"Where were you?" Sabé asked when he strode back into his office in the Senate building. The end of the day had long since passed, and he imagined she was starting to worry.

"After I met Vader in the hangar the other day, he invited me to see his full ship collection," Luke said dully. "I honoured the invite."

"How did it go?"

"The Palace is luxurious. The ship collection is fantastic. Vader's going back to wage war on Tatooine and there's nothing I can do to stop him."

"Oh, Luke." Sabé guided him to the sofa in the corner of his office. "I'm sorry."

"I should've expected it. He's gentle as a father, but that doesn't change anything about him."

"Does he still suspect?"

"I think I'm only making it worse."

Sabé frowned. "In what way? He'll read what he wants to into whatever you do, no matter what. They're both delusional like that."

"The Force. A child of his would have it, right?" She nodded hesitantly. "When we entered the Imperial Palace, I fainted. I don't know why. It seemed like I was sensing something. And when I got angry, I made all the speeders shake. It's spiralling out of control."

Sabé's pinched lips were the only thing that betrayed her nervousness. "You fainted?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I felt… a lot of pain. Death, definitely," he added. "I know what death feels like."

Sabé nodded sadly. "The Imperial Palace used to be the Jedi Temple."

"Oh."

"I imagine something like the Purges could linger."

Luke was going to faint again. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It did."

Sabé hesitated. "I think you need to be trained. This sort of thing seems dangerous—both in terms of getting you discovered, but also to your mental wellbeing. Earlier today I spoke to a contact in the Rebellion."

Luke lifted his gaze and scanned his office. It was unnecessary—he and Sabé checked for bugs almost every other hour, and the amount of them they'd cleared out recently had been concerning—but it soothed him.

"Ashla?" His tone was quiet.

"They're going to contact her. It may take some time. And this would be a big undertaking, to balance a training regimen with her usual espionage work. But it's happening." She squeezed his hand. "We just have to try to keep your powers less obvious in the meantime."

"They're how I can tell people are lying, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll stop calling people out on it then."

"Who have you accused of lying in the last few weeks!?"

Luke winced. "Amidala."

She stared at him. "I despair of you."

"It rattled her. That was fun."

"I'm glad to hear that, at least." She smiled sadly. "I assume this was in your meeting about Naboo?"

"Yeah."

"Any luck?"

"She tried to convince me why it was a good idea."

"And did she?"

"No." He paused, then amended the statement. "I understand why she thinks it's a good idea. From her point of view, it's even an excellent, morally upright idea. And I can tell unequivocally that her point of view is wrong."

"For now."

Luke decided not to acknowledge that.

"I've had updates from Naboo, by the way," she said. "I assume Dalrana's keeping you in the loop as well?"

"She is." He sighed. The news was always bleak. "A few peaceful protests against the occupation ended in bloodshed. More prospective queens have dropped out of the running."

"That's what I've heard. Anything on the gardening side?"

"Nothing. No strikes currently planned—at least, none that I'm needed for. They might call upon me soon. I think they're just respecting at the moment that I'm the one with the best chance to convince the Empress to back off."

"The best chance doesn't change the fact that it's no chance at all."

"I'm not going to stop trying."

"I applaud you for it." Sabé's tone was less than heartening, and she ignored the look he shot her. "Do you know which candidate Dalrana supports?"

"I don't know specifically, but looking at the ones left, Soruna and Dahlinee seem to be the closest to her ideals. They'd probably be unsatisfactory to the Millaflower Movement—they're more in favour of gentle disdain than outright opposition to the Empire—but they're better than the alternatives. I don't really think Dahlinee has a chance though, as symbolic as it might be to have a half-human, half-Gungan queen on the throne at the moment. Soruna is better at connecting with current, specific issues, even if she's not as eloquent."

"They're not the favourites though, are they?"

