A/N: I want to thank you again for reviewing, favoring, following, and sending the private messages! The love for this story is awesome, and I really thank you for hanging in with me. :) Special thanks to BfheadGamer (twice LOL!), Shadir, May, As mad as one can get, Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Hoplite39, Equoise, KittyCaterpillar, Chocolatam, Nanobot5770, and MacDii for the lovely reviews. I sincerely hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.


I'd like to say that I remembered all of what happened next. I'd also like to say that my head didn't feel like someone had shoved it in a vice and then forced me to watch the entire Partridge Family series while they cranked that badboy down. But that wasn't happening.

Truth was, I was in more pain than I'd ever been before. You would think exposure to sub-zero temperatures would numb everything out and I wouldn't feel the pain. While that was true to some extent, it was the 'thawing' part that hurt almost as much as the freeing. It was all I could focus on as hands lifted me onto a stretcher and carted me into my ship. Well, that and some incoherent babbling at the owner of said hands to not leave Veers to his death. Lord only knew when the next Imperial shuttle would land, and he could die from his wounds at any moment.

Besides, there was a certain bit of sadistic satisfaction in making him my prisoner for once. Call it a side effect of having been kidnapped so many times by every Tom, Dick, and Imp that strolled across my field of vision. Call it 'bully reversal' or 'learned behavior' or any of that psychobabble. Call it whatever you liked to make you feel better, and I'll call it what it was to me: pure, beautiful, sweet vengeance.

Oh, and a touch of job satisfaction, too. I mean, really, I didn't go through all that crap to let him die in the snow.

There were a lot of other things I remembered, too, but they were vague impressions and faint sensory inputs. Like a half-remembered nightmare of being swallowed by a giant Aunt Jemima syrup bottle, my hands tied to either side of her glassy interior so I pretty much floated in her red syrupy blood. No amount of trashing could free my arms, nor my rather pathetic pleading at how ironic the situation was. Ironic because we normally ate her gooeyinsides on waffles and pancakes. I think I laughed at that, finding dark satisfaction in my mother's predictions coming to life. She'd always said that putting too much syrup on my pancakes would be the death of me. She was referring to diabetes then, but I had a feeling that wherever she was, she was laughing herself silly that she'd been right.

Figures it would be some sort of eighty-foot monster that shouldn't exist that punched my ticket for the final time.

But then something sweet-smelling was pumped into the mask on my face (don't ask me how it got there. I was too busy snickering at death-by-sugar), and I no longer cared if I was eaten by a beloved icon of my childhood.

Next was the very surreal sensation of Aunt Jemima popping off her own head and reaching down her neck to pluck me from her insides. Only to shake me gently until all the red stuff came off my body, and then wrap me in something soft that smelled faintly antiseptic. There was a part of me that was aware that I'd just received my first soak in a bacta tank, and subsequently went through the little sonic shower thingy at the end of the tube to remove any remaining red sludgy bacta from my limbs.

Apparently my jacked-up brain liked to be creative with my surroundings. Hence, the Aunt Jemima dream. It made me wonder if the dream about Dei had been just that—a dream. My brain's way of comforting me through the largest shock my body had gone through to date. Though I had to wonder what part of me was comforted by being swallowed alive by a large glass woman.

I decided to blame that on Vader. Everything wrong with my brain was now officially his fault. That made me feel better, and I was able to drift off into dreamless sleep for a bit.

The next thing I remembered was… well… right now, actually. Cracking open my eyes in the tiny little med-bay of the Runaway Princess. Coming eye-to-scanner with my black-and-red mechanical best friend.

"Heyya, Rido," I said softly, cracking a grin. "Thanks for the rescue."

Rido let out a series of beeps that, if I didn't know the twerp any better, I would have said sounded like relieved cursing. You know, the OMG-thank-fuck-you're-alright-you-had-me-so-worrie d-so-never-do-that-shit-AGAIN stream of rhetoric that your mother threw at you when the police escorted you to the front door in the middle of the night. Well, minus the f-bomb for most of you. My mommy was very colorful gal for being a white chick. She didn't normally sound like an extra in Real Housewives of the 'Hood, but when I did things that she deemed over the top stupid (like, say, sneaking out alone to watch the midnight premiere of Independence Day when I was thirteen?), she really let loose with her inner demons.

