Chapter 6

Several days later, Ashya Ramiras felt like a different person, which she essentially was with all the changes to her appearance as she was hiding from the Empire. She had the tight spiral curls that were in her hair, professionally straightened and her hair color was now a rich chestnut brown. She had several illegitimate contacts through her various investigations and had been given a new identity by one of the best ID forgers on Coruscant.

She glanced at her ID and the picture. The name now read Toryn Farr and she admired how different she looked from the holopic she had of her and her husband.

She mused about the future while she fed her youngest daughter a bottle. They were currently staying in a hotel in a sleazy neighborhood where she dared not let the children out alone on the streets. It wasn't safe here, but that didn't much matter to Ashya now.

Nothing was safe anymore. Not as long as Palpatine was alive.

She hated the Empire. She wanted to rip out the monster that sustained it. The same monster that gave it Life, as it took her husband, her son and her cousin.

She knew many women like her had lost their sons and cousins during the Temple massacre and with all her heart she wanted to fight back.

Her cousin often told her that hate lead to suffering, but she was already suffering and the Jedi were dead, his wisdom not having saved him when he needed it. She wanted to use this anger and hurt the Empire that had ruined so many lives already like hers.

She was shuffling in her baby's bag for a burp rag when she came across a folded flimsiplast. /What is this/ she wondered as she took it out and unfolded it.

Ashya nearly gasped, realizing what it was – Senator Bail Organa's contact information. Biting her lip, she looked it over as she found the rag and began to burp her daughter.

She remembered why she had put it there. One day after school Dilan had wanted sweet snow from their favorite shop. She had pulled the flimsy out of her pocket that day and had jammed it into Ranya's bag as she pulled out her credits. /You may have saved us with that sweet snow, my son/ she thought, tears forming in her eyes as she thought about him. He was lost to her, but she would fight the enemy who took him until her last breath.

Her soul yearned to see her son again, but she knew that those carefree days were gone.

She remembered something she heard Senator Organa say. 'The delegation of two thousand has it's work cut out for it…' Was there already a rebellion forming?

She had to know. If there was already a group dedicated to rooting out the black that had overcome the Republic and her family, then she would. She would do whatever it took to get her son back and Palpatine out of office.

Hesistantly she pushed the code on her secure comlink for Bail Organa's private comlink.

"Organa," he answered.

Chewing her lip, Ashya was suddenly overwhelmed by doubt and the enormity of the task in rooting out the Empire. What if there really wasn't a rebellion and she got caught and Senator Organa got in trouble? She couldn't live with herself if she brought trouble on him like she had herself.

"Is anyone there?" he asked.

"Senator Organa, this is Ashya Ramiras. I'm sorry for bothering you."

She could feel his surprise. "How can be of service, Mrs. Ramiras?"

Ashya's throat constricted at the sound of her married name. Her voice was unsteady when she replied, "Is this a secure channel?"

She heard the wariness in the Senator's voice when he replied, "Yes. What can I be of help with?"

"May we talk about the Delegation of Two Thousand?" she blurted, before realizing abruptly that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

"I'm afraid that topic is off limits to the press,' he said a trifle coldly.

"Please!" she cried, more to stop him from signing off than anything. "Is it off limits to a broken wife and mother?"

Something in his voice softened and when he spoke his tone was kind and gentle even. "No, of course not," he said compassionately. "Is there somewhere you can meet for a more private conversation?"

Ashya named a time and a cantina that she used to visit during her news investigations. The place was ideal for private conversation.

"I'll be there shortly," he promised.

Ashya got off the comlink feeling both uplifted and nervous. She would leave the children after she put them to bed. They would be safe enough if she locked the door.

Maybe, just maybe, there would be a new hope for her family after all.