I survived the nuke! You lot are nicer to me than I deserve.
Kudos to Mallahawk25 for your constructive reviews - I've tried to sneak a bit more Mando'a into this chapter for you.
Al'verde - commander
Alor'ad - captain
Ori'haat - that's the truth/I swear it
Tal'onidir - "sweat blood" i.e. give it your all
An edit courtesy of the wise HaywireEagle: my non-existent TIE fighters have been scrapped and replaced with Republican Headhunter starfighters. I love hearing all your Star Wars knowledge!
Korkie had known it long before the news finally appeared. He had felt that tear in the Force, that clean separation, and over the hours of torturous waiting had become numb to the pain of it.
His mother, although he'd tried to warn her, couldn't have felt what he felt. Couldn't have known what he knew. And so, when the refreshed page finally displayed a new headline – BREAKING NEWS: Chancellor Palpatine narrowly survives shocking Jedi assassination attempt! – Korkie felt little, and his mother felt it all.
"What in the hells do they think they're talki-"
Satine opened the article and fell silent.
In an emergency session of the Republican Senate held at daybreak this morning, a disfigured Chancellor Palpatine has exposed a shocking act of betrayal and violence that took place in the Senate building overnight. An assassination attempt masterminded by leader of the Jedi Order Grand Master Yoda, who recruited former Jedi Knights Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi as his enforcers, was attempted in the Chancellor's office. It was only through the courage and devotion of the clone troopers stationed on Coruscant that the would-be assassins were defeated.
"Defeated," Satine murmured. "They didn't say…"
And Korkie finally found the words he had been unable to say in the hours gone past.
"He's dead, Buir Mama."
His voice was but a whisper. His mother slammed the data-pad down against the desk.
"No! It didn't say that."
"He is."
"Korkie, why would you-"
"He's dead, Buir!"
He had yelled at her. Yelled at his mother for the first time in his life. The silence that followed was horrible. Worse still was the moan that came from deep within his mother's chest. Sobs shuddered through her body, silent at first, and then to a wailing crescendo.
Ba'vodu Bo often made fun of Satine for crying so easily. Certainly, Korkie had witnessed his mother shedding elegant tears at least a hundred times in his life. But he had never seen her cry like this.
Korkie bundled his mother's thin frame into his arms and held him against her but she did not quieten. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and Korkie could not escape it. The sobs rose in his own chest – they had always been so alike, mother and child – and they wailed together. Korkie thought of Classical Mando Folklore: Volume II and of how the gods, seeing a massacre of children in a lowland valley in the very first Mandalorian civil war, wept with such grief that their tears formed a flood that swept the conquering soldiers away. Korkie felt that today deserved a flood. He would weep until the skyscrapers of Coruscant appeared only as small stepping stones in a great sea of tears. The Chancellor would be trapped as the Senate filled with water and he would drown. Korkie would sweep them all away and the world could start anew.
But the image was faint and brought him little consolation. He was too old for folklore now. The magic was gone and nothing could fix this.
Bo-Katan, who had been training new recruits out in the fields, heard the news through a radio broadcast brought to her urgently by one of the lieutenants.
"The Chancellor's just given an emergency speech to the Senate. Everything's turned on its head. They're calling Jedi traitors and the clones are killing them and there's an Empire now instead of-"
Bo-Katan snatched the transmitter from his hand and listened for herself. Her stomach turned at the sound of the Chancellor's voice.
"The hatred in the hearts of the Jedi could not be hidden forever. They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin."
"Oh, kriff," Bo-Katan breathed.
"This attempt on my life have left me scarred and deformed," the voice droned, "but I assure you that my resolve has never been stronger. The would-be assassins have been defeated and the Jedi insurgents in the Jedi Temple and on battlefields throughout the galaxy have been crushed. We have the courage and devotion of our clone troopers to thank for this enormous effort."
