"You really must come back and visit us in the spring. The tellami corals are expected to bloom, and all the seas will come alive at night in the brilliant glow of a thousand colours. It's one of the most spectacular sights in all the Galaxy."
Said Galaxy was nothing more than a swirling blur beyond the transparisteel windows. Bail's reflection approached her in the glass, and Emily was surprised by the effort it took to pull a smile onto her face as she turned and accepted a cup of Tarine tea from his outstretched hand. He was beaming at her, and while she was grateful that he was so enthusiastic about securing her return to Alderaan, just the thought of doing anything more than sleeping for the next few weeks was, quite frankly, absolutely exhausting.
"Sounds wonderful," Emily replied instead. The layers of bracelets lining her arms clinked and rattled with every tiny movement as she brought the steaming cup to her lips, and the elaborate twisted braids piled on top of her head, woven through with carved Glarus shells and glittering Appenza crystals, wobbled precariously as she tried to not trigger an avalanche of hair with each sip. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a smirk tugging at Pei's face flaps.
Emily had been dressed top to toe in ceremonial Alderaanian garb for her leaving, in keeping with their parting traditions. As she'd said her goodbyes in front of the huge crowds gathered in the capital to see her off, each of the separate districts and houses had presented her with a bracelet, carved and set with their symbols, until both of Emily's arms were encased up to her elbows in beautiful - but surprisingly heavy - rings. And so she'd tottered back to the Tantive IV under a flurry of petals and cheers, feeling like she was undergoing some weird Victorian etiquette test of her posture whilst balancing the mountains of jewellery precariously stacked on top of her. At one point, she'd nearly stumbled trying to manoeuvre her way up the carpeted steps to the ship's entry port. The white dress she had been gifted was surprisingly tight down to the knees before exploding out in layers of silk, and it really wasn't made for much more movement than standing and waving. Only a very subtly placed hand on her elbow from Pei had saved her from taking a dive, head-first, right onto the landing platform.
"You look utterly ridiculous," Pei had chuckled, her voice kept low so that Emily could only just make it out once she'd regained her balance. She'd never heard the Sullustan sound more amused. From the moment they were deposited onto the stark white decks of the starship, Pei had barely been able to look at her without snorting down a laugh. And now, ensconced into a high-backed chair in the ship's dining room, the Jedi smirked at every involuntary clink and rattle that Emily made.
"Although I imagine that you'll be busy enough with all the other invites you've received while you've been with us," Bail continued, his smile turning sympathetic. "There's a whole Galaxy of planets you must be excited to explore."
Emily wasn't excited for anything except the peace and quiet of the Temple. Her visit had been - with Pei's reluctant agreement - extended a further week, and those extra days had taken her from pleasantly tired to nearly dead on her feet. Soon enough, between being shuttled from one event to another, she was daydreaming about quiet mornings on the Temple's rooftop garden, with nothing but the low, comforting drone of the city and the wind ruffling the leaves of the old meditation tree above her. Or the hush of the library, with its dim lights and the soft echo of footfalls on polished marble. But mainly she just thought about Ben and Ani; the ache of how much she missed them sat like a void in her chest. It didn't matter now if Ben was still trying to avoid her, she'd give anything just to linger in their general vicinity. They wouldn't even have to acknowledge her presence. It would be enough to be in earshot of their voices, and bask in the fact that they were nearby and happy and safe. Would they even be there on Coruscant when she got back? The Temple always felt cold and empty in all the spaces they were meant to fill.
"I think I'm going to need a holiday from my holiday first," Emily admitted, lips curling in a smile around the edge of the cup before she took a long sip. She wasn't all that fond of Tarine tea - it was a little too bitter for her taste - but it was Ben's favourite morning drink. He'd swear it was one of the only things that gave him the energy to see through a day of training Anakin, always said with a teasing smirk, blue eyes soft and crinkled with warmth. Just the smell of the tea was like a double-sided blade; somehow both easing the ache in her chest and sharpening her longing for him at the same time.
"Aren't you forgetting something…?" Pei piped up, her eyes lifting from the datapad in her lap to rest, pointedly, on a large package wrapped in red cloth and precariously perched on top of their bags.
