Author's Note: The "Imperials" and "Rebels" parts of the chapter are not always in the same timeline—I hope it's not confusing.
Chapter XXII: The Alliance's Only Hope
In the main dining room of the Skywalker Castle in Coruscant, a group of Imperial officers awaited Darth Vader and Queen Amidala.
It was a rare occurrence, one that many officers found odd, but times were changing, the world was turning, and it was really not in anyone's place to question it.
The fact that the Queen actually left Naboo was not so unusual anymore, not with all the rumors circulating around the Royal Family; but the fact that the Emperor would actually bring her to discuss the Empire's affairs, was something some of the men on that table thought very peculiar, very interesting. And they were curious to see the dynamic between the two most powerful beings in the galaxy.
Padmé was not looking forward to that meeting. She felt unfitted to be before any crowd, even one as intimate and small. She sat in front of her wide mirror, contemplating her image, extravagant and gorgeous for the moment, which really didn't match how she was feeling inside.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Anakin said, staring at his beautiful wife and walking towards her.
"I have to," she sighed. "It's worse not knowing."
He sat next to her and laid his head on her shoulder. "And do I have to go?" he grinned and got more comfortable.
"Ani," she laughed, sadly. "My love, these are hard times we're enduring. But at least we're not completely alone. We have each other."
"Yes," he muttered. "I don't know what I would do without you…"
Images of rebels smashing her into pieces burned in his mind.
"Anakin?" she asked. "Are you alright?" From time to time, she could actually notice he was suffering from a lot more than he confessed.
He still couldn't be completely honest to her. And he feared mentioning his nightmares out loud. It was almost as if by keeping them to himself they lost strength and he could almost pretend they never happened .
He said nothing and gave her a soft kiss. "Ready to go?" she asked.
He nodded. "You look beautiful," he said as they walked the stairway, arm in arm, to meet the officers.
The conversation was tense, the environment uncomfortable. The two rulers stern and cold.
It was a sensitive issue they were discussing, and more than personal for the Emperor and his wife (even more so to him). The Rebel Alliance was a threat to peace, to law and order, yet Anakin had more powerful reasons to hate them and want to exterminate them.
More senators had been discovered as traitors, many had been arrested. It seemed like at that point the Skywalkers couldn't trust their own shadows.
The Rebellion was gaining strength, they were growing confident and almost obtained influence and power. People across the galaxy were taking them seriously now; the Empire needed to take drastic measures—and it did.
"The troopers who survived the Battle of Yavin," General Cassio Tagge spoke with caution, and like every other man never giving a glance to the Queen. "Said there was nothing too impressive regarding ability or equipment. The Battle was our victory, Your Majesty. It was a tremendous blow to the rebels, one from which they will not recover."
"A victory?" A calm voice spoke, gaining everyone's attention. "Forgive me General, but I fail to see how what happened in Yavin was good for the Empire."
"Grand Admiral," Tagge replied with thinly veiled displeasure. "We caught them off-guard. We destroyed their base. What exactly makes you think they won?"
The Grand Admiral almost smiled. "Everything you've just said, General."
Anakin was as confused as everyone on that table, he was not in the mood for Thrawn's riddles, so he just urged him to get to the point.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Thrawn had a way of appearing respectful even when he was about to make a fool of someone. "I would think it's so obvious. But yes… We had the rebels within our grasp. We had the bigger military, the most advanced weapons; we found their secret base. And we should've, at the very least, caused the conflict to diminish and the balance to fall on our side again, yet they gave a good enough fight to maintain the true victor unclear; everything it's blurred… and it's dangerous."
The group of men didn't look any less confused. But one person was finally seeing the meaning behind Thrawn's words.
"We've raised their confidence," Queen Amidala said, her voice far away. "We've given them hope."
Thrawn smiled at her, unafraid, even when he was more than aware of what happened to the last officer that dared being civil with her.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Just so. They have now moved their base, they know that if they survived us once, they can do it again. We must be more careful than ever. If we want to succeed."
