Eighthmonth, 1099
My initiation into the Rebellion was gentle, almost imperceptible. After I left school, Shamma sent me on a series of trips to various depots and factories her company owned. Ostensibly I was learning about the workings of Avram's, in preparation for an eventual managerial post, as well as completing my apprenticeship year towards converting the diploma I already had to a degree. In fact, I learned a lot not only about Avram Trade and Transport, but about the galaxy in general. I listened to the pilots talk as they hauled cargo across the galaxy in my grandmother's bulk freighters. I saw a lot of spaceports, and for the first time I sat in a cockpit as hyperspace whirled past the windows. My piloting abilities came on in leaps. I learned the tricks of being an unofficial spy. I had always been good at blending into the background, observing everything while going unnoticed myself. I learned that the galaxy was vast and dangerous, far beyond the imagination of my sheltered life on Alderaan, and that there were many corners where Imperial presence was absent or minimal.
One piece of highly interesting information I learned at this time was the fact that not only was a large proportion of my grandmother's personal income sunk in the Rebel coffers, a more direct support was also provided. Many of the cargoes recorded in the books as 'stolen' or 'captured by pirates' were actually handed over bloodlessly to shadowy Rebels on out-of-the-way Rim planets, and the shortfall made up from Avram pockets. I myself oversaw the transfer of several shiploads of food concentrates and medical supplies to battered freighters, piloted by crews of fighter-pilot types. I was useful as another trustworthy crew member on the Avram's end of things-the fewer of the pilots involved in the treasonable activities, the better. The men were loyal and chosen carefully, but betrayal was always a danger.
My grandmother was highly efficient at cover-up. The handovers were seamless and undetected; the crews complained loudly about pirates and protection rackets. Shamma even took her complaints to official levels-the Alderaanian High Council.
"This is not good enough! Do you know what value of merchandise Avram Trade and Transport has lost in this quarter alone? Upwards of two million credits! It can't go on! Why doesn't the Empire crack down on these gangsters?"
"Because they can milk 'em," my cousin Dan advised me in a whisper. But Shamma was well away.
"That Hutt consortium still controls half the Outer Rim, raids along the Thuran trade routes have doubled in the last five years, piracy is rampant in the colony worlds-what are the Imperials doing?"
My grandmother, together with my uncle Tad, Dan and myself, were appearing before the Council to raise an official complaint. Up on the dais, the Viceroy, the provincial governors and counsellors were gathered. A slender figure rose among them.
"I will lobby this point during the next Senatorial session, Inia Abhram." Princess Leia's contralto voice rang out confidently through the circular Council Hall. I grimaced, wondering how hard she would be lobbying. While the list my grandmother had given was genuine, and caused us to lose money, a certain amount of criminal activity in the galaxy was a cover for the Rebellion, who sometimes were the criminals.
We left the Council Hall after the session, trailing at Shamma's heels with varying degrees of grace. We were to attend the Organas in the Palace afterwards, Dan griping rather loudly about it. We were received in a summerhouse at the rear of the Palace, one where we could not easily be overheard. Leia and I chatted while the older adults made small talk. "How's the Senate going?" I asked, smiling shyly.
"Oh, the usual. Endless speeches, grinding bureaucracy-ugly middle-aged senators."
We shared a conspiratorial grin. My grandmother, I saw, had turned her attention on the Viceroy.
"Shamma treats your father like he's still in the nursery," I murmured to Leia.
"I believe he's still scared of her," she whispered back.
"I know I am," I said, as the Princess steered us over towards the pair.
"...don't like it all. Something's afoot in that sector that the Empire is keeping a very close lid on."
Uncle Tad moved towards us, having taken a glass of wine from a protocol droid.
"Is that the Ravernet black hole you're talking about, Mother?" he asked.
"Yes, m'lon, and if the Imperials were feeding a black hole in there, they could not have used more materials. Durasteel, carbides, metals, electronics-it's all disappearing."
"How long has this been going on?" Leia asked, lifting a glass from the droid's tray. "Thanks, Threepio."
"Five years, ten perhaps. It's so difficult to prove anything," Shamma said.
"They might be building a new military base," Dan suggested. Shamma gave an exasperated sigh.
"No, Dan, they are not. Explain to him why not, m'lei."
"I've been to that sector," I said coolly. "There's nothing there, honestly, Dan. There are only a few populated systems, some asteroid mining-it makes no sense to have a military presence there. Ruling by terror doesn't work when there is no one to terrorise."
"What did I tell you, Bail?" Shamma said, poking her stick in my direction. "Brightest of the brood."
I glowed at the compliment, biting my lip to stop a foolish grin spreading across my face.
"It could be a secret research or training facility, or something movable," Leia mused. "New starships perhaps."
"Perhaps," the Viceroy said. "But it must be something unusual for them to keep it so secret. Something Sluis Van and Kuat and the Corellian shipyards can't handle."
"Wonderful," Princess Leia said flatly. "An extra-nasty Imperial surprise. Just what we wanted."