Sorta like Rido was doing right now. I'd never been bitched out in binary before. It was amusing to say the least.

Upon realizing I was nonplused by his explosive show of angry love, Rido extended that probe of his to give me the bird. That was followed up next by a series of low-noted, ear-bleeding bloops and bleeps that reminded me just how much of a jackass the dude could be as he rolled away. My grin widened. Man, it was great to be back with the people I loved most.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position on the bunk, my arms and legs protesting as loudly as Rido, who was still bitching at anything that came across his path. Doors, walls, computer parts, the very air... All was fair game as far as he was concerned. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to be up and moving yet and my muscles let me know how much of a bad idea this was. That was pretty much on track for me, since I was known for doing things I wasn't supposed to be doing.

And to add to my enjoyment of waking up alive, the next bed over revealed that I hadn't been dreaming about my first abduction (as the abductor, not the abducted). Maximilian Veers slumbered like the prisoner he was, hands cuffed to either side of the bunk with binders, feet similarly shackled at the ankles. His face was completely healed, his hair grown back as thick and lush as it had been. Bacta, man, I tell you! It's the stuff of miracles. No wonder there weren't any reported cases of cancer or something like that in the Star Wars Universe. Just slap some bacta on that tumor and presto!

The areas of his skin that had been burned were freshly pink as a new born baby's bottom. He'd carry a scar on his forehead now, from where whatever it was had smashed into his helmet and cleaved the thing in two. It started just above his left temple and ran diagonally across his forehead until it touched the beginning of that eyebrow over his nose. It would be hair-fine, that scar, barely noticeable when he wore his uniform cap. Not that he didn't look damn good in the simple light blue scrub-like tunic and pants he was currently wearing, mind you. But Veers was Veers, and he just looked odd without his uniform.

But he was alive. Uncrushed. Whole. Or he would be when all his treatments were finished. From the looks of the chart glowing above his bunk, he was going to need some serious surgeries once we got to a place with a real hospital. But again, he was stable and alive. And had both legs. That was worth smiling about.

Oh, and did I mention the fact that he was my prisoner? MY prisoner. Cue the happy dance! Darth Cupcake finally scored one for the home team.

I couldn't help it when I reached out a hand, placing it gently on his shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, his expression going tense, and the scanners around him beeped before a soft hiss of air echoed in the room. His face went lack once more, his consciousness slipping back to whatever it was he dreamed (hopefully not giant glass syrup bottles!). Another glance at the chart showed he'd been administered a round of sedatives. Either for the pain, or to keep him docile, I had no idea. If it was the former, I was going to feel shitty that I'd almost woken him. That pain sucked. If it was the latter, I was going to go put the beatdown on whomever it was that had rescued us.

No matter what side of this war I was on (sometimes even I wasn't sure anymore), I knew for a cold hard fact that I WASN'T that kind of kidnapper. I wasn't going to keep Veers in a drug-happy-nirvana to keep him all calm and listless.

Just no. That bus wasn't going to find a station in my brain. I'd let him go before then. Not that I was planning to keep him that long, anyway. Just until I found a slice of planet in some Imp-controlled sector where I could drop him off safely and then get away. Tall order, that. But I was willing to do what it took to see Veers survive. He was worth the risk.

I leaned down, trying very hard not to realize that this was exactly how shit had started with Nova. "You're safe, Max," I whispered into his ear. "No one is going to hurt you. You just concentrate on getting well, and I'll concentrate on getting you back to your side of this war. I promise."

His eyes moved behind his lids, faintly, but it was enough to let me know that he'd heard me. And thankfully there wasn't a hissing sound that meant the system was pumping him full of more drugs. At this point the poor man probably had more sedatives than blood in his veins.

Yeah, someone was about to catch a really nasty case of myfootuphisassitus for this. So not down with adding Master Torturer to my ever growing list of craptastic titles. It was bad enough that I was now Princess Master Jedi Aurora of Alderaan. Or was that Master Jedi Princess Aurora? Either way, I sounded like a five year old wrapped up in mommy's fluffy pink robe with a tin-foil crown on her head and waving a flashlight "lightsaber" around like I knew what I was doing.

Check that. At least the five-year-old got some enjoyment out of playing pretend. I haven't been hit in the head enough yet to actually find the fun in my wannabe titles.