Bo-Katan's breath caught in her chest. Cam, leader of the Faulties and her second-favourite training partner, was tracing his hand along the small scar on his scalp through which his chip had been removed, devastated.
"Sixty-three Senators have been arrested in collusion with the Jedi insurgency and further traitors including Senator for Naboo Padme Amidala remain at large. We will bring any threats to our hard-fought peace under our control. In order to ensure security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganised into the first Galactic Empire."
The listening soldiers gaped, eyes widening at this proclamation. It was some bizarre, dystopian nightmare.
"We will unite the entire galaxy under one law, one language, and the enlightened guidance of one individual, so that the corruption that plagued the Republic in its later years will never again take root."
"One individual?" someone spluttered. "That'll be him, right?"
But the death of democracy was the least of Bo-Katan's worries. The Jedi were the vanquished enemy of the Republic. What if that meant…
She hurried to find her sister.
It was the greatest grief that Satine had ever known. She who had seen her parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles and cousins slaughtered before her eyes. She who had lived so many years apart from her sister. To lose Obi Wan…
She had loved him from the first moment she had laid eyes upon him. In that tent with the blizzard whirling outside. From the first touch of his skin upon hers. She had not wanted to love him but her heart had given her no choice. The galaxy had thrown at them every obstacle, every reason to turn their backs upon one another. But they never had. They had loved each other always and Satine knew that they always would.
But she knew, perhaps because of these many griefs, that this loss would not be her last. She did not know for how long she cried in her son's arms but she found her breath again, as she always had.
Satine was made from beskar. She would endure. There was danger all around and she still had her son to protect. She forced the tears from her eyes – squeezed them tight, swatted at them with the heels of her hands – and tried to make out the words in the article following their pronouncement of her riduur's death.
She read of the crushing of Jedi insurgents and the arrest of senators and she read the name of her dear friend, still at large. She read of a new Empire, of Regional Governors, of clone troopers turned Imperial stormtroopers. She read between the lines, in the way that a trained politician could – she read the death of democracy and the dissolution of cultures and the rise of a police state.
"Korkie, my dear," she murmured. "I'm afraid the nightmare is only beginning."
Should she have kept that truth from him, tucked him into bed at mid-afternoon and bid him rest? Some might have said so; some might have called her callous. But Korkie would never be a child again and she could not force him backwards.
"Padme's on her way," she went on, rising unsteadily to her feet. "She's wanted by the new Empire. She's not safe. And neither, I suspect, are we."
She swept her tousled hair back from her face.
"I need to speak to-"
Bo-Katan. Appearing in the hallway of her study. Pain on her face as Satine had seldom seen it.
"Is Obi Wan-"
"-dead," Satine uttered.
The word was poison in her mouth. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to black out and think no more. She gripped the chair beside her and screwed her eyes shut against the resurging tears.
"Sati, I'm so sorry."
The whispered apology broke her resolved, and she sobbed again.
"There's not time for this," she choked out, deflecting her sister's embrace. "The Empire has- has said that- it- it-"
She felt Bo-Katan's hands upon her shoulders.
"Sati, sit down, let's not talk about this now…"
"We have to talk about this now!" Satine managed.
With great effort, she sucked deep breaths and found a way to speak again.
"The Empire has outlined very clearly, Bo-Katan," she managed, "that it intends to exert control over the entire galaxy. Our military forces-"
"-aren't as big as theirs," Bo-Katan summarised grimly. "But they'll be fighting a war on countless fronts, surely. We might be in with a chance. I'll have all the reserves activated?"
"Please."
It was obscene to be talking of war at such a time. But what else was there to do? Satine had no body to kiss, to clean, to bury. She had no story. No true understanding of what had happened. She had only the present moment – Obi Wan's beloved present moment – and she would take it by its throat.
"I'm going to alert the- the hangar staff to Padme's impending arrival," Satine resolved. "We will have food and m-m-m-"
She forced another steadying breath.
"-medical care ready for her."
Bo-Katan raised a brow.
