Tempered Mettle was quieter than Millenium Falcon. With common spaces divided into two separate decks, the upper deck was cozy and homey, and without any of the rattling sounds that the Falcon sometimes made in hyperspace. Artoo was busy collected dishes from dinner—Leia had helped Luke make a simple Alderaanian grain dish as a distraction from all their fears, one that had fed not just Luke, Mara, Iella, and Leia but also Kapp and his commando team—and the astromech balanced them carefully, using skills that Leia had once seen displayed at Jabba's palace.
Leia carefully poured the three cups of caf, placing them on a tray and then carrying them over to where Iella and Mara still sat. Mara had been even more quiet than normal—Mara could be vocal when she had something to say, but just as often she was content to fade into the background and let others carry the conversation unless deliberately dragged into participating—but she offered Leia a grateful nod. "Decaf?" Mara asked.
"Of course," Leia agreed.
Iella frowned at them both. "Of course?" the NRI operative said. She checked her wristcomm. "Why decaf?"
Leia and Mara shared a look. Mara's anxieties were all-too-obvious to Leia—the former Emperor's Hand was normally very, very good at keeping a Sabacc face and concealing her feelings in the Force, but Mara was not too good at either at that moment.
Mara took a deep breath. Leia could see the mental debate going on in her mind, the weighing of the pros and cons. So far, Luke and Mara had only revealed Mara's pregnancy to their family… there had hardly been time to tell anyone else, events had simply moved too fast… but now, even with the urgency of their trip to Poln Major, it would be several days before they could arrive, which would give Mara time to sit and think about her new reality. Leia wasn't sure if Mara would prefer to do that in solitude, or do it with the support from her family and closest friend.
Mara was nothing if not decisive. "I'm pregnant," she said.
New Republic Intelligence trained its operatives very, very well, and so did Corellian Security. One of the prodigal daughters of both institutions, Iella Wessiri moved and spoke as though she hardly needed that training. Like Mara, she was preternaturally good at keeping a calm expression and hiding her surprise. Like Mara, she was constantly on-balance, even-keeled, aplomb and steady.
She tilted to the side in sudden shock, her eyes going wide and a bit of her caf spilling over the edge of her mug. "What!?"
Iella stared at Mara in shock, reeling. Leia could feel the surprise radiating off her in waves.
"Pregnant?!"
Mara just nodded, looking more embarrassed than Leia could ever remember her. "It's not public," Mara said, the words said with a nervy uncertainty that was very unlike Leia's future-sister-in-law. "Luke and I want to keep it a secret for as long as we can… after we've dealt with all this, I want us to take some time away from Coruscant and slugenews, maybe visit a quiet world where we won't attract any attention." Mara was babbling, knew she was babbling, and hated being seen babbling… but couldn't stop herself. Her embarrassment glowed in the Force for Leia to see… which of course, only made the whole thing worse. "Then we need to—"
Iella Wessiri put her mug down, spilling more of the caf onto the table, and pulled Mara out of the chair. Leia saw Mara's eyes widen in surprise for a moment before she was pulled into Iella's tight embrace… and then Mara reluctantly melted into it, taking the combination of comfort and confidence that Iella offered.
When their embrace broke, Leia hugged Mara herself. She knew just how much Mara hated being seen as anything other than strong, but this was just Leia and Iella. They already knew Mara as well as anyone—other than Luke—in the galaxy. In that moment, Leia could feel as Mara allowed herself to be uncertain and confused, and allowed their strength to give her back the confidence that surprise and change had wounded.
Hours later, they had been quite distracted from all of the turmoil of galactic politics, superweapons, and Imperial tyrants. "Luke and Wedge ran a squadron of idiot toddlers for years," Iella said. "The only thing they haven't done is change diapers—though, the jury is still out on Janson. If they can handle raising toddlers who get to fly X-wings, I'm sure you can handle a Force-strong toddler"
Mara knew that Iella was trying to make her smile. To her chagrin, It was working.
"Jacen and Jaina aren't weren't different from normal toddlers," Leia added, the voice of experience. "We didn't have them throwing spoons around during tantrums or anything like that. They're more emotionally attuned to one another and the people around them than normal children… but some other parents tell me that even non-Force strong children are always very aware of how their parents are feeling, so maybe that isn't even that different from the norm."
