Chapter 13: Rescued
"We thought she died on the battle station," Luke said quietly, the weight of the story heavy in Leia's small office. "I tried to get her out before it blew, but we never saw any indication she'd made it." He shook his head. "Vader must have moved her, kept her as bait or for information."
Leia swallowed another thick lump of bitter guilt as she remembered, with painful freshness, what it meant to be Vader's source of information. Old scars – physical and mental – burned anew, and for a moment, she couldn't help the terror that trilled through her.
Lando leaned back, eyes focused on the ceiling, as he let the story play through him. "Three…maybe even four years…" he muttered, brow furrowing. "That's a long time to be a useless prisoner…"
"I'm not sure I like what you're implying, General," Leia said with acid in her tone.
"I'm not sure I much like it either, but I'm not going to pretend it's not possible."
"There's no way – "
"There's 'no way' for a lot of things that happened over the past couple years," Lando interrupted. "'No way' just means there isn't a way you've thought of."
"I know her," Leia almost pleaded. "We," she said gesturing between herself and Luke "know her."
"You knew her." He shook his head. "Han knew me, too."
The ugly bantha in the room shuttered the three into tense silence. It was mutually agreed between those who knew of the incident that Lando had more than made up for his role in it, and even Leia could understand and forgive him for what happened. But the man was hardest on himself, and the fact that Han was still not there to give his own forgiveness weighed heavily on Lando daily.
"That was different …" Luke ventured.
"It's not. The Empire – Vader – wrapped his fist around everything I cared about and threatened me with its destruction if I didn't play his games. And if I didn't play, he wouldn't have waited for me to change my mind. They don't keep people who don't change their minds…" he shook his head, staring Luke and Leia down. "It's best you two acknowledge that she's turned traitor in some form…and maybe still is."
"What if she is…?" Leia asked, after another long stretch of silence. "How do we know before it's too late?"
Luke sighed and stood, pacing to the small screen that served as a virtual porthole for the interior office. "I can read her." It was something he had been thinking on for a while. He did it, often, unconsciously now, gently brushing people's minds for subconscious intent or sentiment that would send up warning signs. He could easily delve deeper. "I can read her with the Force…" he repeated, turning back to face them. "I'll be able to tell if she's lying or deceitful…"
"Didn't you say she got the same kind of training you did? Couldn't she just, I don't know…stop you?"
"Then we know she's lying," Leia whispered. She felt both sets of eyes on her and, despite wanting to turn and draw strength from Luke's, she forced herself to meet and hold Lando's gaze. His reflected her own doubt and fear and she needed to face it if she had any chance of holding onto hope.
After a moment, the gambler looked away with a defeated sigh. "All right…"
xxxxx
The door slid open with a small woosh, and the trio paused at the threshold. The room they used for such "strays," per protocol, wasn't exactly a cell but it could hardly be called a suite either. Little more than an efficiency crammed with a single bare bed, a bolted clothes rack and locked access to the retractable writing surface, the small room glowed with a too-bright light that chased even the smallest shadows from the room and made their eyes sting. Luke and Leia exchanged a glance behind Lando's shoulders, the sight of their friend bound and hunched in the center of the bed, a small ball of nerves, clenched both of their hearts in a way that reflected her pain on their faces.
Leia nodded at Luke's unspoken question – yes, they had to do this – and brought her eyes back to the room.
In front of them, Lando filled most of the doorway and if he felt any of the trepidation the others did, his sabacc face was too smooth to show it. The gambler watched the girl as her eyes flicked between the three, a blend of fear and confusion in her gaze, once again taking in her almost-familiar features. They made sense, now that pieces were put together, and he understood it. She wasn't an exact copy of the princess - even without the blue eyes – but the resemblance was close enough to fool the unfamiliar.
He stepped into the room and her eyes flew back to focus on him, whole frame going even more tense with the movement. "Hey, no need to be so jumpy."
"You don't trust me," she said tersely in response.
Lando shrugged. "True. But that's something we're hoping to fix." He gestured to Luke and Leia. "My understanding is you know these two?"
She nodded without looking at them.
"You're not going to say 'hi'?"
Again, she said nothing, only shaking her head, a stiff side-to-side gesture, that still refused to break eye contact.
"Because we never came back for you?"
If possible, the girl stiffened even more at Leia's soft voice, turning practically to stone. Lando caught something – surprise and regret, maybe – flash in her eyes, before they finally tore away from him, wide, and looked at the princess. "No," she whispered. "Because you could never forgive me…"
"For what?"
Her eyes whipped back to Lando, and the brief openness slammed shut behind a wall of steel. She shook her head, again, jaw clenched as though worried the words could tumble out without her consent.
"It's okay," Luke offered, softly, taking a small step closer. "Whatever it is, you can tell us. We know it's not your fault."
