Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, or the song 'do you hear the people sing?' which is from Les Miserables. Neena is a musician, and I thought that it would be a good song for the rebels. I just changed a few lyrics to suit the universe better.

Chapter Seven Do

You Hear the People Sing?

Millennium Falcon, Space

Han and Chewie were busily shutting down the engine and all electronic systems while Threepio, Neena and Luke looked on worriedly.

"I'm going to shut down everything but the emergency power systems," Han explained in a tense voice, answering their unspoken question.

"Sir," Threepio began tentatively. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but... does that include shutting me down, too?"

Chewie barked "yes". But Han shook his head, to everyone's surprise. They all knew how much Han disliked the protocol droid. It was generally believed that if not for Leia's fondness for Threepio, Han would probably have stripped him for parts. And, of course, that belief was completely right.

"No," Han told him curtly. "I need you to talk to the Falcon, find out what's wrong with the hyperdrive." Suddenly, the ship lurched, causing all the loose items in the cockpit to go flying around and making Chewie howl as the humans hastily ducked the flying objects.

"Sir, it's quite possible this asteroid is not entirely stable," Threepio said worriedly.

"Not entirely stable?" Han repeated. "I'm glad you're here to tell us these things. Chewie, take the professor in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive."

"Oh!" Threepio threw his hands up in the air as he followed Chewbacca out of the cockpit. "Sometimes I just don't understand human behaviour. After all, I'm only trying to do my job in the most..." The sliding door closed, cutting off his indignant remarks.

Abruptly, the ship lurched again, throwing Neena across the cabin into Luke's arms. A second later, the motion stopped as suddenly as it started.

Neena pulled away from Luke, a slight flush on her olive-toned cheeks.

He coughed into his hand, releasing her with a feeling of reluctance. "Are you okay?"

"Sshh!" Han snapped over his shoulder at them, still flicking off the various systems. Luke ignored him. As good a strategist as the prince was, he was rarely involved in field missions, his status as one of the public faces of the Alliance protecting him from it. That, combined with his status as the Crown Prince of Alderaan, had given a hint of arrogance, and he was terrible when it came to following orders from anyone save a select few. Han Solo was not one of those few.

"Has your shoulder stopped bleeding?" Luke asked Neena concernedly. Her green shirt had a large dark stain, covering most of her arm. The rag she had used to staunch the bleeding was soaked in crimson blood, some droplets still falling to the floor sickeningly.

Neena nodded silently at him. "Why don't the two of us leave Han to fix the ship?" she suggested. "We're only getting in the way."

"Yes, please," Han agreed. Luke scowled at him, but acquiesced. The two left and Han slumped, wiping the back of his arm over his forehead. Force, he missed Leia.


Dagobah Jungle

The mist had dispersed a bit, but it was still a very gloomy looking swamp. Leia pulled an equipment box from the shore to the clearing where she ignited a little fusion furnace and warmed her hands before it. Once she no longer felt as if her fingers were going to fall off from the cold, she took a power cable and plugged it into Artoo's socket.

"Ready for some power?" she asked her friend brightly. She didn't feel particularly cheerful, but Leia made it her business to never show her distress. It felt like a betrayal of Obi-Wan, who had warned her so often of the dangers of giving in to negative emotions. Therefore, she did all that she could to ignore them. When she next meditated, she would work on accepting them and releasing them into the Force. "Okay. Let's see now. Put that in there. There you go."

The droid whistled his appreciation as Leia opened a container of processed food (standard issue of the Rebellion for all pilots in case they needed to make an emergency stop) and sat lotus-style before the thermal heater.

"Now all I have to do is find Master Yoda," she sighed, tapping her knee worriedly. Nervously, she looked around at the foreboding jungle. "Still... there's something familiar about this place. More than just the Force. I feel like... I don't know..."

"Feel like what?" a strange voice piped up suddenly.

Artoo screeched loudly in fear. Leia, completely caught off-guard, backflipped and found herself, lightsabre ignited and held defensively, staring down at a...troll. She realized that she was gaping inelegantly, and snapped her mouth closed. Her mother had raised her properly, and such unladylike actions would have appalled Sola and Jobal too, probably.