"You've babysat the twins and Mia," Iella pointed out. "If you can handle that, you can handle anything. Is it a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know," Mara said. "Luke and I didn't check… and it's so early still, we only had time for a cursory checkup to make sure everything is healthy." She took a nervous breath. This was all still so unbelievable. How could she be pregnant? Pregnant? How could she have been so irresponsible as to…
Fall in love with Luke Skywalker and want to share intimacy with him? That wasn't irresponsible. Having Luke be part of her life—her friend, her partner, her lover—wasn't a mistake. It was the best thing she'd ever allowed herself to do.
Still. She wasn't normal. She had been the Emperor's Hand. Palpatine had raised her to be a tool, an unknowing agent of his darkness. How could she ever be sure that she was free from his influence? His voice had long since stopped plaguing her waking nightmares, but her past was immutable, permanent. What would that mean for her as a mother? What would it mean for her child?
The only parental figure Mara had ever had was Emperor Palpatine.
"Mara," Iella said. She looked up, found her friend giving her an intent stare. The intuitions that had made Iella Wessiri one of the galaxy's premiere investigators were on full display, because somehow Mara could tell that Iella knew exactly what she was thinking. "You're free. Palpatine is part of your past. He always will be. But now you're free—and you're not alone."
Mara couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.
In Iella Wessiri's gaze was an intensity that matched the sense of certain purpose that Mara had felt when she had been Emperor's Hand. "I promise."
Asori Rogriss was deeply impressed by what she saw about Rendili Vigil. The ship was small—significantly smaller than her own Termagant—but it crammed a great deal of capability into that small space. That came with its own costs, and Asori was quite sure that Vigil's comparatively light armor and heavy emphasis on speed would not always be to the ship's advantage, but it was still impressive, and a confirmation that the New Republic was working hard to translate its growing military advantage into a something that could easily patrol spacelanes in a time of peace and for a fraction of the cost of a bulk cruiser or Star Destroyer.
Perhaps more impressive than the ship itself was the crew. Asori noted few humans among Vigil's crew. Other than Commodore Tabanne and some of the Rogues, most of the crew was non-human, but all spoke Basic and it never impeded on the ship's function. It was yet more evidence, hard evidence, that the old Imperial line about the inferiority of non-humans, and the difficulties of cross-species cooperation, were at best overstated… and far more likely to be complete fabrications.
They gave her as wide a berth as they could, given the compact nature of Vigil's interior architecture. Virtually none of the ship's volume was wasted, which helped explain how the New Republic's designers had managed to cram as many weapons and systems in as they had, but it also meant that there wasn't a whole lot of room for individual accommodations. Compared to Star Destroyers, which were spacious almost to the point of absurdity, Vigil was downright confining. New Republic officers, dressed in their fleet's blue and beige colors, brushed past her despite their best efforts, and more than once Asori found herself annoyedly brushing fur off her uniform.
There wasn't any right place for her to be. Vigil did have a small brig and there were times she thought that maybe she should confine herself to it just out of sheer principle. She wasn't a prisoner, technically, but despite her liberty she still felt like one. She had felt like one ever since her arrival on Coruscant. The only times she hadn't felt like one were when she'd been engrossed in some formal briefing about the military threat with an officer of equal or superior rank from the New Republic, treating her as a resource and a colleague.
"Captain Rogriss?"
She turned. Rendili Vigil's Bothan communications officer Hiacun was there, holding a datapad.
He handed it to her. "Commodore Tabanne would like to invite you to join her to discuss the situation at Poln Major at your convenience. She'll be in her quarters."
Asori nodded, the kind of nod that expressed approval of a deserving subordinate. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll be sure to do that."
When she served as Exigent's executive officer, Asori had been lavished with enormous quarters. An Imperial-class Star Destroyer had plenty of interior space, and her quarters had stretched into a three room suite, including a decadent refresher. Her quarters on Termagant were far smaller, yet still comfortable.
Commodore Tabanne's quarters were cramped. She did have two rooms, one out of sight that Asori assumed was a bedroom. The public room was a combination of a kitchenette, living space, and briefing room; in the middle of the room was a decently-sized table which had been folded down out of one of the walls.
Atril herself stood on the far side of the table. "Take a seat."
"I wasn't expecting a formal dinner," Asori said uncertainly.