Her eyes bounced back to him, studying him for a long, silent, moment. "Can I really just tell you?" she finally asked in a whisper, her gaze both accusatory and pleading.
For a second, Luke frowned, confused, then he felt her, that gentle tug again, and he realized what she meant. "I…I'm just here…" the words died on his tongue at her expression, and he sighed, turning to the others. "This isn't going to work…"
Before they could form a question, the door to the small room was sliding open again, and Luke stepped into the bright hall leaving only silence and confusion behind him.
It was Leia who followed first, snapping from her shock with far more grace than Lando, both keenly aware of the blue eyes boring into their backs.
"What was that?" Lando snapped. "'It won't work?' What? You can't do it?"
Luke shook his head, calmly. "No. At least not with you both in there."
"What?"
He sighed again. "Even without trying, I can tell she is an ocean of fear, and that is running over anything else I might be able to sense."
"Fear of what?" Leia asked softly.
"You," the Jedi answered. "Him," he continued, leveling them both with a look that pleaded for their understanding. "Whatever she did, Leia, she's terrified of how you'll react. And Lando, well, she's just terrified of you. She can sense how much you don't trust her, and I think she's pretty convinced whatever she says will just dig that further." He paused, chewing on his lip. "I can tell she wants to be honest. She wants to be accepted and forgiven and maybe even help us, but…she can't do that with the two of you in there."
"So, you want to go in by yourself?"
Luke didn't answer; didn't need to, the solution was almost as obvious as the problem. Still, Lando shook his head in disagreement. "No. No, I don't think so."
"Lando - "
"No, kid. She is an unknown and you just want me to 'okay' sending our best asset alone in a room with her?"
"Ari is not an unknown," Leia shot back.
"To you, princess, but I have the benefit of not knowing her. And right now, I think I'm a little less blinded by nostalgia than either of you."
Heavy silence followed his words, and despite himself, Lando was aware how close he was dancing to the line. The twin looks of guilt that had plagued Luke and Leia's faces since they arrived at the room were quickly becoming overshadowed by anger as he pressed the issue.
That didn't mean he was going to back down, though. With a slow exhale, one meant to blow away the tension fizzling between them, he spread his hands. "Alright, fine. No crowds. Then let me talk to her alone. I'm a good judge of character, once I get a chance to know somebody."
"I told you, she's too scared of you - "
" - And we don't have time for you to win her over," Leia finished, almost sadly. "No…it has to be Luke…"
"I don't like it," Lando said pointedly after a long moment. "I really do not like it…" but he made no move to stop Luke as the boy returned, alone, to the small room.
xxxxx
If her eyes had left the door since it closed, there was no indication of it. The blue orbs tracked his re-entry, barely leaving long enough to blink, her body turning slowly to face him as he quietly sat in the solitary chair.
"The Force is strong with you…" she said, at length, almost matter-of-factly. "Self-taught…yet still so powerful…" She seemed to shrink as she spoke, drawing her limbs closer to her torso. "It should have been you…"
"Me?" Luke asked, grateful for something of what she said that he could grab unto.
"That Ben saved…and trained…" She blinked, finally, and in the brief microseconds as her eyes refocused, Luke saw years of grief in them. "You could have saved him…"
The words were a blade, one that the boy had had digging into his side since the day Ben fell, twisting as the words made fresh his ever-present guilt.
And maybe she was right, that darker part of his mind whispered. Maybe, if he had known all that Force had to offer, maybe Ben would be here now. The response was thick on his tongue, but instead "You knew?" was what he choked out.
She nodded. "I felt it. I was so angry…it was how Vader found out…"
"Then what?"
She shook her head, not stubbornly or even in a refusal to answer, but as though she was trying to shake away the memories, the words.
"If you can tell me…then…" Luke started, trailing off weakly.
She shook her head again, this time a clear no. "He won't let you not. He won't trust it if you don't."
Lando. Luke sighed, running a clammy hand through his hair. It was unfortunately true, as much as he wanted to pretend it wasn't. Still, face to face with what he'd offered to do, the whole thing now seemed abhorrently intrusive. It was one thing to brush a mind for feelings or even to gently direct one to action…but this…this would be a violation. Even if he asked; even if he got her consent, he was still, as far as he was concerned, rending every wall she had up to protect herself from Force knew what the Empire had put her through and laying it all bare.
"It won't hurt," he said as a response, as much as to convince himself as her.
She just looked at him and for a few silent minutes, she didn't respond. Then, just when he was worried that she would refuse him, she nodded, unfolding her limbs.
With a sigh, Luke closed his eyes, centering himself. Gently, apprehensively, he pressed his consciousness into hers…and slammed full force into a solid thick barricade.
His eyes blinked open. "Ari…" he said with something that sounded like mix of nervousness and scolding.