Luke shook his head with a frown. "No. Seralina is. You can see why—she already has experience on the council as Princess of Spinnaker, and through that she seems to have Dalrana's support. She seems like a safe option. Someone who'll embrace the Empire, but at a distance. The fact that the council never moved to get closer with them so long as she served on it, while Spinnaker's industry benefited with a lot more Imperial connections and contracts, gives her that balance."

"She has no intention of balancing, does she?"

"No. She always pushed for further deference to the Empire, even if she was subtle about it. We'd fight about it all the time—keeping us away from the Empire was because of several council members opposing her." He paused. "If she does win, I'll lose my position. She hates me."

"Did you ever call her out on the council?"

"I accused her of what she was trying to do, and that meant she couldn't hide it from the others."

"That's a yes, then," Sabé teased. Luke rolled his eyes. "You won't be dismissed. You've done a good job as senator."

"That might be the problem. If Amidala wants me gone, one word in Seralina's ear would make sure of it."

"It's a good thing she doesn't want you gone, then." Sabé added with vitriol, "It seems to be the opposite, in fact."

Luke shook his head. "I'm still nervous about this election. And not just over public opinion. What if the Empire does manage to tamper with the votes this time around? What if more figures get assassinated like Representative Maya? We can't lose any more good politicians."

"We're all nervous," Sabé agreed. She was staring at the carpet, face blank. "I'm just waiting for things to get worse."

"Stay safe, my love."

"I always do."

Vader bent down to let Padmé kiss him on the top of the helmet, her small frame bird-like in his arms. He held her hands in his and stroked them with his thumb, careful, as ever, to be gentle.

She huffed a laugh. "That's a lie. Make sure you bring peace to Tatooine soon. It's becoming…" Her mouth twisted, unamused. "A political complication."

It was unlikely that she was thinking about Luke, there—she was interested in Luke, but always thought about the bigger picture first—but Vader nodded. He was thinking about Luke, when it came to this. "The sooner it is under our control, the sooner we can build, and move on from accusations about it."

She smiled up at him. "You do listen."

"Only to you," he promised. "We intend to use new tactics this time. I believe they will be more effective."

"I hope so. The Hutts must go. Their empire has collapsed, but their criminal influence is still problematic. I want all corruption and danger in the galaxy eradicated." She gave him a hard look. "Can you do that for me?"

"Anything."

"Good." She took a step back, extracting her hands from his. Her hand went to the dark folds of her dress, which were buffeting in the winds caused by the landing shuttle. "I'll keep you in the loop. You do the same to me."

"I will."

"I'll miss you," she called. Vader smiled like a giddy teenager as he felt her love for him pulse through the Force like a heartbeat. Like a weeping wound.

"And I you," he said. "This will be brief."

She smiled tightly. "I'm counting on it."

Very early the next morning, Luke rose to head to Leia's apartment. They had their next committee meeting first thing in the workday, and they'd need to have an argument straight before they could argue with Pooja about it. He was about to don his pilot's gloves to fly there when an Alderaanian-style speeder settled on his landing pad. He frowned, hoisting his satchel of supplies as he abandoned his own speeder to go and investigate, and—

"Biggs," he said with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking you up," his friend replied. "I know you can fly yourself, but Her Highness suggested it. And who was I to turn down a conversation with my friend?"

"You've robbed me of one of the few times I get to fly a speeder on Coruscant," he complained jokingly, but happily climbed in beside him.

"Well, my sincerest apologies." Biggs's hand came up to ruffle his hair again—he hesitated for a moment, seeing how well brushed and styled it was, but like before, Luke didn't object. The messier hairstyle reminded him more of home. He'd even grown accustomed to inserting one or two braids in and around his hair, mainly looping his crown.

When they took off, Luke had to admit: Biggs was an excellent pilot. He'd always been good, but now the confidence he flew with was palpable.

"Did you ever end up going to a formal flight school?"