"Oh yes, I nearly forgot," Emily replied, her cup rattling against the glass table as she hastily plopped it down before struggling to her feet. The white dress was wrapped tight around her knees, making her walk across the room more of a shuffle.
"I got something for you and Breha," she explained to Bail, bending down to scoop the package up into her hands, "but with all the ceremonies and speeches today, there wasn't a chance to give it to you without all of Alderaan seeing."
When she turned back to him, Bail's face was a comical picture of surprise, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Emily waited.
"Please don't make me waddle back to you; my dignity can only take so much," she laughed, extending the gift out to him. He quickly approached, a wide smile on his face, before gently easing the package from her grip.
"There was no need to purchase anything for us. Your presence as our guest is gift enough."
"Don't worry, I didn't spend a credit on it," Emily said. "I'm terribly cheap - it's a Scottish thing. Well…aren't you going to open it?"
Bail turned and, crossing the room, he set the present down on the metal dining table with care, his hands gentle as they untied the ribbons holding the cloth in place. When he pushed back the crimson silk, his whole body seemed to still. Emily could only see the back of his head, bent low over the table, her heart in her stomach with the worry that it would be too much - too personal.
"Couldn't resist it," she blurted out at Bail's lack of reaction. "I saw you both when I was taking an early morning walk through the palace. You looked so…happy."
It had been towards the end of the trip, and she had woken early with stomach cramps thanks to too many spiced gojar bites from the previous night's banquet. After tossing and turning for a while, Emily had decided to wander the palace grounds instead, thinking to catch the first rays of sunlight on the mountains. She'd taken some paper and soft pastels, keeping to the balcony gardens. That's when she'd spotted them; wrapped up in blankets and each other, tucked away in the growing light, bodies turned in as they quietly talked. Breha's long, glossy curls fell like a waterfall about her, pooling on the stone seats and tangling in the wind. Bail was wearing soft, comfortable clothes, such a far cry from his usual stiff and pristine formal attire. They'd both looked so young and free from care, basking in the glow of the blossoming dawn and the silent language of their love. It was an impossible scene to resist. Emily had only managed a rough sketch of their pose and features, a quick suggestion of the way the light caught on their faces, before they broke away and returned to the heavy burden of their duties. It was more than enough to start on, and she'd continued adding to it in the rare moments of quiet between a landslide of activities and functions.
"It's ah…not the best," she admitted when the silence stretched out. Bail's hands bunched in the red cloth. Emily sent a look to Pei, who only gave her a tiny smile in return. "If you don't like it, I can lodge a strongly worded letter of complaint with the artist."
"It's…" Bail's voice was tight in his throat. He cleared it. Tried again. "I don't think we have any pictures together that aren't royal portraits. Nothing like this. I don't know what to say."
When Bail turned back to her, his face was ruddy with colour, dark eyes shining in the overhead light, the picture clutched tight in his hands. A watery smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"It's nothing, really, compared to all the kindness and generosity you've shown me," Emily said, shuffling forward a few steps and feeling her own face flush hot, eyes stinging when she thought of all things she wanted to say but couldn't find the words for. "There's no possible way for me to repay you for that but I promise that I'll continue to try."
Bail shook his head, then in three long strides he was across the room, pulling Emily into a tight hug, enveloping her in his heavily embroidered embrace. He was easily a good foot or so taller and she found herself smooshed into the plating on his chest, the ornaments in her hair swaying and clinking loudly against brushed metal.
"Breha and I will treasure your gift," he said into her hair. "I'm afraid that you will never escape our friendship now."
"Good," she replied, voice muffled through the thick cloth. Bail gave her another tight squeeze before breaking away. Emily returned his wide smile with her own. He cleared his throat again, bringing the picture up to cradle it in his hands before turning back to the dining table.
"You know, I have a friend who will be visiting Coruscant to vote on a number of amendments being proposed to the Senate in three weeks' time," he said, carefully wrapping the picture back up in its cloth. "We should have dinner together. There's no doubt in my mind that you would both become fast friends. Why, she even knows Master Kenobi from a-"
"Senator Organa, sir," interrupted a male voice from over the sound system. Organa looked up - they all did - addressing his response to the ceiling.
