To some, Adalyse Holdo might have seemed strange. I had heard comments to such an effect previously, and had promptly dealt with those who made them. Oh, not openly. That would have been too easy. But if a hotshot pilot in her squadron bashing her as one with "her head full of feathers" suddenly got downgraded to maintenance duty… well…
Yes, Adalyse dressed as colorfully as her personality. Sure, she made odd comments here and there. She did have an airy way about her. And she did obsess a little over the snow owls that she had gained special permission to raise on-base (with varying incidents occurring subsequently). But who was I to judge? I, who she calmly handled the occasional drifting of, knowing that even though I seemed here I wasn't really here at all. I, who could make my own occasional off-brand comments? I, who thought the snow owls were adorable little puff balls?
Adalyse was wise, loyal, and whip-smart. You just needed to take the time to see it all. And she was my best friend. While she had become my friend before Mustafar, she had become my best friend after, for she had been the only one who didn't fear me. Instead, she had embraced me wholly. Maybe it took someone slightly quirky to be friends with someone damaged like me. In that case, Adalyse was not only my best friend but a perfect friend. And to me, she was. She was like my sister, the sister I'd never had—that sister that baby Mother lost might have been.
Adalyse flew for Coronet squadron, but she also part-time taught pathfinding with me. Given how much the tools of pathfinding had helped me to cope not only with the daily struggles of life itself post Mustafar but situations I had gotten into with my work for the rebellion, I'd known that I wanted to help mold young minds in it, too, like Chief Scarlet once had for me. But I also had to admit to myself that I could not depend on myself one-hundred percent of the time to stay in the game and be completely fine. What if I blanked out in the middle of a class?
Enter Adalyse, perfectly willing and indeed quite excited to be my co-instructor in order to, as she said, "Promote experiences for younglings that help them to become comfortable with the nearness and inevitability of their mortality!"
And so, as our cover for this mission which I myself would today undertake for the Alliance, Adalyse and I had taken our current pathfinding class to the Carrion Spike. A famed section of the Carrion Plateau—a large mass of land on Eriadu which was entirely owned by the Tarkin titans—the Carrion Spike was surrounded by seemingly endless fog-shrouded lands and contained many wild beasts and great winged birds within its space. In other words, it was intensely dangerous simply to hike here. But to get to the top of the Spike itself was a vast climb that challenged even the most expert of instructors—much less students.
In other words, it was perfect for today's lesson.
I should note that the class hated us. I mean, they really hated us. This trip didn't help.
"Maybe we should have gone alone," Adalyse mused as we hiked along, the various pairs of sentient beings trudging, slithering, or skittering along, each with ill-concealed umbrage and/ or terror. Many were shooting us none-too-covert glares as they went—most of them directed towards me.
"We couldn't have done that. If we'd gone alone and then I requested to stay at the Tarkins' for the night it wouldn't have made sense."
"But you've come to the Spike every year since you were able to after Mustafar."
"Right," I agreed. There was something calming in hearing Adalyse mention the horrors of Mustafar in her dreamy voice, as if none of it had been real. She contrasted flawlessly my too-sharp realism; for her everything in life had soft edges, even the contemplation of that planet of fire and ash. "But I've never stayed at the Tarkins' afterward. It looks better for the cover story."
"I agree."
That paused me. "—then why'd you argue about it?" I asked, adjusting my supplies backpack so that the straps didn't dig into my spine so much.
"Because they hate us for bringing them here," Adalyse replied promptly. "And I can't blame them. It's dangerous."
"Life is dangerous," I returned. "And they need to learn."
She peered at me with, I thought, a touch of sadness. I pretended not to notice. "So," I started, "how's Ellis?"
Adalyse broke into a broad smile. "She's great. She wants to join up with us pretty soon."
"That's good. You'll get to see her more." I nudged her playfully. And we chatted on about her girlfriend, of whom she was extremely proud, and it seemed she didn't feel any hint of the concern I felt about the coming mission at the Tarkin home. No. Her concern was all about the kids, who hated us. But they just didn't get it: we were trying to teach them something valuable. I was trying to teach them something valuable.
