"There it is," Rey breathes. Finn looks across the docks with all these ships, shiny and white and painted with pretentious names, bobbing on the waves, straining against their ropes. Snoke's is the largest one, a fiberglass luxury yacht with its own dock.
"Funny," Poe comments. "Never pictured him the sailing type. Although his face does look as if he's spent about a thousand years in the sun and wind as part of a noble pursuit to imitate a raisin."
Rey smirks. Finn's mouth puckers. He feels as if he's swallowed a gallon of the salt water and it's still undulating in his stomach.
"We have to get on that thing," Ben declares, wind whipping his hair around his face. "We have to search it."
"We know," Finn says dryly, tugging on his jacket.
"Then let's not wait," Rey says, springing forward. "The sooner we get this over with, the better." She pulls out her cell phone, checking it again. Finn wonders whom she's waiting for a message from.
Ben nods. But no one budges.
"Then let's move," Finn says, taking the first step. Poe, Rey, and Ben fall into line behind him.
"Wait, wait, wait," Poe interjects, clutching his skull. "Wouldn't it make sense for at least one of us to stay on the dock as a lookout?"
"Oh, shit," Rey breathes. "Yeah. I didn't think of that." Finn notices that her hands are shaking. Judging from Ben's frown, he's noticed as well.
"Ben can't do it," Poe says. "He knows Snoke best, and—"
"If he's going on board, so am I," Rey interrupts.
"Fine," Poe says. "I'll guard."
"Are you sure?" Finn questions. Will he be safer? Or more in danger?
Poe nods, setting his jaw. The stars blink above them.
It's your choice. Finn hauls in his breath.
"Okay," Rey says when they reach the ship. "We'll have to jump."
Poe cringes as Rey backs up.
"Let me go first," Ben says. "My legs are longer. I can pull you over, if you miss."
"Good idea," Finn interjects.
Ben backs up and takes a flying leap at the yacht, landing with a thunk. Finn's mouth goes dry. We're really doing this. Right now. This is happening.
Rey leaps, and sure enough, she slams against the rail, Ben grasps her arms, hauling her over.
"Is she okay?" Finn hollers. Rey's hand rises above, bearing a thumbs-up. "'Kay," Finn says, wiping his palms against his jeans. Poe's jacket wraps snugly around him. "Ready?"
"We'll help," Ben calls.
Finn backs up, unable to look at Poe and see the fear he knows riddles his boyfriend's face.
A light cuts through the side of his vision. Voices murmur between the sound of the lapping waves.
"Shit!" Poe gasps.
"Hide!" hisses Ben, and Finn and Poe look at each other and see no place besides the yacht, but—
"Dammit!" Poe grabs Finn and leaps into the bay. Salt water surges up Finn's nostrils, stringing, scratching at his eyes. He struggles to free himself from Poe's grip as they surface. Finn gulps in air.
"Did you hear a splash?"
Brendol Hux's voice. Finn swims closer to the pier, lowering himself so that his head's hidden under the overhang of the wooden boards. Poe glances at him, eyes wide.
"No," purrs Snoke.
Goddammit!
He better not be—he can't be—
Footsteps creak above them. Finn sucks in his stomach, though there's no point. Poe grabs his hand under the water, and Finn looks at him and knows that they have to duck under.
He can't hear, underwater. It's a tranquil illusion. When they surface, though, the voices sound farther away.
Someone says something in another language. "Great," Snoke says in response, and then Finn can't believe what he's hearing.
Something cranks. Almost like a walkway.
No.
"What do we do?" he mouths at Poe, who shakes his head, droplets flying from his hair.
There's nothing they can do. Get off, figure out a way to get off, you idiots! Finn thinks, wishing ESP were a real thing. C'mon, God, make it a thing just this once!
He's not sure how long they tread water for—his teeth are chattering and more voices, a new voice, one Finn's never heard before—echo. Engines rumble, and by the time Finn and Poe drag themselves, spluttering, onto the dock, the yacht's steaming ahead.
"Rey?" Finn calls weakly, already knowing he won't get an answer.