"We'll eat and work," Atril promised. "Besides, when I was a guest of your father, he made sure I was fed and watered. It's the least I can do to return the favor." She gestured at the chair on Asori's side of the room. "Try and relax a bit."
She set aside the mention of Atril having been a guest of her father for later. Slowly, Asori sat. After she settled into the chair, Atril sat across from her.
"I'm afraid my ship doesn't have the same comforts of a Star Destroyer," Atril said, though Asori thought that the Commodore's tone wasn't exactly apologetic, and wondered if she was being tested, "but I we do have ship's cooks and they do have the ability to cook for guests, on occasion. Plus, we just left Coruscant, so we're well-stocked with fresh fare."
"That's very kind of you," Asori said graciously. The last thing she wanted was to alienate her host. As troublesome as the New Republic's Inner Council had been, both the Jedi and the New Republic military had been nothing other than respectful to her, and it was the least she could do to return that respect. "Have you had the opportunity to review my report on Poln Major's defenses?"
"I have," Atril said with a nod. She gestured at the food, a well spiced offering of perfectly-cooked and citrus-braised fish over slightly nutty groats. "I know it's not what your father's steward would serve, but it's the best I have available. As for Poln Major's defenses, you were quite clear about best approach techniques but somewhat vague about just how many ships your Unknown Regions Expeditionary Fleet has available for its defense."
"There are certain things which I'm not at liberty to share," Asori countered, keeping her tone light.
"Then let me ask the big picture question. Does the UREF have additional forces it can use to defend Poln Major from the New Order's imminent attack?"
That was a reasonably safe question to answer. "We do."
"Do you personally think it will be enough to protect the system, assuming my ships are there to offer reinforcement?"
Asori hesitated before answering, using a taste of the dinner as her excuse to do so. She was surprised at how flavorful it was—and she was doubly surprised that it tasted as good as it did. She nearly took a second bite before answering, but resisted the impulse. "If the New Order were attacking with a Super Star Destroyer, I would say yes," she said. "But I don't know how to estimate the capabilities of this 'Silencer Station'. If it's as capable as a Death Star…" her words trailed off, and she offered a small shrug.
"I suppose without a convenient exhaust port to shoot at, we'd be stuck fighting it the old fashioned way."
Asori nodded. "And the Death Star had shields and armor strong enough to deflect any conventional assault. At Endor, the second Death Star was effectively rammed by Executor and did not appear to suffer any significant structural damage. If Silencer Station has similar defensive capabilities, I don't know that any conventional force would be capable of defeating it."
Atril's lips thinned together. "And the UREF doesn't have some superweapon of its own stashed away somewhere that could do the job."
"If it does," Asori said carefully, "neither Grand Moff Ferrouz nor Baron Fel has seen fit to inform me about it." She took another bite of the dish. "This is quite tasty."
"It's 'Plasma-charred Cheshi-Fish'. Came out of the Rebellion actually. Bothans love seafood but hate getting their fur wet, and most Mon Cal designs have a few aquaculture tanks aboard – some fresh food helps morale, plus it's fun to stare at on long patrols. I'm told it became common at Rebel Bases during the Civil War after the Bothans joined the cause. It's easy to make and from common ingredients. I once heard an X-wing pilot describe it as the single most important contribution the Bothans made to the war effort. Hiacun sometimes makes it for the crew."
"Your Bothan communications officer," Asori checked.
Atril nodded. There was a sudden shift in her expression, a slight hardening of the other woman's eyes… but Asori saw her take a breath and let it out, and the moment passed.
"When did you have the opportunity to dine with my father?"
It was the wrong question to ask. The hardness was back, and this time it took Atril a longer moment to push past it. Atril sighed heavily, putting her utensil down before leaning back in her chair. "I was a prisoner of his briefly, during the Ukio campaign. He pinned Ession Strike, my previous command, with an Interdictor and a pair of Impstars."
"... Ah," Asori said. She nodded choppily. "I hope it was a … cordial affair?"
Atril laughed lightly. "He did his best," she conceded. "Set a very good table, but I ate ration bars and water. Still, he was courteous and kind. Given what happened afterwards, I certainly am glad it was him who captured us, and not someone else."
"I see… ration bars and water?"
"I refused to eat any of the fancier fare on offer, since I hadn't been allowed to see my crew. He assured me that their interrogations would not cause any long-lasting harm, and that he wouldn't allow me to be executed as a defector, given… well, the fact that I had defected."