If… He spoke as though there was a chance of the Empire not succeeding, as if the possibility of failure was there; he clearly thought the rebels had a chance of winning. It was unnerving and every other Imperial officer stayed in denial, thinking Yavin only proved the dominance the Galactic Empire still held. Overconfidence would be their biggest weakness.
"We must not forget, too," Grand Admiral Thrawn went on. "That they have Force users on their side."
A strong growl resonated from the Emperor's chest, his anger rising as he already knew where the conversation was going.
Darth Vader had worked so hard and for so many years, making sure all traces of the Jedi were extinguished, he could hardly believe anyone would dare follow that ancient religion. Becoming a Jedi in the Galactic Empire was the most absolute way to ensure your death sentence. At least before.
"As long as they are not fully trained Jedi, that will hardly matter," another officer said.
"But didn't one already show himself?" Thrawn said, making the tension that was covering the imperials grow. "A mystery Jedi with a green lightsaber has helped the rebels during several battles now. Your Majesty," he spoke more cautiously now. "I know this is a hard time for you… but you're needed in the battlefield."
Anakin's face grew red and hot, anger and indignation threatening to control him. He did his best to remain calm. It was something he already knew, something Grand Moff Tarkin had pointed out before. He knew it was true, but he couldn't do that.
Vader would be more than glad to drop everything behind to chase after the damn Jedi and kill him. He'd be more than willing to destroy the traitor of the Empire… But Anakin wouldn't allow that. Anakin needed Padmé and she couldn't be left alone and unprotected.
The Sith and the man were in constant war, more often than not evil won, yet not when it involved Padmé, not when it involved his family.
It was another reason he desperately wanted his children back.
Anakin loved and missed his children, but the Sith within him also couldn't wait to get them back. The Apprentices needed to finally show their power and strength. They needed to become the hunters of Jedi and the stoppers of traitors.
Deep down Anakin didn't want to put his children in such position, and if he was honest with himself, he preferred to be the one who killed the Jedi, whom Vader hated not just for his devotion to an Order long gone (the one he destroyed), but because he was also a rebel.
"The Jedi will be deal with in time," The Emperor said, darkly. "Just like every rebel, traitor, and enemy of the Empire."
His voice was harsh, pure ice yet seductive. The fiery Sith glance that accompanied every word made every man shrink in fear. Except Thrawn. He knew he was safe, even if the Emperor wanted to kill him, he wouldn't. The Empire couldn't afford to lose him at such a point in the Civil War.
Anakin didn't care enough for the moment, and he was planning to leave the military's next move completely on the Grand Admiral; after all, if he could find the rebel base once, he certainly could do it again. In fact, he was expected to.
"I am in as much hurry to accomplish that as you are, Your Majesty," Thrawn said, smiling grimly. "After all, I too worry about our Princess's fate!" His red eyes met those of the queen by the end of his sentence.
Princess Leia laid on a small, wooden bed as a doctor checked on her.
She didn't make a single move or sound; she stared up at the tall ceiling without any apparent emotion.
"No trauma," the doctor calmly said. "She does have a great number of bruises, but I think they're old ones—probably from the last one. I've injected her a pain-killer since she wouldn't take any. I rather think she'll be fine," he smiled faintly.
"Why haven't you used bacta?" Han asked as his frown deepened.
"We've a shortage, young man. We only use it on the most necessary cases," the doctor replied, coolly.
Han's fists tightened behind his back. Watching's Leia's purple-bruised body definitely counted as a most necessary case on his mind.
"She's just covered in dust and in really great shock," the doctor said as he noticed Han's obvious displeasure. "Can't blame her; one never really gets used to these damn bombings."
"It was our first," Han said, watching Leia's empty face with a look of concern and anger.
"No, sweetie," the woman that had come with them said. "You must be in great shock, too; since this is the third time the Empire bombs Corellia!"
"Yeah, but we weren't here during those," Han snarled. "We just got here."
One of the rebels turned a stern and suspicious glance on Han. "How is that possible?" He asked, raising a thin black eyebrow.
