Disclaimer: The following is a fan written story. Star Wars or any of the associated properties mentioned in this story are all owned by Disney and their respective companies, authors and/or corporations. This is purely a work of fiction written for pleasure and nonprofit. Please support the official release.


Skywalker: Resurgent Ch.13: Songs Are Only as Sad as the Listener

For thousands of years, the Force has been a mystery to many of us. Outside of a few select organizations, its workings and details remain a mystery to both the public and scientific communities.

Why is this the case?

Countless species and civilizations have documented its existence and those that have wielded it. Most species have produced at least one notable practitioner over the span of their recorded history. And yet, many a galactic citizen will find little to no documentation or research available if they attempt to educate themselves on the subject. Much of what is available is purely anecdotal and often passed on by story and legend, which can be grossly exaggerated or glossed over heavily by the history texts.

How can this be? When institutions like the Jedi Order have been public knowledge for so long, how can our knowledge be so lacking?

Regrettably, dear readers, we can attribute much of this to the secrecy of the institutions that practice their use of the Force and a failure on the part of the scientific community to explain how it works. I say regrettable due to the fact that the failure here is twofold; first are those who are practitioners and remain silent and the second is from rest of us who look upon them and fail to ask.

In this essay, I will endeavor to shine a light upon the mysticism and mythology which shrouds this topic. We'll go over the underlying principals of the Force and how it relates to more common sciences we are already familiar with. Few mysteries in this galaxy are truly unknowable, so we will begin to decrypt this one by asking a few basic questions...

-Excerpt from 'The Force; What is it and Should I be Worried?' by the Renaissance Man

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift: Leia Organa

She just stared at him.

"No," she replied. "That's simply not true."

Luke gave her one of those smug, knowing smirks he liked to give. "Search your feelings. You likely already know this to be true."

"No, Luke, that's absurd," she denied. "How could that have even happened? We don't even look alike!"

"I do believe that's the point of fraternal twins," he replied dryly. "We do share the same birthday. Doesn't that seem like a strange coincidence to you?"

"A coincidence," she stressed the word. "There are only so many days in a year, Luke. Start asking random people in the halls of this ship and I'm sure you'll find a few more. If it turned out that a human and a Nautolan had the same birthday, would you say th-"

"What do you remember about your birth mother?" he interrupted.

The sudden shift in topics threw her off track for a moment. It was fairly common knowledge that she was adopted into the Alderaanian Royal Family but it was typically something not discussed in detail. Apart from the topic being considered impolite in Core World society, it didn't really matter to anyone passingly familiar with the factors involved. With so many orphaned children at the end of the Clone Wars, it was just assumed she was one of millions of young girls who happened to be luckier than others.

"My birth mother?" she asked, feeling a bit defensive. "What about her? Why are you asking?"

"Please," he said. "It's important. Do you remember her name? Did Bail or Breha ever tell you?"

Thinking hard for a moment, she shook her head firmly in negation.

"They never discussed it," she admitted. "I've asked, of course. A few times as a child and even a few more times in my later years growing up. They'd never tell me more than the barest details. All I have is a faint memory of a face but that's it."

Luke nodded, as if he'd expected as much. He had an annoying habit of doing that, she realized.

"And while you were training to succeed your father as a senator," he went on. "Did you ever look into other, more modern senators? Perhaps those your mother and father knew and worked together with in the senate before you were born?"

"Well of course they did," she frowned. "Wait. Are you implying one of them was my birth mother?"

"Telling, actually," he paused and smiled. "I hope you're familiar with Padme Amidala? The once queen and then senator from Naboo?"

Leia prided herself on maintaining her composure under the most strenuous circumstances. It came in handy when being shouted at, berated, or outright insulted by various bureaucrats, military officers, and even the occasional criminal. She remembered her courtly training and the lessons that had seemed so pointless at the time but proved invaluable as she grew up and began walking through the halls of power and brokering her own deals.

That being said; it took a good few seconds before she fully processed what she had just been told.

Senator Amidala? The woman who's people nearly rewrote the planetary constitution to keep in office? The woman who championed peace? Who spoke at length on the behalf of war refugees, the poor, and the forgotten?

She was her mother?

"That's-" she began to deny but then stopped herself.

'Impossible!' she'd wanted to say.

But was it?

She remembered long afternoons playing in the palace gardens with her mother; the woman she grew up calling mother. She remembered stories and grand tales of brave adventurers, beautiful princesses and queens, but she had most loved the ones about the woman who was both queen and daring hero; Padme Amidala.

The woman was something of an icon to many young ladies. Her fame stretched well after her untimely death with recordings of her speeches and public appearances still being viewed today. Leia had loved the stories about her the most and had asked for more of them at every opportunity. Her parents had begun to eventually run out of stories to tell and had disclosed that they had known the woman personally and began telling small anecdotes of their experiences working with her. She appreciated those much more as she grew older and began assuming a more formal role as a member of the royal family.

All those stories she heard seemed to reach her in a way that others simply didn't. It wasn't like she had no other interests - indeed, she'd rather enjoyed the ones about starship castles soaring through space - but she'd always come back to the ones about her. They always seemed... more important than the others. She'd first brushed the feeling off as a passing fancy, then as a subconscious interest in what was real over what was fantasy.

Was it something more than that? Did some part of her realize the truth of Luke's words when she'd heard them?

'Is that why I have this feeling of wrongness welling up within me when I try to deny it?' she thought.

Well, she was nothing if not practical.

"Well, we're fortunate to have the resources on hand to settle this matter easily enough," she said, standing up. "We'll go the Medbay, have one of the medical droids take a blood sample from the two of us, and run an analysis."

"We will," Luke assured her and gestured back to her seat. "But I'd like for you to indulge me for a moment or two more. Please?"

Frowning she sat back in her seat and looked at him.

"I'd actually like to try something first that might help my case here," he said, reaching for the small toolkit next to his seat and placing it onto the small table in front of them. "Bear with me a moment? I wasn't sure exactly how this conversation was going to go, so I didn't take it out at the start."

Luke quickly opened the lid on the small toolkit and took out a few delicate looking instruments. Curiously, he then took his lightsaber out and set it down on the table between them. Removing something else from the toolkit, she watched as Luke placed his weapon on a small stand as he continued to speak.

"I have this theory I'd like your help in proving or disproving," he went on. "You see; lightsabers are powered by these special little crystals inside of them. They not only power the device but also form a connection with the wielder through the Force. But while using any old kyber crystal would work fine, it won't work as well as a crystal that has been specially chosen by the wielder. It has to attune to them, so to speak."

As he spoke, Leia became more interested as Luke began poking the weapon with one of the more delicate looking tools.

"I'm keeping it simple for the sake of brevity, of course," he hastily remarked. "We can always talk more about lightsaber lore later if you're interested. Today though, my point is that this lightsaber crystal technically isn't mine. This lightsaber was first constructed many years ago by my - excuse me - our father. I've learned the ins and outs of it since then and disassembled it many times as I learned how it worked. But what's really interesting here is the kyber crystal. It works so well with me, that I can only assume it is already closely attuned to me, if not perfectly so. I only have Kenobi's lightsaber for a comparison and I can tell you it doesn't feel nearly as right in my hands as this one does."

Finishing his last sentence, Luke successfully pried open the casing to the weapon, revealing the interior. Apart from the expected wires and other mechanical parts Leia expected to see, her eyes were drawn to the soft blue glow of a crystal sitting nestled between the components.

"It wasn't exactly a leap in logic to figure out why this was the case," he went on. "The crystal recognized me. It could tell I was family to the one who first wielded it and responded to me. I'm hoping to use that connection again right now."

Putting down the tools, Luke reached for the crystal with his bare hand. Rather than pluck it out like she had expected, he instead levitated the small crystal out of the lightsaber and deposited it gently into his outstretched hand.

"You're saying the crystal knows you're family to its original wielder?" Leia asked skeptically.

"There's a lot of mystical sounding jargon involved when talking about Force stuff," Luke admitted, still admiring the crystal in his hand as he held it up for examination. "Kyber crystals are technically alive, if not in the same way you and I are. Closer to a plant, maybe, though that's not quite right either. It's hard to describe in words. My point here is that if the crystal remembered and responded to me like that, you should elicit a similar response."

'That's right,' she realized. 'Luke told us before that his lightsaber originally belonged to his father. That would mean it's also...'

Was it her imagination, or was the crystal glowing more brightly than it had been a moment ago?

"I hope you realize how ridiculous that sounds," she mentioned, rather obviously she thought. "Is the crystal supposed to speak to me? Will it speak Basic or should I expect another language altogether?"

