The Imperial shuttle came into the Rapier's main landing bay, wings folding up, undercarriage skids deploying downwards. Tahiri had lined up their arrival perfectly, straight in front of the open avenue of gleaming deck which stretched down the centre of the hangar floor.
The rest of the vast space was filled with Imperial personnel, standing at attention in their smartest uniforms. The avenue of open deck was flanked by stormtroopers in gleaming white-armoured regiments, with a group of officers in their dress uniforms providing a focus at the far end. Further back on either side were formations of personnel from every arm of the Imperial military, including some she was sure the planners had just made up for the occasion.
Jaina exhaled.
"You can do this, Grand Moff," Tahiri teased, her voice now accentlessly Imperial. She glanced round, and gave a fond smile. "Jaina."
"Thanks." Jaina stood and put her fingertips to Tahiri's shoulder, the most she'd risk in front of all the recording devices that were looking at the shuttle's cockpit, though the silence that passed between them communicated everything. Then she turned and walked aft, positioning herself just inside in the entrance to the passenger quarters in the back of the shuttle, while the eight droids formed up in front of her.
The fact that she was starting the formalities in a private bedroom which she used exclusively for bondage sex seemed crazy, but not exactly inappropriate.
The ramp lowered with a loud hiss of hydraulics, and the DT-4 droids marched down, forming an honour guard. From somewhere outside the shuttle, she heard the dramatic opening notes of the Imperial March. Had that been recorded, or did they have a military band somewhere in amongst all the different units standing at attention?
Jaina hid her smile, pulled her uniform cap onto her head, and stepped forward, her boot-heels clicking softly on the deck.
The first part felt easy enough, down the ramp and out from underneath the shuttle's cockpit, into the open hangar—but then the sheer scale of the ceremony hit her—the endless ranks of soldiers, backed by the insistent thunder of the music and the anticipation of an audience that was far larger even than the Empire.
What was the last time there had been an Galaxy-wide HoloNet event this big? Not just a political news story or sports final. A big symbolic public ceremony to mark a change in the Galactic order, that had caught the combined attention of the Rebels, Empire, and neutral space? Her parents' wedding?
There would be recording devices everywhere, all of them scanning and recording her every move in perfect detail—many of them transmitting live to the HoloNet, others recording the event for image archives, public records, and distribution to the newspackets. One way or another, without the problems of intergalactic invasions and Imperial censorship that had previously disrupted the social calendar, she'd been told that she was reaching the widest media audience of any event in recent Galactic history.
Everyone was watching her. They would see a short, slender girl, dressed in the informal uniform of a fighter pilot, without rank insignia or command codes, a service blaster on her belt. No lightsaber.
She walked in a loose approximation of a military march. People said she looked a lot like her mom, but that her expressions often reminded them of her father.
The grey-uniformed group ahead of her had resolved into the of the Moff Council. She was pretty sure a few of them at least would be droid duplicates, but she didn't think she could tell which. She was too tense to focus in the Force, her entire existence like a held breath.
All the Moffs had turned out in full dress. Even d'Ashewl and Sacker were wearing grey today, rather than the usual black. Tagge was smiling. Flennic too.
She dropped to one knee in front of her Moffs, removing her cap as she did so. Somehow, she'd reached the end of the difficult part without even noticing. The music had stopped, as well.
"Jaina Organa Solo, Hereditary Princess of the House of Alderaan." She didn't recognize the voice. "Daughter of Her Serene Highness the Vicereine, Leia Organa, granddaughter of Darth Vader, last Lord of the Sith, and of Her Royal Highness Padmé Amidala Naberrie of the Naboo. The Galactic Empire calls you, by the summons of the Council and the consent of the people, to take up the rank and place of Empress."
A pause. Absolute silence.
The Galaxy was watching.
She felt a cloak being draped around her shoulders, a chain clasp drawn across her throat. A velvet cushion, as black as space, with highlights like distant starlight, was brought forward in the black-gloved hands of an officer, and she saw the flash of the silver circlet which had been balanced on top, and after a moment's arrangement, the diadem was neatly fitted on her own head.
"Arise, Empress Jaina."
She stood, seeing the hand gesture from one of the Moffs. The cloak rippled out full length. She glanced down at the slender chain across the front which, in combination with the ribbed and padded leather of her gunnery jacket, made her look just a little bit like Darth Vader.
The Moffs saluted—a symbolic gesture, a nod of welcome to her new self, without the kneeling that she had performed to signal her commitment.
But then she turned, and the entire hangar bay dropped to their knees. First the stormtroopers, then the soldiers behind them, and then the rest, until finally, the entire audience, symbolic representatives of the entire Galactic Empire, were kneeling to salute their Empress and her Moffs.
She smiled, more amused than anything else. She had Tagge, Sacker and d'Ashewl at her back, and she could see Tahiri perched up in the cockpit of the shuttle, flashing her a grin and waving cheerfully.
She'd come to the Empire to marry the head of state and become a force for Jedi and Alliance influence. Instead, she'd become the head of state, and she'd just been married to the Empire.
Not quite what anyone had planned, she thought—but she definitely felt this was an improvement on the first idea.
(Empress Jaina will return in Imperial Space III: The Imperial March)