"Sati, are you sure you want to be doing all this while you're…"
"Crying?" Satine snapped. "I'll be crying for the next w-w-week, Bo-Katan. I can't just sit back a-a-and do nothing that whole time."
Bo-Katan considered her with faint wariness.
"Mum's right," Korkie managed, rising shakily to his feet beside her. "We have to protect the survivors now."
Bo-Katan nodded and came to hold each of their hands, providing them with her unfailing strength.
"You are the most loving, selfless, remarkable family I have ever met," she commended them softly. "All three of you."
Bo-Katan watched Satine and Padme embrace each other, quaking with sobs, from the corner of her eye as she comm-called the leader of her air force. She felt uncomfortable, intruding on this private moment of widows' grief, but somehow didn't feel it safe to look away from them. The sun was setting. Korkie was vigilant and anxious when he should have simply been sad, and that kid always knew when trouble was coming.
"Now that we've received the Duchess's guest, we need to be vigilant to all aspects of the space border," Bo-Katan instructed. "All security checks should come through me. I want to know exactly who's coming in and out."
"Your comm will be buzzing all night, Al'verde."
"I don't mind."
The air force commander made a noise of scepticism but protested no further.
"Alright. Here's your first one now, actually. It's a… Hold on…"
"Hold on?" Bo-Katan repeated, irritated.
"Sorry, Al'verde, I didn't mean any disrespect, it's just that there are a few to count…"
Kriff. Too soon. It couldn't all be happening so soon.
"Al'verde, it's a…"
"It's what?" Bo-Katan barked.
She knew. She could hear the fear.
"It's a Republican- uh, Empirical?"
"Imperial."
"Imperial Star Destroyer."
Bo-Katan let out a generous string of expletives.
"A whole kriffing Star Destroyer, Alor'ad? With starfighters and boarding craft and-"
"Ori'haat. The whole thing, Al'verde."
"Okay."
Bo-Katan forced herself to take a deep breath. Satine was helping the heavily pregnant Padme into the palace. They were both weeping still.
"We'll evacuate the major cities," Bo-Katan declared. "Get the whole air force mobilised and the anti-aircraft gunners in place. I'll have the army start instituting bunkers…"
"Al'verde?" the air force commander ventured.
"Yes?"
"There are three of them now."
Bo-Katan's heart just about dropped to her feet.
"Three of what, Alor'ad? Three starfighters?"
"Three Imperial Star Destroyers."
Bo-Katan sank slowly to sit on the concrete floor of the hangar.
"Three Imperial Star Destroyers," she repeated. "Right. Okay."
"Al'verde?"
"I'm thinking!" Bo-Katan snapped.
"There are six now."
Bo-Katan tried not to scream. Instead, she spoke flatly.
"We can't defeat that, correct? Not even close?"
"Correct."
"Evacuating the major cities won't be enough."
"I agree."
"We'll…"
Bo-Katan set her jaw.
"They've come to exterminate us," she vocalised, the words impossibly heavy. "Forget the cities. We need to evacuate the children off this whole kriffing planet."
She gave a steadying breath.
"I'll update the Duchess and we'll await her orders. It is possible that we'll make some sort of compromise. If we engage them, it will be a losing battle."
"I understand, Al'verde."
"Ground troops will do all they can to facilitate the evacuation in the meantime. You can direct the ships onto the refugee routes."
Bo-Katan rose to her feet once more.
"Tal'onidir, Alor'ad."
"Tal'onidir, Al'verde."
And Bo-Katan trailed her sister back into the palace. She would have to break her heart all over again.
Korkie sat on the living room couch – his mother had insisted that they all, at the very least, sit somewhere comfortable – and listened to his Ba'vodu announce the impending end of the world as darkness fell outside. He felt nothing. He was spent.
"They've not sent six star destroyers to have a polite discussion about whether we'd like to join the Empire," Bo-Katan emphasised. "It's enough weaponry to turn this whole planet back to desert all over again."