"We're being watched," Leia finished as she carefully lowered her weapon, before she crouched down to be closer to the troll's height as she studied him. She thought, from the voice, that the troll was a male. He was small, about the size of a human toddler, and had green skin, very weathered though she didn't know if that was natural for his species, or a result of a hard life. He had triple-clawed hands and feet, was dressed in old rags, and his eyes lacked any irises, having only ink-black pupils.

"Hello," she said gently, giving a smile. He had already shown that he spoke Basic, so she didn't need to worry about him not understanding her, at least. "I'm sorry about that. You startled me. My name is Leia Naberrie."

The troll nodded at her. "Names, names," he hummed. "Important, names are not. Make you who you are, names do not. Make one who they are, the soul does. Actions do. Names do not."

Leia blinked in bemusement, trying to decipher that strange sentence. Her eyebrows raised as, with the aid of a walking stick, the tiny stranger moved over to one of the cases of supplies. He promptly, without care for her or Artoo, began to rummage around. Artoo moved to the edge of the case – standing almost eye level to the creature who was carelessly handling the supplies – and squeaked his disapproval.

Leia, meanwhile, forced herself not to become irritated by the troll's actions. She was a Jedi, and her Master had always preached tolerance. To a certain point, at any rate. Tolerating the Empire was the exact opposite of her Force-given duty. But tolerating an apparently-senile creature's antics was entirely different. She stood, and walked over to him again.

"I'm looking for someone," she told him, the small creature still intent on examining all of her things. "Master Yoda, though perhaps he has changed his name for safety's sake. Do you know where I might find him?"

"Ah, Yoda. Know Yoda, do I," the troll turned and grinned up at her. Leia smiled back at him, finding herself feeling rather fond of the little creature. He seemed a bit crazy, and Leia liked crazy people. They were far more open to listening to her preaching about the Force, instead of scorning the words she spoke as that of a foolish young girl's delusions.

"That's wonderful," she crouched down again. "Can you take me to him?"

He looked thoughtful for a few moments, before nodding. "Do so, I can," he agreed. "But first, dinner we eat! Come with me, you will. And then, show you to Yoda, I will." He showed her a lamp he was holding in a grip that made her wince. "Mine this is, or help you I will not."

Artoo beeped indignantly at that, but Leia barely batted an eyelash. It had no particular significance to her, so why would she bother.

"That seems fair," she accepted, feeling the stress that had been weighing her down since she realized that she didn't know how to find the Grandmaster disappear. She had known that the Force would help her, but the creature's agreement to help buoyed her spirits.

It could be a trap, of course. But this planet was so Light and undeveloped. Surely the Empire would avoid it like the plague?

The troll smiled, his eyes dancing mischievously. She suspected that he was playing with her a bit, but didn't protest. "Good, good," he chirruped. "Mine this is. Now, dinner we have, then help you I will."

"That sounds excellent," she agreed cheerfully.

The creature turned and began scampering away, one of her lamps clutched tightly to his chest. Leia, after a second's hesitation, levitated Artoo into the air, and began jogging after him, relieved that she had experience in all sorts of terrain. Otherwise, she would probably have ended up tripping constantly over the vines dragging everywhere on the ground.

She silently hoped the supplies wouldn't all be destroyed, but she was prepared to prioritize. The only thing that really mattered to her was Artoo, after all. Everything except her friend could be replaced, with varying levels of difficulty. But there was only one Artoo-Detoo.


The Millennium Falcon, Space

Threepio whistled and beeped a strange dialect into the control panel in front of him. The control panel whistled back a few mystifying beeps.

"Oh, where is Artoo when I need him?" Threepio moaned as Han entered the hold area and knelt on the floor near the control box.

"Sir, I don't know where your ship learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect," Threepio told the captain, his voice a whine that made Han scowl in irritation. "I believe, sir, it says that the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized. I'm afraid you'll have to replace it."

"Well, of course I'll have to replace it," Han huffed. He passed a wire coil up to Chewie who was working near the ceiling. "Here! And Chewie..."

Chewie brought his head back through the trap door in the ceiling and whined. Han glanced back at Threepio, then whispered quietly to Chewie so only he could hear. "... I think we'd better replace the negative power coupling."