"The pilots say there are rumours of some Imperial superweapon," Dan said, not damped by his earlier correction.
"Something with enough firepower to destroy a planet," I added.
"Spacer's talk," Leia said dismissively. I withered, feeling squashed. Dan rolled his eyes.
"No one could possibly produce a weapon that powerful, could they, Father?" she continued, turning to the Viceroy, who looked grave.
"Don't underestimate them, m'lei. Twenty-five years ago I would have said it was impossible for one man to destroy the Republic, yet here we are."
There was silence for a moment, as we seemed to have reached impasse. Uncle Tad sighed.
"You never know," he said sardonically. "If we're really lucky, the Imperials are just chucking it all down the Maw."
And we laughed, for we were ignorant.
Twelfthmonth, 1099
Time passed. My eldest cousin Lusar was married amid great celebrations. Ged-Uncle Shan's eldest boy-left school. We grandchildren grew a little longer, Shamma a little more worn, but no less in control. Those of the family who knew of her illness fretted, and I felt as though we were living on borrowed time, that at any moment she could be snatched from us. For my seventeenth birthday Shamma gave me Swift, one of the family's personal fleet of space yachts. I had been coveting her for years, and was ecstatic when Shamma handed me her papers on my birthday morning.
I stood on the landing platform with my cousins, admiring my new possession. She lived up to her name, with her powerful hyperdrive and bank of sublight engines. She had a deceptive amount of hull space for her size, and beautiful lines.
"You're so lucky," my cousin Iruben told me enviously. "Why can't I have a ship like the Swift?"
Dan snorted. "You're fifteen, m'lelkon. Patience! What I want to know, is why she is given the Swift while Finn and I make do with half-shares in the Pride of Alderaan."
"She's Shamma's pet, is why," said Finn, who came between Lusar and Dan in age, and teased me even worse than the younger boys. I ran a hand gloatingly along my ship's gleaming hull.
"Maybe if you two had not wrecked five speeders between you by the time you were my age, you would get a better deal!" I retorted. I ran lightly down the steps from the platform, and looked back at Swift, crouched sleek and copper-coloured on the platform. She's beautiful, and she's mine, all mine, my thoughts sang happily. I was skipping along the colonnade that led to the garden when I heard my aunt Shosha's voice upraised.
"You spoil her, Inia. You're indulging her in every way possible-just like her mother."
I froze in place, instantly certain that Aunt Shosha was speaking to my grandmother, and that I was the subject of discussion.
"I mean, the Alliance is very well-but need she have done something quite so dangerous? And to have a ut-an illegitimate-"
"Shosha!" Shamma said in her terrible voice. "Teludh is dead because she did what she thought right. Was I to prevent her from that? And I have indulged neither Teludh nor Keitin-certainly no more than you indulged your boys..."
I stood there, fists clenched, my happiness of a moment before replaced by a cold weight in my stomach. I knew what my aunt had been about to call me-utathar, fatherless, bastard. I'd bloodied Dan's nose once, when we were children, for calling me that. The name had followed me through my schooldays like a whispered accusation. Was I forever to be outcast because of my birth? Even among my family?
I turned away from the sound of the argument in the garden, breaking into a run when I was out of earshot. Not fair, not fair, my footsteps beat out. I ran till I was well out away from our house, almost to the foot of Council Hill. I leaned breathless on a tree at the foot of Organa's Stair, gazing out past the city across the fertile plain to the Glasbens beyond.
"Am I to blame for whatever my parents were?" I muttered to the sky. I remembered the talk I had had with Shamma the night she told me she was dying. Farther back in memory, coming home from primary school in dire trouble for hitting a boy who had called my mother a 'streetwalker'. Shamma had pulled me onto her lap, explained that sometimes good people made mistakes that laid them open to harsh names.
"A mistake, am I?" I muttered. "And I am not spoiled!"
-~-~-~-~-
Firstmonth 1100
My first single-handed transfer, in Swift, was on a planet called Serpial. Swift had a bellyful of engine components, and I had a bellyful of nerves. This was the first time I had been solely responsible for anything. If anything went wrong now, the blame was wholly mine.
I walked casually into the tapcafe where I was to meet my contacts. I was dressed, typical pilot fashion, in trousers and open-necked shirt, my blaster swinging openly from my hip. I went to the bar, scanning the cafe as I walked. It was somewhat sparsely tenanted at this time of day, mostly human males, a few Rodians and other species. I watched the tables, trying not to make eye contact with too many people. There was always the danger that a bored pilot would make a pass at me, despite my utilitarian dress and dirty face. As well as being an annoyance, it distracted from my purpose.
I plumped on a table of two restless young men as my Rebels, and when I had bought my Jawa Juice, crossed to their table.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Sure," said the stockier of the young men. I sat, keeping my blaster in easy reach and full view.
"What do you boys do, then?" I asked. An easy lead-in if they were my contacts, an innocuous inquiry if they were not.
"We're looking to pick up a special consignment at the minute. Know of anywhere we could pick up some Amazon-class hyperdrive components, sister?"