"I did! Didn't go to the Imperial Academy in the end. That would have forced me to enlist in the Imperial Navy, unless I snuck out and defected. But Alderaan has a flight school training its pilots and traders, so I got a scholarship to go there instead. I was reliable enough to be recommended for diplomatic service."

"Reliable?" Luke teased.

Biggs rolled his eyes at him. "I'm not gonna ever be as fast or instinctual as you. But I can give a consistently smooth and safe ride. Get you out of danger if things go wrong. You, on the other hand… didn't Beru once refuse to climb into a speeder with you?"

"I used to spook her a bit," Luke admitted.

"Luke, I've never seen anything rattle your aunt, except for your flying. She looked green after you took her for a joyride."

"She drank some blue milk that was off!"

Biggs's laughter was good to hear.

"It's nice being able to talk about Tatooine," Luke admitted. "I'm usually not encouraged to. I don't know how long it's been since I thought about the Skyhopper." He grimaced. "Uncle Owen must've sold it for spare parts." The thought left him hollow, even if it made perfect sense. Luke wasn't there to fly it.

"It'd make sense. But he's a resourceful guy, and he loved you a lot. Maybe he kept it for the memories. When you go back, he'll be better at handling it than you are."

Luke's chuckle was painful, and not just because of the nostalgia and fierce mourning for the years he'd lost there. Biggs knew that his uncle was missing and still joked like that, on the assumption that he was alive. It was comforting.

He changed that, though, with, "I did get the impression that you weren't meant to talk about Tatooine, though. People always clock my accent, but you sound like you blend right in. Was that for politics?"

"No. I mean, I made it stronger when I started running for politics. But I picked it up from my very well-spoken grandma to try and fend off any more questions."

"And now you've dropped it the moment you meet me and hear my terrible speech?" Biggs drawled, affecting an even stronger accent than he'd had previously

Luke laughed. "You just sound so attractive." Biggs's smile at that was almost shy, which surprised Luke. He'd always seemed so suave and unflappable.

"We're nearly here." Biggs glanced up, and sure enough, a moment later they were swooping onto a landing platform made of smooth, dark wood. It was polished to a sheen by the constant wear of repulsorlifts. "I'm flying both you and Princess Leia to the Senate building later. I'll see you then, alright?"

Before he climbed out, Luke leaned over to hug him.

Biggs was surprised, but he returned it heartily—even slapped Luke's back. It would crinkle the treated blasterproof fabric of Luke's maroon blazer, but his skirt was already creased from the speeder ride. He didn't mind.

"Good to see you, Biggs," he said earnestly, and kissed him on the cheek. It was a common sign of affection between friends on Naboo, but Biggs stilled before realising what it was.

"Good to see you too, Luke." He glanced up. "There's the Princess now."

Luke met Leia in her living room, just inside the large doors that led him there from the landing pad. She looked him up and down, then glanced at Biggs, smiling faintly.

"I thought it'd be nice for you to catch up," she admitted. "I have a terrible tendency to monopolise my pilots' time with various projects, and I felt bad, considering you were such close friends."

"That just sounds like you have a tendency to take on a lot of projects and overwork yourself," he parried.

She rolled her eyes, and they sat down around a table. Luke glanced at her white sofas and only asked for water when refreshments were offered.

"That's just what working in the Senate is like," she said. "Too much work, too little reward. Sometimes I wish—" She cut herself off.

"You wish what?" But she clearly wasn't going to answer, so Luke kept the conversation going himself. "I wish it was more efficient. Amidala's inherently corrupt, but I still understand the urge to streamline things."

"Yes," Leia said. "My thoughts exactly." She glanced at her datapad of notes that she'd made at their previous meeting. "Shall we begin?"

Luke nodded. "My first thought was about addressing your concerns with the metric…"

The meeting went smoothly. It was almost enjoyable, hammering out the weaknesses they saw in their data and methods until there wasn't anywhere Pooja could reasonably poke holes in. They started re-examining Leia's data with that in mind, to make sure the way it was presented was accurate as well as politically savvy; with the amount she had collated, that was going to be a long task. But they had a decent start—even if Luke knew Pooja would toss most of it out.