Luke was doing some basic repair work, stuff he actually could help with, when he heard the singing. He knew instantly that it was Neena. Her cover was that of a musician, and she had always loved music, even when they were children. His father had sponsored her, when she had gone to the Coruscant Academy of the Arts at fifteen. She could have become a galaxy-famous musician, had she not chosen to join the Alliance after Alderaan was destroyed.

"Do you hear the people sing?" she carolled, as he wandered into the cockpit where she was keeping an eye out for any Imperials or other threats.
"Singing the songs of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!"

"That's really good," he said, making her start and turn in surprise. She grinned at him, and he saw a holo-pad opened on her lap, music notes and words scrawled on the screen.

"I've been working on a sort of anthem for the Rebellion," she confided. "And I think that I've finally managed to finish it. Do you want to hear it?"

"I'd love to," Luke agreed, feeling a warmth in his stomach as he spotted the lights catch on the caramel-highlights in her dark hair.

Neena nodded, taking a deep breath to ready herself. A tap on her holo-pad provided the melody, and then she began to sing.

"Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the songs of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?

Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the songs of angry men?
It is the music of the people

Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?
The blood of the martyrs
Will water all the lands!

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the songs of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes.

Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the Light.

For the wretched of the worlds
There is a flame that never dies.
Even the Darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.

They will live again in freedom
In the Light of the Force.
They will walk behind the plough-share,
They will put away the guns.
The chain will be broken
And all beings will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes!

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes...
Tomorrow comes!"

She finished and looked expectantly at him. Luke was shocked, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He forced himself to swallow and clear it, allowing him to croak out, "That was amazing Neena. Did you seriously write that yourself?"

"Yes," she nodded proudly. Her expression saddened. "I started it after I heard about Alder-. About Alderaan. I wanted to make a tribute for everyone. It's long enough, and I wanted it to be perfect, so it took ages, especially seeing as I had my missions and everything to do as well. Obviously, they took priority. I was planning on asking if I could perform it on the next anniversary, on the podcast."

The Rebels had an illegal broadcast, called the Fighters of Liberty, where various members of the Alliance exposed Imperial atrocities, pointed out the (lack of) morality in various actions committed by the Empire, and urged people to fight back against the Empire's oppression. It was run by Sabine Wren, who had set it up with the late Ezra Bridger in honour of his birth parents, who had run the 'Voices of Freedom' before their arrest. Luke, Mon Mothma, and various other speakers often spoke on it. Up until his death, Obi-Wan Kenobi had spoken every year on Empire Day, speaking of the Purges and what had happened to the Jedi after wards. Now, Leia did it for him. She always looked hollow when she was done talking about her Order's merciless slaughter, and the years of hunting she had endured due to being born with Force sensitivity.

"As a member of the Council, you definitely can," Luke replied seriously, staring at her. "I bet people will come flocking to us, once they hear that."

Neena flushed and looked away. Just then, the ship heaved again, and they both grabbed at various things to keep in place.

"Well, I guess my performance depends on whether or not we survive this mess," Neena said ruefully, once the heaving had finished. They could hear Han swearing loudly from wherever he was.

Luke nodded, still staring at the other Alderaanian. 'Don't let yourself have regrets, my love' he remembered his mother's advice, years and years ago. 'Do what you must to be happy. It's not life without happiness. Only surviving.'

If he let the war with the Empire keep him from happiness, wasn't he letting them win?


The Executor, Space

The Imperial fleet moved through the asteroid-filled void, intently seeking its' prey. Among them was the Executor, Darth Vader's personal Star Destroyer.

Asteroids collided, creating a fireworks' display outside the bridge window.

Vader stood staring out the window above the control deck. Then he slowly turned toward the bridge. Before him were the hologram images of about twenty battleship commanders. One of the images, the commander of a ship that had just exploded from an asteroid hitting its' engine, was fading away quickly. Another image, in the centre and a little apart from the others, was faded and continually disrupted by static.

It was the image of Captain Needa, commander of the Star Destroyer most hotly on the tail of the Millennium Falcon.

Admiral Piett and an aide stood just behind the Dark Lord, not daring to say a word to interrupt Needa's report.

"... and that, Lord Vader, was the last time they appeared in any of our scopes," Needa informed her superior, keeping her eyes down respectfully. "Considering the amount of damage we've sustained, they must have been destroyed."