"O ye of little faith," Luke smirked. "I expect it to do far more than that. Rather, I hope it will help you access your own connection to the Force here and now so that you might hear the truth of what I'm saying. As my twin sister, you also have a connection to the Force, just like me. The kyber crystal from our father's lightsaber is a highly convenient tool to help prove that connection as well as awaken you to a part of yourself you likely haven't touched upon yet."

"Do I have to meditate with it or something?" she asked, shrugging but now admittedly curious about what was supposed to happen.

"Maybe," he admitted. "It's possible nothing will happen at all and we'll have to try and explore your Force potential another way. This is a simple and convenient way I've come up with that works with a theory I've already had."

He extended his arm towards her, offering for her to take the small crystal.

"Can't hurt to try though, right?"

"You tell me," she muttered.

Despite her skeptical words, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a bit curious herself. She'd seen Luke's lightsaber in action several times now and was just a bit fascinated with the weapon and how he wielded it. From the times she'd seen him practicing, it was fascinating to see him rotate and spin the blade to block attacks as though he knew where the attacks were coming from before they happened.

Reaching out, she gently plucked the crystal from Luke's outstretched hand. She was careful not just because of it being so important to Luke, but also because it seemed so small and delicate that she was genuinely concerned she was going to break it if she handled it wrong.

For all her concern, she didn't get a sense of fragility as she grasped the tiny object in her hand and brought it in closer to examine. She stared into the small crystal, feeling it's warmth as she examined the tiny edges and points upon it. It wasn't cut like a gem or a piece of jewelry but held a type of beauty that was hard to describe other than 'natural.' Its blue glow was just bright enough to be considered in the category of 'enticing' rather than 'annoying.'

Other than that, it was...

Underwhelming.

"Nothing's happening," she told him flatly.

"You can't expect the crystal to do all the work," Luke said, rolling his eyes at her. "Try closing your eyes and concentrating."

"Concentrate on what?"

"Just listen to my voice," he suggested. "I've got an idea of what might help."

"So we are meditating?"

"Your words, not mine. I'm just asking you to concentrate."

That was splitting hairs if she'd ever heard it. Sighing loud enough that she knew Luke could hear her exasperation, she did as instructed and closed her eyes.

"To understand the Force," Luke spoke softly. "It helps to begin with visualization. You must begin by clearing your conscious mind. Put aside distractions and irrelevant thoughts and focus only upon my voice."

'Like you talking isn't distracting?' she thought before trying to silence her internal monologue.

"Imagine a cloud, a mist that drifts from living creature to living creature. Set in motion by currents and eddies..."

Her brow unfurrowed and relaxed as she decided to humor him and did as instructed. A cloud...

"It is more than you, or me. It is more than a planet or a star. It is the passions of all living things turned into energy. Into a chorus..."

Leia's breathing slowed as she listened to the slow, steady tone Luke was using. A chorus...

"It is the underlying flow of life and death in the galaxy. It is truth, consistency, and so much more all at once."

There was... something... she could feel something she'd never felt before. A pressure in the back of her mind but... somehow soothing.

"Feel the crystal in your palm. It's glow is not merely energy; it is life. It knows you..."

Those last words weren't spoken aloud. Leia hadn't heard them with her ears and yet, Leia knew them all the same...

As though she was opening her eyes for the first time, she suddenly felt a whole new form of perception fill her mind. The cold durasteel of the room and even the hull were stripped away and became as almost nothing to her perceptions as she was wholly focused on something else. She could perceive the crew of the Resurgent as she'd never seen them before.

Lights.

She could 'feel' the light of her self - her very being - glowing. Not with her eyes but with something else she wasn't even sure how to describe in words. It wasn't like seeing since she wasn't using her eyes but much more like a feeling, as though she was feeling the heat from a campfire. It wasn't oppressive like actual fire might be but was warm, comforting, and utterly fascinating to behold.

In her hand, she could see the luminous and steady glow of the kyber crystal. She could understand what Luke meant when he described it as alive, since it seemed to emit a similar glow as the other lives she could sense. She realized that the crystal's blue glow was unchanged from when she looked at it with just her eyes. She idly wondered why that was before becoming distracted by something else.

It was Luke.

He was there too. It was impossible not to see him. She and the others on the ship may have glowed but Luke was lit up like a reactor. He appeared more tangible somehow. More defined than her in this way. There was a corona outlining his form, like that of a star. It seemed to bend the light back into him rather than allowing it to blaze away like the inferno she sensed it held back. Looking more closely, she could even perceive features within the brightness making up his face. He was smiling at her.

'Can you hear me, Leia?'

'I... I can! This... this is amazing! Is this what you always feel?'

'Of a sort,' she could feel amusement behind his words. Not just sense or interpret but really feel it.

Amidst her marveling at the new sensation, she felt it beginning to slip away from her. She tried to pull it back, to submerge herself in that feeling again but it was too late. Her eyes snapped open and she released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding in. She was also surprised that she felt somewhat tired from the effort like she'd just finished some sort of physical activity. It wasn't much but she could definitely feel it.

"Well done," came Luke's response. She looked up from the crystal and saw him sitting across from her, exactly as she'd seen a moment ago but without the bright light. "That was much quicker than I'd thought possible. You definitely have talent."

"It was..." she struggled for the right words. "Impossible, yet amazing. It was like seeing the world like never before. The lights! They were brilliant, yet I could look right at them! The crystal glowed too! Blue, just like it is now! And you! You were so much brighter than anything else!"

She realized she was rambling and snapped her mouth shut before making a fool of herself. Luke's smile broadened into a grin as she finished speaking.

"You took only a matter of seconds to make a connection. Not only that, but you accessed an actual ability instinctually on your first try. I thought I'd have to coach you for at least several minutes before you managed it but it seems I'm not the only talented child in the family."

'Family.'

The word seemed more real to her now than it had at the start of this conversation. She still wanted to run that blood test, if only for her own peace of mind, but she felt much more certain of its outcome now than she had earlier. That brief moment of connection had filled her with a certainty she hadn't felt previously.

They spent more than two hours talking about the Force and her experience awakening to it. She asked if she could now run faster than a blaster bolt or lift things with her mind. He told her that she would have to train her connection and learn to conceptualize before accomplishing anything like that. She learned that there was much more to the Force than supernatural abilities and a number of them could even be applied to diplomacy and ferreting out the truth from others. Luke was calm but clearly engaged in the conversation as he explained how the Force could be useful in context to her own talents and work.

She was fascinated by the idea of being better able to tell when someone was lying to her. Even better; being able to sense malice or duplicity in those around her would be an invaluable talent for meeting with various contacts or whether or not they were about to betray or cheat her somehow. She insisted - politely! - for lessons at Luke's earliest convenience. He'd agreed, once she completed what he called 'the basics.'

At last, they proceeded down to the Medbay to have the blood test done. The results, in the end, did not surprise either of them. By mutual agreement, both stated their desire to keep the information quiet. Only their closest friends and confidants could be told as to avoid undue attention being drawn to the both of them. Luke firmly believed that having their relationship known would draw what he called 'undesirable attention from a really bad crowd' onto her.

"What does that mean?" she had asked.

Luke appeared visibly uncomfortable at her question, both confusing and worrying her.

"My - or rather our parentage is a rather... complicated issue," he told her slowly. "I've told you who our mother was because I believe that you have a right to know. In regards to our father, the situation becomes more... complicated. Apart from being a sensitive and complex story, there are many who would seek to harm either of us if the knowledge became public, even among the Alliance's ranks.

"I'm confident that I can handle it if the information were to come out, given my own budding reputation and trained Force talents but I want to do everything in my power to ensure that the information comes out in a manner and time of our choosing as to ensure the greatest level of safety for us."

"Just who was he that his mere identity is so problematic?" she asked him, frowning at his words.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you," he promised her. "But I'll ask you to trust me on this and choose ignorance on this topic. At least for now. Not because I don't think you can handle it but because fewer people knowing at all means fewer chances of the information getting out and coming back to hurt us. Our family made many enemies and those still around would seek us out if they knew of us. As it is, there's a degree of risk in even letting others know who our mother was. Some folks might start connecting the dots, which is why I hope you won't be advertising this knowledge to the galaxy. If at all possible, I'd like to ensure you have a decent grasp of a few Force techniques before exposing you to that kind of danger.

"Given the danger and my advice to you; do you really want me to tell you right now?"

Leia spent a few moments seriously considering asking him for the full story right then and there. She wasn't some child incapable of keeping a secret; she had been serving as an Alliance operative within the Imperial Senate itself while Luke was living his life on a remote farm. There was a burning spark within her that called out for her to know the whole story.

