Luke Naberrie had two soulmates.
When he and his sister were born, Mother and Uncle Ben drew the lines on their wrists. Leia got an answering line pretty quickly, but when Luke had been born, one line had already been there, and then a second appeared a few hours later. Aunt Jo said it happened sometimes - not commonly, but not anything to be worried about, either. Luke's two soulmates were also linked with each other, which made Luke happy; he would have felt like they were being left out from each other's lives if they hadn't been a solid trio.
Jyn was two years older than Luke and lived on Lah'Mu. Ezra was only a few hours older than him and lived on a planet called Lothal on the Outer Rim. Luke and his sister lived with Mother and Uncle Ben and Aunt Jo in the Royal Palace on Alderaan. Jyn thought it was funny that they all lived so far from each other, but could still write to each other immediately. When Luke asked about it, Uncle Ben said it had something to do with the way the Force connected people.
"Mother says the same thing," Jyn said.
Ezra asked, "What's the Force?" and they all got in trouble for staying up past their bedtimes trying to explain it to him.
Both Uncle Ben and Mother had warned Luke and Leia to not name the people around them or give their last names to their soulmates. For a long time Luke didn't really understand why, but he thought that maybe there were some mean people who would want to find them. Mother was one of Queen Breha's handmaidens, and bad people would want to capture them for money, like in the holotoons? He had asked Uncle Ben, who only said yes, but these bad people were much worse than in the holotoons. That was difficult to imagine, but Mother had agreed, so Luke didn't even tell his friends about his sister's name, or that they lived in the Palace.
Luke often shared dreams with Leia, and sometimes they could be weird or funny, but when they were five, they shared a particularly bad one which woke them both up in tears.
Uncle Ben had cradled Leia close, while Mother held Luke. She whispered, "They're getting stronger, aren't they?"
"I'm afraid so."
Luke and Leia didn't want to be separated, but Uncle Ben and Aunt Jo had always said that if they grew too strong, the adults wouldn't be able to hide them from the bad people together. They had always known it might happen, but that didn't mean they had to like it.
It took the adults three hours to find them, hiding together in the secret room behind the wall panel in Mister Bail's office. Uncle Ben propped his fists on his hips while frowning at them, and muttered, "Well, at least we know they're very good at going unnoticed when they want to." But there was a little twitch of a smile under his beard, and Luke knew they weren't really in trouble.
Mother and Leia stayed on Alderaan, while Uncle Ben took Luke to meet another Aunt and Uncle on an Outer Rim world. Uncle Owen had been Luke and Leia's father's step-brother, and Aunt Beru was his wife. Uncle Ben had initially insisted that he could live somewhere else, so they wouldn't have too many mouths to feed; Uncle Owen had shrugged and said that if Uncle Ben was willing to help maintain the farm, they could expand and then the cost wouldn't matter so much.
Jyn's family had lots of experience running moisture farms, and her father was something of a tech whiz, so they shared information back and forth, and helped Uncle Owen improve the vaporators' yield by three percent. It wasn't a lot, and Luke was disappointed, but Uncle Owen said it was three percent more than they'd had last year, which meant something when every drop of water mattered.
Only a year later, Luke woke up to shaky, scrawled writing on his arm from Jyn: a man in a white cape, with soldiers in black armour, had killed her mother and taken her father away. She'd hidden, like they'd planned, but it was cold and dark and she was terrified the black armoured men would find her. Luke and Ezra kept her company as well as they could for hours - even Uncle Owen had let him take a break for the day when Luke showed him - until someone nice came to get her.
"Jyn's safe," Luke announced with relief at dinner. "Her parents called a friend before everything happened, so she's with a man named Saw and a lady named Steela, and another lady named-"
"Ahsoka?" Uncle Ben whispered.
"Yeah!" Luke grinned at him. "How'd you guess?"
"I-" Uncle Ben cleared his throat, nodding thanks to Aunt Beru when she poured him more tea. "I knew her, once. Jyn is in good hands with them."
Remembering all the warnings about sharing names, Luke asked, "Do you want me to tell her you know Ahsoka?"
Uncle Ben sighed. "I wish you could, but it's not safe, Luke. Jyn knows your sister is on Alderaan. I trust Ahsoka, but we keep information secret from each other for a reason."
It would be years before Luke really learned the meaning of 'compartmentalisation', but he had already figured out that people could let information slip without meaning to. Uncle Ben had been teaching him to shield his thoughts - lessons which Luke shared with Jyn and Ezra - so he knew there were probably bad people who would want to read his mind, and maybe Ahsoka's.
Only a few months later, Ezra's parents pushed him into the crawlspace with a bag in the middle of the night and begged him to be still and silent. He wrote to Luke and Jyn about hearing the door blasted open - it shook the whole house - and angry voices before his parents were dragged away by the Empire. The Imperials left someone behind to catch Ezra, too, so he couldn't even stay there. He couldn't even go back to school after he sneaked away. It was a week before the news said what they already suspected: Ezra's parents had been tried and executed for sedition.
Even if Luke was seven years old, he wasn't too old to cry for his friends, and for the fact that he couldn't be there, helping them. Uncle Ben held him tightly and rubbed his back until he calmed down enough to ask, "Are bad people after us because there's three of us instead of just two?"
"Oh, Luke." Uncle Ben tugged Luke up onto his lap and hugged him. "No. Sometimes it feels like misfortune targets us and the ones we love personally, because that's when we see its effects the clearest. But this is an impersonal misfortune: the Empire targets anyone who speaks out or who might be useful. They want to catch children in order to make their parents behave. You and Jyn and Ezra all have parents who are good people, and good people try to do the right thing, even if they get hurt for it. Do you understand? What happened to Jyn and Ezra's families is happening to other families across the galaxy." He placed his hands on Luke's shoulders and held his gaze. "Do not blame yourself. Seek the true source of the galaxy's ills and leave the credit where it's due."
"Nobody is born bad," Aunt Beru said from the door. She crossed the room and sat on the bed beside them, stroking Luke's hair. "Everyone has the same potential to be good or bad; it's our choices that make us who we become. Those bad people made a choice. So did your parents and your soulmates' parents. And it's never too late for someone to choose differently."
Uncle Ben's lips thinned like he wanted to disagree with her; Aunt Beru looked directly at him like they were talking about something specific and said, "Everyone deserves to be offered the chance to do better. Sometimes repeatedly. But you must never let your guard down, even when making the offer. Because in the desert, anyone who is actively trying to hurt you must also be dealt with swiftly. Every drop of your blood is precious water that must not be spilled by any but yourself, and it must be defended. The other person made their choice. Do you understand?"