She cringed at the tone, tense frame growing stiffer. "I'm sorry…it's habit. He…" she shook her head. "It never worked…but I never stopped trying…"
Luke nearly choked on another swell of guilt-laden pity and had to swallow thickly around the lump in his chest. "I won't hurt you," he repeated and slid forward on the chair, carefully grasping her fingers and trying to ignore how they trembled in his hand. "Do you trust me?"
Her eyes flickered nervously to the door, the tight walls and the conspicuous camera watching them, but he pulled her attention back to him with a gentle squeeze. "Let me be the one to help you, this time."
She resisted the urge to look around again and nodded.
Luke sat beside her and dove, once again, into the Force. This time, the wall on her end pulled apart slowly giving him enough room to slide into her sheltered mind.
Almost at once he was flooded with her memories and emotions. He saw her break nearly half a dozen times and put together almost twice as much. He felt the echoes of Vader's twisted glee as, even when she had nothing more to give, he tore her apart just to hear her scream. Her shame, terror, pain, sadness, waning hope, loneliness, desperation, embittered love, and a thousand other things he could not put a name to painted over the visions of her years in captivity as Vader's plaything and roared through him, overwhelming him…
"Luke! Luke that's enough!"
Leia's voice snatched through the visions, jerking the boy back to the present. He frowned up at her, mind dragging. "Leia?"
"Luke, what happened?" She sounded worried…and she wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze, down to his hands, still encased around Ari's slim ones and to her form, slumped on the bed, unconscious.
Suddenly, reality crashed into him, and he dropped her hands as though they burned him, jumping back. "I…I didn't…" he stammered, mouth and mind working desperately to explain. But there was so much… "There was just so much…"
Behind Leia, still framed in the threshold, blaster in hand, Lando sighed. "I guess that's all we're getting for now…"
xxxxx
"What happened?" Leia demanded, and even as the question made him cringe Luke had to give her credit. Despite the roiling worry dripping off of her, Leia had given him a whole five minutes to recenter before asking. Not that he was really any better. The fog of Ariala's past still clung to him, whispers on the edge of his hearing and phantom pains in and throughout his body. His face was ashen, and his fingers danced nervously on the mug of water he didn't remember receiving.
"It was overwhelming," he finally answered, his voice sounding muffled to his own ears, as though he was hearing himself from underwater. "She must have passed out from the strain of it all."
"And did you get anything useful before that?"
Luke frowned at the general's cold, impatient tone, but forced himself to focus, instead, on sorting through the jumble of information still rattling around his mind. Almost instinctively, he knew this was the wrong way to do this. He needed to meditate. To be one with the Force and let the timeless waves sort the lifetime of memories out for him. But Lando - and Leia - were already chomping at the bit and he had to give them something.
"I can still sense the person I knew I on Tatooine," he said slowly. "But it's like looking at a painting that's been drawn over a dozen times. The original is still under there, but the whole thing is a mess of styles and corrections. There are scars on her spirit that run deeper than anything I've ever seen."
"And?"
"And she's not a threat to us."
Lando exhaled slowly, massaging the knot forming between his eyes. "You know I'm going to need more to go on than that. What happened while she was gone?"
His eyes drifted to Leia, wishing she wasn't here to hear what he had to say, but there was no trepidation in the gaze that met his. "Go on," she said, as though reading his mind.
With another sigh, Luke let himself slip away only a bit, dipping but a toe into the massive ocean that was the Force, and fished the memories to him. Anything that he knew or felt irrelevant - her childhood, her rescue - he tossed back into the waves, letting only the missing years surface.
Even now, the grief of them threatened to drag him under, but he found an anchor in Leia's presence beside him and plowed on. Finally, after what could have been either fifteen minutes or half a day, he opened his eyes again.
"She was a tool for the Empire," he started almost suddenly. "But not by choice or even her control most of time. After they got her to give up bases and ship numbers, she didn't have anything of use to them - no matter how much they 'asked'. What she did have, a honed connection to the Force, was what they abused more than anything." Luke paused, a chill racing up his spine as he recalled the fresh agony his friend had endured. But more than that, he struggled to give words to something he only understood as a feeling; a rending of control into the emperor's grip, her tie to the Force twisted and redirected by his darkness in a way that left her disconnected and drowning.
"The emperor…broke her…" Luke continued haltingly. "He used the Force, his Force…her Force…to predict what we'd do. Through her knowledge, her presence, her self, he used everything that made her her like a computer all to get to us…"
There was a soft touch on his arm, cool against his flesh which burned with rage, that pulled Luke back from a dark, frightening edge. "We have her back," Leia whispered, soothingly. "She's back. And she's safe. We have her back."
Sluggishly, the words did their job, and Luke's fist and trembling muscles, relaxed.
"And then she escaped?" Lando prodded when it was clear the Jedi was okay to continue.