"Yes, Captain Rieekan?"
"Sir, we've intercepted an unusual signal coming from up ahead. We've traced it to a small region just outside of the Corulag sector."
"Unusual how, Captain?"
"They're using an old Alderaanian distress signal frequency, coupled with a civilian passenger freight encoder. If it weren't for the redundancies inbuilt into the ships' receivers, we would never have caught it, sir."
Bail stroked a hand over his mouth, brows furrowing. "What was the message?"
"No message sir, although…"
"Captain?"
"We could identify voices, sir. It sounded like some sort of commotion, but we were unable to gather any further intelligence from the signal."
When Emily turned to Pei, the Sullustan's mouth was pulled tight, her liquid black eyes narrowed and glittering as she listened.
"Send a message to Corulag," Bail said after some deliberation, concern colouring his voice. "Inform them of the coordinates and request an investigation by the nearest home fleet available."
"Yes sir," the Captain confirmed.
"Wait," Emily blurted out. "If the signal's from an Alderaanian ship, shouldn't we go help them?" She looked from Bail to Pei and then back again. The two of them were sharing the kind of look that holds a whole conversation without a word being spoken. "What if the people onboard are hurt?"
"Then the answering vessels will ensure that they are provided with any aid they require," Bail replied, but Emily could hear the hesitation in his voice. The implication of it quickly dawned on her.
"If I wasn't here-" she said, fingers worrying at the bracelets encircling her wrists "-would you stop to help?"
Emily watched Bail's throat bob as he swallowed down his first answer - it told her all she needed to know.
"Then you still should," she pleaded, before he could respond. "Please, I'd hate for anyone to be left stranded and hurt just because of me."
"Pei," Emily said, turning to appeal to her when Bail stayed silent.
"The only mandate I have is to keep you safe," Pei replied, crossing her wide-sleeved arms. "While I have sympathy for this situation, I'm sure any vessels sent from Corulag will be more than capable of providing aid." Emily knew that clipped edge in Pei's tone well. It translated to 'you're an idiot and I'm right, so don't bother arguing,' and she'd seen it used with great effect on many of the Jedi within the Temple. Of course, it had never worked on Emily. She was an entirely new sub-species of idiot - immune to even Pei's reasoning and scowls.
"Keeping me safe and helping people doesn't have to be mutually exclusive though, does it?" Emily pointed out in rebuttal. And then to Bail, "How long will it take to get ships sent out to help them? We don't even know how long they've been waiting for a response. Wouldn't it be cruel to leave them, when we're already passing so close?"
Pei let out a long-suffering sigh before rising from her seat. "You should tell your Captain to set the coordinates or we'll likely never hear the end of this," she said to Bail, and then raising a warning finger in Emily's direction, she added, "But if we do this, you will stay on the flight deck at all times, understood? You are not to move one millimetre unless I tell you otherwise. There can be absolutely no debate on this."
"Right. Yes. Absolutely," Emily eagerly agreed, turning to Bail. He was still frowning, a hand up and stroking over his beard in a way that reminded Emily so much of Ben, it made her stomach hurt.
"Captain Rieekan," he said, addressing the ceiling once more.
A curt, disembodied voice quickly answered, "Yes sir?"
"Change of orders. Please set coordinates for the location of the distress signal and have a contingent of guards assembled."
"This is likely nothing more than an issue with their hyperdrive," Pei quietly assured her, while Bail spoke to the Captain. "It's a common enough occurrence, especially with older vessels."
Bail finished his conversation with the Captain, turning to address them. "We'll find out shortly, either way. We can't be more than twenty minutes or so from the edge of Corulag space."
"Then let's get you to the flight deck," Pei said to Emily, hustling her towards the door. "It'll take at least that long for you to shuffle up there in this dress."
As it turned out, that wasn't too much of an exaggeration. By the time Emily had slowly rattled her way up to the bridge, there was already a group of eight armed guards waiting for them, with Captain Rieekan calling out an ETA of less than ten minutes.
"I won't be needing guards," Pei stated, pointing to the group of men checking over their equipment.