Luke frowned and glanced at Uncle Ben, who had gone pale. "Um?"
"Is that what happened?" Uncle Ben whispered.
Aunt Beru patted Luke's head. "Sorry, sweetie. Your uncle made a mistake a long time ago, because he didn't understand some of the more essential rules of life on Tatooine."
Rubbing a hand over his bearded chin, Uncle Ben murmured, "I'm realising that I possibly didn't know my brother as well as I thought I did. If I ever really knew him."
Giving him a patient look, Aunt Beru said, "So what are you going to do about it?"
"I suppose I should consider giving him another chance."
"Who are you talking about?" Luke whined. It wasn't fair when adults talked over his head about things!
Uncle Ben patted his shoulder. "Someone I still love dearly, Luke. It might be hard for you to understand-"
Aunt Beru cleared her throat and glared at him from under her eyebrows.
Uncle Ben sighed. "I…. Fought with your father, Luke."
That got his attention. Luke had always known Uncle Ben and his father had been close friends, and even close friends could have disagreements - like Luke and Biggs had over which speeder engine was best - but he'd never heard of them fighting before. He squirmed off Uncle Ben's lap onto Aunt Beru's so he could see his uncle better. "Why?"
"He… he was scared." Uncle Ben's fingers knotted in his lap. "He was afraid for you, and for your mother and sister. He thought something terrible was going to happen to you. He'd made friends with a politician-"
"Like Mother?"
"Not all politicians are so kind, Luke," Aunt Beru said softly. "You cannot compare them to the ones you already know."
Uncle Ben nodded sadly. "If I had set my own pride aside and asked for help, I would have been able to prevent this politician from becoming a part of your father's life. I didn't. I thought I could handle things, because I was too young to know better. Where I didn't take your father's fears seriously, the politician seemed to, so your father went to him for help."
Luke frowned. "Rule number one: when someone says they need help, you listen."
"Do you remember the meditations I've taught you, Luke?" Uncle Ben asked. "Part of the culture I grew up in encourages reflection - mindfulness - on our troubles. It encourages us to prioritise them, to find which ones cannot be changed and set them aside in favour of the ones we can affect."
"I remember."
Uncle Ben sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I thought that would be enough for him, because it had been enough for me. I was wrong. Because of my pride, your father no longer trusted me with his closest secrets. He'd broken the Jedi Code to marry your mother. I knew they were close, and had encouraged them, because we were at war, and I have seen up close how the loss of a soulmate affects someone. I wanted them to have each other for stability, in case something happened to me or your father's soulmate. The Order doesn't - didn't - forbid romantic relationships, but they're meant to be distant relationships, because a Jedi puts duty above everything else."
"People in the Desert marry very young," Aunt Beru said, "because life is harsh and often short. Among slave culture, a married couple are unlikely to be separated by their owners because it makes them more agreeable workers." There was a bitter note in her voice for that last part, and Uncle Ben nodded.
"I hadn't known that, either. Your father kept much of his desert culture close, and hid it once he came to the Jedi, because he was encouraged to assimilate into the Order's culture. I hadn't realised they clashed so terribly." He spread his hands. "He never fully trusted me, and I didn't even know it, because I was too focused on setting a good example for him. Among the Jedi, we had a saying: 'Teachers make the best students.' As a master to a padawan, I should have tried to learn what I could of him. When we came to blows, it was fuelled by fourteen years of misunderstanding and willful ignorance."
Luke frowned. "What's that mean?"
Uncle Ben smiled tightly. "It means I failed him. He turned to his politician friend for help. I was offworld at the time, so all I know is from others who were there. The politician revealed himself to your father as a Sith lord, the shadowy hand guiding the whole war, and said he could help Anakin save you and your mother from whatever horrible fate lurked in Anakin's visions. Anakin was horrified by this and took the knowledge to the Council. They attempted to arrest the politician - now the Emperor - and were instead slaughtered by him and Anakin. Only one survived, because he managed to injure both of them before being thrown from the window."
He ran a hand over his face. "I have visions as well, sometimes. I know to regard them with caution, because events are never set in stone, but Anakin's protectiveness of those he loves was too strong to bend to reason. Another Desert trait?" he asked Aunt Beru.
"Slave trait," she said quietly.
Uncle Ben bowed his head. "Once I ensured your mother was safe, I went to confront Anakin. He screamed at me, asked how I could accept your mother's loss so easily. You see, when the Empire arose, the Emperor attempted to have your mother killed-"
"What?!" Luke yelped.
"Shh." Uncle Ben patted his knee. "Your mother is clever, and has clever friends, and they tricked the Emperor into thinking it had worked. But it also fooled your father, and so he thought me cruel and callous for not reacting to her perceived loss. I couldn't tell him. You and your sister had just been born; the Emperor was already sending enforcers into the galaxy to capture children with strong Force talents. And so Anakin had become the Emperor's Right Hand, Darth Vader, because he had tired of the war and seeing the Jedi do nothing to end it, because he feared for his family, and because the Jedi - I - didn't hear his concerns and take them seriously. To him, he had put all his trust and hope in us, and we had not only failed him, but the galaxy as well."
Beru sighed. "Slave culture has many tales of Jedi who slaughtered the Masters and set their captives free. They're ancient tales, dating back to a time well before the Order became a tool of the Republic."
"The old Order was much more independent," Uncle Ben said, nodding. "And they could get away with more, hmm, proactive actions. It's no wonder Anakin held us so responsible for our inability to do more. And so, your father held me to account for things. I won't say he was in the wrong. He offered me a chance to 'make it right' - to join him and the Emperor in enforcing what he called 'peace' upon the galaxy."
"But… they took Jyn and Ezra's parents away," Luke said. "I don't understand."
Aunt Beru's eyes hardened. "It is the sort of 'peace' that is enforced by a Master upon his slaves, not the peace of a benevolent ruler. Your father has betrayed his own soul, Luke, while making himself a slave once again. He refuses to see his own chains."
Luke frowned at Uncle Ben. "You didn't try to help him see?"
Uncle Ben looked like he might fracture. "I didn't know. I was furious and grieving. The deaths of so many Jedi sent shockwaves through the Force, and those of us who lived felt them all. I blamed your father, when I should have begged. But we were always so well matched in battle, knew each other so well, that the fight ended poorly, for both of us." He knocked his knuckles against his left knee, the metal sounding dull under the protective wrapping which kept the sand out of the mechanisms of his leg. Luke had never thought anything of his uncle's prosthetic before now; many of Tatooine's desert dwellers had lost limbs in their past. "My ignorance is a reason, but not an excuse. Your father deserved better from me, as his teacher and guardian. But you and Beru are right: he deserves a chance to do the right thing. We just need to find a way to present it to him."