Luke nodded, frowning as he pulled the memories to the forefront. Unlike the others, these were more of a jumble, little more than a highlight reel in his mind "Yeah…yeah. The emperor sent her back to Vader so he could use her to find me. He didn't use the Force like the emperor did…she got better…in a way." Again, the words failed him. How to describe to them the intangible healing as she was stitched, piece by piece, back into the natural flow of the Force? He shook his head and moved on. "In the distraction during a fight, she managed to escape…the shuttle went to Vorzyd…she was recaptured…" the images faded into his own knowledge, the image of her aglow but frail in the little cell. "I don't think they knew who she was…" he added, his own mind making sense of her luck. On Vorzyd, I mean. She would have seemed like just another prisoner that would be transferred back when they had the resources."
Thick silence wrapped around the trio as Luke's voice trailed off, each lost in thoughts they dare not yet share with the others.
At his side, Luke felt Leia's internal war wage logic against guilt, reality versus expectation as her imagination filled in what the Jedi had intentionally left vague. It was painful, and he wanted to help, but he had expected nothing less.
Lando, on the other hand, was a mystery. Even with the Force, Luke could feel little to give him insight on what was happening in the general's mind.
The pieces fit well enough into the puzzle he had been building since they found the girl, but, despite that, something was nagging at the back of Lando's mind. It was the same unnamed instinct that told him when a player was bluffing or that a deal was just about to go sideways. It was a feeling he trusted with his life, but even he couldn't make it make sense here. He had his answers, his explanations, and he couldn't blame either Luke or Leia for being soft.
"What," Leia suddenly asked, speaking more to her hands than to Luke. "What does all of that mean for her…on the inside?"
It took Luke a moment to understand the vague question, and when he did, he had to admit surprise at the source.
"She's not a threat to us," he said, repeating his earlier verdict.
"You can't be the only one to decide that."
"Leia - "
"Can we trust her?" The woman interrupted sharply. "Will she betray us? Can she even handle being back here?" She paused, Luke's wide-eyed shock tempering her anxious anger.
"We need to know, Luke," she continued softer. "I need to know. I want my friend back, fighting at my side…but the alliance has come too far to be unsure. Mon Mothma and the others won't accept her if we can't be sure. I can't accept her."
Luke could only stare, breaking eye contact only to glance, just as dumbfounded, at Lando, though if any part of him expected the general to have a difference of opinion, he was sorely disappointed. Lando watched him with the same resolve the Jedi saw in Leia's eyes. The same question.
And he understood it, of course. So much hung in the balance - now more than ever - and there was too much at risk to be unsure. More than just the alliance. Refugee Alderaanians appeared almost monthly now, at the safe houses Leia established on alliance worlds and they still regarded her as their Queen. They, the people on those alliance worlds, the entire galaxy depended on her judgements. She held too many lives in her hands to throw everything away for the chance to reunite with just one.
But it was a lot easier for the Jedi to understand it than to agree with it. Leia hadn't seen what he'd seen; felt what he felt. By his examination, there wasn't any malice or contempt in her, and certainly no evil. But there was a tremendous amount of fear. And fear, Yoda said, led to the dark side. It was impossible for him to paint the situation so black and white. (Maybe that's because you're not fully trained, the little voice in his mind hissed.) His doubts made him cautious – in the opposite direction of Leia. If he told her he wasn't sure, what then? They had only just rescued their friend from years of imprisonment and torment just to throw her with the other POWs? Or worse? No…he couldn't take that chance.
And who wouldn't be afraid after what she'd been through? He knew evil – he was the son of evil. Whatever Ari was now, she wasn't evil.
Luke let his gaze meet Lando's furrowed one and held, steady and sure. "No," he said firmly. "She won't betray us. I give you my word."
Lando studied him, carefully, reading the small quirks in the boy's face and weighing the truth he saw there. Then, with a sigh that wasn't all bad news, he said, "It's not great."
"It's good."
Lando's eyes shifted to the princess, with a shrug. "I've played worse hands before."
"And won?"
He smirked. "Something like it."
xxxxx
It had been over an hour of in and out between the Jedi and Princess as they were questioned, alone then together, then alone again as the alliance council considered the question at hand.
To be honest, Ariala was impressed that it was all going on this long. Not just right now, but for the almost two weeks since she was rescued.
Still making her home in the small not-cell, the broken girl recovered, outside more than within, while the L-squad (as she referred to Luke and Leia and Lando in her mind) worked the upper ranks of the alliance to get them to this point.
To this final consideration of the rescued half-traitor as a member of the rebellion.
She thought it would have been a simple matter to politely, but firmly, decline Leia's petition and leave the matter at that. There was no pointing in hoping for the inevitable.
But the L-squad was impressive, and whatever political chess they played over the past weeks wore them down. Now, with the possibility to stand by their sides again…to repent for her failings…to not be alone anymore…Ariala allowed herself to hope.