But speaking of humor (and lack thereof), I wasn't going to be threatening to hit anyone in what I was wearing. Paper thin blue medical tunics and pants, much like the ones that graced the dearly sleeping Maxi, was less threatening than pink bathrobes. And less warm, too. I reached up and pulled a blanket from the cabinet above his bunk, draping it carefully over Max's sleeping form. Some of the little bars on his chart thing moved at that, and I'd like to think it signaled relief. I knew I was as cold as could be, so I could imagine this was about the same for him.

At least the cold let me know that we were still on Hoth. Even the depths of space wouldn't be this cold, at least not inside the ship. There was a metric crap ton of seals and programs that ensured that the iciness of space wouldn't enter the cabin while we were star trekkin' it about the galaxy. Systems that didn't engage when we were planetside with a breathable atmosphere. Hah, take that, Wedge! I did pay attention to some of those navigation lessons you gave me.

Mostly. Partly.

Oh shut up. You'd think learning to fly a spaceship wouldn't be as boring as taking your driver's rules test for the first time. You'd be dead wrong.

One last squeeze of Maxi's shoulder and I made my stiff and achy way towards my cabin. If we were still on Ice Cube Central, that meant Maxi and I couldn't have soaked in the syrup that long. If I remembered events correctly, after surviving that walker crash I also saw a smoking crater where Echo Base had been. And if the Runaway Princess was still planetside, that meant the Imperial planetary blockade was still in orbit. Which in turn meant the 'Falcon was still here. Leia wasn't going to leave without me. I'd gathered that much from her Traitorship's conversation with Veers before he and I took the Worst Splash Mountain Ride Ever to the snowy ground.

And if Pellaeon was sent to look for me, too, he wasn't leaving until he found me. No one wanted to be the nitwit that had to tell Ol' Brighteyes that his darling had vanished with the rebels yet again.

That made me smirk, made me try to move faster towards my quarters. I had some clothing left there, I think. Most of it was from the wardrobe that Lorana had made for me on the Death Star, most of which I'd sold as fast as possible. Fancy dresses did not survival gear make, as Master Yoda would have said. Good solid tunics and pants and boots had been my favorite outfit on Hoth—

I sighed when I opened the closet. Yup, you guessed it. Nothing but fancy dresses, the ones that Leia wouldn't let me sell. I'd forgotten that I'd stuffed them all here to make space in my tiny closet in my Hoth room. I stared at the silks and velvets and the… err… whatever other materials that made up precious fabrics in this galaxy. None of it was functional unless I was planning to dance the night away.

I couldn't help the way my hand reached out, fingertips brushing the sleeve of the emerald ballgown, the one with the slender skirt and the long bustled train behind it. Thrawn had bought it for me, said that he enjoyed the way the color highlighted the natural tan of my skin. Or rather, he'd bought it for Aurora in one of those fake memories. I could tell the difference now between what was real and what was fake, but that didn't stop the emotions that I had developed to go along with those memories. I could still smell the faint hints of the flowers in that garden, could almost taste the wine on his lips.

My hand strayed from that gown to the scarlet one slashed with gold, the one Thrass had given Aurora on their one year anniversary together. The cost of the gold thread alone that held that gown together was more than most Regional Governors made in a decade. She'd loved it, and he'd loved that she'd loved it.

And I hated that I knew that. Hated even more that Thrass and Thrawn had no corresponding memories to go along with mine, so they'd have no idea what these gowns now meant to me. Scratch that, they knew about the memories thanks to Lorana crawling through my head and spewing out facts like freaking parrot. But knowing something and feeling something? Two different things entirely.

I was so going to punch all three of them.

I yanked the simplest gown that I had from its hangar, tossing it on quickly. Its skirt barely brushed the top of my feet, and the good stout shoes I threw on guaranteed that I wouldn't fall on my face while wearing it. I would just be mocked by every solider and rebel I came across is all. Seriously, who wears a full skirted blue silk gown with puffed sleeves to a battle? The elaborate silver scrollwork on the bodice alone was going to shine like a beacon to anyone with half a brain and a searchlight!