"They're not for you," Bail said, accepting a blaster from one of the men and attaching it to his belt. "They will be joining me when I board the vessel."
Pei's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I would strongly advise you to remain on deck until I have established the situation, Senator."
"While I appreciate your concern, Master Jedi, this is a civilian transporter, issuing an Alderaanian distress signal no less. I will not stand aside while there's a possibility that my people may be in need of assistance."
"I understand your wish-"
"-excellent, then there is no further need for this discussion."
Talk about an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Emily wisely chose to duck away from their argument, approaching the viewscreen to get a better look at the ship instead. While hardly an expert, the wedge-shaped vessel looked a little battered and worn compared to the ones she'd seen so far. The outside was a dull and mottled grey, with a patchy smear of faded yellow paint along the sides. There was no glow of an engine or the pinprick of lights to animate it; the ship hung lifeless in the surrounding starry void. A shiver crawled down her skin, bristling the fine hairs on her arms.
"Any success with initiating contact, Captain?" Bail asked, breaking off from his stale-mate with Pei.
"No sir, there's still no response to our signal."
"Very well. Begin docking procedure and continue your attempts to establish contact. I'll keep my comlink open - inform me as soon as you receive a response."
"Yes sir."
Emily turned around to see Bail deep in conversation with his security team. Pei had her eyes closed, her body held still and alert. Emily had watched Jedi do this before, often before a sparring match or other physical activity. Ben had tried to explain it to her. He spoke about the careful balance a Jedi had to maintain between the tangible and the temporal; in staying centred both physically in the world around them while still maintaining a deep connection with the Living Force. It could be easy, he'd said, to get too immersed in one at the expense of the other. The great goal of every Jedi was to find a natural balance between the two - or something like that. She had tried to give him her full attention, but he had been polishing his boots at the time, and Emily had found herself utterly distracted by his hands smoothing over the warm brown leather, the long steady strokes of his large palms and the way he carefully detailed around the stitching with his strong, nimble fingers. How she hadn't spontaneously combusted, right there on the spot, would forever remain a mystery.
The ship shuddered slightly, lights flashing overhead as the Captain called out, "We've docked at the main hangar bay, sir. Decompressing the entry port now. You should be clear for boarding in three minutes."
"Excellent," Bail replied. "Please continue to try and establish contact. In the meantime, we will make our way to the entry port and prepare to board. Master Jedi?"
Pei opened her eyes and turned to Bail, acknowledging him with a small nod. She crossed to join the boarding party, a little calm dot of tan and umber amid the looming guards who fidgeted beside her. Emily manoeuvred her way towards them until she was stood by Pei's side, her fingers reaching out to tug on the Jedi's long sleeves.
"Be careful," she said, holding Pei's gaze. "Both of you."
"No need to worry," Bail assured her. "We will return shortly. Master Jedi?"
Pei nodded to Bail, with only a brush of her warm hand against Emily's and the smallest hint of a smile before she turned and led the group out through the blast doors and into the corridor beyond.
The doors slid shut behind the small group, and Captain Rieekan gave Emily a sympathetic smile as he said, "Don't worry, mam. You can watch as we track their progress on the ship's map." A few taps of his fingers and the outline of the ship blazed up on the screen in front of them, several red dots highlighted amidst the blue vectors of the map, moving their way swiftly down the vague outline of a corridor. Bail's comslink was open, and she could hear the thud of their footsteps as they marched, followed by the occasional rustle of clothing and huff of breath.
"Coming to the docking hatch now," Bail said, voice calm and crisp over the speaker. There was a louder bustle, sharp clicks of metal and Pei's voice saying: "Activating the blast doors."
Everyone on the ship's deck seemed to hold their breath as they heard the pneumatic woosh of the door mechanism opening. A sick bubble twisted through Emily's gut - she wished she could at least see them. All this technology, and had no-one ever thought of inventing a body camera? Standing in the cockpit, ears straining to pick up every little noise through the long, drawn-out silence, was akin to torture. After endless seconds, a crackling voice came over the comms. "Well, there's no welcoming party to greet us," Pei's voice declared.
"Have you received any response from the ship, Captain?" Bail asked, and Captain Rieekan quickly glanced down at his panel, responding with a shake of his head and a sharp, "No sir."