"Can I help? I bet Father would reconsider things if he knew me an' Leia lived."
"Leia and I," Aunt Beru corrected gently. "It's something to discuss with your mother, but it might be wise to wait until you're older and better at defending yourself."
She had a good point. Luke was learning to fight, like all desert farm kids did, but he still wasn't as good as Biggs, who was a few years older. "Then we wait," he said firmly. "We wait until there's a good time, when Father isn't near the Emperor, so he'll listen only to us."
Uncle Ben and Aunt Beru looked at each other, and Uncle Ben nodded. "We'll need backup. I know a few people."
The covert was fairly quiet this time of day: the kids were all in their lessons and the adults were either teaching or doing the general work of keeping the covert running. Home for a short break between jobs, Boba had taken the opportunity to spread out on the floor of the large main room and clean his blasters properly.
He was just finishing with his rifle when the door opened. Boba looked up and grinned behind his buy'ce as he recognised Din's scrappy, scuffed-up armour. The younger teen tended to use his own body as a battering ram more often than not, and it showed. Good thing the buy'ce at least was beskar, or his head would've been bashed in a few times.
The human who followed Din in, however, was not Mandalorian. Not a terrible surprise: since the rise of the Empire four years earlier, the covert had taken in more and more aruetiisë seeking shelter. Short and rail-thin with a shock of vivid red hair, the kid stared around wide-eyed. Boba knew that twitchy look, the look of someone who'd been in hiding for years and suddenly found themself out in the open. Looking for cover, checking for danger everywhere. If the hunted look didn't clinch it, the lightsaber dangling openly from the kid's belt definitely did.
Breaking the ice early was the best way to handle these things. Boba hauled himself upright and slung the rifle's strap over his shoulder, calling, "Vod!"
The ex-Jedi tensed up, but Din's shoulders eased and he headed over, reaching out to catch Boba's forearm and drag him in, bumping their helmeted foreheads in a kov'nyn that was only a little rough. "Just the person we were looking for."
"Oh yeah?"
"Din!" the other kid hissed urgently. "Din, he's one of them."
Oh, that was going to be a problem. Boba chuckled and elbowed Din playfully. "You told them your name? Vod, really?"
Din had the grace to be embarrassed. "It just… kind of happened?"
"Well, bring them in where we can clear the air properly." It wouldn't be the first time he'd had this talk with a Jedi on the run, and it was never fun, but it was better than getting a lightsaber in the back.
Revealing their faces in the public spaces was dangerous now. Din took his partner to find one of the secure rooms while Boba went to put his cleaning kit away and grab some refreshments. By the time he returned, Din had his helmet off and was holding onto the ex-Jedi's elbow like the kid was about to dive out the nearest window.
Boba closed the door, put the tray on the table, looked at the kid, and said, "I'm not who you think I am."
"I know your voice. How you… feel."
"Sure you do. But you don't know me. And you don't know the truth." Boba sat down and pulled his helmet off. "I was the first."
The Jedi's eyes had gone even wider. "You're… young?"
"Sixteen. Name's Boba in the covert; outside, I'm called Solish. He or they, whatever you're comfortable with." He twisted the top off a bottle of ne'tra gal and offered it over. "I'm Fett's actual payment. Sure, he got credits, but what he really wanted was an heir. You don't have anything to worry about here. I was never chipped, and the vodë we've taken in have had theirs disabled or removed."
The Jedi froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth. "Chipped?"
Boba rested his elbows on the table and stared at the kid. "Yeah, chips. Nearly all of 'em carried a little biochip in their brains-" he tapped his right temple- "and anyone who flipped that switch could give orders they would never disobey. I didn't find out about it until after the Republic fell. We started taking in deserters, vodë who'd been caught in ion blasts or got brain damage and had their chips short out. I dunno if buir knew about that part."
Din took a hard slug of his drink. "Your buir had issues."
"Tell me about it."
The Jedi was staring at Boba. "But. Who flipped the switch?"
Boba shook his head. "Who do you think? Old and wrinkly sitting on the new Imperial throne. Who do you think ordered the clones? Who do you think paid for 'em?"
"Uh. The Jedi?"
"Oh, sure, a Jedi's signature was on the line. But that money? Came from a guy named Tyranus. Count Dooku."
"Wait-"
"Dooku was working with a guy named Sidious. Ring any bells?"
"Are you saying-"
"My buir," Boba continued relentlessly, "was consumed by hatred of the Jedi for what happened on Galidraan. Buir didn't care who he worked with as long as he got his revenge, and it made him the perfect tool. Dooku had been the leader of the Jedi task force that was manipulated into fighting the Haat'adë. He knew exactly what to say to get buir to work with him. The entire war was a chess game played by Palpatine against himself through Dooku as a proxy. And you and all the clones? You were only pawns." He sat back, ignoring Din kicking him under the table. "It's all in my dad's journal entries on the Legacy. The goran convinced me to wait until I was old enough to really understand, and then we sat down and listened to them. All of them. Dad's ship was really named the Slave, but it wasn't 'til I heard his recordings, ranting about Galidraan, that I understood why. I renamed the ship after that."
The other kid stared at him in silence for a long moment, then sagged back in their seat and took a gulp from their bottle. "I'm Cal, I- well, I prefer to use they, but it's easier to just let folks assume what they want. They're not too friendly about 'non-human genders' in the Empire," they said sourly. "That's really what happened?"
Boba shrugged. "You can listen to the logs yourself, if you want." He looked over at Din, who'd taken Cal's hand a while earlier and hadn't let go. "Are you thinking of bringing them into the or'aliit?" They were a little young to be discussing Riduurok yet - Din was a year younger than Boba, and Boba was willing to bet Cal wasn't much older than himself. But Cal could find a place among their people, if they wanted one.
"Wanted to discuss it with the goran first, but they'll be safer hidden under a helmet." Din cast a sideways glance at Cal. "And maybe we can use our connections to find more of your people?"
Cal squinted at first Din, then Boba. "Your people can do that?"
"Sure can. We have contacts in the Alliance." Din tapped the inside of his right wrist, the universal sign for soulmates. "The Empire forcibly restricts access between soulmates and asks nosy questions about them to try to root out potential rebels, which isn't something you'll find a lot of Mandalorians in favour of."
Boba nodded. "Nobody in the covert is an Imperial sympathiser, you're safe here."
"Can I ask about your soulmate?" Cal asked cautiously.
"My soulmate is still a kid on Corellia." Boba let the grin that tugged at his cheek blossom. His soulmate was a sassy little shit. "Calls himself Vykk."