Satine shook her head resolutely.
"I won't let that happen."
"Do you think it's because of me?" Padme ventured.
Korkie had never heard Padme sound timid like this. He looked at her, clutching her swollen belly like a lifeline, and could not reconcile the image with the woman who had made the Senate fall quiet. Sewlen Jerac was sitting beside her, her fingertips resting lightly on Padme's radial pulse.
"No," Satine answered firmly. "If it's personal, it will be about my connection to Obi Wan."
Another crest in their endless ocean of sadness. Korkie swiped at his eyes. His mother let the tears roll.
"But more likely," she went on, stoically. "It is because we are an emerging military power that caused trouble to the Republic in its years of corruption and stand now to cause trouble to the Empire. But I think that we can all agree that superficial subservience to the Empire is worth it if we can avert another Excision. If more Mandalorians can survive, then more Mandalorians can bring them down later."
Bo-Katan nodded curtly.
"Then I shall contact them and negotiate," Satine declared. "But we must commence the evacuation of the children immediately, should any violence arise. We can always bring them back."
"Agreed," Bo-Katan replied. "I'm on it, Vod. See you soon."
She strode from the living room. Satine rose from the couch and came to kneel on the floor before Korkie, taking his hands in her own.
A bad sign.
"Mum," he warned. "Whatever it is you're about to ask…"
"Korkie, listen to me."
She had perhaps never spoken to him with such sincerity. Her grip on his hands was firm.
"They have the power to wipe us out. We cannot defeat them. Do you understand?"
Korkie nodded.
"Yes."
There was a great grief on his mother's face that suggested that he did not understand all of it.
"The only way for me to spare our people is to negotiate," his mother went on. "I will find whatever compromise I can. But you and Padme cannot be here to be used as bargaining chips against me."
Korkie's brain seemed to be working slowly, through the horrible fog of loss.
"You want me to leave?" he repeated, in disbelief. "Buir Mama, that's a terrible idea, we should stay together. I want to stay-"
"Korkie, you cannot," she intoned firmly.
She had been crying all afternoon but her face now was calm.
"If he had you, Korkie, I would…"
She shook her head in wonderment.
"I would do anything, Korkie," she whispered. "Anything, to protect you. Which is why I cannot negotiate effectively unless you are safe."
"But… but…"
Korkie looked desperately for an ally, and found Sewlen.
"Doctor Sewlen, we can't send Padme away when she's so close to giving birth. What if she goes into labour? I need someone to help me, I can't-"
"You can have T9, Korkie," Sewlen assured him. "I'll send him with you. I'll pack him with some antibiotics and some oxytocin and some injections for the babies. T9 will help you and he will tell you exactly what to do."
He'd made it worse.
"T9's ancient, Sewlen!" he howled in protest.
"He's a perfectly good obstetric droid," Sewlen countered. "He was the only assistant I had at your birth, you know."
"But you're a doctor! The best in the whole blasted galaxy!"
"Korkie…"
Sewlen's hand was on his shoulder.
"I wish I could come with you," she told him. "I really do. But I'm a trauma surgeon and there could be more trauma on this planet today than there ever has been. T9 will help you, Korkie. It'll be just fine. But your mum's right. We've got to get the two of you out as fast as we can."
Korkie shook his head but was at a loss for words. He had thought that all the emotion, all of the grief, was gone from him after the terrible realisation of his father's passing. But his eyes were welling with tears once more.
"Sewlen…" he pleaded, and managed nothing else.
The doctor shook his head. She had tears in her eyes too.
"I'm not supposed to pick favourites, Korkie, but you're my favourite patient and you always will be," she told him, with a watery grin. "You're a miracle and I know you're going to do something special."
Him? Something special? All he seemed to be able to do today was cry.
"Okay," he choked out.
"It's okay, ad'ik," Sewlen affirmed, despite her own tears.
"It's okay," Korkie repeated, a little stronger this time.