"Very well. We shall continue to board. Have the medical team on standby, in case we need to urgently evacuate civilians."
"Yessir," was the response, and Captain Rieekan turned back to the glowing lights on the dashboard in front of him, clicking a series of buttons before engaging in a muffled conversation through his comslink.
Emily watched as the little red dots on the map disappeared, one by one, past the outline of the ship and into the black unknown. More footsteps came over the speaker, and the faint sound of a cough. "Take point," one man said, with another responding: "Clear."
"Wait."
Pei's voice was followed by a sharp rush and a blistering hum that pierced the silence. She had ignited her lightsaber, Emily realised with a start, a spike of dread leaping up into her throat. "Get back from the doors!" Pei barked. "Senator, I need you to-"
Emily never heard the end of Pei's sentence. An explosion rocked the ground out from under her feet, sending her jangling to the floor in a mess of silks and jewellery. It roared through the comms so loudly that the speakers whined and crackled with it, the reverberation ear-splitting. Scrambling up off the floor, Emily could barely make out the calls of the crew or the blaring alarms; her ears were ringing, her heartbeat pounding blood through her head, but none of it was louder than the screaming panic.
"PEI!" Emily wasn't sure if she yelled it or whispered it, only that her mouth formed her friend's name. "No. Oh God, no!"
The silk around her legs ripped and fell away as she ran. The bracelets slid from her wrists and bounced and clattered along the stark white corridors. There were others running alongside her. One man tried to grab and pull her back, his hand like a vice around her wrist, but she jerked away and he went stumbling. The corridors all looked the same, but there was a smell of smoke and burnt plastic in the air, and Emily ran towards the acrid stench.
Something caught the corner of her eye. A dull metal ball came flying out of a corridor ahead of her, clinking along the floor where it hit the ground.
"BLAST CHARGE!" a voice yelled behind her, just as the world exploded into searing white.
When Emily came to, there was a weight on top of her, crushing her against something hard and smooth and cold. She blinked her eyes, tried to move her head but could see nothing but blurred colours, red and grey. There was blood in her mouth, she could hear it rushing through her ears in time with her frantic heartbeat, barely audible over the only other noise - a blistering ringing sound that drowned out everything else. Something wet ran down her neck and she could feel it pool, slick and slippery, under her palms. All she could think of was Pei and Bail. This was her fault. This was all her fault and if they were hurt-
"No!"
Her fingernails dug and scraped at the ground as she tried, blindly, to push herself to her knees. The weight on her back shifted and slid; she felt it land heavy at her side. A kaleidoscope of light and colours melded and morphed, blurring her sight, but Emily thought she could make out the shadow of images. Faint outlines of darker shapes as they moved about her. One stooped down, and she felt the grip of a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once, then it hooked down under her armpit and pulled her weight up. Emily stumbled to her feet, stepped on something soft and uneven before finding solid ground. She found herself clinging helplessly to the offered arm, which now seemed to be trying to guide her away from the other shadows. The air was hot and filled with the smell of molten metal and something sharper, like the ozone tang of the Jedi Sparring rooms after a training session.
Her foot slipped and she stumbled again, the arm about her tightening as it tried to keep her steady. A burst of red light and heat, and Emily's support abruptly vanished, leaving her empty hands groping at the place where the shadow of her helper had been. Emily pawed at the air, called to them in words she couldn't hear. Her fingertips eventually met smooth metal and glass, and she pressed her hands against it, trying to breathe back the panic threatening to drown her.
Something hot suddenly seared Emily's shoulder like the touch of branding iron, her cry of pain swallowed by the ringing in her ears, her knees hitting the ground hard enough to jar with the wall at her side the only thing keeping her propped up. She clutched at her shoulder, the pressure flaring pain but she held it, teeth gritted, blinking as she peered at the haze all around her. There were more shadows - figures - and maybe her eyesight was coming back because their outline seemed to get sharper as they approached. Four - no five - she could make them out now. Lean shapes of men, two with something long held up at their shoulders. Bright red bolts of light flared over her head. Blasters. She'd seen the Palace guards practising with them - shooting blazing missiles at targets in the grounds near the barracks. They felt so much more real now that she could feel the heat of them as they blistered the air. So much more deadly.