"What are we gonna do?" Poe whispers. "They might get—"
"Proof, or they might get killed!" Finn snaps. He yanks out his phone. "Dammit!" Can't anything go right? The water's ruined it. By the time they get to Poe's home—
"Jyn and Cassian live near the marina," Poe pants.
Finn scrambles to his feet. They'll have a phone. They'll know what to do.
"I hate this," complains Han, voice hoarse. "Just sitting in bed, doing nothing."
"If you even think of getting out of this bed before Dr. Kalonia gives the okay, I'll murder you myself," Leia tells him. Chewie rises, putting his enormous hand on Leia's shoulder.
"Oh, for real Chewie?" Han complains. "You're siding with her?"
"Why not?" Luke says with a snort.
"I'll call Ben again," Threepio says. "I'm sure he's on his way."
"Nah, don't, he's having fun with friends," Han says, a bit glum.
"Han," Leia says. "He's been extremely distressed over you."
Han's eyes brighten. "Poor kid." He blows out his breath. "And I know you're all keeping something from me about him, and I don't—"
"He kind of had a breakdown," Chewie mumbles.
"What?" Han's eyes widen. "Leia!"
"I think we need to force him into counseling, Han," Leia says, her fingers rubbing the back of her husband's hand. "He needs—"
Threepio screams, a shrill cry that sends Leia leaping up, expecting to see another assassin. Gorge rises. "Three—"
"Are you all right?" asks a small woman who appears in the doorway, beautiful even in her older age. White curls are pinned atop her head, and she wears a pantsuit Leia has to admit she envies.
"You!" Threepio gasps. "You can't—be—how—"
"Who are you?" Leia demands. Luke stands behind her, his expression just as baffled.
"I got a phone call asking me to come to Yavin," answers the woman, her eyes wide in fear. "I—"
"I can't believe you just showed up like this! You've never been one for propriety!" scolds Threepio.
"Excuse me?" the woman sputters. "I was told to—"
Threepio sighs. "And I am so glad to see you."
The woman's eyes water, and she wraps an arm around Threepio.
"Um," Leia says. "Who are you?"
"My name is Padmé Naberrie," says the woman, clutching her velvet handbag. "I'm sorry—I came to a Ms. Organa's house and a Mr. Dameron told me to come here—"
"Kes told a stranger to come here?" Leia demands. None of this makes any sense. Especially given all that's happened!
"But I thought you were the one who called," says Padmé. She rubs her eyes. "It was woman, at least." Her face reddens, as if she's realizing her mistake. "I'm so—and when you're going through all this—"
"Leia," croaks out Luke.
"What?" Leia snaps. She's not mad at the woman, but whoever's trying to do this—is it connected to the assassination? Her heart races. But this woman hardly looks dangerous—how could she be tied up in anything like that?
Luke staggers to his feet, running his hand over his unkempt beard. "I know who you are," he tells the woman. "You used to be Padmé Amidala."
The woman's brown eyes—brown, like Leia's own—fill with tears.
"My—father's mentioned you," Luke adds. "Only briefly, but—"
Leia's knees give out. She falls onto Han's legs. He grunts. "What?"
"You're my birth mother," Leia whispers.
The woman pales as if she might faint. Threepio grabs her shoulder. "That can't be true."
"You had twins, didn't you?" Luke manages. "Anakin Skywalker is our father."
Darth Vader. Leia's hands tighten into fists.
"You're Ani's kids? But I thought—I was told—you were given to someone in Europe. Both of you—"
"I was raised by Beru and Owen," Luke says. "She was adopted by Bail Organa."
Padmé's eyes flash. Her mouth opens, but she can't speak. A tear steaks down her cheek.
Luke rushes over and throws his arms around her. She gasps.
Han gapes at Leia. "Your mother?"
"Birth mother," Leia insists, voice shaking.
Padmé's sobbing now. "I never knew—I never knew—"
Unlike Anakin, Leia can tell these aren't crocodile tears. She cries the same way Leia does—with small gasps, a snort every now and then. Padmé pulls back and looks at Luke.
"I'm a reporter," he blurts out like a schoolboy. "Or I was. I won some prizes. Now I take care of—Anakin. She's a senator."
"I know who she is," Padmé cuts in. "I've heard the name—I've been praying since I heard about the assassination attempt."