"Good boy."
Sewlen planted a kiss on his head and rose from the couch, bringing Padme with her.
"Let me do a last few checks before your travel and I'll make sure we've got everything ready…"
Korkie turned to find his mother at the bookshelf. In a fit of adolescent independence and fervent intellectualism, Korkie had moved his childhood books to the downstairs bookshelf last year. He knew what she had been searching for before she pressed it into his hands. It sent a fresh cascade of tears spilling down his cheeks.
The Family Book.
"You and Padme and those babies, Korkie," she articulated softly. "You are the future. You must survive. You must bring light back into this galaxy."
Korkie shook his head vigorously, pushing the book back as though in doing so he could stop the inevitable.
"Mum, I can't let you-"
"Korkaran," she interrupted. "I am the Duchess of Mandalore and I can fix this. I must stay. But if I fail, I need you and Padme to be safe."
"But I'm the Prince of Mandalore!" Korkie protested, frantically. "I hold the Darksaber! Surely it is my place, as much as yours, to stay and fight and-"
"Force-willing there will be no fighting," Satine countered calmly. "But no, Korkie, it is not your place. Not yet. You are still a child under Mando law and every last person on this planet would insist upon your protection."
She saw his protest before he could voice it.
"You will stand with that Darksaber and defend our people one day, Korkie," she told him. "I know that you will. You are my successor, Korkaran."
She shook her head in wonderment and corrected herself.
"Korkie, you are more than my successor. You are to be the Duke and Mand'alor both. You are the future of Mandalore and the future of the Jedi. You are everything."
Korkie was sobbing in earnest now.
"Not without you, Buir Mama. Without you I'm-"
"Korkie, my dear, you are ready for this."
There were tears in his mother's eyes but she held them back.
"You have always had this strength," she told him. "You broke from my womb so early and you were so small but you were ready, my love. You survived. And you will again."
Korkie could not even speak, he was gripped so powerfully by grief and fear.
"You will," Satine repeated, cradling his face in her hands now. "For me. Please."
"B-b-buir…"
But he did not know what he might say to her. His mother brought his head onto her shoulder now, embraced him fiercely in her arms.
"Think of your father, Korkie," she instructed. "Breathe with me and think of him. Of how he loved you so much that he died to make the galaxy safer for you."
Korkie struggled against the embrace.
"He failed!"
Satine looked at Korkie then with stern warning, imperious despite the gathering tears and blotchy cheeks.
"He did not, Korkie. Nor did Anakin. They began the fight for us. And now the fight goes on."
"I can never be like him," Korkie mumbled miserably. "I-"
"I've said it a thousand times, Korkie, and I mean it."
Satine fought for a smile.
"You are greater, Korkaran, than your father and I both. You truly are."
His mother reached for him again and this time he did not resist.
"We love you so much, Korkie," she whispered. "We love you so, so much and we always will. That love will never be lost."
Korkie breathed and thought of his father. He did not know why, exactly, he had died. To make the galaxy safer for him, his mother had said. Korkie thought it more likely that he had simply died trying to save Anakin. But that wounded jealousy did not ache as it once had. Korkie had laid his hand on Padme's belly and felt the Force within the babies inside. He would protect them. A new meaning. He would protect them just as his father would have.
"I'll see you again, right?" Korkie asked, of his mother. "After the compromise? You'll be under Imperial control but we can plan a rebellion and-"
"Yes, my darling," Satine assured him.
Padme and Sewlen had appeared in the doorway, T9 by their side.
"We will see each other again," Satine repeated. "Now go."
Deep beneath the palace, Korkie took the Darksaber in his hand.
I'm very proud of you, Korkaran.
His father's voice was as near, as true, as it ever had been. There is always life in the Force.
You grow stronger every day.
"For you, Buir," he whispered. "All of it. For you."