"We don't have much time left," Leia said, keeping an eye on her chrono. "Should we leave now? It would look suspicious if we both arrived equally late. We don't have to tell her about this meeting, but if she suspects it happened she might just dig her heels in more."

"You're assuming she'd put personal feelings over professional ones?"

"I am."

Luke shrugged. "You'd be right." Pooja never used to do this—she had been a model of maturity when she was first appointed senator. But plenty had changed since then.

Or maybe Luke's perception of her had.

Besides: "If her professional aim is to obstruct the project, to be fair, involving personal feelings until it's hogtied is one way to do it."

"That requires us to not set boundaries. Which I intend to do. I won't be guilted into softening my words because they hurt her."

"Good." Luke nodded. "I… need to learn that." He didn't know how to control his compassion the way Leia did. He had too much, or not enough, of many things for politics.

Leia squeezed his arm. "I'll help you," she promised. "Follow my lead. But we should leave."

Luke gathered up their notes. He was more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time as they wandered towards the speeder, chatting idly, but the moment he sat in it, he tensed.

Leia noticed first. "What is it?"

"I don't know." His ears were full of white noise, his head stuffed with wool. "A storm's about to hit."

Leia frowned. "The Coruscanti Weather Control have scheduled only clear skies for the next week. There're no significant fluctuations to suggest—"

"Metaphorical storm?" Biggs asked. "This one of those feelings of yours?"

Feelings. Yes. He'd had them on Tatooine, and Biggs had seen it.

"Be careful," he said. "Fly… reliably."

Biggs snorted. His casualness was soothing. "I always do."

Luke nodded, and Leia bumped his shoulder. Luke didn't miss the curious look she was giving him, the slight tension thrumming in her own shoulders.

Biggs took off, and the cool air against his face calmed him. The simple motions of flying invigorated him. He liked the speed at which the Coruscanti starscrapers whipped past.

He didn't like the speed at which everything happened, from there.

A shot, loud, even if there was no possible way he could hear it over the roaring of the winds. Luke's horrible feeling crescendoed and he threw both himself and Leia to the side, so it just pinged off the windshield. Biggs started, but the shock didn't make him jerk them out of their trajectory. He flew faster.

"What is that?"

Another shot. This one against the left side of the speeder, where Luke was sitting. He scrunched his eyes shut.

Another one. It struck one of the engines in their underbelly.

The way the comforting whirring collapsed into a clack, clack, clack, belching black smoke, evaporated his doubts.

"We're under attack," he said. "Is this—"

"An assassination attempt?" Leia shouted. Her cone of braids had tumbled out into one long one, streaming behind them, dancing in the wind. "Finally!"

Luke wasn't sure that was the appropriate reaction to have.

"Where are those shots coming from!?" Biggs shouted. Luke lashed a look over his shoulder. A sleek grey speeder, with an open cockpit that held two figures. They wore all black, but they looked humanoid. One was flying, one shooting.

"Behind us!" Luke shouted forward. "They're in pursuit—one's shooting, one's flying."

Biggs cursed. "Alright. Is there anywhere near here we can land? Can we lose them?"

"Contact the Coruscanti police," Leia ordered. Luke pulled out his comlink and dialled the number, shouting at the droid voice that answered. "Biggs, I don't think there's anywhere to land. We need to—"

Another shot. This one hit their engines again, badly. The clacking and grinding noise got worse, and they started to lose height.

"Kriff," Biggs was muttering, "kriff, kriff, kriff…"

Luke finally finished his shouted conversation with the police droid. "They're coming. I hope they'll be able to find us. Biggs—"

"We're falling," he said. "We need to find somewhere safe to land."

"We can't land with them tailing us!" Leia shouted.

"I know, Your Highness, we—"

Nausea seized Luke's stomach. He ducked to dry heave, and it meant the bolt that was aimed for his head hit the seat in front of him instead.