It was almost enough to snatch the air from her lungs.
But the girl did not allow herself to show the nerves thrumming at her insides as she stood, finally, before Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and Lando Calrissian. Not even as Mothma's wizened gaze watched her with an intensity so fierce the girl would have thought the alliance leader capable to manipulating the Force.
Luke and Leia flanked her sides and there was a familiar comfort in their presence...even if she still grappled with recognizing the young, self-assured man at her right for the eager and occasionally whiny boy from her youth. She could catch snatches of him, in the way his eyes lit up when a familiar face came into the room or his bark of laughter at an unexpected joke, but it was layered with a surprising maturity and experienced weight, proof of just how much time she'd missed.
"Your friends have lobbied passionately on your behalf," Mothma said slowly, drawing the girl's attention back to her. "And I have seen, first-hand on many occasions, what a Jedi is capable of," she started. "Not only with their sabers and their -" she wiggled her fingers, "- tricks, but their intellect and drive. And I've trusted them for all of my life." She paused, eyes roving carefully over them. It was not lost on her the relationship the three shared nor that it was partly why they fought so hard for this. But Calrissian was under no such influence, and he had offered arguments she would be fool to ignore.
"We would be foolish to turn such skilled help away."
If the relief that flooded from Luke and Leia had been a physical wave, the room would have drowned under its intensity. As it was, Ariala had to anchor herself to Mothma's stoic calm lest her own mind get swept away in jubilation.
The leader of the alliance allowed a small smile to play on her lips as she outlined some administrative matters and the logistics of what officially joining meant. To avoid the appearance of favoritism, she would have a starter rank, as would any other rookie recruit, and be assigned to any task any team needed. Her closeness to Leia and Luke would be kept quiet, as would her Jedi powers, left as a need-to-know for those Mothma and the other leaders chose.
After a few more minutes, and a flurry of paperwork, the three were dismissed.
The emptiness of the hall felt like a cold ocean after the whirlwind she'd just experienced. It was a void and Leia's mind rushed to fill it.
It was real.
Ari was real.
Ari was at her side.
Her circle.
Her friend.
Her last tether to a life she could literally never return to.
Without warning, the strength that had been powering Leia for the past several months wavered, just for a moment, but it was enough to steal the power from her muscles. Her legs folded, collapsing her to the ground; tears sprang to her eyes, her hands shook, her lungs shuddered to take breaths.
Luke was at her side in an instant - maybe even before she had truly hit the ground, she didn't know - and a beat later, Ari's face slipped into her vision as well. Neither said anything. She knew they could - with or without Jedi mind powers - feel everything she didn't have the words to say.
They sat there in the quiet for several minutes, letting the calm wash over them again and again until the waves calmed to a gentle sway. Until Leia felt more embarrassed than relieved, more determined than stunned.
She peeled away from the two of them with one last squeeze of their hands, and rose to her feet. On habit, she felt Ari slip behind her, one and a half steps back, on her right. She wanted to say something - let her friend know that wasn't her place anymore, that she was a guardian of so many more now - but the moment felt so deliciously nostalgic she selfishly let it be as they made their way down the hall.
His blackened, thick fingers scrolled slowly over the datapad, optical sensors cataloging the information of reports he had already read. He had every single decimal of data, every number, every name, every timeframe and detail for all of the sector updates of the officers wilting at the table below him. There was no reason to summon them in person, to sit around and repeat what the tablets spelled out better than their own mouths could form.
But for one. His own vanity. His pride. His anger that, as the Jedi passed into myth, so with them went his power. There was little need for a true Sith without one of the light side to match them and what mastery of the Force he displayed to the common soldier was internal, mental, a breakdown of their minds and spirits that they could never adequately express to others. In short, Vader saw himself slipping.
To them, the people he should have commanded, he was little more than an old, tame dog at Sidious' heels. All bark, no bite; no will; no choice. It was the emperor, in his carefully crafted mystery, who inspired fear now. The unknown was always terrifying and Vader was very much known.
Another reason to - he slammed the thought down before his mind could even grasp the letters to finish it. One never knew what Sidious heard.
Instead, he forced his focus back on the almost-scowling officers. They were at the edge of their patience, the suffocating heat of Mustafar broiling them in their stiff, dark suits. They too knew they didn't need to come here. They too knew this was a petty move to establish some sense of dominance and whether they bit their tongues to humor him, to appear bigger than him, or because they feared the shadow behind him, Vader chose not to care. No matter what the reason, they had come to his base, to his home, to sit in his presence and seek his approval.
"I am disappointed, Moff Denthe, that you have not been able to squash the complaints of a few dozen laborers."
Denthe, his dark features furrowing against his pale skin, bit back a scowl before responding. "As my report states, Lord Vader, they have been emboldened by the terrorists -"
"The rebellion is not active in your sector," Vader interrupted sharply. "Try again."