This was definitely precarious ground, and Asori wished they were having some other conversation. Any other conversation. An odd combination of guilt and defensiveness fought for dominance in her gut. She allowed neither to win.
"He kept his word," Atril admitted. "When he disappeared, I worried that perhaps ISB had punished him for that. When next you see him, thank him for me."
Asori managed, barely, to fight back her sigh of relief. "We were recruited by the UREF," she explained. "They pulled me off of Exigent, my brother from his base on Sartinaynian, and took my father's entire Star Destroyer. It was quite the surprise."
"What changed afterwards? With the UREF compared to the Empire, I mean."
That was a hard question. Asori took a moment to debate it before answering, deciding first and foremost not to contest the fact that the UREF was the Empire. "The New Order… COMPNOR, ISB… they made it impossible to breathe or question without feeling like I had a blaster to my head. With the UREF, I think we're all feeling a little more… free." She took a bite, and watched the other woman regard her, with, she thought, a small bit of respect. Then she fired her return salvo. "If I can ask, what made you leave?"
Atril almost laughed; she did smile in a way that warmed the room around her. "You served with the Empire, so this will make sense to you," she said. "With the Empire, you could never trust the people above or below you in the chain of command. Oh, everyone puts on a brave and forthright face, and they'd say the right things, but the entire structure was rife with corruption—and not just ISB. I remember one junior officer, an Ensign from a prominent Coruscanti family I had under my command while I was a Lieutenant on Arlionne. He was bitter he hadn't been promoted to Lieutenant as 'befitted his station,' and he took out his unhappiness by being insubordinate.
"Worse, I caught him pocketing supplies and selling them and when I brought him up on charges I got lectured by my CO, while he got a promotion and a transfer! And above me, Captains like the man who protected him were everywhere. Competition for officer slots was intense, but competition for officer slots with Captains who had a good reputation… those were worth their weight in Corusca gems."
Captain Nidal had been a good, fair-minded officer, Asori remembered. That was why she'd fought so hard to be posted to Exigent, and why getting pulled away so abruptly had been so frustrating.
"What is it?"
Asori realized that the thought had not stayed confined to her brain, and the sad frown she was wearing had become obvious to her dinner partner. She hesitated, debating how best to answer, and then surrendered. "One of my best COs was killed at the last battle of Poln Major," she said sadly. "He sided with Ferrouz after Carida and Exigent led the defense during their last attack. The pride of being the first ship in the line, and all that… we crushed the New Order, but it cost us Exigent."
She put down her knife, realizing that she was gripping it too tightly.
"I lost one of mine, too," Atril said. "I was just a Lieutenant then." She laughed softly and shook her head. "Captain Hrakness. He was commanding Ession Strike—though she was still called Night Caller, we hadn't won the Battle of Ession yet—and the bridge took a direct hit. I was still new and as a defector there were many in the New Republic military who didn't trust me yet. Choday took me under his wing. Being promoted to Captain to replace him…" her voice faded and she shook her head, "It didn't sit right. Still doesn't some days."
"I knew Choday Hrakness!" Asori exclaimed, looking up in surprise. "He served on Arlionne. He defected?" She thought back. Arlionne had been an ancient Victory-class Star Destroyer, and her first assignment out of the Academy on Anaxes. Hrakness had been a Lieutenant Commander then—young but grizzled, wise beyond his years—and had been on Asori's list of 'good officers.' She shook her head… if Hrakness had been disgruntled with the Starfleet, she had never seen a sign of it from him. "Did he ever say anything about why he defected?"
To Asori's surprise, Atril laughed softly. "Small galaxy," she murmured. The Commodore leaned back in her chair, gesturing at Asori with her index finger. "And you sound just like your father, you know. During my cordial interrogation, he asked me why I defected, too."
Suddenly concerned that she may have stepped onto precarious ground, Atril sat up straighter. "I did not mean to pry, Commodore," she said, letting her tone shift from the more familiar back into Starfleet formal.
But Atril waved her concerns away. "Choday and I had similar experiences. Abusive senior officers created resentment and doubt. Then we had our noses rubbed in the Empire's corruption. What finally set Choday off was an anti-smuggler operation. His ship boarded a transport and seized its 'smuggled' cargo. Days later he found out the Captain of his ship had never reported the seizure and re-sold it at their next port. He was offered a cut for his silence, which he took because he believed that if he refused, he would be put out an airlock. Then he quietly slipped away."