Correction to the punching plan: I was going to sock Lorana first. If I had even an inkling of where she was, I would call her stuck-up butt right now and—

My eyes flicked of their own accord to the comm. unit, the unblocked memories of Aurora floating to the surface. Holy crap, why hadn't I thought of this before? I knew everything Aurora knew, and that included all those personal comm. codes. It didn't matter where Darth Plain-and-Tall was in the universe, I could contact her. And it dawned on me that I knew Thrass's as well. And Thrawn's. I could call them anytime I liked, thanks to Lorana's little dalliance through my head and leaving her—literal—calling card stamped across my grey matter.

A portion of my brained screamed these codes were only to be used in emergencies. Well, this was an emergency in my book. The best, and last, emergency I would ever have regarding that trio!

I flounced over to the chair (seriously, there's little more you can do in a dress like this than flounce. I was fairly certain Queen Elizabeth I would have looked at it and said "Damn, child, even I'm not that ostentatious!"), and for once let my fingers travel over the keys without breaking into a cold sweat or mind-numbing pain. Ah, the wonderful freedom of possessing a brain unblocked with Force commands.

It didn't take long for her Mind-Rapeyness to answer her comm. And sweet, sweet cosmic justice, she was all sleep-tousled and bleary-eyed, her hair mussed up in a way that only good marathon sessions of hot sex could provide. Her eyes widened in absolute shock at my appearance.

I smiled.

Waved.

Blew her a kiss.

"Morning, Sunshine!" I shouted loudly, not even ashamed an ounce to watch her wince at the volume.

I even cackled a bit when I heard someone jerk on the sheets next to her. Oh, goodie, Lord Jackhole was there! It looked like the Karmic Lottery was just dumping its glorious winnings all over my lap today. First Veers as my prisoner and now this? Revenge was so much better than Christmas!

"Aurora," She began, annoyance wiping the sleep from her eyes. "I demand to know what you think you are… Ah, I see. Good morning, Mary. I am relieved that you survived. We were worried over your safety."

I smiled again at her suddenly reasonable and slightly wary tone. Even more so at how she said she was worried about my 'safety' rather than 'me' personally. "Yeah, I could really see that you were losing sleep over it, my friend."

She stiffened, apparently realizing that I was free from her mental commands—and that I knew all about those commands now. "I will not explain my actions."

"Then you just saved yourself a lot of wasted breath, doll. I'm not looking for explanations. I'm here to tell you and your hubby and your bro-in-law to go screw. I'm done with the lot of you."

More shuffling took place on the bed, and I gathered from the way Plain-and-Tall had the sheet wrapped around her like a toga, that had to be Thrass scrambling for a robe.

"Mary, I don't think you want to do that right now—"

"You know, I'm a little tired of you all telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing 'right now.'"

"You jeopardize our plan."

"Yours."

"Excuse me?"

"Yours," I said again, making a show of studying my nails. Man, what I wouldn't have given in that moment to have a nail file. You know, to give that whole 1950's classy kiss-off message of 'my manicure is more important than your whole life.'

"I don't understand."

"Oh, then I'll cheerfully explain it to you. It was your plan all along. I wasn't part of it. You just made me feel like I was, going so far as to rearrange my mind while you pretended sip tea and to be my friend. That was low, Lorana. Seriously low. I really wanted to connect with you on some level. I really liked you. Too bad."

A blue-skinned hand appeared on her unadorned shoulder, easing her out of view. Thrass's image replaced hers, the look in his glowing red eyes not exactly pleasant. My heart skipped a beat at that, a painful pang for him surfacing from Aurora's memories. He'd hurt her when he'd dumped her for Lorana. Even though she'd known all along it was coming. They'd been better friends than lovers, or rather better benefactor/ward than anything else. Still, she'd loved the jackhole on some level.

"You have been missing for quite some time. Three months to be exact. We had almost given you up for dead," He began, his voice dangerously quiet. "I trust you have an explanation for this?"

"For this call? Absolutely! I have several, in fact. First being that you're fired."

He lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean, fired?"

Oh, it was too easy. I couldn't resist. "Yuppers," I said in my best Emperor Kuzco voice. "How else can I say it? You're being let go. Your department's being downsized. You're part of an outplacement program. We're going in a different direction and we're not picking up your option... Take your pick. I've got more."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his face going completely blank. Letting me know I'd really ticked him off with that. "Amusing, Aurora. Now that you've wasted a significant chunk of my time with your antics, please go on with the reason for your call. Or was this rather juvenile attempt to escape your duties the true reason?"