"That is true, but their reach - as they continue to go unchecked - inspires other insipid fanatics. And unlike the rebellion" he stressed venomously, "these fools are unorganized and barely have any idea what they're after. They squabble amongst themselves more than ask for anything and then - "
"Enough. If you cannot handle them, I will be glad to send a more permanent force to correct the issue."
"That - "
"Moff Adelhard," Vader pressed on, ignoring Denthe's indignation. "You have done well taking over operations at Cloud City."
Adelhard allowed himself a small smirk. "Your acknowledgement of my efforts is appreciated, Lord Vader," he said, rocking onto the balls of his feet. As the shortest in the room and with a face that seemed permanently childish, Adelhard was constantly at odds with his peers. They often disregarded his suggestions and took from his sector to fill out their own. Putting him in charge of Cloud City had been one of Vader's smarter moves to secure the man to his favor. It was doubly beneficial that Adelhard was also actually good at his job.
"We are happy to report," Adelhard continued "that, despite Calrissian's attempts to sabotage operations all processes are running smoothly. And, may I add, without the split focus on a gambling degenerate at the helm, our output has doubled. And, as I have also personally convinced several neighboring colonies to officially join the Imperial Guild, output is on track to triple in the next rotations."
"Impressive." Vader paused, letting the compliment linger. "However, your focus on Bespin has left progress on your previous assignments lacking." It did no good to praise him too much. A dog must always have some bone to chase.
And indeed, Adelhard's round face went red - redder actually, the poor man was doing the worst in the oppressive heat - and he fell back hard on his heels with little more than a stammer as a response.
Vader let his disappointment linger in the air, savoring the moment. Slowly, he turned his view to the drawn, stiff man at the end of the table. He sat as straight as a pole and though a sheen of perspiration covered nearly all of his face, Moff Jerjerrod did not fidget or complain. He even - Vader noted with bitterness - still wore the heavy, leather gloves optional with his uniform.
The man was a machine, well-skilled and well trusted. Appointed by Sidious to oversee not just one but two Death Stars to completion, Jerjerrod may have been the only one present that Vader hesitated to antagonize. Not for fear of Sidious - it was Vader who was supposed to oversee the overseers - but for the actual possibility he could be wrong. Jerjerrod's report was impeccable, every second of every day accounted for, every credit used to efficiency. Even on paper, without the Moff's report, it was clear that all that stood in his way were bodies.
The ongoing insurrection, his report read, has led to growing mistrust in the Empire's abilities amongst those whose skills may be put to use in the construction process. Beyond those who may agree with the terrorists, many fear the Empire will not offer suitable protection should the "rebellion" make an attack similar to the initial battlestation. In addition, the acquiring of materials suitable for the high intensity nature of battlestation 2 is hindered by the same problem. Our suppliers have requested transfers at central remote locations, known to be under complete Empire protection and additional Imperial protection along all areas of transfer. Finally, as the battle continues, those among the construction crews that currently have or have had Imperial combat training are being redirected to Destroyers, further diminishing the resources put to the task at hand.
Beneath the personal report was a detailed projection timeline based on all current factors as well as one based on the current rate of loss and both, Vader cringed to see, put the completion well beyond Sidious' timeframe.
"Detailed as always, Jerjerrod, but numbers will not correct your current failures," Vader said, finally placing down the device. "I do not recall seeing requisition requests for more staff in your reports…do you intend to fail your assignment?"
Jerjerrod pulled himself straighter - somehow - and spoke tersely. "Of course not, Lord Vader. I am seeking alternative staffing methods that will not pull from the front. However, they are provisional methods I do not yet feel comfortable reporting to the Emperor…or yourself."
"There is little time for experiments."
"Understood, of course. I will provide a detailed report in five days, regardless of the success."
Vader's jaw twitched as he bit down on the hatred threatening to spill over his lips. The Moff was a menace, as far as he was concerned. Too often praised gave him a big head and that kind of ego did not mesh well with one of Vader's size. The Sith reined in the Force desperate to answer his subconscious will. "Very well. May it bear better news than what you presented today."
He didn't wait for Jerjerrod to answer, sweeping from the chair in a smooth, quick turn and abandoning the room with little more than flick of his fingers to show they were dismissed.
Imprisonment was easier, Ariala thought bitterly, as she took in the bustling mess hall, nearly frozen at the threshold.
Contrary to what she thought while sitting in her not-cell, the rebels were a vivacious and friendly bunch, now that she'd gotten the okay from Mothma. They eagerly welcomed the new recruit with hearty shoulder pats, firm handshakes, advice she had no idea where to use, and plenty of inside jokes she'd 'understand soon enough.' It was all staggeringly overwhelming and now, the noise of the mess hall alone - where she ventured unaccompanied on Leia's suggestion ("It is the best place to get ingrained with the team," she'd said) - was a cacophony of sounds that, after so long with little more than her own thoughts, threatened to blow out her eardrums.