"Wait, as in 'Vykk Draygo' from Space Raiders?" Cal started laughing. "No way, that old show?"
"Yeah. It's kriffin' adorable. He wants to get his own YT-1300 and be the best pilot ever." Knowing what he did of Vykk's rough young life, Boba had a bad feeling the poor kid would never get that chance. Unless Boba went to the effort of finding him, Vykk would likely get swallowed by Corellia's underworld and eventually land on a bounty list somewhere. Boba didn't even know Vykk's real name, but he couldn't be open with his own and it didn't feel fair to demand the truth. Not yet, anyway. "I'm hoping to meet him someday, he's a real scoundrel already."
"Din said you're not supposed to share your names outside the tribe?" Cal blushed almost as red as their hair and picked at the piece of jerky they'd been nibbling on, shredding it. "He, um-"
"They'd already seen my face," Din muttered, his cheeks rivalling Cal's impression of a warning light. "Didn't see any point keeping it secret after that."
"I wanna know who made the first move," Boba said ruthlessly, grinning like a shark.
Both of them muttered, "Din," in the same breath, and he laughed.
"I'm never gonna let you forget that."
Din groaned and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the table. "Goran's gonna skin me for that."
Boba shook his head and bit off a chunk of biscuit, exposing the pickled vegetable filling. "She won't care, if Cal joins your clan. It's your t'adbuir you're gonna have to explain it to."
"Shit." Din raised his head, eyes wide. His second buir , Maul, had fought the Jedi ferociously during the War. He'd only joined the or'aliit after his soulmate, Rhykk of clan Takaad, had found him and abandoned Vizsla's movement; they weren't romantically entangled and had never said the Riduurok , but Maul had settled easily into a life that offered something more than empty vengeance. "I didn't think of that."
"What's wrong with them?" Cal asked, and Din sighed.
"He used to be dar'jetii, before Buir convinced him that that path wouldn't lead anywhere good. Even killed a few. He's mellowed a lot since then?"
Cal was frowning at him, their eyes huge. "That's not really reassuring." They looked back at Boba. "You said you've taken in some clones whose- whose chips shorted out? Anyone I might know?"
"I could give you names, but there are literally millions of my brothers, and the odds of getting repeat names is pretty high," Boba admitted with a wry shrug. "Guess what the most common clone trooper name is."
"Part of their number," Din said.
Cal made a negating noise around a mouthful of pastry. "Boomer."
Boba aimed a finger at Cal. "You must've spent a lot of time hanging out with 'em. Boomer, Striker, Fixer, Charger… lots of them have names like that." He didn't miss the way Cal had twitched when he'd said 'Striker'. "I knew seven different troopers named Jarë. Means someone who takes stupid risks that could get them killed. Lot of them were named by trainers or their vodë, most didn't choose their own name unless they didn't like the ones everyone else suggested. Naming each other kind of helped people feel closer to each other."
The Jedi was looking pensively at the drink in their hand. "If I know someone well enough, I can- can find them. Proximity helps. If I know what those chips feel like, maybe I can break them? Or at least let your medics know where they're located."
Tilting his head, Boba said, "There someone you're looking for specifically?"
Cal sighed, put the empty bottle down and scrubbed their hands over their face. Din patted their shoulder comfortingly. "Jedi shouldn't play favourites - I mean, nobody deserves to have their free will stolen from them, least of all like that. But the troopers on the Albedo Brave were kind to an annoying kid, before everything went to hells, and I kinda feel like I owe them now."
They'd probably had to fight their way out of the ship, and Boba grimaced in sympathy. "I bet we can work with that."
He didn't often allow himself to really think about his brothers. According to the ones they'd taken in, they hadn't given a thought to their soulmates while the chips had been active, and several of them had soulmates who weren't clones. He couldn't even imagine his own soulmate suddenly going silent like that. It would be like losing a piece of himself.
Three years later, Vykk joined the Imperial Navy for his own safety, and Boba took solace in the fact that at least he'd had a warning.
Leia Naberrie thought her soulmate was a little too full of himself. Raal Panteer, a boy a couple years older than her from an Alderaanian noble family, liked to posture and preen, and was proud of himself for riling up girls to get their attention. He even tried it on her when she was thirteen, acting as if he thought Leia's best friend Winter was Leia at a party. Leia and Winter could have passed for sisters - twins, even, if they covered their hair and dressed alike. Raised and trained by Leia's mother and 'aunts' to serve as handmaidens and spies in the courts of Alderaan and later accompanying Prince Bail at the Imperial Senate, their similarities became an asset.
Raal's deliberate attempt to irritate Leia hadn't worked as he'd planned. Oh, she'd been irritated, all right; irritated enough to drop pretense like a stinkbud. Sometimes she wondered how she'd ended up with an ambitious, Empire-loving second son like him as her soulmate, and all her frustrations with his attitude had come pouring out in the middle of the ballroom.
Winter thought it was hilarious. So did Mother, even though she had to publicly appear to disapprove of Leia's behaviour. The Organas were visibly delighted - the Queen had been receiving discreet complaints about Raal from other Houses.
"If anyone was going to put him in his place, it was going to be Leia," Queen Breha said when Lady Arlo Panteer commed, demanding an apology.
"Why would you do that?" Raal wrote later. "I thought we were friends!"
"Friends don't try to use each other for political gain," she snapped back. Politics was exciting; if you knew what words to drop in the right ears, you could work miracles. But you couldn't fool yourself into thinking the people you dealt with were ever anything more than allies of convenience. Sometime in the last ten years they'd known each other, Raal had gone from seeing her as a companion in his life to a political stepping-stone.
They didn't write to each other for a week after that incident. The next time Leia awoke to writing on her arm, it had… a very different tone. As if it were written by someone else.
"It hurts so much, Roshan. They've emptied the temple and many of us had to take the monks in for their safety. 'Aunt' Tenzin is safe with us for now, but they've been hunting down any followers of the Whills. I don't know if you can read this where you are now, but I miss you."
Leia stared at the words, written in a tight, neat hand that was definitely not Raal's. But she knew sometimes people had more than one soulmate - she remembered Luke having both Jyn and Ezra. After a minute, she fumbled the pen from her nightstand and wrote, "I'm Leia. What happened? Talk to me, please."
There was no reply for over an hour, long enough for Leia to get dressed and show Mother and Aunt Jo the new message.
"The soulmates granted to us by the Force are based on the potential we have to generate balance together," Aunt Jo said, "but people still have the freedom to choose a different path than the most likely one. Sometimes, that means soulmates' potential wanes, and when that happens, the bonds are severed and connected to others who could also generate balance. And it can happen at any age, more often than you might think." The older woman frowned sadly and patted Leia's hand. "It happened to me, too, less than thirty years ago, and I sometimes feel that I should have seen it for the warning it was. My former soulmate… did terrible things."