"Luke!"

"I'm fine," he said, mouth tasting sharp, and ducked again. That one went wide as Biggs took them in a sharp left, then regained their course.

"You have to drop out of the main airlanes," Luke called. Starscrapers flashed past them; as Biggs swerved from side to side, Luke could see their terrified reflections in the transparisteel.

"What? Why!?"

"Luke's right," Leia realised. "They keep missing us, but soon they're gonna hit someone else." She threw a glance around. The speeders nearby them had realised what was happened and had scattered, but too many shot past unrealising, even as bolts seared. "We need to lead them away."

"We need to get to the Senate building! They have patrols to deal with assassins."

Assassins.

Someone was trying to assassinate them.

Who were they after? Leia? Likely—she was the more vocal and experienced of the two of them. But he was the senator who'd failed his world. That was more than enough to make someone want him dead.

Maybe it was meant to be both of them. Maybe this was backlash against their committee, or something they'd done on Naboo, and they'd been foolish enough to climb into the same speeder—

Now wasn't the time to panic. Now was the time to duck. The next bolt skimmed his head so closely he smelt hair burning. And heard Biggs screaming.

The speeder dropped.

"Biggs!"

The bolt had punched through his uniform, leaving his white jacket charred. It opened to show burned flesh under his left arm.

Luke threw himself over the seats. The world was twisting around them as they plummeted, the darkness of the lower levels flooding through his vision. He gripped the seats tightly as he slid in next to Biggs and leaned over him to seize the controls.

Their descent halted. The force from that alone made him want to vomit, but he engaged the controls, pushing Biggs aside, and they shot forwards.

"Grab the medkit!" he called to Leia. "Is there one in the speeder?"

She was already on it. The pack jumped wildly in her hands, but she pushed her hand down on Biggs's wound, ignoring his cry, and Luke turned away to let her work.

They'd left their pursuers a kilometre above them. He wasn't taking that for granted. They took a sharp left that spun his head and dived away from the Senate—towards the industrial district.

"Where're you going?" Biggs slurred. Leia shushed him. "We need to get to the—"

"This is the long way to the Senate. I can lose them in CoCo Town."

"C'Co Town? What—"

"The industrial district?" Leia guessed. "Is that smart? Do you know where you're going?"

"Eh."

"Luke."

But Biggs perked up slightly, even as he clambered over into the back seat. "Is that the place you said?"

"Yeah." Luke gave himself a smile, slipped into the pilot's seat fully, and concentrated. "A fun flight."

"A fun flight?" Leia glared at him.

"A twisty one. We can lose them." The speeder careened around another corner, and now the clean bustle of the Senate District was far behind them. Soot choked the air; this place was filthy. Dusty. Abandoned.

A few squatters gawked as they streaked past. The speeder kicked and bucked underneath him, the damaged engine protesting with every touch of the joystick. Luke had to ignore it. Listened to how it responded, worked with its motions, but ignored the horrible sounds it made. He was tense enough.

Then the shots started again.

He swore. Leia ducked. They came in a volley this time as the sleek speeder swooped right beside them, and Luke zigzagged their course. A path on their right was blocked by a forest of disregarded metal struts, scaffolding left to clatter and keen. Luke dived into it.

Leia shouted, but Biggs whooped. The metal struts folded around them. Shots scattered behind them, but they missed. He kept flying. A touch here, a touch there, and they shot out the scaffolding on the other side.

"You haven't lost it, Skywalker," Biggs muttered. "You're always a lucky charm, aren't you?"

Luke couldn't do much more than grin weakly. He accelerated through the empty air again, the broken windows and open doors of abandoned factories gaping on either side of them. Waiting, flying, waiting—

Their pursuers caught up again. Their ship was too fast.

More shots missed. Too many didn't. All the engines started wailing. But none of the shots were hitting them.

