The rest of the parade proved to be agony. I had to sit there next to Admiral Biggs Darklighter as his blonde pickup from the masses. And yes, that's exactly what everyone was thinking; their feelings betrayed them like a cheap HoloNet set broadcast. But they dared not ask. Not the highest-ranking Imperial officer in the entire sector, a rare outer-rim fleet success story, a model of Imperial conduct and adoration of the Empire.
For my part, I wanted to die the whole time. Seriously. I prayed several times for a large dark hole to open up and swallow me into it, and promised to be grateful for the fact, but to no avail. Yes, I found being in Biggs's presence again deeply uncomfortable. But mostly, I worried the cameras might pan toward me, and actually had to avoid this a few times. I worried someone might ask my last name. I worried…
I worried that some shadow of the depth of dark secrets housed within my heart might show on my face, and that I must thusly answer for them.
And finally, when it was over, Biggs didn't let me go at that, either.
He caught up to me as I attempted to slip away unnoticed while some officers shamelessly chatted it up with a few of the Hutts.
"Luke," he said, voice quiet but carrying.
Kriff all, I thought. "Yes, Admiral Darklighter?" I returned with respect, stopping.
"How did you get here?"
How did you suddenly get a Coruscanti accent? I thought but didn't say, because I knew. Most higher-up Imperials affected it. Or so Leia claimed, at any rate. Biggs had had almost twenty years in the Navy to develop one. But that didn't stop the scorn from rising within me all the same.
"I told you," I explained with earnestness. "No one was around to say this spot was off-limits. I was looking for somewhere quiet."
"What about your aunt?" Translation: Did you just leave her for the whole parade?
It's you who made me stay, I mentally retorted. "She's dead," I said simply. No one to leave.
"Oh," said Biggs. Then, "When did she—?"
"A few months ago."
"Was it peaceful?"
"Yes," I admitted. And I could give thanks for that much.
"And your uncle?"
"He's dead, too."
"Ah." So you're alone.
Don't pity me Biggs, I plead mentally. If he started pitying me—him—an Imperial, I—
I didn't know what I would do. I turned my back on him and began to walk. He followed.
And so Biggs continued to try to talk to me. We ended up walking out of the arena together—me trying to get away, him trying to pursue and converse with me. I felt chased, hunted, and sweat prickled at the back of my neck that had nothing to do with the day's heat.
Major Mellish inevitably came up. "You're worried he'll penalize you, aren't you?"
It would hardly be the first time for such a thing to occur because of rejection—sexual favors or otherwise. Not that I could say so. I knew this one story where a girl had refused an officer a quickie and he'd subsequently had her family's house burned to the ground by flametroopers—with everyone still in it. I could believe it; I could believe any evil of the Empire.
Like what had happened to my former best friend.
"Why would I be worried about that?" I replied with wide eyes. Han always said I put on a great innocent face.
Guess who that face wasn't fooling? Biggs, because he'd known me once. "It won't happen," he assured me. "I plan to report him for abuse of power. From what I've observed since I got here a few days ago, he deserves a demotion and more." He puffed out his chest with this pronouncement, appearing even more self-important.
"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."
I'd actually striven to sound sincere in this sentiment, but the Imperial only raised an eyebrow. "I see you still have your sass," he remarked.
And I see you now enjoy getting off on power and hierarchy. "Maybe I did notice Mellish's… free use of his power," I admitted.
Obvious subtext: But what could I do about it? I'm just a farmer.
Biggs frowned, but said nothing. Apparently, he refused to address the obvious facts of rampant corruption in the ranks—especially in the outer rim. After all, whoever replaced Mellish would only do the same things—embezzle, whore, and abuse their power; they'd just put their own spice on it.
Instead, he took a route I wasn't expecting. "How have you been, Luke?"
Oh. So it was Luke and asking me personal questions now, was it? Alright. Great. I'd already chocked up this day as a loss and one full of pain, might as well embrace that fully.
I caught myself, though. That wasn't the attitude. Jedi didn't sit—well, in this case, stand—walk, whatever—around feeling sorry for themselves; they got to work. My current work entailed getting an Admiral to leave me the kriff alone so I could go back to my useless life, but whatever.
"I've been fine," I replied, then asked about him in turn. Oh, he was doing well. That was great to hear. Great to hear. And how about the Navy? Did he enjoy flight command? He did. Oh, great. Great.
We were at the edge of the arena now. I was nearly free. Then he took my arm and made me meet his gaze. "Luke," Biggs ventured, "you should be careful."
Is he threatening me? Evenly, I began, "No one told me that seating was for officers—" but Biggs cut me off.
"I didn't mean that. Of course, that was a lack of proper preparation and security by Mellish." He'll pay was the unsaid. "I meant with… being approached."
My eyebrows rose. "You mean how he was trying to kriff me? Thanks." I pulled my arm free. It didn't burn at all from the man's touch.
"You did grow up gorgeous," Biggs murmured back. Then, suddenly, "Has anyone else…?" Has anyone else approached you? When I wasn't here to "save you"?
"No," I returned, embarrassed and so snappish. "The problem with anyone I liked in my thirty-five years hasn't exactly been assault; quite the opposite." The retort just… came out. Because I was angry. Because I was embarrassed. Because I didn't want to be doing this, talking about this, with him. Because it was Empire Day and I had to pretend to celebrate the Sith.
And because all the deeply buried feelings about the day Biggs had had his send-off party (and our subsequent break) had suddenly resurged in a bubbling mess inside me.
Biggs flinched. Yet his words came hotly and with defensiveness. "Stars, Skyboy. Can't you let that go? It was twenty years ago. Have you had nothing else to think about?"
Alright. That. Was. It. I got in his face. "As if I'd ever waste my time thinking about you, you ass. I have things to do that don't involve subjugation and killing. Thanks for 'rescuing' me. Really appreciate it. But next time, remember: I'd prefer the firing squad," I threw at him.
With that, I stalked off. Kriff Empire Day. I'd shown up to the damn celebrations. If that didn't make them happy… let them come.
Let them come.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Leia Organa. I'm your sister, Luke."
"My parents are dead. The Rebellion died with them. There's nothing left. But they think I'm innocent…"
"Be trained as a Jedi, you must, young Queen Leia."
"No! I'll never be a Jedi."
"Luke, then, Yoda. I already told you—"
"I want to train! I want to be a Jedi like my father!"
"Don't … mention that man, Luke. My father was Bail Organa of Alderaan, and they cut his head off."
"Completed your training you have, Young Skywalker."
"Yes, Master Yoda. Obi-Wan. Thank you. But… what is the use of Jedi training with no Rebellion?"
"Carry on the flame of hope, you must. Someday… a chance… I see…"
"One more thing… before your training is complete. Luke, what I told you about your father was true. But it wasn't the whole truth."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father became Darth Vader."
"WHAT?!"
OOO
Author's note: Thanks for supporting this story! I really appreciate it.
For those wondering, Biggs calls Luke 'Skyboy' in a comic. Can't remember the name. Anyway, it fit, so I used it here.