Han cleared his throat, perhaps he was saying too much… but, to some extent, he trusted the rebels. After all, they had just saved his life. Still he had doubts. "We didn't know things were so bad around here… We were during a… trip, my girlfriend and I, and then; well, you can guess the welcome we had."
The rebel didn't look like he believed him much, but he appeared to ignore it for a while.
"What's your name?" the rebel asked.
"Han Solo."
"You are a Corellian, are you not?"
"I am."
"And she? Where is she from? What's her name?"
Han waited a few moments. "None of your business," he said with pretended jealousy.
The young rebel laughed. "Hey man, I'm not trying to steal your girl."
"Good."
"Seriously," he pressed. "What's her name?" Han said nothing; he could tell the rebels were growing more suspicious. He finally decided to lie. "Jule," he said.
The rebel turned a sad face. "I know someone with that name…" he sighed. He approached the princess. "Are you in much pain?" he asked softly. "The doctor said you were fine. But do you need anything?"
She was still mute.
"Do you have any food?" Han asked. "She hasn't eaten in a long time. She fainted just before the bombing started."
The rebel nodded.
A tray of food was brought before Leia, it had nothing she could ever wish to eat, yet her mind and stomach begged her to stand up and eat it.
Nevertheless she remained lying down, eyes still staring at the ceiling and beyond, and always remembering the horrible fear of living in the middle of a war.
"Come on, Sweetheart," Han said as he stood by her side. "Eat."
Silent tears streamed down her face. For a second, she wished to tell the rebels who she was, so they could end her existence at last…
Han tried bringing a slice to her mouth, but she wouldn't open it. He sighed in defeat, he felt depressed till he saw Leia curved her head to the side. "Where," her voice was finally heard, a low whisper it was, and as weak as it sounded, it warmed Han's heart. "Where is the boy?" She asked, slowly. "He survived? Oh, please tell me he survived!"
Han kissed the top of her head. "He's sleeping in his mother's arms," he said, thinking Leia would smile; but she only breathed out in relief.
Anakin and Padmé flew across the stars again.
It was not a pleasant trip. The Executer wandered planet after planet, it landed, explored and left never to any success.
Anakin was shocked to see he was growing to hate space. Indeed, though hating was something he usually found easy, that was one thing he hadn't ever expected.
He stared at the immensity outside his ship, utter blackness graced by sparkly stars, hating life, hating his failure, and hating the mess that the galaxy had again become.
His thoughts raged from one thing to another within seconds—yet they all almost equally infuriated and pained him. He thought of the rebels, groaning inwardly for his wife's future murderers and for the hidden Jedi.
He thought of his missing children: his unpredictable son and bold daughter.
He thought of the galaxy he ruled: torn by war and in absolute turmoil.
He thought of her… imagining her as she was at the moment, crying inside their private quarters; thinking also about their missing children.
"Your Majesty," Vader heard behind him, which hardly brought him back into the present world.
Anakin could feel the terror and panic from that officer, even above his mask of tranquility, and in a matter of seconds he knew he was about to learn something about his daughter.
"What is it, Captain?" he asked, shortly.
The man cleared his throat; he took a deep breath, and finally informed Vader about the message just received.
Even though he knew he was walking straight to his death, Needa wasn't any less shocked and frightened as he felt Vader's invisible grip around his neck. His wide eyes only grew as he saw the Emperor ignite his red lightsaber.
While Han rested on the floor, Leia rested on his lap. She closed her eyes, allowing a small gleam of light to cover her; and she just dwelled on the closeness they had for the moment. She played with each finger of his hand while he entertained himself with her long, messy, cascading, brown hair.
"You know this isn't like last time?" he said, bringing his face close to hers so that no one would hear. "We're not captured; we can go. I doubt there's much you could… learn here."
She slowly opened her eyes. "I am not ready…" she breathed in and out. "I can't see this city again—not yet at least." Again she closed her eyes.