"Do you think Raal might do something terrible?" Leia asked, and Aunt Jo smiled.
"Oh, dear, Raal lacks the power and access Yan had. And the Queen is no fool; if he wants an endorsement, it won't come from her." She grew serious again and tapped the writing on Leia's forearm. "It seems your new soulmate has likely lost their previous one in a tragedy. They will need your support, Leia."
Eventually a reply arrived, hesitant and unsteady. "My name's Bodhi. The Empire occupied my home last year, my soulmate Roshan was killed when part of the city was bombed. Are we soulmates now?"
Leia bit her lip and wrote back, "I guess we must be?"
Bodhi lived on a world called Jedha, on the edge of the Unknown Regions; he was nineteen - six years older than her - and had just been handed a conscription notice. He'd already been training as a cargo pilot with one of the local transport guilds before the invasion, and now he was being drafted to fly shuttles for the Empire.
"I don't want to. Nobody wants to work for them. But if we cooperate, they leave us alone, mostly."
It was an old story, one Leia had read over Mother's shoulder a hundred times. If someone resisted Imperial demands, they were accused of sedition, treason; their homes would be searched and sometimes destroyed, sometimes the entire neighbourhood would be wiped out either from orbit or by squads dragging people into the street in the middle of the night. The Emperor ruled by fear, and it worked. Leia hated him for it. She kept the burning coals of her rage locked tightly under the shields Aunt Jo had helped her build, so that nobody would notice when she accompanied the Senator or the Queen to Imperial Centre.
That gave her an idea, though. "Bodhi, do you meditate?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I know some tricks that will help you get through it without losing your temper."
Bodhi wasn't Force-sensitive - not in the way Leia and Luke were - but the shielding constructs were easy enough for him to piece together. Aunt Jo was happy to help, and in return Bodhi taught Leia something of the philosophy of the Whills. The Force-worshiping sect had been considered heretical by many Jedi, because they addressed all aspects of the Force as integral parts of a whole, instead of separating the Light from the Dark.
Leia found the philosophy compelling. Aunt Jo had been tutoring her in the path of the Jedi, but Leia could never seem to release the banked fire of her anger into the Force - sometimes her anger felt like the only thing that gave her the strength to keep moving forward. Their sessions often ended in tempered arguments about how best to manage darker emotions. At one point, exasperated, Jo muttered something about getting someone named Mace to come back and teach Leia instead, because if she couldn't release the Dark, then she could at least learn to channel it constructively.
Mother just smiled ruefully and said, "You have a lot of your father in you. I'm afraid the Jedi couldn't help him manage that, either."
Father had become the monstrosity standing at the Emperor's right hand; Mother had told her about his downfall several years before. It was an object lesson in keeping a tight rein on herself which Leia took to heart. She had no desire to earn the attention of the man who supported the galaxy's most despicable slave master and called it 'peace'.
Within two years, Bodhi had learned that his cargo largely contained kyber crystals stolen from the Temple in NiJedha, which were being carted to a secret facility on Eadu. He befriended one of the captive scientists there, a man named Galen Erso, and started passing intel to the Alliance regarding a top secret weapons project.
For her part, Leia was nominated as Alderaan's goodwill ambassador at sixteen, ostensibly bringing supplies and relief to worlds in conflict, extending a benevolent hand under the guise of persuading stubborn governors to accept Imperial rule - and carrying intelligence to Alliance agents and supporters. It was difficult, but rewarding, and soothed the flare of her anger into grim satisfaction.
One of her 'mercy' missions brought her to Tatooine, to bring specialised equipment to an Alliance agent codenamed Legate (after the sabacc deck card). As soon as they met, Leia understood why her mother had been hiding a smile whilst briefing her, because 'Legate' was Uncle Ben, and he had Luke with him. The farm run by the Larses was to become a transit point for Imperial deserters, particularly clone troopers and escaped VIPs who needed chips and tracking devices removed.
Somehow they managed to have a proper reunion in the midst of setting up a hidden room on the farm, lying on bedrolls on the floor in Luke's room and talking late into the evening. Leia and Luke had a lot of proper catching-up to do; the sparse, smuggled holo-messages over the years hadn't been nearly enough. They even brought their soulmates into the conversation. Jyn was elated to hear that Leia's soulmate knew her father - that was a surprise - and asked if Bodhi could let Galen Erso know that she was now with Ahsoka and Steela working with the Alliance. Ezra spent the whole time flirting at Leia until Luke's ears turned pink.
"You've never even seen her!"
Ezra's reply came back snappy: "She's your twin, she's gotta be cute!"
Leia fell over laughing as Luke slapped his free hand over the writing on his arm, his whole face now bright red. "I'm, uh, really sorry about him-"
"Ezra thinks you're cute?" she managed through her giggles, just to watch her brother hide his face in his arms.
"I don't like you anymore. He doesn't know what I look like either!"
Ezra was also working with the Alliance, having been taken on by a team of smugglers. It was kind of brilliant that they'd all fallen into the resistance against the Empire from their own angles.
When she mentioned that, Luke shrugged. "Uncle Ben says that soulmates instinctively make decisions which are likely to draw them together. Not always the best decisions, and life does tend to sometimes get in the way, but when soulmates connect face to face, they can do incredible things together."
"But it's also about balance, isn't it?" Leia mused. "Maybe it's more about personal balance than the effect we have on the world? Because otherwise, wouldn't we end up with soulmates who are kind of our opposites?"
Luke rolled onto his back and pillowed his head on his hands. "Ahsoka told Jyn that the Force operated on a larger level than that. So it's probably a personal balance, so that together we're more effective at doing the things that bring universal balance?"
Grumbling under her breath, Leia muttered, "Except we don't know what 'balance' means in terms of the Force. If it's that big, maybe its idea of balance isn't what we might think of."
"Well, now I'll never get to sleep, thanks." He was silent for a bit, then murmured, "I wonder if Vader has a soulmate. Or the Emperor. Can you imagine having the Emperor for a- mph!"
Leia's borrowed pillow smacked him in the face and she sat up to glare at him. "I'd rather not, thanks! But if I had to put money on it, it would be Moff Tarkin."
"That old bag of sticks?" Luke said, wrapping his arms around her pillow. "Huh. I can kind of see it."
"I'm amazed you get Core news all the way out here."
"Uncle Ben has some high-powered comms equipment. He likes to stay on top of things."
"That makes sense. Can I have my pillow back?"