"Uh, did you not get the point, sugar? I don't work for you anymore. You blew it, or rather she did," I nodded to Lorana, who was watching over his shoulder. "Seriously, if you wanted my help, you should have played it straight with me. Instead you threw more pain into my life with implanted orders and conversations I couldn't remember. I'm a person, you jackass, not a slave or a robot to command."

"Those were placed for your protection, Aurora."

"My name is Mary."

"No, it isn't. Not anymore."

"Oh stop with the psycho-babble. You've lost, Thrass. Have the grace to admit it and move the fuck on. No one likes a sore loser."

Real fire started to burn in those eyes, so much so that I nearly lost my nerve. Nearly. "We will finish this discussion in person, Aurora. When will you rejoin the Fleet?"

"Somewhere in the range of never and don't hold your breath. That work for you? Oh, and the name is Mary. Say it with me now. M A R Y."

His lip twitched, and not in the fun smile sort of way. Lorana's hand appeared on his shoulder this time, and he actually closed his eyes, as if taking a deep calming breath.

"Listen to me, Mary," she tried, eyes filling with a show of concern that I almost believed. If, you know, she wasn't a mind-raping liar. "We have not deceived you to be malicious. There were things we could not tell you because of your connection to Lord Vader. Do not make an enemy here."

"Too late on that account. I think your husband is going to have a stroke if he keeps repressing his anger like that. I never knew someone with blue skin could flush so red."

Lorana winced, and when she opened her eyes again, she had the anger burning in their sepia depths. "Take your shots all you like, Mary Vasquez, but take them at me. This was my doing, not his."

"I'll give you brownie points for trying to defend your husband's honor. That was pretty nice of you. But, you see, we have this problem called I don't believe a word you say anymore. We've had this discussion, remember? About how Thrawn and Thrass couldn't trust me because I'd lied to them before. Well, shoe's on the other foot now."

She ground her teeth. "I have no idea what that means. If this is another bit of whining over these… what were they called… Conservative shoes—"

"They're CONVERSE! And yes, I'm still pissed about that. But that's not what I'm pissed about right now. Well, not completely, because honestly, you can't stop being pissed about losing something so pretty and wonderful and—"

I blinked, realizing that she'd somehow done it. She'd muted me! Not with some triggered mental command, thank the stars, but with a literal flick of her gaze—to the electronic controls in front of her! How rude. It wasn't like I swooped in and destroyed her favorite outfit and shoes and then played Simon Says with her mind!

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at her. Especially at the way Thrass seemed to have recovered his good humor. The jackhole was the one smiling at me now, and I was the one doing the glaring. I hated how he was able to do that, to always turn the tables on me. It just wasn't fair.

A moment later, sound returned from their side of the connection. "I trust you are through?" he asked pleasantly.

"Not by half," I growled.

"Then I invite you to finish this conversation in person. So much is lost in holo conferences."

"I'd rather have a root canal, thanks."

Lorana shook her head again. "I still don't know what you are talking about. Shoes? Roots?"

I ran a hand over my face, trying very hard not to scream. "Don't worry, doll. I'm used to that by now. Look, we're getting away from the point—"

Thrass raised that stupid eyebrow once more. "This call had a point?"

I took a page from Rido and gave him the bird. "Yes! Now stop interrupting me, dammit. This whole call boils down to two points. Point number one: get it through your ridiculously thick heads that I'm not falling for it anymore. I'm breaking up with you guys. This thing between us is through."

"And what shall I tell Thrawn?" Lorana interjected. "He went through a lot of trouble to ensure you had your chance to reach Dagobah. He's still contending with Lord Vader over that. You owe him your life."

"I don't owe anyone shit," I countered. "I'm sick of you all trying to convince me that I do. I've done everything you've asked and still you did this to me? I'm righteously angry that you betrayed me! You of all people knew how much it hurt to be brain wonkied until I nearly lost my own identity. You felt it all in my head! And STILL you did it to me again! No offense, sister, but fuck right off. Anything I owed his Most High Annoying was paid off by what you did to me."

I leaned forward, nearly pressing my face to the screen. "And after all that, I still can't believe I am loyal to the freaking Empire! You want to know how I know that?" I hissed. "Because I nearly died saving General Veers from his own death, that's why!"

"You what?" Lorana was on her feet. "Mary, you must come to us immediately for medical treatment. The rebellion isn't equipped with the facilities that we—"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I have no plans on letting Max die."