"All right," he accepted. "But what about Chewie and your droid and…"
"They are fine," she assured him. "They were perfectly secured up in the mountains."
That was enough to ease him for a while. Soon he saw she was about to fall asleep. "Prin—Sweetheart," he said. She opened her eyes again. "You need to eat something."
"I know. I just don't have the energy to even do that."
"That's why you must eat."
"Other people need it more than me," she muttered, and she turned her head to see the crowds of people, some of them actually wounded and sick.
He made her be seated, still on top of him. And as her head laid on his broad chest, she felt how the light ran through her again, but it felt different. It was like a spark fired inside her, some new feeling was passing between them, some intense power she didn't know was possible, but she welcomed it, as it felt good, greater than anything she had ever felt before.
Finally Leia was eating, actually stuffing her mouth with whatever they threw her way; Han also ate with her and for a few moments, Leia actually enjoyed life again.
"It's nice to see you guys are doing better," the male rebel from before said, standing in front of them.
Leia couldn't face him. "T—thanks," she muttered. "Thank you for your help."
"No problem," the rebel said. "I am sorry; I don't think I heard your name?"
"No you didn't," she said, losing all previous softness and signs of gratitude.
"Princess!" the voice of a child cried happily, saving Leia from the rebel's questioning gaze.
"Well, hello again," Leia smiled at the child. "Look who's woken up!"
She carried the boy in her arms.
"Looks like you have competition, Solo," the rebel laughed.
"I am not too worried," Han grinned.
The boy kept laughing with Leia, he continued that way until his mother called him.
At the sound of his mother, the boy immediately stood up and ran, crossing the path of many passing by rebels. As he ran, he would've crashed against a group of men, who were carrying big boxes in their arms; the men managed to react in time to not push him, but one of them lost balance, causing him to drop one of the heavy boxes.
The box would've hit the boy's head, but Princess Leia, worriedly, cried, "No!" and immediately stopped the box in midair. Everyone saw as she raised and lowered her hand, the box was softly laid on the floor.
"This is Princess Leia of the Galactic Empire."
It had never been hard for Anakin to keep his men in check. He never struggled to make himself be feared. He was Darth Vader, after all; inflicting fear, pain and reverence was what he knew best. But as he heard his daughter's voice again, after so long, he couldn't even react. He wasn't even thinking about punishing those who had once again come between him and his missing daughter; his whole energy was focused on one single thing: How different she sounded. He remembered his young daughter as fearless, powerful, haughty, bold, happy… and now?
"This is Princess Leia of the Galactic Empire! Stop firing at this ship. Gentlemen, this is an imperial order!"
He couldn't believe nor stand the despair in her voice. The shakiness, the fear!
She knew she was on the brink of death, and she had been frightened.
And what did they do?
He hated the fact that he couldn't kill them himself.
But someone would pay for what they did to his daughter. It didn't matter who, as long as someone suffered at his hand.
But, someone—if not everyone, was already suffering…
Why would the smugglers take her to Corellia?
He wouldn't think they were geniuses, but could they really be so stupid? Or were they suicidal?
Anakin barely knew about the situation in Corellia. He knew they had been caught as one of the main suppliers for the Rebel Alliance, and of course, the Jedi his army couldn't kill.
He knew they had endured some of the worst the Civil War had offered so far; he knew they were still struggling with the aftermath of the siege.
He thought he heard there were new methods being used to keep them in check and scare them from helping the Alliance, in fact…
"Well, Commander?" Vader asked; his voice ice and nothing like the fire that was inwardly burning him.
"Your Majesty," he heard and he felt he was in one of his worst nightmares. "Coronet city was bombarded scarcely…"
"Go on."
"About an hour and a half after the princess asked permission to land."
Before Darth Vader could react to that new knowledge, he felt a world of pain and sorrow behind him. He slowly and reluctantly turned around.
"Well, Lord Vader?" Padmé asked, her voice calm but the woman completely broken. "Next move?" her words came amidst bitter sarcasm, burning tears and nervous laughter.