But then, she was also a pragmatist. She'd had several odd conversations with Luke and General Kenobi about Jedi and the Force in general. Kenobi's warnings of the potential dangers of Force sensitive individuals taken in and trained by the Empire had been the subject of a classified debriefing that had drawn serious frowns and likely a few headaches from General Cracken, who said he needed to update his files on Imperial operatives to include a new threat analysis paradigm of some sort.

She respected the opinions of all of these men and knew to take them seriously when they talked about danger. So it was with only a small degree of reluctance that she pondered Luke's warning and gave him her answer.

"I do want to know," she answered. "But I also trust you. You've accomplished a lot and helped not only me, but the Alliance as a whole. If you're certain that this knowledge might cause more harm than good, I'll put my trust in you again and keep my curiosity in check. But you promise to tell me one day?"

"I promise," he answered, looking relieved. "And thank you. Your trust means a great deal to me, even if I feel like I'm abusing it by not telling you everything all at once."

"According to my understanding, it's normal for siblings to abuse one another from time to time, if only a little," she answered, offering a smile.

"I'll try not to do it to often," he promised, returning her smile with one of his own.

Conversation still flowed easily between them, even with this new shift in their relationship. Leia decided that she liked the easier, more familiar atmosphere between them now that this secret was known by the both of them. Luke agreed with her when she voiced her opinion and said that he was glad to have another person to discuss the Force with. She was fascinated by his mentioning of the Jedi Counselors and diplomats, who used the Force via more intellectual means to achieve their goals. He seemed to think she might have an affinity for such abilities but that she'd know herself one way or another as she strengthened her connection and honed her abilities.

For the time being, she could simply be happy with knowledge of who her mother was and the fact that she had a brother. In a galaxy at war, with her home world a ruin, and a possibly dangerous family connection that may come around to haunt her one day, it felt good to enjoy these simple truths.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

A nation can be mighty when the citizens put away their political differences, work together for a common vision, a common goal, and a common good. We will be a mighty nation, if we can learn to build each other up rather than tear each other down.

-Excerpt from 'Let Us Stand Together' by the Renaissance Man

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift: Duella; Two Days After Liberating the Resurgent; Ship's Galley

Duella had been utterly terrified when she'd first heard all the shooting going on from the direction of the hangar deck. When all of the blast doors had sealed themselves, trapping her and a few others in one of the maintenance areas, she had been convinced it was because the ship had been catastrophically damaged by an enemy ship and was about to be destroyed. She'd been simultaneously relieved and terrified when the bulkhead had unsealed and a half dozen soldiers had ordered them out at blasterpoint and inquired whether they were pirates or slaves.

She and the other slaves had been corralled onto the hangardeck, if not quite as harshly as they might have expected. They'd been provided blankets, had medical droids look them all over, and had been told they would be treated fairly so long as they did nothing to cause harm to either the ship or anyone else.

She, like many others, had assumed they were taken prisoner by another rival faction of pirates. This was proven mostly false when one of their guards had disclosed that they were with the Alliance to Restore the Republic and that this had been an operation against a pirate vessel. Their commander had apparently pulled together a number of them a matter of days ago specifically to take down the Rigor Mortis and Crimson Jack.

'Rebels!' she'd thought. 'What do they want?'

She'd heard of the Rebel Alliance, of course. Outer Rim dissidents, Separatist remnants, and a small number of Imperial turncoats who'd declared their intention to take down the Empire and restore the rule of democracy. She didn't think she'd even seen a rebel before then given how they, like many, avoided Hutt Space and seemed only interested in fighting the Empire.

She had gotten a crash course introduction to them that day. They were certainly kinder than her previous owners had been, saying 'please' and 'excuse me' when asking questions. Keeping them all together in the hangar had alarmed her and some of the others at first; thinking they might get spaced or loaded onto another vessel bound for somewhere unknown. Instead, one of the rebels had explained that it was just a safety precaution to ensure nobody tampered with anything while they finished securing the ship. Nervous and uncertain, she and the other captured slaves settled down and waited for further instructions.

Hours passed that way. She and the other eventually began discussing their situation quietly.

"They might try to resell us to the Hutts," Darric, a young Mirialan male suggested. "Or maybe keep us in their service. That is how I ended up here. Captain Jack took me as loot from another pirate he raided."

Theories had been traded back and forth until Owulo, a much older Twi'lek woman had taken her aside and spoke with her.

"Whatever happens to us next," she began. "May depend on the mood of this rebel commander. I've seen him. He is a young human male. The pleasure slaves especially are beginning to discuss how to appeal to him to ensure better treatment for the rest of us."

She hadn't told Duella to do anything; that was a courtesy the slaves all tried to afford one another. Owulo didn't have any sort of authority over her and neither did any of the other slaves in this new situation they'd found themselves in. But then, it wasn't necessary for her to order anything. Duella knew the stakes, as did the others. One of their number would be expected by the group to volunteer themselves for this duty.

Of course she was still nervous after nominating herself to keep the rebel commander company for the evening. She knew she was considered attractive from how males viewed her and the price initially demanded for her sale to Jack and his crew, so it wasn't doubt in herself. She'd done it as she didn't want the decision to be forced upon one of the others and so had screwed up her own courage to offer herself instead. A spontaneous act of bravery, she'd later call it.

From what information her fellow slaves had managed to acquire, this rebel commander had personally led the assault and had killed Crimson Jack in a one-on-one fight. Having seen how formidable the departed captain was, she was all but certain this rebel commander was some sort of juggernaut; a rancor given human form, able to tear open blast doors with his bare hands and who spit blaster bolts.

Getting one of the guards to allow her to prepare herself for the evening was all too easy. She and a few of the other girls selected from one of the younger looking males and laid on the charm. Poor boy didn't even seem to know how to react when she and the other girls explained how they needed to retrieve some items from their quarters and get cleaned up. It had been all too easy to ready herself in the right attire, perfume, and slip away while the girls distracted the young guard.

The Commander had been... not at all what she was expecting. Not a rancor shaped like a human; he was actually rather cute and surprisingly young looking for a human. And he was definitely younger than she'd expected of a leader of a band of deadly fighters. He was lean but fit in a way that belied speed over strength. She was used to seeing big, boisterous humans like her previous master being in charge and simply thought most human leaders were similar. Instead, he seemed much quieter and more considering than outspoken.

He'd invited her in to his cabin but hadn't laid a hand on her. She'd wondered if he wasn't attracted to Twi'lek girls and if she'd made a bad call coming here when he'd explained he wasn't interested in that kind of companionship. She'd begun to feel her mask of composure crack as she thought she'd failed or worse; upset him somehow. But then, he'd surprised her.

He'd offered her a job.

Their discussion had shined a lot of light onto the mystery of who Commander Luke Skywalker was and what these rebels were like. He was young but so much more composed than people many years his elder. He exuded a confidence and sureness of movement that Duella immediately equated with 'fighter' and 'dangerous' but that didn't concern her as much as it normally would.

'It was his face,' she'd later decide. 'His face was too honest to be intimidating.'

Besides that; he'd glanced at her breasts too much to be unattracted to her, so that was reassuring in its own way.

She'd returned to a mostly skeptical audience when she made her way back to the hangar (after swiping a robe to cover herself up with, of course. It got cold down there!). They'd all been slightly worried about what her early return had implied but listened attentively when she spoke about the Commander's offer. Some, like Owulo, chose to be optimistic about the news. Others, like Derric, were wary and uncertain about the offer. In fairness, even Duella admitted it was almost too good to be true.

She'd swayed a fair number of her companions to at least listen to her and she'd felt confident that at least a handful would want to stay on after the Commander made his offer to them directly. She'd been more than a little surprised when nearly all of them, even some of the ones whom she was certain would ask to leave, instead chose to stay.

She was still riding the emotional high she'd gotten when the rebel medic had deactivated the micro-explosive that had been embedded near her heart. For the first time in years, she was free of that particular worry as the device disintegrated harmlessly into her bloodstream. She'd been euphoric when she'd been assigned new quarters that were a serious upgrade from the cramped bunkroom servants had been forced to sleep in when they weren't sharing the beds of the pirates.

Of course, once all the shooting and shouting had finished, it was time to get back to the business of keeping this ship running smoothly. Life may have taken another turn but some things still had to be done. Things like cleaning the kitchen and inspecting the food stores, like she was currently doing.

Being unable to sleep from all the excitement of the previous day, she'd volunteered to take a late shift. Now, she was finally finishing cleaning and testing the last kitchen appliance and getting ready to turn in for the night.

"Uh, hello?"

She let out a squeak of surprise as the voice took her completely by surprise, she quickly ducked her head and looked towards the floor as she defaulted to the response she had learned to utter almost automatically.