The preciousness of life. And its precariousness. You couldn't take such things for granted: you needed to learn that life was perilous, and that people were out to get you, and how to survive with nothing but your own two hands and will, because that was what it came down to inevitably! And better that they learn these lessons with me than somewhere else where they had no backup, no allies, and no second chances.
Because real life had no second chances.
OOO
After the pathfinding trip ended, I headed back to Eriadu city, where the Tarkin estate stood. It was a high, gabled building that spanned a vast swath of land on the edge of the city, and stood taller than most of the skyscrapers. Huge picture windows looked out from every room. The blackish tiles of the palace-like building glittered in the fading evening sun.
I was sweaty, exhausted, and slightly bloody. There had been a rabid animal incident on the excursion. And for once, I thought my pathfinders had hated me more than they respected me.
But… they had gotten the point of the class. And that was all that counted.
Tarkin dimpled at me as I finished the story. Though in his early eighties now, he retained the same forceful vitality as ever, for all he looked like a walking corpse. "A job very well done, my daughter," he praised, leaning back in his chair and, it appeared, admiring the blood on my jacket.
"Thank you, Uncle Wilhuff," I replied. He'd told me I could call him that years ago. I rarely did so now except in more casual circumstances such as these. For he was not my uncle. But he once had been in the place of Luke, albeit on a different side from him, and I couldn't let on that my affection for him had diminished at all—
Much less that he repulsed me in every possible sense.
Well, at least today I could use our retained relationship for a positive purpose for the rebellion.
Tarkin smiled back at me, and reached forward to take my hand in his. "You know that it was, in the past, traditional for Tarkin heirs to surmount the great challenge that is the Carrion in order to gain right to their inheritance. You also know that Alba considered herself too refined for such matters." Meaning too wimpy and pampered.
I nodded, still smiling. "Understandable, given her level of refinement." And after all, soon she would be princess consort to our beloved Prince Palpatine.
Good riddance. I hoped they made each other mutually more miserable every day. The thought helped me smile wider until he continued,
"But I do not think it is understandable. You've always known that. So, you should also know that I have never been prouder of any daughter than I am of you today."
I found myself without words, a sudden feeling of sickening guilt piercing through the veil of vengeful victory. I took in the pride in the gray, hawkish eyes. I felt how frail the hand holding mine was.
And I couldn't balance the scales in my mind, or comprehend the duality: this man, who had so coolly ordered the destruction of Jedah City, Chandrila, and Jakku. This man, who had saved my life from It's mercilessness. This man, who loved me as a daughter. No longer could I deny this fact. For he did.
And how could I live with that? Or understand it?
OOO
Luckily my existential crisis didn't last long. It didn't have time to last long. Another crisis, this one far larger than the Death Star itself or its new sibling, came swiftly and smoothly on its heels.
Namely: a princely one. About an hour before, Alba had called, looking flushed and victorious, and said she had a "surprise" for her father. She was coming home soon in order to prepare for Empire week. Naturally, both Tarkin and I assumed that her surprise would prove something stupid and frivolous, like a new nail polish color that perfectly matched her Commander's uniform for the parades or some kark.
Then, Alba arrived with Nigel in tow behind his sister, as usual. But something was different. Something big. A huge retinue fanned out behind them, one with scarlet-robed guards and hooded manservants and with stormtoopers flanking the group after that.
My first thought? Caught.
But then, two of the red-robed guards parted. I saw the purple-robed figure walking between them, the cowl pulled up over his face and throwing it into utter shadow. Only two beings in the galaxy were allowed to wear robes of that shade of purple. It was the shade of royalty—Imperial royalty. And since this figure used no cane… it could be but one man.
The Imperial Heir had come to Eriadu with Alba and a cadre of Imperial forces who could catch me in my planned act in a moment. By the stars, but kriff me.
OOO
Please review, because it really motivates & encourages me!
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Next time: we meet Prince Palpatine.
Do you think Padmé will complete her mission regardless? And what do you think her mission is? Also - what do you think Prince Palp will be like?
Thanks for reading!
Warmly,
Hope