Luke cuddled the offending object. "Mine now."
Leia retaliated by stealing the pillow from under his head.
Firmus Piett didn't believe in fate.
Or rather, he believed that fate was what one made of it. Aspiring to a brighter future than following his parents into mining on Axxila's moons, at fifteen he'd lied about his age and joined the defense forces fighting off pirate incursions. His soulmate had encouraged it - they were always pushing each other to do what they believed was the right thing. His parents had believed in destiny - that one's path was predetermined, and that fate would reveal itself at the right time - and had been upset when they'd found out he had volunteered. He had never had the chance to talk to them about it, however, because they became casualties when a pirate raiding party assaulted the lunar station for the fuel they mined.
Firmus was likely only still alive because he had already left for training. Because he had taken his fate into his own hands. It didn't make the hurt go away, but his soulmate was there to listen, and to say, "Don't be sad. The pirates took your family away. So take theirs, if they won't surrender."
He thought it was funny, how secretive his soulmate was. Ani had never even offered him his full name, because he claimed it was too dangerous. It was only when Firmus was older - old enough to see how the pirates in their sector operated - that he realised it was likely because his soulmate was in chains somewhere. Slave dealers loved to sell matched sets, because the soulmates could be used to keep each other in line. Even after Ani had a change of fortunes when Firmus was ten, he still held a lot of personal details secret, and Firmus returned the favour by not giving too many of his own away. The last thing he wanted was for the other boy to feel pressured.
He was eighteen and gaining acclaim for his professionalism and effective strategies in intercepting pirate attacks when the Hutts abducted Ani's mother and executed her for freeing their slaves. It made something in Firmus' blood run burningly cold when Ani said, "They shouldn't be allowed to do this! But the Code says revenge is wrong."
This 'Code' Ani referred to was alien to Firmus - probably some philosophy followed by the group which had bought his soulmate's freedom. A lot of their methods had seemed ill-fitting, but Ani was determined to stay. Privately, Firmus wondered if Ani really even believed he had a choice, or if he felt he owed them service, which was little better than slavery on its own.
Maybe he should have said something about that. Instead, he wrote back, "The Hutts ruin millions of innocent lives daily. Is it retaliation, if you act to prevent others from hurting the way you are right now?"
Ani did eventually take the matter into his own hands, and Firmus felt a stab of fierce satisfaction when his soulmate reported having obliterated Jabba and his operation. One less Hutt ruining the galaxy with spice and slavery could only be a good thing. It also told Firmus that his cagey soulmate was likely from Tatooine. He knew little of the place beyond what he'd learned from his studies of criminal elements, but the binary system desert world sounded dreadful. Axxila was heavily urbanised, and there was very little of the planet left unpopulated; the thought of Tatooine's vast swathes of empty desert made him appreciate Axxilan city life, rough as it might be.
A few days after that, an ugly red mark appeared on Firmus' right arm just below the elbow, going all the way around. It tingled and was hot to the touch for most of the day, before fading away, and for a week there was no response from Firmus' soulmate. The only thing which kept him from going out of his mind with distraction was the knowledge that his soulmate was still alive - his messages remained inked on his skin for hours instead of vanishing immediately. Ani finally responded, with a very uncoordinated left hand, explaining that he'd lost an arm in a battle and had been in and out of treatment for his injuries.
The Clone Wars ground its way slowly across the galaxy, and the Separatists began making overtures to the Axxilan government. It was hard to care about which government they might answer to when Axxila had never been offered support from either, but Firmus favoured the Republic slightly more when the CIS suggested they might force the issue if Axxila refused to join. The Republic might be distant, but they'd never threatened occupation. The Axxilan government didn't take the threats any more kindly than Firmus did; the planetary governor told the CIS to try it on someone else, and ordered increased patrols. Firmus found himself promoted to Lieutenant and placed in charge of a small flight group on the outer edge of the system, where the incursions were most frequent.
"Are they TRYING to get you killed?" Ani asked, and Firmus had to laugh.
"No. I have a reputation for strategy. If they didn't trust me, they wouldn't have given me several hundred people to manage."
Ani seemed to be in the thick of the war, sent to the most dangerous places at the drop of a hat, and Firmus came to suspect that his soulmate was a Jedi. Nobody else was ordered about to such extremes, regardless of their position. It would definitely explain the incongruous 'Code' Ani chafed under.
It was also information Ani never offered, so Firmus never asked.
"HEY! Can I tell you a secret?"
As always, Firmus was amused at Ani's high-energy enthusiasm. "I have nobody to tell your secrets to who would possibly care, so you may consider it safe with me."
Ani barely waited for him to finish writing before scrawling, "My wife's pregnant!"
His soulmate had told Firmus all about the woman he'd fallen for - fallen hard, if their rushed courtship was any indication - and Firmus was under the impression that marriage was frowned upon among Jedi, even if Ani hadn't done more than suggest he might get in trouble for it. Before Firmus could ask if they would need help hiding the relationship now, Ani followed it up.
"Oh yeah, and I defeated Count Dooku and we have Grievous on the run. The war's nearly over!"
That gave Firmus pause. "YOU did?"
"Yeah. He kidnapped the Chancellor, we HAD to stop him!"
The Count's demise wasn't the part that sent a chill down his spine; it was that Ani claimed personal responsibility for it. Jedi indeed, possibly very high up in the operational hierarchy if he'd been sent up against the leader of the CIS. Still young, though: Firmus was only twenty-one, and his soulmate barely a year older.
Things quieted down for a few months, with Ani spending a lot of time chafing under the idea that the Council didn't trust one of his friends. Firmus had long since given up trying to parse the context between the lines and simply tried to be supportive. All systems had been put on alert for General Grievous, who had become the de facto leader of the CIS after Count Dooku's demise over Coruscant, and the ruling Separatist Council, who had abandoned their central facility on Raxus Secundus.
The Axxilan Defense Fleet kept half an eye on local traffic, but it was in the middle of a massive command shakeup. The last High Admiral had chosen to retire, and the raft of succession promotions had put a number of people in charge who - in Firmus' professional opinion - were unqualified for the roles.
"They're all oligarchs," he complained to Ani. "Rich kids whose parents paid for their officer ranks to keep them behind desks, and never fought a battle anywhere except a boardroom."
"Have you considered transferring out?" his soulmate replied. "You've been a Lieutenant the entire war because of this."
He had, but his loyalty to Axxila had made him reject the idea for a while. Still, the Separatists were in chaos, and the pirate attacks on the system had mysteriously reduced (he wouldn't outright voice his suspicions that the Separatists had been part of the reason the last ten years had been so dire, but he could tell that others among his peers felt the same). Firmus' patrol group hadn't had to stop more than three smugglers that month, and the boredom was getting to everyone.