"No, Captain, they're alive," Vader insisted. "I want every ship available to sweep the asteroid field until they are found."

The Imperial star captains all muttered acknowledgments of the orders before they began to fade out one by one as Vader turned to Admiral Piett.

"Lord Vader," Piett said. The admiral was blatantly scared, his face white as a sheet.

"Yes, Admiral, what is it?"

"The Emperor commands you to make contact with him," Piett barely suppressed a stutter. At least the short conversation with the ruler of the galaxy had put his new position in perspective for him. As terrifying as Vader was, the Emperor was even worse.

"Move the ship out of the asteroid field so that we can send a clear transmission," Vader replied curtly. He was less than pleased at the demand. As a foolish young Jedi, he had considered Palpatine a mentor, and his only true friend. Now he realized that Palpatine had manipulated him worse than even the Jedi. Even if it had turned out for the best, giving him the power he had craved since he was a young slave on Tattooine, it still angered him that he had been played for a fool.

But the time was coming, and soon Vader would have his revenge, and the galaxy. Underneath his mask, a cruel smirk played on his scarred lips as Piett bowed and replied obediently. "Yes, my lord."

An hour later, Vader, was alone in his chamber. A sound began to fill the room and a light began to play across Vader's black figure. He looked up and bowed quickly. It was important to keep Sidious from realizing that the Apprentice was close to making his coup.

A twelve-foot hologram of the Galactic Emperor materialized before Vader as he sank into obeisance. The Emperor's dark robes and monk's hood covered him from head to toe. Ironically, they were like a black version of the robes worn by the Jedi, back in the days of the Republic. After the Purges, the Jedi who survived had all begun wearing smuggler-esque clothes, in order to blend in better. Leia Naberrie and Ezra Bridger had never worn robes at all. Bridger had worn an orange flight-suit, while Naberrie typically wore dark jeggings, and an equally dark lace-up shirt, with a pair of black combat boots and her hair done in an infinity-style bun.

"What is thy will, my master?" Vader asked, after he had straightened again.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," the Emperor informed his Apprentice.

His voice was deep and sent shivers up the spine of any who heard it. Had a Jedi, or any indeed, anyone who followed the Light Side of the Force, heard it, they would have recoiled in sheer horror and disgust at the Darkness that permeated the Sith's voice. However bad Vader was, Sidious' Darkness far outstripped that of his younger student. In fact, four years prior, simply hearing the Emperor's voice had been enough to send Ezra Bridger into shock.

"I have felt it," Vader confirmed.

"Leia Naberrie, the Last Padawan, is strong in the Force," Sidious observed. "And well trained. She has defeated seven Inquisitors singlehandedly, and in only three years." It had not been completely single-handedly, of course. But Sidious would never consider an unSensitive rebel relevant, even if their aid had allowed Leia Naberrie to escape the Inquisitorious so often.

Vader hid the tension he felt as he answered. "Yes, my master."

"She could destroy us," the Emperor predicted grimly.

Despite his own knowledge of the girl, Vader could not help but scoff at that. "She is just a girl," he pointed out. "Obi-Wan can no longer help her."

How could a half-trained girl, even his own daughter, possibly compare to him, the Chosen One? He had been prophesized to be the most powerful Force-sensitive alive, and he was. Not even the emperor compared to him, not in raw power at least. He was broken from his self-confident thoughts by his Master's sharp rebuke.

"The Force is strong with her, far stronger than natural for a girl with no Force-sensitivity in her lineage. I suspect there is more to her family than we know. And Kenobi trained her well. The Last Padawan must not become a Knight."

"If she could be turned, she would become a powerful ally," Vader suggested, keeping his Force-presence neutral, as if he didn't really care about whether or not the Emperor agreed with his suggestion. If he had the Emperor's approval to Turn Leia Naberrie, instead of killing her, it would make things simpler on him.

"Yes," Sidious muttered. "Yes. She would be a great asset. Can it be done?"

"She will join us or die, my master," Vader's tone was cold and harsh as he responded.

A vicious smile played at the Emperor's barely-visible lips at that, and he gave a curt nod. Understanding the silent signal, Vader knelt again. The supreme Emperor passed a hand over the crouched Sith Apprentice and faded away.