One of the shadows that surrounded her fell to the ground, so close that when she turned her head to the side, Emily could almost make out the features of their face. Two blobs of dark, staring eyes. Skin dull grey and something sharp jutting out along the line of their jaw. She just stared and stared at the motionless face, as more of the swirling shapes solidified. Ridges and ropey braids. A high domed forehead, punctured through with a gaping black hole that curled smoke and oozed dark clots of blood. Emily barely managed to turn before she felt the first retch hack its way up through her throat. She blinked the tears from her eyes, trembling, wishing now that her sight was blurred away again. There were bodies all about her on the floor; some in the silver-grey uniforms of the Alderaanian crew, and others in mismatched clothes of garish cloth and worn leather. Dead eyes stared blankly at her wherever she turned. One guard lay collapsed in the corner, a hand clutched over his chest, his face drained white as his other hand reached out towards her, gasping through the red bubbling from his lips.
"Help," his wet mouth formed the words. "Help." Emily reached back out to him, started to crawl her way across the slippery ground. He looked so frightened. Crimson fire exploded in the air between them; instinct had Emily whip her face away from the light, and when she turned back, only a blackened crater remained where the guard's face had once been. The second retch gave her no warning as she vomited blood and bile all over the glossy floors.
No. No, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. They came here to help. All she wanted to do was help. Emily was still crawling towards the dead guard and his missing face, hands out like there was something she could do. Like she could scoop all the scattered blood and bone and hold his face back together again. Hands, boney and hard, clamped down on her shoulders as she slowly inched her way forwards. They seized her at the wrists and elbows, digging into her flesh like iron points, yanking her up and dragging her back. Emily struggled against them, her eyes still desperately glued to the remains of the dead guard. She needed to help him - couldn't they see? All she wanted to do was help. She had to - she…
Fingers fisted in her hair, wrenching her head back with a flare of pain. Cold eyes glared out of a grey skeleton face, its mouth a cruel leer. She couldn't hear what they said, could only make out the movement of their thin lips. He waved his blaster in the air as he spoke, the muzzle of it coming down to press against her forehead, the tip of it so hot she could feel it burning a welt into her skin. That's when Emily realised, in a strange moment of sudden calm amid the chaos, that the blaster was likely still hot from shooting the guard as he lay dying. Calling for help. Hurt and frightened and begging to live.
Everything receded back. The fear and panic and terror. It all retracted until Emily felt like she was staring out from a long tunnel. It was with a remote sort of detachment that she watched her own hands wrench free, reaching up to tear into that leering face, fingers gouging out those cold black eyes. Emily was aware that something struck her hard on the side of her face - a foot maybe, or the butt of a gun. Bodies piled on top of her, pressing her down, grabbing at her hands and legs as she screamed her rage into the ringing silence, bucking her torso and kicking her legs. Someone tried to smother her face and she bit down hard on the leathery skin of an arm, feeling bone crunch under her teeth. She tore one body off her back; rammed another into the wall hard enough that Emily was sure she felt something in her shoulder rip. She might have even made a break for it, until someone set her on fire.
It was like she was back in that room again. In the black coffin box, wrapped in wires and watching the blue lighting arc over her skin. Except now she wasn't numb to it. Every inch of her body writhed in agony. It felt like she was being turned inside out; her muscles locked and jittering, eyes rolling wildly. It was an eternity until the pain stopped and she was left kicking and twitching on the floor, staring sightlessly at the blank ceiling as the lungs re-learned how to breathe. Emily slumped onto her side, watched as the world blurred in and out in bright swirling arcs of green and red. It was almost pretty, how the emerald light fanned out into the air, as though painted by a brush, the red streaks snapping and bouncing off its sweeping edges. It slipped towards her, and wherever the green light flared, shadowed figures crumpled and fell away, until there was nothing else around her but white walls and the flickering green light.
Something velvety soft touched her face. Black eyes gleamed back at her. "I'm sorry," Emily gasped into the dark as she slipped away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know."
Silence met her pleas.