After some thought, Firmus approached his direct superiors - people whose directions he had trusted for years - and requested assistance in transferring to the Republic Naval Forces.
Commander Treem smiled sadly at him. "You never did fare well in peacetime conditions, Piett."
"With all respect, Commander, when have we ever had peace here?" he replied with a small grin. "But you can see which way the command staff is turning. If I want to make something of myself, I'll need a change of environment."
The Commander sobered, scowling as she typed up a recommendation for him. "You're precisely correct, even though I hate admitting that. We've been trying to promote you for two years but the requests keep getting lost." She finalised the letter and added her personal seal to the end. "You let me and Captain Merrokor forward this to the appropriate channels, no need to jump the command chain on your own."
The transfer was approved, and Firmus arrived at the Republic Naval facility on Carida for assessment. He walked out retaining the rank of Lieutenant and clutching the datawork for a commission aboard the Regulator, one of the first of the Victory II- class Star Destroyers which had been commissioned in the last year to replenish the fleet. He would still have to claw his way up the ranks, with little to show for his reputation here, but Firmus was determined to climb higher.
His soulmate was overjoyed. "Maybe we'll run into each other, finally! Wouldn't that be amazing?"
Not being anchored to his home system anymore did make that opportunity more accessible. "I'd like that, but we have a war to win, first."
The Regulator' s crew had no cloned troops at all, which was something of a disappointment. Firmus had hoped to meet some of the clones, to see if the rumours about them which had reached Axxila were true. At the very least, he'd been hoping for sparring partners who understood that fighting dirty was essential rather than 'dishonourable'. It took him a bit longer to notice that the crew was almost entirely human and male-presenting.
He was enjoying a rare moment of down-time in one of the crew refectories when all the holocomms crackled to life with the chime indicating a galactic broadcast. Crew members stared as the image of the Supreme Chancellor, swathed in a heavy robe, appeared on every screen around the room. A tall, armoured figure cloaked in black stood behind his right shoulder in a guard position.
"Esteemed members of the Senate! Citizens of the Republic! The war is over!"
The crowd - both in the broadcast background and in the refectory - went wild, cheering and clapping. The Chancellor's face was mostly hidden under his cowl, but a smile was visible as he waited for the tumult to fade. "Both General Grievous and the Separatist Council have been located and eliminated by our most courageous forces."
More cheering and another pause. Firmus' nearest seatmate clapped him on the shoulder, grinning, and he smiled back.
"However, no good news comes without some bad. It is with a heavy heart and deepest sorrow that I must inform you of a plot which has come to light. A plot enacted out of malice to overthrow our mighty Republic from within, before our final blow could be struck."
A murmur of shock rippled through the collected crew; chairs screeched slightly on the floor as people turned to get a better view of their closest monitor.
"For a thousand generations, we have stood, guided and protected by the Jedi Order. But now, on the eve of our triumph, members of the Jedi Council itself, conspiring with the Separatist leaders, made an attempt upon my life. An attempt only foiled through the fortunate intervention of Our most loyal servant, Darth Vader."
The Chancellor gestured with an unnaturally pallid hand to the dark figure beside him, who bowed slightly from the shoulders but not nearly low enough to indicate respect to the assembly. Firmus frowned. The Jedi Order had always struck him as being fairly distant and detached, despite their increasing involvement in the war over the last three years. What could they possibly hope to gain from assassinating the Chancellor? Wars were not dependent upon the presence of a single head of state; that's what Generals and a Senate and council were for.
He would have to ask Ani all this-
The thought froze in his chest. Ani was a Jedi, and had been conspicuously silent over the past week. Had he known?
Firmus refused to believe that. Ani had been increasingly frustrated that the Council wouldn't trust him, or provide him the Mastery rank he had earned. But the Chancellor stood there, declaring the entire Jedi Order to be traitors, which meant even communicating with Ani was tantamount to treason. And if Ani knew anything of what was happening now - there was little reason to suspect he did not, since the broadcast was on a priority galactic channel - he might suspect Firmus of being coerced into turning him in. Any communication between them moving forward, even just a query to see if Ani was alright, would be tainted with mistrust.
"In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganised into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society! An empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body, and a sovereign ruler chosen for life. An empire ruled by the majority, and a new constitution!"
"An Empire?" someone behind him muttered. "There are entire sectors that won't agree with that. I know my homeworld won't."
"And former Separatist worlds won't just rejoin the union simply because it's no longer a Republic," Firmus agreed. "Most of the Senate will likely retain their seats, and they're the ones the Seppies objected to initially."
"Guess we'll be busy after all."
Busy they were. The Regulator was sent almost immediately to bolster the remains of the Third Fleet quelling a former-Separatist uprising on Fest. The local government, guided by popular vote, had seceded from the Republic before the Clone Wars erupted. Now the Emperor wanted the world and its phrikite mines brought back under control, and the locals were having none of it
In the middle of the six-week campaign, Firmus collapsed in the operations room and was taken to medical. Ugly, painful lines had appeared around both his thighs and slanting across his upper chest and left arm below the shoulder; the medics determined it to be a sympathetic reaction to injuries suffered by his soulmate. The marks faded quickly but it took a week before he was able to walk again, by which point the quartermasters for the entire Imperial military apparatus were issuing fingerless gloves which covered the wearer from knuckles to elbow. The message was clear: communication with one's soulmate was forbidden whilst on duty, and strongly discouraged otherwise.
His soulmate had been silent until now; after what Firmus delicately began calling 'the incident', he never heard from Ani again.
Many of his fellow crewmates had reported similar - albeit less traumatic - episodes over the course of the previous war. Widespread death and destruction had made the phenomenon of survivors gaining new soulmates increasingly common. The medics assured Firmus that he would gain a new connection in the following months, and despite official restrictions urged him to attempt writing while he was off-duty. But no such connection formed. The words he wrote remained on his skin for most of the day before fading, and no reply ever came. The medics were baffled: this usually meant that one's soulmate lived, but only a particularly hardy species such as a Gen'Dai could have survived what had clearly been very deep wounds caused by a lightsaber.
Firmus thought of the Emperor's Right Hand, Lord Vader, leading the charge to eliminate any remaining Jedi in hiding, and wondered how he'd finally tracked down Ani; if the marks on his skin might lead Vader to Firmus-
He stopped trying to write.
A decade passed, the enemies remained the same even if their name changed, the Empire looked the other way as monolithic tech companies dealt weapons to both sides. The military became an essential step on the ladder into a political career, and Firmus' commanders changed almost overnight from dedicated career officers to the sons of wealthy politicians and Core-world supporters who wanted the prestige with none of the risk.