Luke dropped the speeder into a dive. Silence reigned before their pursuers dived as well, but Luke knew where he was going. One of those massive open factory doors, big enough to accept delivery freighters, swallowed them like a cave. The innards of the factory—pillars, vats, broken conveyor belts—loomed around them.

More squatters screamed. Luke didn't think they could see much. The speeder was billowing dark smoke.

Those maniacs followed them.

They shot again. When Luke scraped out of a window on the other side, they didn't follow. He didn't wait for them, but they were there several seconds later anyway, several floors down. More shots peppered their underbelly.

Even as Luke accelerated them faster, faster, faster, he had to wonder about that.

They had been shooting for their heads, earlier. Why were they trying to destroy the speeder underneath them, as well? No one in the speeder was dead yet. With the spray of bolts, they should have been.

Why?

He shoved the thought out of his mind as another row of scaffolding flashed to his left. Luke swept through it, shouting as they lost one of their engines. It fell away, crashing through the support struts.

Their pursuers stopped firing at the speeder. They fired at the scaffolding.

It collapsed around them.

Metal poles thundered against their sides, against Leia and Biggs, smacking into the back of Luke's head. He was thrown against the windscreen and felt his forehead start to bleed; it didn't matter. Blood seeped into his eyes, but it didn't matter. He needed to get out of here—

He threw up a hand. The falling metal poles stopped and scattered. Their pursuers shouted as the poles crashed back towards them.

Luke blew out of the scaffolding just as the whole thing collapsed. The noise was awful. When he glanced back at their pursuers, the sniper ducked out of the way of a falling pole, saw Luke looking at him—and fired.

It would have punched a hole in Luke's forehead if he hadn't swung round to yank them out of its path. His heart pounded.

Now, he thought, he had the answer to both his questions. They weren't shooting at heads anymore, mainly shooting at the speeder, because there was only one person in the speeder they were after.

They'd aimed at Luke to begin with. When he started flying, they'd aimed to disable the speeder instead and force them to land. There was only one conclusion to draw from that.

Luke swallowed. "Leia, have you finished patching up Biggs?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Biggs answered instead.

"You're not up to fly though, are you?"

"I am. Let me—"

Leia interrupted. "He's not. Why?"

"Can you fly a speeder?"

"Of course." She hesitated. "Mostly."

Princesses probably didn't do much of that themselves. But it would have to do. "When you need to," he warned, "take the controls."

"What? Why?"

Luke cut low. There was an abandoned walkway on the left of the airlane, clinging to the starscraper like a nervous child. The speeder dropped to fly over it, and he slowed down.

"Luke? What are you doing—"

He jumped. Leia screamed, but she was too sensible to fret for long. The speeder listed until she grabbed the controls.

"Luke!"

He fell for several seconds. When he hit the walkway, he rolled, but brute force slammed into his elbow and ribcage. He'd be bruised there. Or he'd broken his ribs. That wasn't important right now.

Because he'd been right. The speeder saw him take off and screeched to a halt next to him, the sniper taking aim. He ran for it, dodging the azure bolts that thundered into the metal underneath his feet, cratering it like an asteroid. He ducked around the corner of the building.

The walkway ended. A ladder led to the next one, and he couldn't jump that distance. There wasn't much choice.

He seized the ladder, grimacing at his exposed side, and scrambled down it. Too slow. The speeder flew lazily round as the sniper took aim and calmly shot the ladder out from under him.

It tipped sideways. Luke clung on until his knuckles ached, his feet kicking at empty air. His shoulder wrenched. The ladder creaked, groaned, and for a moment he didn't understand why the dizzying drop behind him, darkness spotted with lights, was blurred.

When he blinked, his hot tears dripped into the abyss below him. He didn't want to die like this.

So he wouldn't. He heaved in a breath, and the bolts flashing towards him just… flashed past. They pirouetted out of the way as he lifted his gaze to stare his attackers down.

They stared right back. Their horror reverberated through the air between them.