"I'm sorry!" she yelped.

"No, I'm - wait, what are you sorry for?" the voice asked.

Daring to look up just a little bit, she was surprised and mortified to see none other than the Commander, Luke Skywalker standing by the doorway, just barely out of arm's reach of her. She hadn't even noticed him approach!

"I-I'm sorry, sir!" she got out. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Woah, hey, relax," he said, holding up his hands to make a placating gesture. Duella flinched at the raised hands and the man suddenly looked guilty as he put his hands down and took a step away from her. Now, Duella felt guilty for her reaction.

'Stupid!' she chastised herself. 'Now I've made him uncomfortable!'

"Just relax," he repeated himself. "You... you don't need to bow to me."

Working to ascertain a different meaning behind the words, Duella stood up but was still nervous. The pirates she'd worked for previously had always insisted on being bowed to whenever it suited them. It was inconvenient to always do but one learned it was safer to bow too much rather than too little and risk offense. Did the Alliance do something different? Was she supposed to greet him in a different way?

She decided asking now would be the smart move.

"Um," she hesitated. "How should I greet you then, Commander?"

He seemed genuinely stumped by that question, if only for a moment. The human scratched his chin as he seemed to come up with an answer.

"Well, ah..." he began slowly. "A normal 'hello' usually works fine. We are a military force though, so I guess... you might also salute me occasionally. Like if you were accepting orders or something. Technically, I don't think you have to if you don't want to but if you're going to stick with us and the Alliance, you'll probably have to get used to doing it on occasion."

"Saluting?" she questioned. "Like this?"

Duella copied a movement she remembered seeing in a holovid as a child. She brought her hand up to her forehead and kept her fingers straight, pressing the appendage horizontally against her head.

"Close," he chuckled and demonstrated the motion himself. "More like this."

Duella hastened to copy the position of his arm, wrist, and fingers to match her own. It helped that Twi'leks were anatomically similar to humans that they had the same number joints and fingers, so the motion was easy enough to mimic.

"There you go," he said, smiling.

Duella smiled back, pleased that her new boss wasn't mad at her. While she was still a bit uncertain around these so-called 'rebels,' she still had a strong feeling that she could trust their leader. She'd only had that feeling validated through action since that first night visiting his room and was still a bit eager to prove herself useful to him.

"What brings you down here, sir?" she asked. "Did you need something?"

He began to shake his head before looking back at her with a considering look on his face.

"Well, maybe a bit," he answered. "I came down here for a little late night raid."

Duella tilted her head slightly in confusion. She understood the words but why was he phrasing it like that?

"The kitchen," he clarified, interpreting the look on her face correctly. "I'm raiding the kitchen. For food. Because I'm hungry."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, understanding. "Would you like me to make something for you, sir? Or wake one of the cooks for you?"

"No, no, that's not necessary," he assured her. "I'm just looking for the food storage area so I can make something myself."

'Make it himself?' she thought.

It wasn't exactly weird for pirates to come into the kitchen area and demand food outside of regular meal times but it was unusual for them to prepare it for themselves. Crimson Jack had insisted on keeping a good number of organic kitchen workers on hand to supplement the chef droids that kept the place running and the ship's crew fed. He - as well as many others - felt that better food was produced by organics than by droids. Droids could be programmed to cook meals with the ingredients provided but many felt that they lost an essential... something when their final product was presented. Even if it was just to provide alterations in choice of ingredients or slight tweaks in preparation, organic cooks simply seemed able to add something droids typically couldn't.

That said, It was fortunate that the fire suppression system in the galley was well maintained. Most of the pirates were a genuine safety hazard while trying to make their own food. Then again, she supposed it was better to say that it was fortunate that the slaves who worked in the kitchen made sure the fire system was well maintained. After a few incidents where rowdy pirates had left dangerous messes or had contaminated the food stores with grubby, dirty hands, Jack had driven it into even the more 'simple' of his crew that messing with the kitchen and food stocks would be punished severely.

Recalling those incidents and subsequent lessons didn't do much to reassure her that rebels weren't cut from the same cloth.

"Are you certain you wouldn't like me to stay and help, sir?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Nah," he brushed off her request. "I don't want to bother anyone else at this hour because I'm hungry. You're welcome to stick around if you like. I just want to ask you where the pantry is if you'd rather take off to bed."

Deciding quickly that she'd rather be helpful to her new boss in order to make a good impression, she promptly showed him where the pantry and cooler were located. He thanked her and told her to go ahead and take a seat at the nearby counter if she was going to stick around, which she did while feeling no small amount of surrealism. Duella couldn't remember the last time she'd been told to sit down and relax while someone who was her superior did actual work of some kind.

"So," he called over his shoulder as he read labels. "Where are you from?"

"Uh," she hesitated. "Nowhere, sir."

"C'mon," he replied, pushing a few cans aside to read what was behind them. "Everyone's from somewhere. Me? I'm from Tatooine. Grew up on a moisture farm not far from the edge of the Dune Sea and the Jundun Wastes. The sands seemed to stretch on forever."

"It sounds nice," she replied politely.

"Then I'm clearly doing a bad job of describing it to you," he said, snorting a laugh and moving on to the next shelf. "It's a binary star system, meaning we had two suns to cook the surface of the planet. If that's not bad enough, we've also got an indigenous tribe of folks called the Tuskans. They like to shoot 'n loot farmsteads every so often and ambush unwary travelers out on the dunes. Then there's the Hutt overlord in his palace, the Jawas who'll try to sell you junk equipment and call it treasure, not to mention the freaking Sarlacc."

'What's a Sarlacc?' she wondered.

"Still," he went on, his tone shifting ever so slightly away from the disdainful one he had a moment ago. "It's not without its charms, I suppose. Double sunsets are wonderful to watch. And I do miss my little workshop on the farm. Is this supposed to be purple?"

The apparent non sequitur at the end of that description threw her off for a moment before she realized he was holding up a bag of leafy plant matter.

"Um, yes," she confirmed. "It's a healthy color. It means it's still fresh enough to eat."

"Huh. Good to know."

With that, he casually tossed the bag onto the counter beside her and went back to rifling through the storage unit.

"Do you..." she started as a package of meat flew towards the counter and landed neatly next to the purple lettuce. "...Need help?" she finished.

"This might sound weird but do we have any pre-sliced or easily sliceable cheese in here?" he asked in reply.

"Cooling storage unit a quarter meter to your right and at your knee level," she answered promptly. "Cutting station is over here by the counter."

"Thanks," he replied.

Returning to the counter a few moments later, the Commander dropped his accumulated ingredients on the counter and began sorting them. He then selected the packet of ground up meat product and brought it over to the nearby flattop stove. He surprised Duella by thoroughly cleaning his hands before firing up the appliance and slapping down fist sized chunks of meat with one of the utensils hanging overhead.

"Know anything about ships, Duella?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Um, not really, sir," she admitted. "Only a little bit."

"Yeah, a lot of folks are like that," he said, checking and adjusting the heat of the stovetop. "Me? I got into looking at all kinds of ships. That's what you do when you're a bored teenager who wants to be a pilot one day. I actually got a chance to walk around and just enjoy the sight of this old Venator today and wow, is she something to admire. She's practically a piece of galactic history, y'know? A real good representation of the times we live in."

"She's... definitely an interesting ship," Duella offered up, not quite sure what to say.

Duella also noted how the Commander referred to the ship as a 'she' rather than an it. She noticed how most humans seemed to do this, although she never quite understood the notion of doing so. She sometimes wondered what a ship would be like if it were referred to as a 'he' instead. Would it make a noticeable difference?

The Commander was still speaking about to her, so she shelved those thoughts for another time and tuned herself back into the conversation.

"Venators made for great battle carriers," he was saying. "The Republic didn't have much of a fleet to start out with for the Clone Wars, so they made the best they could with the hulls they had. They're not great as pure carriers or battleships in their respective roles, but they can do both jobs well enough if they have to. It's a real shame the design was retired so quickly after the formation of the Empire. Shows a lack of creative thinking on the part of the Empire that they didn't see a need for carrier-type ships. The Alliance certainly made a good call on building a robust starfighter corps instead of trying to match them in capital ships."

Duella listened and found herself becoming interested in the Commander's rambling (although she wouldn't ever all it that aloud). She'd never much thought about ships as having personalities like 'he' and 'she' but the idea that they would have backstories, like characters in a story, was interesting to her. She did like stories and found them to be one of her few true pleasures in life. Not just the ones written down on datapads but the ones people pass on themselves through simply talking were interesting to her too.