They blinked in unison, going so far as exchanging looks. "You mean he is with you now?"

"Uh, yeah. He's my prisoner. But unlike you guys, I don't drug, torment, brain-scramble, or hurt my prisoners. In fact, that was the second point of my call. I need to arrange a drop off location so Maxi can get that real care that you were talking about."

Unbelievably, a thoughtful look passed over Thrass's face. Oh, he was still angry enough to chew deck plating. But most of that was concealed by the curious way he peered at me. As if he could search my face through the comm. screen for whatever it was he was looking for. So much so that I backed away from the screen. Like you automatically do when there's a King Cobra on the TV screen. Just that unconscious flight reflex that happens when your brain recognizes something powerful enough to snuff your ass in a blink.

Man, how did I suddenly loose the upper hand here? Internet courage, don't fail me now!

"You captured one of the Empire's greatest Generals," he said simply, still staring at me.

"Yeah, I said it didn't I? Unlike you guys, I don't lie… mostly. Without good reason, I should say. And there's no good reason to lie about this right now."

"You captured him by yourself?"

I shifted a bit. "Well, an astromech droid helped somewhat."

"I was under the impression that General Veers was in command of an AT-AT during that conflict."

Conflict… what a lovely term to describe the abduction and murder of several hundred people I called friends. "Yeah, he was," I crossed my arms over my chest. "And so was I. How do you think I knew to warn him about the crash?"

"Crash?"

Shit. Shouldn't have said that. "Yeah, I knew a crash was coming that could have killed him. No, it WOULD have killed him. I stopped it. But not for you and your merry little band of jerkfaces. I did it for Max. Because he's worthy of respect, and he didn't deserve to die that way. Not that we almost didn't when the walker exploded—"

Thrass held up a hand, and amazingly, I shut up. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, the first real emotion I'd ever seen in him outside of anger. This… this was real concern, real worry… for me? "It… what? I need you to start at the beginning, please. Leave nothing out."

He actually settled into a chair, as if I was giving him a debriefing while he had his morning coffee. And so help me, I opened my mouth to answer before I caught myself. The perfect amount of concern he put into both tone and expression, had me wanting to blab my whole life story at him. No, had me wanting to believe he cared. No wonder he was a master at politics. I bet senators and royalty of all types just prattled on in his presence, thinking him their new best friend.

Hypnotized like people used to think King Cobras could do. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. Remembering nights sitting on the arm of his chair like Lorana was doing now, talking on and on about my day while he listened with that exact expression on his face. Aurora's memories, but damn if they didn't make me feel safe. Made me want to tell him everything.

"No," I whispered, looking away.

"Aurora, look at me."

"No."

He sighed. "You have every right to be angry, but not to lose your life so foolishly by being blinded by it. Come to us for medical care. I guarantee the rebellion does not have the resources we do, and they could not have treated everything that happened to you if you were, indeed, in an explosion. At least give us the chance to explain why things must be the way they are. More is at stake here than I can safely explain via the comm."

"No. I'm done with you."

"I don't believe you."

Said so easily, so simply. And so damn truthfully. "Just tell me where to drop off Veers," I sighed, still not looking at him. "He needs that medical aid."

"So do you."

I shrugged a shoulder. "I've had worse."

"I highly doubt that. I can see the pink of newly healed skin on your neck, Mary. The way your hair is significantly shorter than it was. Come home where you belong. We'll tend to your needs."

That did it. Worst possible thing to say, and for once it wasn't the comment about my hair. Though shorter? Really? Max's hair had grown back like it should have. I didn't even give a thought to mine after witnessing that. I needed a mirror, pronto. But first I needed to finish this conversation.

What was I saying… oh, right. It was the wrong thing for him to say, that whole business of coming home to the Empire where I 'belonged.' Especially after Dei had said that in my dream. I looked him in the eye finally, not ashamed of that tear that ran down my face.

"I don't have a home. Or have you forgotten? Now shut the hell up and tell me where to meet you, or I'll drop Veers somewhere behind Imperial lines and take my chances with him surviving it."