Another hand smacked down on her shoulder, and she turned to steel under the grip.
"A few meals and no shackles and you're actually look like one of the living."
She thawed slightly at the familiar tone. Just behind her, wearing a broad grin and small scars that belied what he'd only recently endured, stood Mazor Kotel, one of the rebels freed from Vorzyd. She hadn't seen him but for a few times in passing since the awkward flight to the base, but there was comradery in his eyes that she knew better than to flout.
"I can't say I feel like it, though," Ariala answered, giving a weak smile over her own. "I think I forgot what people sound like."
As if on cue, one of the tables exploded in boisterous laughter, complete with the overly-enthused bunch smacking the metal tables in glee.
Mazor flinched a bit and chuckled "Yeah, but nothing beats it. Besides, these laughs are with you not at." He jerked his head into the room. "Come on, I'll give you proper introductions."
The thought sent another wave of ice up her spine, and it was all she could do to not back out of the room. "I don't…"
"Don't worry. They're as sweet as rabbits."
He pulled her along by her arm, barely giving her a chance to argue, and in seconds the clatter of the room whisked away anything she wanted to say in objection.
As they cut through the hall, Mazor hollered greetings across the room, occasionally hoisting Ariala's arm in an echo. The "introduction" was little more than him showing her around, faces more than names quickly learned and, if she was honest, quickly forgotten. In their grey fatigues, the rebels started to blur together, and she was almost thrilled when Mazor finally plopped them down at a table. Four other rebels were already seated there, the remnants of their meals scattered on the shining surface.
"Oh, blast it, he's gotten another one!" one of the gathered said, a bright Twi'lek girl in a shade of no-way-she's-a-spy pink. She groaned dramatically as she spoke, gesturing to Ariala. "Run now, before you're stuck with this loser forever!"
The others fell into laughter and amidst their overlapping voices, Ariala made out more mentions of the same.
When their laughter finally died down, the Twi'lek explained, "Captain Kotel here loves pulling strays to his squad. Doesn't even know if you can hold or blaster or ever seen the inside of anything that flies but he'll sure enough find a place for you." She said this with a small grin that undermined that complaint in her tone.
"You're the spare they got off that Vorzyd mission, right?"
There was a thrill of tension following the squat man's words and several sets of wide, stunned eyes rounded on him.
"Jeez Kys, there were about a dozen better ways you could have asked that," the girl hissed.
"What?! It's what-"
"Don't call her a spare to her face!" A dark-skinned Savarian interrupted, shaking his covered head in disbelief.
"Don't call her the spare at all!" The Twi'lek shot back, throwing her hands up. "Seriously, you both have enough tact to fill a needle point!" She smacked Kys's arm, but her reach was too short to do the same to the Savarian, who gave a chuckle at her failed attempts.
"Well, it's not like we know her name…" Kys muttered.
"Her name is…hang on, I know this," Mazor started. "Oh! Aria? No…Areen…Aril - "
"Ariala," she filled in. "Though I've been called Ari most of my life."
"Ari! Yeah, that was it!" He clapped her on the shoulder. "Team, meet Ari. Ari, meet the team. Kys and Dola -" he gestured to the two across from them, the Twi'lek bobbing her head in greeting "-and Rinhun and Bruvis." Beside Mazor, the Savarian and his paler companion - the only one who had been quiet since she sat down - nodded at their names respectively.
Ariala returned their nods with one of her own and for a moment, silence actually fell upon the table. Then, "I think I'm more a buy one, get one deal…"
Rhinun let out an undignified snort-laugh, water shooting out of his nose, which only served to set the entire table off, Kys nearly rolling backwards off the benches. Even Bruvis chortled into his food and Ariala tried to hide the blush spreading across her entire upper half.
"Oh," Mazor said when he finally caught his breath. "Oh, you're going to fit in good."
Dola had been right. Within a week of their reunion at the mess, Mazor had somehow snagged Ariala as an official member of his team. According to Leia - with whom Ari spent several evenings - it included a lot of begging and no small amount of creative negotiating, but in the end the rebellion leadership acquiesced to the non-title position. "Besides," Leia had added one night, "you've really mastered being a surprise."
Despite that, the only real change that came with her officially joining the roster, was her inclusion on training runs, and the chance to "find her thing" as Mazor said.
A thing, which turned out to be navigation. Ariala was a natural at reading and, more importantly, memorizing maps. They lived in her brain as easily as her own name and she could recite them with similar ease. Even the complex hyperspace lanes, which changed almost hourly to avoid orbiting planets or meteor pathways, were like puzzles to her or, as she once said, "like watching worms try to spell out words with their whole bodies."