The keywords were all there. I allowed myself the faint trace of a satisfied grin before giving the counter-sign.
"I might be able to help you there. My cousin's brother-in-law supplies those."
The young man nodded in relief.
"Sure. Our ship's in here-wanna take a look?"
"All right." I knocked back the rest of my drink and stood. The Rebel muttered to his companion, "You stay here, be down at the ship in ten, 'kay?"
We walked down to Docking together. The cool breeze was a relief after the closeness of the cafe. We stopped by the Alliance's battered tramp freighter to pick up a pair of loading droids, then on to Swift.
"What'll she make?" my companion asked, eying her appraisingly.
"One point one," I said smugly.
"Sweet!" he whistled. "The Milk Run is sure going up in the galaxy, if it can afford a ship like that!"
"She's my personal property. What do you mean, the Milk Run?"
He glanced round the dock, lowering his voice.
"Supply and Procurement, of course. Everyone calls it that nowadays. So," he went on, in normal tones this time, "you're just a poor little rich girl, playing at this?"
"Who's playing?" I snapped, palming the hold door open. "And had we not better start shifting this stuff?"
It took us less than two hours to transfer the consignment, with the droids and the Rebels all joining in. As we parted, the first pilot grinned down at me.
"Bye, kid-who's not playing," he said. "May the Force be with you."
"And with you," I returned, mollified.
Then I was off, racing for home with an empty hold. Success.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-
I returned from Serpial to find that Lusar and Hele's baby had been born in my absence, and I was just in time for her Naming, a ceremony which is carried out for every Alderaani newborn. Sometimes I felt as though an infant were not properly born until it had been Named and presented to its family.
It was a good few years since there had been a Naming in the Avram family. The last had been my eleven-year-old cousin Yemi. But my generation was grown now and the next was begun, in the shape of Lusar's newborn daughter.
The whole family had gathered; my grandmother, Uncle Tad and Aunt Shosha, Uncle Arod, Uncle Shan and Aunt Talith, Lusar and his wife and baby, myself, all the other cousins-Dan, Finn, Irubeth, little Yemi, Ged, Arcos-Great-Aunt Kerith (quite senile, poor thing), and a dozen or so second cousins.
Everyone was in their best clothes, except for second-cousin Zosi, just in from the moon base and still in her coveralls. I had dressed my hair in the double-bun style Princess Leia had made fashionable. I shoved the pins in a little more firmly as we filed into the circular hall. My hair was more accustomed to a long plait or a mass of unruly curls than the smooth coils.
Dan held the baby, crooning, "Who loves her Uncle Dan, then?"
I grinned delightedly and prodded him in the ribs, leaning against his shoulder to get a good view of my small cousin. She had the crumpled look that most newborns have, red-faced and round-eyed, with an expression of perpetual astonishment in the face of this strange new world.
"Gone soft, Dani boy?" I teased. The baby swung a dimpled hand and grabbed my index finger, frowning with the effort. I smiled. A baby was such a wonderful thing, an affirmation of life and joy and love. She made me want to laugh aloud.
"Better give her back to your brother now, m'lon," Uncle Tad broke in. "Unless you are planning on Naming her yourself."
As Dan trotted off obediently, a question I had never thought of before struck me.
"Uncle Tad, who Named me? My mother?"
"As your oldest male relative, I named you. That is permissible in cases where the child's father is dead or-er-absent."
He spoke, as always to me, as impersonally as though he were delivering stock values in a company meeting. I frowned, about to say more, but my grandmother clapped her hands for silence and the start of the ceremony. We sat, with me wedged between Ged and Dan, and Yemi elbowing me in the knees. Lusar and his pretty wife Hele stood in the centre of the circle. He held his daughter up in his arms and cleared his throat. The Old Alderaanian words rang out clear in the silence.
"Family of Avram, I Lusar here present to you this my daughter Chama. Do you receive her?"
My grandmother stood forward, and he passed her the baby.
"This daughter is in the arms of the Family. We receive her."
We all gave our assent in a low roar of "Yes!"
Shamma kissed her first great-grandchild, face shining with pride. She stated firmly, "Chama Avram!"
And that is a Naming. I was just old enough to remember Yemi's Naming, but it had gone mostly over my head as a child. Now, I felt the emotion of the occasion. The Family was an organic whole, and I was part of it. This was where I belonged, dubious parentage and disapproving aunts notwithstanding. I looked round the circle and loved them all, even Aunt Talith.
The solemn part of the occasion now over, we got down to celebrations. Everyone had to kiss little Chama's silky head and embrace Lusar and Hele. We younger members danced elaborate sets all over the hall floor, and for the adults, fine wine flowed freely-a little too freely for second-cousin Fran, who tried to flirt with our waitress droid KL-90 until Finn, half-helpless with laughter, led him away. The young couple and their baby retired early, but the rest of us partied late into the night.
It was a good time. It stands so clearly in my mind because it was the last of the good times, so near the end.