"Having her so well maintained is a real bonus as well," he continued, seeming to finish cooking the meat and bringing over a plate to place them on. "Early production Venators were all well built and had a nice long service life ahead of them. As the war went on though, the Republic had to rush production and cut a few corners since they needed the reinforcements. Why build ships to last when you expect them to get blown to pieces within a year anyway, right? That meant a lot of Venators needed serious work done to them after the war to keep them in service. I'm guessing this one was modified to hell and back after she was salvaged and whatever work she needed done for her was done then. Not quite sure yet though. I'm gonna have to track down her original hull number somewhere and maybe her commissioning date if I can find it."

He finished speaking as he finally presented his completed... meal... on a plate in front of her. She wasn't quite sure what to think of it. The meat had been cooked brown and black and pressed into thick disc shapes. He'd then put thinly sliced cheese atop of it while it was still warm, causing it to melt onto the meat a bit. The salad leaves he'd selected were laid atop that with the other half of the bread bun sitting on top.

He must've been hungry, given that he made four of them.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"Behold; the cheeseburger," he declared in a bold tone of voice but tinged with humor. "Meat, bread, cheese, and some purple stuff added for nutrition. Let the galaxy tremble before the sandwich's more evolved form! The burger is a mighty construct, fit for the highest of rulers or the lowliest pauper, capable of satisfying all manner of tastes and hungers!"

Duella felt comfortable enough and bold enough by this point to give the Commander a deadpan look. He either ignored her look or didn't notice it, because he just gave her a big smile before grabbing one off the plate and taking a bite. He must have been happy with the result, given the fact that he let out a pleased hum before taking another bite a few seconds later.

"They turned out pretty good," he remarked after swallowing. "Try one; I made plenty."

Duella's eyes widened by a fraction as the Commander pushed the plate closer to her. She had thought he was only cooking for himself and that she was here to wait and likely do the cleanup afterwards. She didn't think he was cooking for the both of them!

Hesitating for only a moment, she reached out to the plate and picked up one of the... burgers. She quickly realized she should copy the Commander's technique and use two hands as it was easier to hold that way.

Her first bite was small, almost shy. She kept glancing at the Commander and braced herself to hide her reaction if it tasted bad and she didn't want to risk offending him or making him uncomfortable again.

To her surprise, it actually tasted really good. The meat was nice and juicy and the cheese was pleasantly warm and melted from being close to the meat. It all fit so nicely in her hands, making it easy to eat as well. She took a bigger bite a second later and savored the simple, yet delicious flavor in her mouth.

"This is really good!" she complimented honestly. "Is this a delicacy on Tatooine?"

"Nah, not really," the Commander answered, still enjoying his own meal. "Just something I learned to make a long time ago. Getting all the right ingredients can be a hassle, especially on a desert world, but it's a nice little treat when possible. Don't you think?"

Duella hummed in agreement around a mouthful of delicious, juicy meat.

"Might be a good idea to experiment with different kinds of meat in the future," he commented next. "This is good, if a bit plain. I'm thinking it might be better with some different meat or seasoning added."

"Womp rat meat tends to taste better with certain kinds of seasoning," she mentioned, trying to be helpful.

He stopped chewing and looked back at her. He then looked to the meaty sandwich in his hand, staring hard at the parts he had already bitten out of. Then at the plate with the remaining burgers on it. He was frowning now.

"This is womp rat meat?" he asked. "I'm eating a womp rat burger?"

Duella tentatively nodded, suddenly wary of his reaction. Was that a problem? Womp rats were a fairly common, yet invasive species on many planets. They were a convenient and relatively cheap source of meat, thus making it a popular choice of protein on the Outer Rim.

It suddenly struck her that not everyone may be fine with eating it. Especially if they didn't know what it was before already eating a bunch of it. Was this her fault? Would he be angry? Angry at her?

Still, she nodded and kept a neutral expression on her face, bracing for an eruption.

Said eruption never occurred. Several tense seconds passed where the Commander kept frowning at the food he'd prepared. Then, he simply shrugged his shoulders before taking another bite of the burger still in his hands.

"Still one of the best burgers I've ever had," he declared around a mouthful. "Decent cheese is so hard to come by on Tatooine, so this is a real treat either way. You think we can teach the cooks to make these and maybe improve on the recipe?"

While she answered before taking another bite of the 'burger' ('seriously; what language is that?'), Duella could feel a different kind of warmth fill her up. This was such a small thing - pretty inconsequential, actually - but it would go on to be one of her most cherished memories.

The commander of a warship didn't have to stop and chat with a servant girl. He didn't have to cook her food. He didn't bother to have real conversations with lowly crewmen and talk about mundane things like food, home, and family.

Commander Luke Skywalker did though.

For all the pain she had endured, both before and during her service aboard this ship, she thought it was all worth it now. Life had its many ups and downs and she was still a little uncertain what the future would bring or what place she would have in it, but she was feeling more accepting of that now.

How bad could the future really be if it had burgers?

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Soldiers, when committed to a task, cannot compromise. It's an unrelenting devotion to the standards of duty and courage, an absolute loyalty to others, and not letting the task go until it's been done that makes this breed of individual so remarkable.

The sheer willingness of free sapient beings to commit themselves to such an occupation, for the cause of freedom and individual liberty, should speak volumes as to how precious these things are.

-Excerpt from 'Let Us Stand Together' by the Renaissance Man

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift: Biggs Darklighter, a few days after the mission to Cymoon I

Biggs Darklighter, Lieutenant in the Alliance to Restore the Republic, Ace Pilot, Survivor of the Assault on the Death Star, let out a loud yawn that made him sound like a Wookiee. He'd just finished his post-workout shower and had some time to kill before he had to be anywhere else. So he plopped himself down on the couch in the lounge area, claiming a good seat for whatever show was on the screen ahead of him.

"So, what are we watching?" he asked.

Whatever it was, it had buxom women and muscular men making dramatic statements filled with long and unnecessary pauses. Biggs honestly tried and quickly failed to understand what was happening on screen without context.

"Some new trashy holodrama one of the newbies brought with him," Wedge answered.

"There's just no accounting for taste," said newbie grumbled. "You all need to learn to appreciate new ideas being brought into entertainment. It's important that the industry supports new-"

"It's Wes, right?" Biggs asked, interrupting what was sure to be a boring tirade.

"Wes Janson," he introduced.

"Right, Wes," Biggs waved off the introduction. "You're partnered with Antilles here, right?"

"Yeah?" he answered slowly. "Why?"

"Just making sure I won't have to hear about this while trapped on a patrol with you," he answered, shrugging. "Seriously, can we watch anything else? I just had to finish PT with Makks and his guys and I'm beat. I don't need this on top of it."

As if to highlight his statement, a very dramatic fight was now taking place with lots of talking between flashy punches and kicks. There was also a lot of unnecessary jumping and backflipping, as the camera made clear. While he didn't consider himself any sort of martial artist, even Biggs could tell this was dumb.

"Bunch of degenerates," Wes muttered, switching off the screen. "There. Happy?"

"Not unless you've got something more interesting to watch," Biggs elaborated. "I said to change the program; not turn it off."

"Hey," came the voice of another pilot hanging out. "Maybe you could tell us what's up with the Commander?"

"L-you mean Commander Skywalker?" Biggs asked, catching himself before referring to their CO by first name in front of new pilots. "What about him?"

"You and Antilles flew with him at Yavin, right?" the same pilot asked. "What's he like? What's his deal?"

"'His deal?'" Wedge repeated for the both of them.

"Yeah, y'know," the guy waved has hand back and forth in front of himself. "He's big on that Force stuff, right?"

"Well, yeah," Biggs replied. "He did a bunch of training with General Kenobi when nobody was looking and as it turned out, he's kind of a badass. By the way, what's your name again?"

"I'm Dax," the inquisitive pilot answered. "I'll be flying with the Commander on the next duty roster."

"Huh," Biggs replied. "Good for you. You should be fine, if that's what you're worried about. He's not the kind of commander who'll scream at every little imperfection or annoyingly preach to you about his beliefs, or stuff like that."

Biggs paused to think for a moment. He remembered asking Luke to explain how the Force made him able to do some of the crazy stuff he'd seen and Luke had dropped a lesson on metaphysics and mysticism on his head so heavily, he almost regretted asking. Almost. It helped that the lecture was actually pretty interesting and came with a small demonstration of making some loose credit chits float over their heads.

"Okay, so he might talk your ear off if you get him going," he corrected himself. "But he tries to be nice about it, at least."

"He seems alright to me," a growly voice chimed in. "Definitely cares about the folks under his command, so there's that at least."

Those participating in the conversation turned to acknowledge the Dug who had walked over to join them. He had tan colored skin with lighter tones on his extremities. He wore a small onesie with a vest over the torso, bearing the standard Alliance tans and blues. Biggs recalled seeing him man a console on the bridge once upon venturing up there.