You've heard of me? Leia's breath feels bottled up inside her windpipe, straining to get out, pressing against her throat. You don't even know about Ben—did Dad lie to me? Or were you both lied to?
He couldn't have. Leia knows her father better than that. He didn't lie.
Padmé's parents lied to her. And to my father.
They would have thought they were doing the right thing—young girl pregnant, her unsuitable boyfriend in jail—and their idiocy has caused so, so much—
But she's here right now, and Leia can't hate the woman. What do I do? She glances at Han, who still looks dumbfounded.
Leia holds her hand out, and Padmé shakes it. "I—used to want to be a senator, too."
Leia's eyes fill with tears.
The curtain flings back again, and Leia turns to see Dad there, face white. His jaw goes slack.
"Bail," Padmé says. "You raised my daughter."
Leia stiffens. Don't you—
"Thank you," Padmé says, her tears still falling. "You raised her well."
Bail doubles over.
"Dad!" Leia shouts.
"How?" he ekes out. "How are you—you signed away your—"
"I never did, because I never had a chance to even hold them," Padmé blurts out. "Just to—name. I thought you and Breha liked the name, and used it—"
Bail shakes his head. "This has to wait."
"I'd say we've waited long enough," Luke interrupts.
"Shut up, Luke! I—we—we have a problem. Leia. Han. It's—"
"Ben," both of them say immediately. Leia's stomach grows cold.
Padmé's brow knots as Bail gasps. "I got a phone call from Cassian Andor on my way here. Apparently Poe and Finn showed up begging for help, saying something about—knowing who shot Han—and Snoke—and that Ben and Rey were trapped on a boat with him."
"What?" Leia doesn't follow.
"Come again?" Han demands, pushing himself up. "What's happened to my son?"
Bail sucks in his breath and explains again. Snoke, the attempt to get a recording, the yacht disappearing, and by the time he's done Leia's head is in her hands, and she feels as if each of her ribs are dissolving, crumbling. Ben.
"I'm going," Han vows, trying to rip the IV out of his arm.
"Hell no!" Chewie barks, yanking Han's arm down. "You will die and that won't help anyone!"
"He's my son!" Han bellows, his face gray.
"Han," Leia says, rising and gripping his shoulders. "I'm going. Luke's going. We're all going, except Chewie, because he's going to need to stay and make sure no one tries to harm you."
"Oh, for—"
"I'm going," Bail adds. "That's my grandson."
Padmé's eyes flash. "I know Snoke."
"You do?" Leia turns to her.
She nods. "He's an old friend of Palpatine's—kept it under wraps, for fear it'd ruin his career—I cut off communication after that whole scandal—"
"Do you know where he'd be going?" Luke blurts out.
Padmé shakes her head. "I might be able to find out, though."
"Great. You're coming too." Leia's hands shake. Fear builds inside of her, fear unfamiliar, clawing and writhing. My son.
Please.
"Leia—" Han struggles.
"Don't you trust me?" Leia barks.
Han freezes. He grits his teeth. "Go save our son."
Artoo barks.
Anakin shuffles through the quiet house. "What's wrong, boy?"
The dog whimpers, and then there's a knock at the door. Anakin straightens, his heart thumping like it hasn't in years, like it hasn't since he was released from prison and saw his son waiting for him and knew he didn't deserve it, but deserve isn't even a part of the equation when it comes to love.
"Anakin?" calls a gruff voice.
Obi-Wan. Anakin yanks the door open. Why are you here? As amicable as their relationship is now, Anakin can't escape the condemnation he sees in Obi-Wan's eyes, the self-blame, the shame.
But tonight, there's only terror in Obi-Wan's eyes.
"Rey's gone," Obi-Wan blabbers.
"Again?" Foolish girl.
"So is Ben."
Together? Anakin's mind swims with his and Padmé's dreams, the ones they talked about lying around on Padmé's silk sheets, the ones where they ran away and—
"They went to stop Snoke. Apparently he's behind the assassination attempt on Han—or at least, that's what Poe Dameron and Finn are saying." Obi-Wan relays the story of sneaking onto the yacht.
"No!" Anakin shouts, curling his fist. "They didn't."