Most of the team didn't understand that, but her skill in an arena they were little more than average at, plus a not-rudimentary level of weapons training, meant she, in the matter of a month, was proving herself a valuable cog - both in the team and the rebellion as a whole.
So, there was no hesitation for Mazor to sign his team up for the next multi-unit mission that opened.
"…We're going where…" Bruvis muttered, though the answers were clear on the datapad before him. "To do what?"
The Star Destroyer Shieldmaiden. Even in holo form the hulking arrowhead ship was intimidating, rotating slowly in the display as though the ship itself were sussing out who dared look at her and how best to tear them down.
Ariala forced her eyes away from it, to Mazor, who plastered a too-wide, too-confident grin on his face in the wake of his team's deathly silence.
"Operation Yellow Moon as they're calling it," he said as an answer "There's more parts than this and, as always, I don't know them, and neither will you. But I do know this…this is going to be huge." He was practically vibrating as he spoke.
"The Shieldmaiden took some serious damage over an independent world in the outer rim. And her captain is on such thin ice with the Emperor that they're not going to be seeing any real repairs any time soon." That and with the Emperor's newest pet project, there simply weren't the resources or time to give to a ship that couldn't hold her own. But his team didn't need to know that. The rumor mill was already running strong about something new on the horizon. Some new threat that could swallow them whole. They didn't need to know yet how eerily right the rumors were.
"It's been reassigned to a glorified guard duty over Sesid," he continued, changing the information on their pads to match. "It's a tourist spot mainly, but I guess the Empire needs to justify the money they pour into the place cuz there's a research facility there too. That's our teams have already laid the bait that an attack will come on the facility. That's why Shieldmaiden will be there. Gotta make a show of stopping us even if all they're actually researching is what fish looks prettiest in what tank." He chuckled at his own joke, but it fell flat in the room.
He sighed, looking around at his team. They weren't scared. Or at least, not only scared. No one really part of the alliance had no fear. They'd all seen too much, lost too much, and had too little to be fearless. But they were also cautious, as a result, and storming a Destroyer - even a limping one - wasn't the cautious step.
"Look, guys. This is good. We have the easy part. Red, Blue and Green teams are going to be out there dogfighting a bunch of TIE-fighters as a diversion while all we have to do is put some bombs in empty hallways, break some tech, smash a few imp heads, and then get outta there. You know those ships are twenty percent troopers, thirty percent officers and fifty percent droids. They're practically empty."
"Practically ain't entirely," Rhinun muttered. "There's never nothing easy when it comes to head-to-head conflict with the Empire."
"Okay fine. Not easy. Less hard."
Dola shot that down with something in a language Ariala didn't know…but understood perfectly. Mazor clearly did as well, because he cringed and actually had the wherewithal to seem chagrined when he went to speak again.
"Don't you guys want to actually do something before this is all over? Whether we live or die don't you want to be a name they remember?"
"Not everyone joined to be a hero," Bruvis said, his normally soft voice echoing in the silence.
Mazor scoffed. "Batha dung - everyone wants to be a hero. Maybe not The Hero - pretty sure that's going to be Mr. Skywalker after all he's done - but everyone wants to be A Hero. To be part of the Hero side. Doing the right things, because it's the right reason. That's all being a hero is. You all signed up for that. So, yeah, you wanna be a hero. I'm just saying let's also be heroes someone mentions in a sentence once in a while."
It was a testament to the little speech that no one could quite find anything to say to disagree.
The silence stretched out, and Mazor let it. He never forced them, and he wouldn't now, even despite how clear it was that they were perfect for this particular mission. Where most teams leaned into one skill set or another, he had a ragtag bunch that gelled so perfectly they were a force all their own. Dola and Kys had weapons skills good enough to be on the front lines but attitudes that didn't. Dola's short temper blinded her too easily while Kys' youth froze him. They operated best together, their contradictory nature a benefit to the other. Rhiun was a masterful pilot, and Bruvis a programming genius who knew more languages than most people ever even heard of.
"How long are we going to pretend we all haven't decided to do it?" Ariala's voice cut through the stillness like a shot and the others rounded on her, all with some version of humorous disbelief on their face.
"I just mean…it is why we're here…right? Be a rebellion? Tear down the Empire? Cause trouble and make waves?" she shrugged. "And besides…I wouldn't mind seeing a good firework's show…for my therapy." She smirked and her eyes sparked with vengeful lightning.
Dola sighed. "I figured you'd be the last one wanting to go anywhere the inside of Empire ship."
"I'm not exactly eager…but it'll be a feel good mission…to be a reason they take a fiery fall from their trussed up pedestal."
The Twi'lek chuckled. "Damnit Mazor, you really know how to pick 'em…" She cast an eye around the group again and, at some unspoken message, nodded. "Alright then…when do we leave?"