"Hey, Sed," Wedge greeted.

Sed the Dug grunted in acknowledgement of the greeting before springing himself onto a nearby chair with a degree of grace that may surprise people not used to seeing Dugs get around.

"I see him up on the bridge," Sed continued. "He tries to be there when ships return from missions or when he's not participating in one himself. He talks with us between the action. Pretty sure I've caught him counting returning fighters more than once too."

Biggs had noticed that too. His old friend may not have gotten to the academy like he had but he had certainly taken to the role of leadership pretty well. Biggs remembered mentoring under Soontir Fel, a great pilot and leader, while at the academy. Biggs learned a lot from Fel and greatly admired the man for his abilities and convictions. Both Luke and Soontir had that same drive about them, he'd noticed. And since he was pretty sure his old mentor wasn't a Jedi, that meant the quality they shared was something that went beyond being able to move stuff with your mind.

"Hobbie told me he saw him lift fallen trees with his mind on Alderaan," Wes chimed in. "Said it must've been hundreds of kilos worth of wood and dirt."

"He's probably not exaggerating," Wedge replied. "I've seen him lift that R2 of his in and out of his X-wing pretty easily with his mind. And I've seen him do other stuff like that a couple of times now."

"Is it true he's the one who made that killshot on the Death Star?" Dax asked. "I heard some of the hangar techs talking about it."

It had become something of an open secret aboard the Resurgent that Luke was the one to take that final shot against the Death Star. They and the Alliance brass had tried to keep it quiet at first to try and protect Luke's identity from the Empire but there was no hiding the adulation heaped upon them all and Luke in particular after the super weapon's destruction. Word got around pretty quick as to who the mystery pilot was and people were excited to learn about the Alliance's newest hero.

Luke had said that he was fine with keeping it a secret at first but that the Alliance would likely have to come out with the information sooner or later, if only for the purposes of helping boost morale. Having a boy from a backwater Outer Rim world take on the Empire's best and defeat their massive station was the sort of propaganda coup Biggs would bet someone high up in the chain of command was chomping at the bit to put out there.

Just the other day, Luke had passed it on to him and the other officers over breakfast that it was fine to talk about if anyone asked about it now. Apparently he was now certain that the Empire knew who he was, so there was little point in keeping his name quiet if they knew who he was anyway. When Biggs had asked him how he knew that the Empire knew, he'd dropped the bomb that it was because he'd said as much to Darth Vader when they'd fought in the now former factory on Cymoon.

He remembered that Captain Shin had choked on his food at the mention of this and had quickly needed to compose himself. Vader was an awe inspiring and utterly terrifying figure in the minds of those who served in the Imperial Armed Forces. While the mental image of their commander trash talking the second most powerful man in the Empire was amusing to most of them, it was among the former Imperials that this information was met with varying levels of disbelief and amazement. Disbelief that anyone would confront the monster in such a brazen way and amazement that said person was still alive.

"Yeah, that was him," Biggs confirmed. "Wedge and I flew cover for him."

"Damn," Dax whistled in appreciation. "That was a hell of a thing. You wouldn't know it from how he acts. If I landed a miracle shot like that, you'd see me painting the silhouette on my X-Wing to let the whole galaxy know."

"And have a massive target painted on your hull every time an Imp saw you fly into combat," Wedge pointed out. "Someone asked after the celebrations if we wanted a special marker painted on our fighters to commemorate the event and all three of us shot them down, hard. Luke gets enough attention as it is for his own role and what he is. So far as I'm concerned, it means I'm a little less likely to get shot down if I don't look any different than the guy flying next to me."

"Amen to that," Biggs chimed in.

"Still would look cool though," Dax muttered, stubbornly.

"You'll learn a lot while flying with Luke," Wedge contributed. "He's no older than you but he's got... I don't know what to call it, but it's a kind of maturity about him, y'know? A leader's sense of responsibility, or something. He'll help keep your head on straight and you should consider it a privilege to get it coming from him. He's much less harsh on his pilots than some other squadron leaders I've known. Way more relaxed overall but he'll still work to bring out the best in you."

"Best kind there is," Biggs agreed. "Keeps his people in line but will go out of his way to protect them."

Biggs' words triggered a flash of memory across his mind. Of his days at the Prefsbelt IV Academy, endless hours in the simulation pods, and the strong, yet fair, instructor who had trained him. Biggs shook off the memory before letting it take his focus from the conversation.

'Hope I never have to fly against you, Baron.'

"Well, that's good to know," Dax sighed. "I wasn't sure what to expect from the guy."

"You'll be fine," Sed scoffed, waving one of his dominant appendages in dismissal. "Now, can someone pass the remote to the vid screen? I came down here to relax only to find one of you fighter jocks turned off the damn entertainment to have story time."

Wedge fired back at the Dug's harsh sounding comment with good cheer, knowing it was just how the small alien was. His comment brought a defensive one from Wes, which led into a discussion/debate about what they were going to watch.

Biggs abstained from joining in. Instead, he felt himself becoming a bit introspective. Perhaps the memories of his academy days were making him feel nostalgic? In any case, it wasn't his academy days he thought of but his earlier memories of Tatooine and Luke.

Growing up on Tatooine, he'd been one of the 'better off' kids around. His family had owned a lot of property and the farms that sat on them and turned a profit. He'd had the best clothes, food, and a new skyhopper to fly whenever a new model would catch his fancy. Life had been good. He'd had plenty to do and plenty of friends, including one Luke Skywalker.

Luke had never made a big deal out of the disparity of wealth between their families, which was something Biggs had always appreciated. Luke had always treated him as a friend rather than as 'the rich kid.' They'd gone shooting, flew skyhoppers, and bragged about all the wild adventures they'd get into once they got off of Tatooine. Luke had been the first person to pitch the idea of life off of Tatooine seriously to him and Biggs had come to be more and more enthusiastic about the notion as he got into his later teenage years.

But while Biggs had been ready and eager to leave when the time came, Luke had been... less so.

He'd still talk about life away from Tatooine but with a much more serious undertone than when they were just kids. Biggs had thought it was his friend's uncle trying to keep him on the farm and had even implied as much, but Luke insisted that wasn't it.

It must've been the Force stuff and the Jedi training. It was like Luke had gotten a much firmer set of priorities in his head and had gotten his head out of the clouds as a result. He'd only been a year younger than Biggs growing up but that sudden burst of maturity would coincide with about when Luke said he'd started his training. He hadn't exactly been a child before, being only a year younger than Biggs himself, but there were times where Luke would be staring at the holonews or watching the suns set and Biggs would wonder where his mind was at.

Luke's arrival at Yavin with the Princess and the assault on the Death Star had convinced him that there was definitely something more to his friend he had let on. It was why he trusted him to lead their squadron, although Biggs himself was in line for that promotion. Whatever uncertainties had been washed away with the stream of victories and the seemingly endless tide of people that they all had been able to help.

All thanks to Commander Skywalker.

Despite his family's wealth and all the good memories of childhood and even the thrills of life at the academy, he'd never felt more at peace, more content than in moments like this. Tired and sore from a hard workout, he sat surrounded by his friends and fellow pilots, laughing at whatever dumb thing one of them would say next. He had pride in himself and confidence as to where he was heading in this big, bad galaxy.

With Luke 'Skyboy' Skywalker leading the charge, Biggs had never felt more assured of victory than he had these last few months. Whether it be stormtroopers, TIEs, Star Destroyers, Super Battle Stations, or even Darth kriffing Vader himself; let them come. Together, they could outfly or outfight them all.

So far as Biggs Darklighter was concerned, things were only looking up.

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

Now that we've covered the scientific explanations of the Force, I believe I would be remiss if I didn't mention the dangers involved as well.

From the most ancient surviving records, we know that among the most ancient practitioners of the Force were a group called the Je'daii. Their legacy endured longer than any of the pre-Republic sects of Force wielders, eventually giving birth to the more modern Jedi. However, while this ancient sect of warriors and mystics believed in the duality of good and evil, Light and Dark, the Jedi Order that followed them preached only about the Light. This is due to a terrible schism which occurred within their order, giving birth to the second half of the Je'daii legacy; the Sith.

Mentioned in dark legends across the galaxy and even forging themselves into an empire strong enough to bring the Old Republic to its knees, we will dive further into Sith lore and philosophy another time. What's important to understand here is how dangerous Sith are not just to their enemies, but to themselves.