Satine spoke to the Emperor's representative – it should not have surprised her that the despicable Tarkin had received a promotion under the new government – and organised a discussion for negotiations. The Emperor would be ready to speak with her in a few minutes. Satine thanked him and tore from her study, down the palace stairs and out into the hangar where Padme and Korkie were preparing to board an innocuous Mandalorian freighter; they would leave the glistening chrome of Padme's Nubian starship behind.
She had said goodbye already. But it was not enough.
Perhaps it could never be enough.
She ran to them anyway.
"Padme."
She embraced her dear friend, one hand cradling her cheek, the other resting upon her gravid belly.
"It is a difficult thing, to do this alone," she murmured. "But you can, my dear. You have long been the strongest person in that Senate and you will be strong, now, in this new life."
Padme nodded.
"I'll do anything for them, Satine."
"I know you will."
Satine turned now to face her son. Her precious son. Who she had loved more fiercely, she knew, than she had ever loved anyone.
"Just in case, Korkie… just in case it is some time until we see each other again…"
He nodded stoically, taking her hands.
"Yes, Buir?"
"I told you before that you must survive but I didn't say it right. Survival isn't enough. I need you to live."
"To live?"
"I had hoped to take a whole lifetime to teach you this, Korkie, but…"
She reached and found the words.
"I need you to love fiercely every day of your life," she told him. "To love the people around you. To love the people you will never know. To remember your home and your family no matter what happens."
The Family Book was strapped to his backpack. The Darksaber hung at his belt. His case of beskar lay at his feet. By the stars, she was proud of him.
"It's alright to cry, Korkie, and it's alright to grieve," she told him. "But you must continue to love. I lost years of my life to anger, refusing to love. Anger at my parents, at my sister, at your father…"
She shook her head.
"Do not lose your life to anger," she repeated. "No matter how many times they wound you. Alright, my love?"
"Alright, Buir Mama."
She kissed him upon the forehead. The night air was cold and brought colour to his cheeks.
"You are my every star in the sky, Korkie'ad. Fly safely."
"Negotiate well, Buir Mama."
Satine gave a sad smile. The power imbalance was enormous. There was no good outcome to be won.
"I always do, Korkaran."
Korkie sat at the controls of the freighter and remembered his flying lessons with his brother. Anakin had insisted that yes, at ten years standard, Korkie was plenty old enough to learn.
"At least he's hit double digits, Satine," Anakin had reasoned, charmingly. "I, by comparison, was about half his age when…"
Korkie couldn't exactly remember how the rest of the story went. He'd broken into a shipyard, maybe. Played around with a ship that he thought was broken and was surprised when it jumped to life. Or had he fixed one, coaxed it back to life through great effort? Anakin had been the best storyteller Korkie knew. His hundreds of stories interwove with each other in Korkie's mind and he could not pick them apart. He should have had Anakin write them down. So that no one would ever forget that a slave child became a Jedi Knight and then something much more. So that his children could hear them.
"We're going to have to be quick past the fleet," Padme informed him.
With her travelling cloak wrapped tightly around her, she seemed to have regathered much of her strength.
"Yep," Korkie agreed grimly.
He wanted to turn back, look at his home-world one last time. But perhaps it was for the best that he could not.
"Oh, kriff," he breathed.
While there was no sign yet in the activity of the fleet that they had been spotted, Korkie felt a creeping, cruel Darkness fall over them, like an eclipse of the sun. Korkie had never felt Darkness like this before. It could only have been the Sith Lord. He threw up his shields, as desperate as he could, trying to reach out and hide Padme's Force presence too.
"They're deploying Headhunters!" Padme pointed out.
A swarm of red-and-white Headhunter starfighters were streaming out from the nearest star destroyer.
"Blast it!" Korkie hissed. "The shields on this thing are rubbish."
Korkie gave the throttle everything it had towards the Mandalorian space station with its hyperspace transport ring awaiting them. They wouldn't be able to absorb more than one or two hits.
"You're strapped in, Padme?"