His lips compressed in a thin line. "Very well. I will not banter with you on this when you are obviously wounded. Threnody is transmitting the coordinates as we speak, along with some instructions for your safety. Though I highly recommend that you turn yourself over to Admiral Pellaeon. He'll see you safely back home—"

"I. don't. have. a. home. What, do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"Yes. you. do," he shot back. "You belong here, with me. With Threnody. And yes, with Thrawn. Do I need to spell that out for you?"

I glanced down at the board, saw the red light notification of incoming data. "I'll be in touch."

I disconnected the call, cutting Thrass off in whatever he was about to say. No doubt by now he was transmitting the whole conversation to Thrawn. I winced at that. He was going to make my life hell—not that he hadn't already—over this. And yet I just couldn't bring myself to care. Something else was bothering me now, something that stole all the happy-happy-joy-joy out of my victory in saving Maxi.

It'd unnerved me, that comment about belonging with him. It was the first time he'd said "With" and not "to" him. All the Aurora memories said that I did. But all the Dei memories, all the real Mary memories, said that I didn't. But I could, if I chose to. I could completely and sincerely belong in this galaxy. For the first time since arriving on the Tantive IV, my destiny was truly in my own hands. And I had no freaking idea what to do with it.


I looked like a young River Song.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror of the 'fresher station, and just… well… stared. White-blond curls cascaded in frothy waves down to my shoulders, all frizzy at the ends and uneven in places. I supposed that's what happened when a spark of plasma flame tried to take on a new profession as barber. It was a harsher look for me, one I never would have attempted at home, but with the curls, it didn't look too bad. Well, it wouldn't once I got a decent shape to it. Then again, at home my hair was stick-straight and without body.

Vader must have done something more to me when he'd Princessed me than just have my hair styled. This looked genetic of all things. As if I had been born with all that luscious curl.

I tried not to think about that, or what else he could have changed in my genetic structure. Or worse, what else he might be changing in his own genetic structure. That vision on Dagobah had hinted to as much. Was I really walking around as one of Vader's experiments? The test run before he figured out how to permanently eject himself from his suit?

I shivered a lot. First, for the very thought of that. Secondly, because if he was doing experiments, I needed to tell the Trio of Terror about it. Which would put me right back into their plans.

Crap. Double, triple freaking crap. I had a lot to think about and quickly. And the best place to do that was—you guessed it!—at the navigation seat.

"Master Jedi, I'm pleased to see you up and fully functional."

I slanted a glare at Dack Raltor as I walked into the cockpit. "Blow me, flyboy. You know damn well who I am."

He lifted his hands in mock surrender, grinning ear to ear as he stood up from the pilot's seat, wrapping me in a tight hug. "You scared the life out of us, Rori. When your comlink signal vanished, we thought the worst."

"Vanished?" Huh. Veers must have jammed the thing when LG and I were taken up into the walker. "If it vanished, how did you find me?"

"Rido," he sank back into the pilot's seat. "That droid about turned himself inside out when the main computer lost your signal. He was set to take my X-wing into the air all by himself until I stopped him. We honestly thought that was the end of it until he somehow slipped his restraining bolt. The next thing we knew, the 'Princess was powered up and nearly into the air. I was lucky that I had some of the original security codes that Nova installed. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise the best droid in the world would have run off with my ship," I couldn't help but smile. Someone was getting a super awesome oil bath when we were somewhere safe again.

Dack nodded. "By the time I got to the controls, he'd already recalibrated the sensors to look for your bio signature. Since I was already in the air, I figured that one more ship wouldn't be missed in the confusion."

"So you came after me," I said, truly touched. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, uncomfortable with the praise from a royal. "I wouldn't be here now without you, Rori. Being part of a team like Rogue Squadron is what I've always wanted out of life. And that wouldn't exist without you. So I suppose I owe you twice."

I shook my head, feeling the odd sensation of my curls brushing my face. "You owe me nothing, Dack. You earned it. I'm just glad that you are alive. Sincerely, I'm glad."

Because he was supposed to be pancake batter on the bottom of a walker's foot right now. I shivered again, and cleared my throat. "We probably don't have a lot of time," I said, glancing over the barely lit controls of the ship. We were on standby power for some reason. "What's going on? What have I missed? How long was I taking a bacta nap?"

"Four hours in the soup," he replied, clicking a few buttons to nurse power back into the systems. "About another hour asleep. So from the time we found you til now? About six standard hours total."

I whistled low. "The base?"

"Fallen."

"Our people?"