Sith deride their power from strong emotional states, contrasting heavily against the Jedi philosophy of suppressing emotion in favor of control and focus. The emotions they rely on are typically fear, anger, hatred, and a number of associated emotional and psychological states. While it is normal for most sapients to experience such emotions in the course of their lives, those who thrive on such emotions are typically shunned by society. The cruel, the viscous, or the self-serving too often seek to serve only themselves at the expense of others. At times, they have even been known to resort to acts such as murder to achieve their goals.

Dark thoughts foster dark deeds. It is for this reason above all others that I think we must not only be wary, but stand in defiance of those who dedicate themselves to this philosophy. At the very least, I must caution everyone to be careful around such individuals.

Because how can any group of people - from businesses, to militaries, to whole governments - trust one of their own who is solely dedicated to their own power and satisfaction, even at the cost of all else?

-Excerpt from 'The Force; What is it and Should I be Worried?' by the Renaissance Man

~Skywalker: Resurgent~

POV Shift: Darth Vader(?)

A son.

It wasn't possible. It had to be a lie. A trick. Kenobi's sick joke.

And yet...

Blue eyes. Sandy blonde hair. That confidence he carried, the certainty behind his declaration and in the Force, it all added up.

The pain and confusion he was feeling had nothing to do with his fight or his escape from Weapons Factory Alpha.

He'd escaped the resulting destruction of the factory with little trouble in the aftermath of the duel. He'd raced outside and had caught only a glimpse of the fleeting light freighter before it darted into the skies to make its escape. He'd operated almost as if on autopilot after that, making it to a safe distance while the factory's destruction had still nearly blown him off of his feet in the resulting shockwave.

Wandering through the destruction of the facility in an almost trancelike state, it had taken a contingent of stormtroopers approaching him and expressing relief at having found him in the aftermath that he finally snapped out of it.

Coming to his senses, he'd demanded a report of the situation and had gotten a much more detailed picture of what exactly had happened.

Apparently, the engineers had managed only to delay a critical overload of all of the factory's main systems before the fires had spread enough to make the interior of the facility uninhabitable. The fires had eventually spread to the reactor and the coolant systems before causing the main power core itself to partially detonate, rendering the site of the facility a debris filled crater.

According to preliminary analysis, the fires alone had almost destroyed enough to make the the explosion redundant. It was largely now insult to injury that the area would have to be cleared of debris and the ground leveled and repaired before any sort of replacement facility was rebuilt. If it was rebuilt. It was probably going to be cheaper to just start from scratch elsewhere.

Surveying the damage, he had been distracted far more than he would have normally allowed himself to be. He kept going over the fight in his head again and again, analyzing every detail and attempting to memorize every twitch, every swing, every word his opponent - his son had said.

And he was a rebel.

He was with them.

He was one of them.

The Rebellion had steadily been growing throughout the galaxy over the last two decades and it now appeared that the conflict was beginning to reach a new phase. Almost as soon as the declaration of the Republic's disbandment and the rise of the Empire, there were those who refused to fall into line with the New Order. In those early days, it was mostly Separatist holdouts and a handful of defiant planetary governments. As time went on, more threats began to grow and much closer to the heart of government than Vader was comfortable with.

It seemed like the early days all over again. He could hear the occasional whispers from the Dark Side of a coming conflict and it would always send a fire through his veins. This destructive conflict was going to come to a head soon and he would have to ensure it ended in a way he desired. Before today, that meant only satisfying his Master's goals. But now...

The Emperor.

His Emperor.

His Master.

Master...

"Where is Padme?"

He was even more silent than usual as he boarded a transport back to the Devastator, his personal Star Destroyer. He gave terse orders to begin cleanup of the factory grounds and for Overseer Aggadeen's status to be ascertained as soon as possible. If he was alive, he was to be brought aboard for a more thorough debriefing on the situation. If not, then any surviving officers were to be questioned extensively to ascertain a more clear picture of events.

He retired himself to his chambers soon after. The officers and crew were all under strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed for anything unimportant, so he didn't have to bother reiterating orders to be left alone. A few bold and stupid officers would test his patience from time to time and would quickly become examples to warn off the rest. His last example was recent enough that he wasn't concerned about having to make another out of some hapless ensign or lieutenant that dared disturb him.

Sealing himself inside the hyperbaric chamber, he allowed the systems to remove his helmet which allowed him to breath the sterilized air being pumped in. It wasn't perfect but at least it was he who was doing the breathing, not any machine. The automatic medical systems housed within the chamber began to interface and run a diagnostic through his suit's systems, though he was uninterested in anything they had to tell him right now.

He had a son.

He'd fought his son.

His son was an enemy?

No!

He thought about his Master, who had swore to save Padme's life if he just knelt and submitted himself to the Sith ways, who'd promised him knowledge, power, everything he wanted and needed, had lied to him. All he'd had to do was turn his back on everything he'd ever known. Every promise but the one that mattered most - the one to save his wife - he'd forsaken. He'd thought he'd failed in that too.

But he'd been lied to.

"Is she safe? Is she alright?"

The quiet beeping of the machines within the chamber might as well have not existed. Deeper and deeper, his thoughts went in directions he hadn't considered for many, many years.

The mountains of bodies he'd been responsible for.

The rivers of blood he'd spilled.

It wasn't guilt he felt when he thought of them, but frustration. If these things didn't get him what he'd wanted, just what had it all been for? But of course he knew the answer.

For his Master.

For his Empire.

For the Sith.

He'd made those sacrifices for the sake of peace but just looking at the state of the galaxy now, he couldn't say it had been worth it. The end of the Galactic Republic? Now whole worlds conspired against the Empire from the shadows. He'd given up on the idea long ago that the people could be kept in line without reminders of the Empire's power. Fear was all he knew.

The destruction of the Jedi? He had been hunting their remnants for years now, with the last having been killed by himself just months before on Cophrigin V. Now, they seemed to be returning with at least two being openly counted among the rebellion's ranks and possibly more keeping their heads down. Would more come crawling out of the dirt to follow their example?

Something had to change. Like before, with the destruction of the Jedi, the face of the galaxy was altered irrevocably and brought about tremendous opportunity as well as loss. His position and power were a testament to the former while his broken body was a testament to the latter.

He'd enforced the Empire's law upon a hundred worlds, the aftershocks affecting hundreds more. He'd gone though the motions day after day and year after year, playing a role. He was the Apprentice to the Master. The Empire and its military might bent to his will. At times, even more so than they did to the Emperor's. Before today, the status quo had remained the same. He had felt little drive to change it himself but it had changed all on its own.

Something had changed and it had taken him completely by surprise.

'A son...'

A chime interrupted his train of thought. Hitting the flashing button on the panel, he accepted the call.

"What is it?" he demanded, irritated.

He'd long ago modified his personal comm to keep his voice disguised and the hologram function permanently disabled with his chamber. Still, he despised having to answer calls while he was in this state. This had better be important...

"Lord Vader," came the professional sounding voice of some nameless officer. "The Emperor requests an update on the situation. Shall I route the call to your personal holocomm?"

"I'm afraid she died..."

"Do so," he ordered, cutting the comm channel.

He ordered the chamber's systems to reseal his suit's systems and prepare for him to exit the chamber. The process had used to take an unacceptable amount of time until Vader had refined it to only take a handful of seconds. In short order, his suit was disengaged, his helmet was back in place, and he was making his way to his private holocomm.

Darth Sidious was not a man to be kept waiting.

Vader kneeled on the pad as the hologram of his master manifested above him. Clad in the dark hooded robe he was most known for, the Emperor was always a figure that both disgusted and fascinated him. He was so calculating, so powerful, and yet so harmless at a first glance. And yet, he knew it was all a mask. A mask his Master wore as it served his purposes but Vader never doubted that the man was always planning something.

Vader - more often than anyone else - had seen his Master accomplish complex plots that have sabotaged whole worlds, end the lives of millions, and set forth events so complex and terrible that it was hard to believe that they had come from the mind of a single being. Even as the person who likely knew the man best, Vader doubted he knew even half of the secrets his Master kept.

Yesterday, those things had meant little to him. He observed the man with almost clinical detachment every time he dealt with him or did his bidding. Now, Vader had never been more disgusted with the man than at this very moment.

'If my son was alive,' he thought to himself. 'How could he not know? Why did he tell me Padme died at my hand when she was clearly still able to give birth? What else has he been hiding from me? What else has he lied to me about?'

Vader immediately clamped down on these thoughts before they could fester on the surface of his mind. Even when so many lightyears away from him, his Master still had a knack for reading his Apprentice with an unusual degree of accuracy, even for one who was a master of the Force.

The Emperor's mouth was drawn into a thin line. It was a sign of agitation unusual for the man to show immediately upon contacting his apprentice. His eyes showed the same restrained malice they always did but Vader would swear he could detect a hint of... something else in them.