None of the experience or skill, either, and unwilling to share the same habitation levels as their Outer Rim lessers. Lost among the masses of lower officers, Firmus received promotions until he hit the transparisteel ceiling of Commander and stayed there along with the rest of the experienced Outer Rim servicemembers. Rather than being promoted, he found himself being transferred from ship to ship as their captains ran out of excuses. Or at least, Firmus presumed that was what was happening; it seemed the most likely reason, although why a ship's commander would feel the need to justify not promoting someone they didn't wish to was mystifying.
His latest transfer had had his CO's eyes bright with malicious humour, and it wasn't until he did the legwork on his new posting that he discovered why: the Executor, as the largest and newest addition to the fleet, was also Lord Vader's flagship.
Over the thirteen years since the inception of the Empire, Lord Vader had gained the gruesome reputation of personally strangling people who displeased him; Firmus was certain Captain Firth was hoping the same fate awaited him.
Well, nobody had ever accused Firmus Piett of sticking his neck out without good reason. He kept his head down and did his job, gained the respect of his subordinates by not being a self-entitled Core-bred snob, and tried to content himself with his relative anonymity.
The comfortable bubble he'd cultivated lasted most of a year until its fragile integrity was shattered by the arrival of a trooper in specialised armour at his cupboard of an office. "Lord Vader wishes to speak with you."
Firmus set down the datapad he'd been reading, willing his hands not to tremble. "This moment?"
"Yes, sir. I'm to escort you directly."
The trooper didn't even bother pretending to be apologetic. At least it wasn't a full escort detail bearing stun cuffs and reasonable suspicion. Firmus sighed, turned the datapad off, and secured it in his desk. "Very well. After you."
He dreaded the idea of crewmates' stares as they passed through the corridors, but to his surprise the trooper directed him to an empty lift, inserted a code cylinder, and sent them shooting directly to the private, restricted-access part of the ship where Lord Vader kept his office and residence. Nobody came up here except for command staff and Lord Vader's personal guard. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing for Firmus remained to be seen.
The trooper escorted him into a large office which, other than its size, looked much the same as the admiral's. Bare grey walls, glossy black floor, lighting that was both too bright and too dim at the same time; Firmus had long since grown accustomed to it, after the Axxilan Defense Force's pre-used and rebuilt ragtag fleet. The light seemed to be swallowed by the jet-black expanse of the desk which dominated the end of the room, and by the looming firm seated behind it.
"Commander Piett, sir, as requested."
Lord Vader might as well have been an obsidian statue, but his deep, modulated voice said, "Thank you, Cody. Please wait outside."
The door closed, leaving Firmus alone with the second most terrifying person in the Empire. Vader regarded him for a moment, the silence only broken by the soft hissing of his respirator, before gesturing to the only other chair. "Please, Commander, have a seat." He waited until Firmus was as comfortable as he could be, given the circumstances, then said, "As the Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces, I have both the privilege and responsibility to ensure those officers under my purview are the best suited to their roles."
Firmus' brain latched onto three words in particular. Was Lord Vader suggesting he didn't have complete authority over the Imperial military?
"It has come to my attention that you, Commander, are woefully under-utilised for your record. Tell me: why did you transfer to the Galactic Fleet from Axxila? Surely your superiors there would have been familiar enough with your history to offer you what you deserve?"
Was this an interview? A test? Was Firmus under investigation for potential treason? At least his honest answer couldn't be more incriminating than anything he'd already stated on record. Firmus cleared his throat and said, "Opportunities for advancement in the ADF were stifled by an influx of political promotions. Those commanders began serving their own ends, including accepting bribes from the smugglers we were meant to apprehend. The war was in full swing. I believed I could do more good working with the Fleet than I could at home."
The helmeted head remained motionless but Firmus had the unsettling feeling of being studied closely. "And has your assessment borne out?" When Firmus hesitated, Vader added, "I am not testing you, Commander. I trust my Master to provide me with the best command staff for my flagship; however they are not the sort of men I would trust to report on matters honestly, or to do anything beyond follow regulations to the letter. You have developed a reputation for integrity and candor, Commander Piett. I wonder if you might be willing to grant a superior officer the same courtesy."
Reading between the lines, it was plain that Lord Vader didn't wholly trust the officers the Emperor himself was promoting. This was… not quite treason, but certainly smacked of an attempt to undermine the highest authority in the galaxy. And yet. Yet. The creeping nepotism and oligarchy of the command ranks had given him pause in recent years. Lord Vader's loyalty to the Empire was undisputed; if he sought honesty from his subordinates, it was because he perceived a problem which needed to be fixed.
Swallowing hard, Firmus said, "If undressed honesty is what you seek, my Lord, I can provide it. The Imperial Navy - and, I suspect, the Army too, although I have few enough contacts among them, so I cannot say for certain - is beginning to suffer the same stagnation I saw in the ADF. I have witnessed less corruption, but the fact remains that a number of the command staff are unwilling to regard anyone not of their peerage as an equal, regardless of rank."
Lord Vader sighed, the sound crackling in his voice modulator. "That was my assessment as well, although as I am their superior, it is more difficult to determine. How would you respond if I were to make you an offer of a promotion to Senior Commander?"
Firmus blanched. Senior Commander was command-track rank; the next step beyond that was Captain. "With all respect, sir: Why?"
There was a distinct sensation of amusement in the air, even if Lord Vader was locked behind an expressionless black mask. "For the reasons I just told you. But also. There's a curious mention in your medical records from thirteen years ago. I see you know what I'm referring to. What do you know of your soulmate, Commander?"
Firmus made an effort to relax his shoulders. There was no air of menace, only a sense of curiosity and… anticipation? "Not much, my Lord. I suspect he was a Jedi, and that he grew up on Tatooine. He flaunted the Order's rules on more than one occasion, with good reason, and-" No, better not to mention the wife or children. Firmus had limits when it came to innocents in the line of fire. "He told me his name was-"
"Ani, perhaps?"
Time seemed to freeze.
"My Lord?" Firmus whispered through lips gone numb with shock.
Lord Vader reached up and detached the upper half of his helmet, setting it on the desk. From the nose down, his face was encased in a respiration device which - separated from the dome - now appeared medical in nature. Above the soft black material of the seal, he was human, fair-skinned, with the pallor of someone who hadn't seen the sun in years. His hair, greying at the temples, was cropped regulation-short for comfort under the helmet, and his eyes glared an unnatural red-rimmed yellow.
They also carried a great deal of humour. "It's good to finally meet you, Firmus."