"Most of Rogue Squad has escaped already, so have all the capitol ships from my count. The 'Falcon is hiding in a cave like we are right now, on the other side of the planet."

"Why is the 'Falcon still here?"

He looked at me oddly. "Your sister wouldn't leave until she knew you were okay. She missed the last transport out for that reason. Captain Solo wouldn't leave her to face the wrath of the Empire alone, so he took her with him on the 'Falcon. From what I heard, it was a rather explosive display of temper on both their parts. He actually threw her over his shoulder like he did to you, dragging her kicking and screaming onto the 'Falcon. She was literally going to stand there and face down the entire Fleet if she had to, to ensure you were okay."

I buried my face in my hands so he couldn't see the frustration. Oh, she was waiting there for the Fleet, alright. But not out of concern for my safety. She'd been waiting there to open the door for Daddy Dearest, probably with an entire stack of data cards detailing where the next rebel base was, who was going to be there, and the best ways to go about capturing it. Expecting me to be walking beside Big Daddy V and General Veers, so our Dark Side Using Brady Bunch could go and pick up Luke from Jedi School and then gleefully destroy the galaxy.

Well, at least Han was doing what I needed him to do—saving Leia from herself. She wasn't getting off the Falcon on her own. If she'd put up even a modicum of the fight I had the first time Han hauled me onto the Falcon, she was now currently locked in that cargo hold.

"Okay," I said through my fingers, running them up through my hair. "Okay. So where does that leave us?"

"Ready to blast off as soon as Captain Solo gives the word."

"Okay," I said again, rising to my feet. One decision finally made. "If you can, comm. the Falcon and tell them to hold off a minute. I need to go have a talk with the General."

Dack made like he was about to rise to his feet, picking up his blaster from where it sat in the co-pilot's seat. "Let me go with you. I'll… do it… for you if you need that. I owe him for Damien."

It took me a second to realize what he was saying. "No," I said firmly. "No, we aren't killing him. I didn't go through all that to capture him just to execute him. And what do you mean for Dam—"

Then it clicked. Lieutenant Guy… LG… Damien Mercado. The young sergeant that had gone with me up into the walker, who most likely died in a detention cell when the thing fell or blew up. I had to rest my hand on the back of the nav chair, my legs going all wobbly. He'd followed me into battle whole heartedly, trusted me. And now he was dead.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, not sure who I was talking to. Damien or Dack or myself? Did it really matter? "Shit, I'm so sorry I got him killed."

"You didn't," Dack put a hand on my shoulder. "The Empire did. And I would like the honor of killing the son of a bitch that led the assault that killed him."

"Slow your roll, there, ace," I said, trying not to give into the urge to cry. I'd barely known Damien but he'd followed me, trusted me. Had been my responsibility. And now he was... "We need him for now. If things change… I'll let you know. For now, I need to talk to him, alone."

"Rori—"

"Dude, I'm tired and hurting and grieving right now. Don't make me make this an order. You know I don't work that way. Just give me a few."

He didn't like it, but he let go of me. No doubt turning on the comm. in the med bay the moment I walked out of the cockpit. I was going to have to be careful with what I said to Veers. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was going to have to use what Thrass and Lorana had sent me. It galled my ass in so many ways to take their help. But now I had a new situation. I had a supposed-to-be-dead rebel wanting to kill a supposed-to-be-crippled-turned-prisoner Imperial General.

And just little ol' me standing between them. I'd ask how things got so screwed up, but you're probably sick of hearing me ask that.

The Emdee droid did as I instructed and made with the anti-drugs. I winced in sympathy as Max's eyes fluttered, his face contorting in pain. But those lovely orbs of his opened, and when they stared at me they were clear. I sat down on the edge of his bunk, watching him try to lift his arms and legs. Watching him come to terms with the gravity of his situation. And then those eyes turned towards me, an oddly relieved yet guarded light in their depths.

I lifted a hand in warning, forestalling any words, and pointed at the location where the hidden comm. speaker rested. He nodded once, the action more painful than it should have been. And then I took a deep breath, and did the most painful thing I'd done all day. The very thing he'd asked me to do when we'd both thought we'd freeze to death in the snow.

I looked into his eyes, and followed Lorana's instructions.

"Axiom Theta Omicron Omega," I mouthed the high level recognition code, and cursed silently as he nodded again, closing his eyes.