"They did." Obi-Wan's voice catches. "I can't leave her there, Anakin; I've got to try—Cassian contacted Lando and he's lending a speed boat—I'm not waiting around. I'm going. Now. With them." He hesitates. "Leia says a source claims Snoke knew Palpatine."
Not my grandson. Seeing him earlier that day—he was so beautiful. He looked like Leia, who—looks like a more whole him, with some Padmé thrown in. His voice was sensitive, and he was smart. He's perfect.
"I don't know," Anakin admits, miserable as he hangs his head. "Palpatine never mentioned him." It's pathetic how much Palpatine kept from him. I was his dog.
He went after my grandson.
Like Palpatine went after me.
Obi-Wan groans. "Well, we'll search that bay—see if—"
Palpatine had a boat, too. Anakin remembers the few times he was invited to join the chief of police, how the parties got out of control—how he exchanged money—
"I know where they are," Anakin breathes. "Or where they might be." He bites his lip. "I could be wrong, but Palpatine used to travel to a certain coordinate to pay off—"
"It's a better lead than anything we've got," Obi-Wan bursts out, grasping Anakin's shoulder. "Thank you."
He's desperate.
He can't let another person he loves—people he loves more than life itself, even if they never love him—down. Not matter what it costs.
The spray from the sea hits Rey in the face. She shivers, more from fear than cold. Ben's arm wraps around her as they huddle behind life preservers.
"What do we do?" she whispers. They had some chances to get off this yacht—they were too afraid. We thought—we thought—we're trapped!
Ben shakes his head. The ship rocks back and forth. Rey's stomach churns.
"We have to get it," she says.
"Huh?"
"We can either stay here," Rey says, teeth chattering from terror. "And hide until we get caught or go back to shore, wh-whenever that will be. Or we can try to get the recording, and—"
"We have to do it," Ben agrees, the wind whipping his hair against his face.
"And if we get caught—"
"We're not getting caught," Ben interrupts, gripping her wrists. "We can do this."
His face is inches from hers. Rey worries her lips, taking in the shine of his eyes, the moles that weave through his complexion. "I'm afraid."
"Me too."
They stay there, kneeling and clutching each other, until at last Rey draws in a shuddering breath. "Let's go?"
"Let's go," he confirms, pulling her up.
They creep towards the entryway, pressing themselves against the wall. Rey ducks down the stairs—are they even called stairs on a ship? Everything's quiet. Rey pauses to slip off her shoes, Ben following suit. They stow them behind the stairs, under a pile of rope. What are shoes to their lives?
Her feet pad against the plush carpet. White leather furniture sprawls out, with red satin throw pillows. What look like decorations of African and South American design hang from the walls, along with a diamond shaped mirror that glints malevolently. The smell of cigar smoke taunts Rey as it tickles her throat. Don't cough.
The ship creaks as they sail over a wave, and Rey covers her mouth to keep from crying out.
Below, she hears a laugh. Although it has to be unrelated, she almost feels as if she's being mocked.
"We have to get close," Ben murmurs, pulling his phone out. "In order to—"
"To what?" asks the voice of Brendol Hux. The lights flick on, and Rey sees that he's been sitting there the entire time, on a nailed-down armchair, smoking the cigar he now crushes in a ceramic ashtray.
Oh my God.
Help.
Ben shoves Rey behind him, but it's no use.
"Snoke!" bellows the man, his face burning red.
No!
Brendol lunges for them. Ben throws Rey out of the way and kicks him in the gut. Brendol's too quick.
"Stop!" Rey scrambles to grab one of the art pieces, a long staff with feathers on the end. She swings it. Brendol ducks.
He pins Ben down behind the white couch, next to the stairs. His elbow jabs against Ben's throat. Brendol's hand dives as Ben thrashes and then he pulls out a pocketknife, holding it to Ben's jugular vein. It glints.
"Let him go!" Rey raises the staff again. Her skin pulls. She'll have blisters tomorrow.
"Stop and think," comes the voice she's been dreading. Snoke, who looks at his former intern and Rey with annoyance. "Do you really want to do that?"
Ben's face is turning purple. The knife pricks his skin, and a drop of blood dribbles out.
For the first time in her life, Rey surrenders in a fight. She drops the staff.