends on that planet. If you know something that could harm them, you have to tell me."
"I don't know anything for certain. Only that the Emperor is looking at that planet with disfavor. The sector's representative is making some very unpopular motions in the Senate. The further you are from there, the safer you will be."
"Senator Leia Organa?" I gave a ladylike snort. "That doesn't surprise me. She was always the rebellious type. Do you remember that event in the Aldraig System almost eight years ago? The festive celebration of Tree-something-or-other that all in our social class were expected to attend? She had the temerity to be involved in that incident regarding Siofra Hevgon and General Veers. I thought Domina Tagge was going to have a heart attack, so was so pleased to have something to gossip about. So honestly, it doesn't surprise me that she'd make unpopular and radical decisions. She's always been too free with her time and opinions. "
Con's face darkened as the memory returned to him. Ever since that night in question, when Prince Bail Organa had had 'civilized words' with the then Colonel Veers regarding the incident, my brother had had it out for the other man. There had been nothing concrete to claim that Veers had an "interest" in young ladies, to put it politely. Indeed, there wasn't anything to talk about save for the fact that Miss Hevgon had gone dashing across the ballroom as politely as possible, obviously upset. Princess Organa had followed just as quickly. And then later on there was that conversation between Prince Organa and Veers.
It added up to a whole lot of nothing by anyone's standards. Veers and His Highness could have been discussing the color of the whiskey in their glasses for all anyone knew. But thanks to rumor-mongers like that harpy Domina, Con had always glared at Veers as if he were scum beneath his boots. Always assumed the worst of the man.
"Con, let it go. We were children. Years have passed since then."
"Apparently not enough to keep Senator Organa's tongue firmly behind her teeth. Her latest speech has caused no less than three systems to pull away from lucrative trade agreements with Alderaan, Tessa. Alderaan is shedding allies and gaining enemies at a rapid pace."
I couldn't help but blink at him in a sort of shock, a frightening thought occurring to me. "Do you think that Alderaan will go into open rebellion like Contruum?"
"I don't know, Tessa. I really don't know. Which is why I wanted you here with me."
Alderaan… in open rebellion? The notion was ludicrous! Alderaan was peaceful, it's people believing in philosophies of passive resistance. Even the riot I'd been caught in was touched off by a visiting Rodian. No self-respecting citizen of Alderaan would so much as raise their voice, nevertheless a weapon! And even if they wished to rebel, they had nothing in which to defend themselves. Contruum at least had had the shipping yards, the mining facilities… its population was centered in specific regions so it was easy to move people about.
Alderaan had no weapons, no fleet… its peoples used the entirety of the planet for life.
It was just… No, there was no way to describe how impossible a rebellion on Alderaan sounded.
"Again, I don't know," Con murmured softly. "I'm telling you as much as I can. So please, Tessa, don't be so difficult. Enjoy the party and the knowledge that you are safe here."
That brought me back to the topic at hand. "Safe? Con, I don't know if you missed it, but I think I'm only allowed to stay here until Admiral Batch proposes."
That caused him to lift an eyebrow this time... in pleasant surprise! "Do you think he will?"
I closed my eyes and my mouth against what I was thinking, what I wanted to say in response to that. "Con…"
"It would be a good match, Tessa. I can see why Uncle has suggested such a thing."
Suggested? More like politically maneuvered. It wouldn't have surprised me at this point if Uncle Wil hadn't told Major Fehr to go at me, arranging for Con to be out on duty and for Cassio to show up just in time to save me. Knowing that Cassio would bring me straight to my Uncle's office for safe keeping!
"What about Count Averstan?" I quipped. "He was the 'best match' for me not more than a month ago."
Con laughed derisively. "What is a lowly Count of some planet in comparison to a Grand Admiral? Tessa, it's more than father and I could have dreamed possible. It's what we both want for you."
Yes, it was what they wanted for me. But what about what I wanted?