"Yep. Time to show me your tricks. Unless you want me to fly?"
"I've got it, thanks."
He swerved upwards and then sideways to dodge the spray of green blaster bolts.
"You're going to miss the kriffing ring, Korkie."
"No, I'm not!"
They hit the hyperspace ring at a speed that it probably shouldn't have been taken at. The ship jolted, but held.
"Outer Rim?"
"That'll do."
"Alright, here we go."
And the stars faded to blurs around them.
"By the stars, Korkie," Padme breathed. "I can tell who your teacher was."
There was sadness in her, but warmth too. His mum was right. Padme was surely one of the strongest women in the galaxy.
And then a faint frown appeared on her face. Her hand flitted to her chest, and then her belly. Korkie's own heart jolted. If he was about to have to deliver babies in hyperspace…
"What's wrong, Padme?"
"I…"
She shook her head.
"Nothing, probably. I just feel a little… sick."
She sat herself determinedly upright, despite her obvious fatigue, as the ancient medi-droid came to fuss at her side. Korkie chewed at his lip and wondered if his shields had been enough.
"Low blood pressure," T9 informed them, sombrely.
It was an enormous test of Satine's beskar heart, to look at that monster in the holo-transmission and incline her head in curt greeting. She could have hurled abuse at him and screamed and cried until she collapsed in a heap. But that would do nothing towards saving lives on Mandalore.
"Emperor," she greeted him.
"Duchess Kryze."
His voice was low, guttural, inhuman.
"What brings your star destroyers to my system?" Satine prompted. "You know we are a peaceful people on Mandalore."
The monster chuckled.
"There is something I require from you, Duchess Kryze."
"Go on."
"I require you to turn over the fugitive and traitor to the Empire, Padme Amidala."
A horrible coldness crept through Satine's body.
"I'm afraid I cannot help you with your pursuit of the fugitive, Emperor. She is not here."
The Sith sounded amused.
"You sent her away, didn't you?"
Satine felt a shiver run through her body and tried to breathe. Yes, she had sent her away. She had sent her away with her precious son as her protector and she would give them up for nothing.
"I don't know where she is," she managed, truthful enough.
The Emperor tutted his disapproval.
"Then you have failed me, Duchess Kryze."
Satine's heart was thundering in her chest as though it would burst.
"I do not wish to present problems to the Empire," she vowed. "Tell me what you desire of my government. Replace me with a Regional Governor if you will."
"All that I desire from you, Duchess Kryze," the Sith articulated. "Is Padme Amidala. She is carrying something of great importance to me."
"I don't know where she is!" Satine repeated, desperation rising in her voice. "Ask me for anything else!"
The Emperor was unsoftened.
"Then you cannot appease me. I will ask you for nothing."
Satine was filled with hot anger.
"I hope you never find her," she snarled.
"Very well," the Emperor sighed. "We will attack."
Six Imperial star destroyers. Enough weaponry to turn the planet to desert all over again.
"Take my throne, Emperor!" Satine pleaded. "Take my life! But please, spare my people."
The Sith Lord smiled.
"I will have your throne, your life, and your people, Duchess. It has been a pleasure negotiating."
The holo-transmission was extinguished and Satine stood a few moments in trembling silence before she found her voice.
"Bo!"
Her sister hurried in from the adjacent planning room.
"No compromise," Satine reported curtly. "Continue evacuating the children. It's time to fight."
As Maniacalharp anticipated: it is indeed time to burn the Empire.
To acknowledge some tangential creative input, Satine's parting words to Korkie came to me with Gang of Youth's superb song, 'Say Yes to Life'. Always an excellent listen.
Next chapter will be busy: battle over Mandalore, our intrepid trio makes it to Dagobah, Korkie and Padme try to avoid Imperial detection.
Obviously, I was wrong when I estimated 3 chapters to go a lil while back. I'm estimating 2-3 more from here (shall be writing as fast as I can.)
xx - S.