Luke didn't know what was happening any more than they did, but their hesitation was enough. He swung, hand over hand, to haul himself up, his injured side, his wrenched shoulder, burning. But he stumbled to his feet and kept running.

Found a window. Took his elbow and smashed it. Jumped in.

It was another abandoned factory. The drop was more than he'd thought; he rolled to cushion the blow, and shattered glass sliced at his hands and torso. He was bleeding from more wounds than he knew what to do with, but he staggered deeper into the factory. There were the production lines. There were the unused droids.

The speeder's roaring engine cut out. The door behind him squealed. Luke dived behind a massive vat and did his best not to breathe.

"What the kriff was that?" a voice said. It had a Naboo accent. Luke closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of devastation. "I'm a great shot. Why couldn't I—"

"Shut it. Let's just find him. You won't miss this time." The pilot's voice was strong, especially when they called out. "Come on out, Senator. There's no use hiding."

Luke's maroon blazer was thoroughly covered in ash by now, so he didn't have to worry about the colour giving him away. He tried to duck his golden head and stayed very still.

The pilot scoffed. "Alright. You check that side. I'll check this side."

They'd find him eventually. What then?

Luke had no blaster on him. He hadn't expected to need it, heading to Leia's. He didn't think Leia had one either, even if she had been here, and these assassins no doubt came well-equipped. Even the pilot ought to have a weapon on him. What could he do?

The sniper was scanning closer and closer to the vat Luke was behind. He swallowed.

He could do nothing except fight dirty. Like Fixer used to teach him.

Well, teach him by beating him up a lot.

He jumped out at the sniper. Their cry was cut short by his fist in their neck; he grabbed the long neck of their rifle before they could do anything with it. He was trained with rifles, but this was too close quarters. He cracked them across the head with it instead. When they floundered, he stepped back as far as he could, set the rifle to stun, and unloaded it into them.

The flash of warning came too late. Soft feet landed behind him. One of the pilot's hands grabbed his shoulder. The other drove a knife into his stomach and dragged.

Luke cried.

He collapsed to his knees, the pilot yanking their blade away and throwing him forwards. The floor was thick with grime and soot, but Luke crawled across it, blood pumping out to join the filth, reaching for the dropped rifle—

The pilot kicked it away.

"Nice chase," they said. "But I'm tired now, you traitor. You're about to get what's coming to you."

"Queen's elections are ongoing," Luke bit out around the lump that pain had deposited in his throat. "You could have… voted me out…" Not directly, but queens were always beholden to their voters, and the campaigns had made it evident which queens wanted Luke out of office.

The pilot shook their head in disgust. "Empress Amidala wouldn't allow it. We've gotta do this ourselves."

"Empress?" He thought of Pooja, never letting him just called her Amidala.

He shoved himself over onto his back, to stare at the pilot's face. She was a woman with the sort of face that could be anyone on Naboo—brown eyes, brown hair, a weak chin. The hatred in her eyes was the only distinguishing feature about her.

"You support Amidala—"

"I'm not a traitor," she spat, and thrust the knife forwards.

A metal pole collided with her head.

She dropped. Leia towered over her crumpled body and smacked her again for good measure. Then she let go of the piece of scaffolding she'd found and fell to her knees beside Luke.

"You left to get them away from us, you nerfherder." She yanked the medkit off her belt. "Come on. The police and the Senate guard are on their way."

"I'll try to keep my guts in until they get here," Luke promised.

"You jumped out of a speeder in mid-air to lure assassins away from us, Luke," Leia joked, though her eyes were tearing up. He could tell the effort to crack a joke was tearing her apart. "You've got guts to spare."

She put pressure on his wound and did what she could. Pain painted the galaxy red. He wished he could fall unconscious, but the fire in his stomach tethered him to reality, like yet another unpleasant truth he'd managed to unearth. When paramedics came for him, it could have been minutes later, or days, or years.