"Report, Lord Vader," he commanded.

"It seems in your anger..."

And so he did.

Knowing that his Master was already informed of the destruction of the factory, he updated him with his own accounting of events and the level of destruction he had seen with his own eyes. But before reaching the confrontation with his son, he was interrupted.

"Yes, and that's when you met him, isn't it?"

Years of practice prevented Vader from jerking in surprise. His Master had a knack for knowing more than Vader wanted him to and it was happening again at the most inopportune time. Steeling his voice as to not leave even a trace of emotion, he decided to keep his responses as simple as possible so as to not give anything else away.

"The boy," Vader intoned flatly.

"Not any mere boy," his Master retorted. "The young rebel who destroyed the Death Star. Who has been trained by Kenobi. And... who holds an unusual relationship to you."

"I have felt something as well," Vader admitted. "During our confrontation, he showed unusual skill. His behavior was atypical of a novice. He is no mere padawan."

"It is because he is the son of Skywalker."

Silence struck the conversation with all the force of a crashing starship.

Hearing those words spoken aloud somehow made them more real than when he'd heard them from his own son. There was a shock of... something. He could feel it, almost like an electrical discharge that ran through his very being. His suit's life support system would've alerted him if such a thing had actually happened of course, but he could feel it all the same.

"How is that possible?" he asked in a monotone.

"Search your feelings, Lord Vader, there can only be one answer," came his Master's condescending voice. "There is no doubt that this child has been kept secret so that he may be trained to destroy us. To destroy you. The rebellion has gained a powerful new weapon, as you have now seen for yourself. The Jedi's perfect weapon against you."

The words sounded right. They were every bit in line with his own thoughts only a short time ago. And yet... there was still something amiss. Even as the flames of the Dark Side stoked within him at the words, it didn't seem to fit.

"Collected from her corpse at the moment of her death, if not before," he went on. "It is almost... Sith… in how they have carried out this plan. Indeed, I would almost praise them for it. It isn't like their order doesn't have a long history of taking in younglings and training them to fulfill a role. It wouldn't even be the first time they did it to a Skywalker."

His Master's venomous words invoked painful imagery within his mind; his love, laying dead as Kenobi and other shrouded figures carried off his child. Vader clenched his fists hard as he imagined such a thing. Even allowing for the possibility that they hadn't just let her die, they had still obviously carried off his son like a prize, just waiting for the day they could use the boy against him.

"This cannot go unpunished," he ground out. "Kenobi must be hunted down and dealt with. If no secrets can be forced out of him, then his death will still satisfy our purposes. Him coming back into the open means the rebellion has become more dangerous than ever and must be stamped out, immediately."

"And we shall do so," his Master answered, allowing a wry smirk to show. "But I have another task for you. For the time being, my agents will seek out and deal with Kenobi and the Skywalker boy.

"No agent of yours will stand a chance against the boy, let alone Kenobi" Vader protested, but keeping his head bowed. "I am the only one who can do this."

"Do not get ahead of yourself, Apprentice," Sidious warned, dropping the warm pretense in his voice. "You are a fool if you think I've forgotten your recent failures. You have avoided my presence like a shameful child since the destruction of the Death Star and I am growing sick of it. You will return to Imperial Center and answer to me in person."

The menace in his Master's tone was an almost tangible thing. Phantom pains shot up Vader's spine and through his gut, reminiscent of his Master's preferred form of punishment.

Old emotions, not touched in many years began to burn like hot coals being stoked in a fire.

'Who is this liar to punish me?'

"But don't worry," Sidious went on, adopting an arrogant tone once again. "I do not expect my agents to be able to defeat either Kenobi or the boy. But they will still serve a purpose in pursuing them. You will have your chance at revenge once again, Lord Vader. That is, of course, assuming you do not squander it again and allow your enemies to escape. Until then, you will do as I have command and return to me."

"You killed her."

His Master's dagger-like words and condescending taunts seemed to fade into background noise as he felt a rising swell come from deep within.

He was no ally. He was no friend. Despite his Master's 'kindly grandfather' or 'beloved friend' personas, Vader had never doubted the truth behind those lies. Now, he found himself sickened by the everything his Master said and did. His every word was like poison to his ears. Every change of expression made him want to turn it to one of agony. He wanted to crush the deceitful old man's skull between his cybernetic hands and watch as the agony showed across his face as he squeezed.

The Sith teachings had always taught him to embrace pain and anger. To channel his hatred into power that could be used to destroy his enemies.

No hatred burned brighter right now than the one for his Master.

No enemy demanded annihilation more than Darth Sidious.

"YOU KILLED HER!"

"Lord Vader?" came the Emperor's inquisitive tone. "Is something amiss? Has something changed?"

Those words, so innocent and yet so full of deadly promise. How Vader desired to kill the man, right then and there if it were within the realm of possibility to do so. He truly, desperately, wanted this man to die now. To remove his cancerous influence from his life, to keep him away from his son, Vader would give just about anything, sacrifice anything, to make it happen.

But it would not happen today.

"No, my Master," he answered aloud. "All is as it should be. I will meet with you soon on Imperial Center so that we may plan accordingly for how to deal with the Jedi."

There was a moment of silence before a wry smirk overtook his Master's features and he replied.

"Good. I await your arrival, Apprentice."

The Emperor's hologram dissolved a moment later, casting the room back into shadow before the lights reengaged standard illumination.

With the transmission ended, Vader rose to his feet swiftly and exited the chamber. He passed the open hyperbaric chamber and his state room's meager accommodations, instead walking almost trancelike to the large viewport in the adjacent room. He stood before it like he had many times before but never with thoughts like this swirling around in his head.

"Skywalker," he spoke aloud. His low, rumbling voice filled with a mixture of emotion he'd never allow another living being to hear from him.

Terrible thoughts began to swirl within the Dark Lord's mind as he stared into the void of space. The Devastator was currently facing away from the planet in its orbital track, allowing Vader a fine view of the infinite expanse of space through the transparisteel window. The starscape was similar to the first one he saw after leaving Tatooine; so full of promise, adventure, and the wonder of opportunity. Even after all these years, he still found himself drawn to viewports in his quiet moments. The sight of them served as ample distraction to his problems and helped him maintain focus. Except this time, it wasn't just stars he was looking at. It was much, much more than that.

It was not just the Empire he saw, but all the stars, all the worlds, all the ships and all the lives that lay arrayed before him.

He saw it all. And as he took it all in, one thought above all others permeated his mind and filled him with a new drive, a new purpose, and a new goal.

'He will be mine. It will all be mine.'

AN: Happy Holidays to all of my readers! To celebrate the season (and to offer some relief from those of us dealing with 'difficult' family) I'm opening the official Discord chat for everyone! Please, just remember to be respectful and try to understand if I can't answer every question right away. I've got a life to live too, y'know?

Just type in the standard Discord address and add /dpV5yxspfs

Originally, this chapter was supposed to introduce some special characters. However after that last chapter, many of you suggested that you'd like to see the reaction Vader had to that revelation SI!Luke dropped. Since I was planning on doing a chapter like this anyway, I figured I'd move it up a bit and give the people what they want.

For those of you wondering, the title for this chapter is taken from a line in the book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. It's a remark on the idea of perspective, which is a recurring idea very much worth considering when reading the book or watching the movie. Since we're looking at different POVs in this chapter, I thought it was an appropriate metaphor.

Thoughts on the chapter? I felt like the conversation with Leia was a little rushed but whenever I tried to start it from the beginning, I couldn't seem to get it done in a reasonable word count or convincingly.

Yes, Leia did just touch upon using Force Sight when opening her mind to the Force. Since individual Force users all tend to have different strengths in the Force, I though it would be a well suited power for Leia to instinctively grasp onto when exploring her own Force connection for the first time. Some folks, like Streen, hear the thought of others while others, like Vader, might lash out with telekinesis when they lose control. Having someone's Force connection manifest with an actual power is something we've seen before, if not quite in this way.

Yes, I totally stole that joke from Demolition Man for that snippet with Duella. I realized after writing the first couple of lines that it was a perfect opportunity, so I took it. Congratulations to those of you who picked up on it, because you likely have excellent taste in movies.

Did you enjoy the snippets of Renaissance Man I slipped between page breaks? Let me know if you do and I'll consider adding more to later chapters. Maybe just do it at the start and/or end though.

I'm hoping I did justice to Vader's character in his section. This chapter took as long as it did specifically because I wanted to do justice to his character and make sure I got the tone right. For a character with so much material written about him, he is surprisingly difficult to get right!

Again, the official Discord is now open to everyone! Just type in the standard Discord address and add /dpV5yxspfs

Until next time!