Old anger curdled in Asori's gut. She had heard such stories before; scuttlebutt from other fleet officers was common. Her mother had warned her, again and again, that the Empire was corrupt and would only become more corrupt. That despite what COMNPOR and ISB said, that the coming of the Empire hadn't removed the corruption of the Old Republic, it had institutionalized it, and made it part of the fabric of governance.
"May I ask you a question in return?" Atril prodded, and at a nod from Asori, she proceeded. "From what you've said… you're not oblivious to the problems of the Empire, and you weren't one of those exploiting them. Why didn't you defect?"
The question hung in the air between them. Asori put her silverware down, then looked at her hands. "I thought about it, over the years," she admitted. "In quiet moments, especially after I heard that someone I knew had gone over to the Rebellion."
She looked up, found Atril gazing back attentively. For better or worse, Asori had the Commodore's full attention.
"I'm sure you had it worse at the Academy than I did," Asori added quietly, allowing herself to digress, working her way through her thoughts aloud. "My mother didn't want me to join. She didn't want me to become part of the Empire, like my father had. I could have escaped it, too… my brother had to join, the social expectation that he would follow our father's path was just too strong on Anaxes, the Starfleet is everything there. Or… well, it was. I don't know, now that it's owned by the New Republic." She was babbling, but Atril didn't stop her, so she kept babbling. "As a woman, I could have escaped it. But I was the older child and if Terek was going to have to join, it felt wrong not to join myself. And I always looked up to my father."
On the far side of the table, Atril leaned to her side. She flicked open a cabinet, grabbed two mugs with a nimble grip, and put them on the table. She then reached back and plucked a bottle of cheap wine from the shelf, flicking the vacuum seal. "I have detox meds," she said as she poured, then handed a glass to Asori.
The two women saluted each other in an obnoxiously formal manner taught to all Imperial cadets, and drank.
It wasn't the best wine Asori had ever had—far from it—but that was hardly the point. "And then I was in," Asori continued, still tasting the wine on her tongue. She could hear the almost plaintive tone of her voice, as if she was trying to persuade Atril of something, but of what she wasn't entirely sure. "If I had left, if I'd defected… it would have been about more than just me. My father and brother would both have been suspected as accomplices. ISB isn't known for its judiciousness—they could have been accused of treason in my place, maybe even be executed. And even if the… the New Order was horrible, was everything the Rebellion propagandists said it was, I had friends and colleagues in the Starfleet. Like Captain Nidal, who always looked out for his crew! I could tell myself I wasn't fighting for the New Order, I was fighting for them. So they could survive the battle and go home to their families. And they were fighting so I could. We weren't fighting for the Empire, we were fighting for each other."
Her voice grew stronger; whether it was momentum or alcohol Asori wasn't sure. "Even if every single one of us hated the Empire we couldn't talk about it! Any of us could have been ISB, and even the hint of disloyalty could… So everyone had to defect alone… and I was never alone. I had my father and brother to think about."
Suddenly exhausted, Asori sank into her chair.
"At least that's what I tell myself. Told myself. When it was easier to look away."
"I was alone," Atril said softly. Asori looked up, saw the other woman sitting in her chair at the far side of the table, holding her now half-empty wine glass. Her eyes were lidded. "The unit I defected from was staffed with people I hated. The Empire potentially killing them all for complicity in my crime would have been a bonus, not a bug." Atril took a sip of her wine, licking it from her lips before continuing. "I hadn't talked to my parents since I left to go to the Academy, and they were nobodies. The Empire doesn't usually concern itself with people from Coruscant's poorest neighborhoods."
Atril's eyes locked on Asori's, and Asori suddenly felt trapped and immobile. In the back of her mind, she knew that being this open was probably a terrible idea—UREF or no UREF, this entire conversation would not reflect well upon her if it ever leaked back to Ferrouz or Fel. All the same, she didn't want it to end.
For a time, neither of them spoke, drinking in a companionable silence. Then Atril smiled again. "More wine? Another glass of this and I may even show you my Cadet ID holo."
Asori reached out with her glass. "Please. Can't be worse than mine."