Week Seven Challenge: Write a story between 100 and 1,000 words that is set in a dream and told from the perspective of an EC (established character).
7. No More Yielding But a Dream (Mara Jade Skywalker, 27 ABY)
"Ah, my Hand," Palpatine said, his lips moving but his words drowned out by the singing of the grass. Was it actual singing, Mara wondered in passing, or just the soughing of the wind? There were certainly enough sentient plant species in the galaxy for the former to be a possibility, but even as the question formed in her mind it began fading away like fog in sunlight. For a moment she tried to recapture the thought, but her focus turned of its own accord to the Emperor before her.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Your skills are needed, my child," Palpatine informed her. "The Duros in the corner are waiting for their drinks."
"Of course, my Lord." Mara smoothed the skirt of her formal gown as she rose from her bow, lifting a serving tray full of mugs of lomin ale. Steady now, she reminded herself. The froth made annoyingly sticky puddles when spilled, and the night's usual cleanup already took long enough without that.
Wait—I don't do this anymore. I haven't done this in years. Why am I here?
"Because you're on the schedule, chikra," Gorb Drig said from behind the bar, gruff but warm as always. "No customers means no money, you know. A crowd is always good."
That was true, Mara remembered. She served the group of Duros, then moved on to the next table.
Someone tugged at her skirt—someone very small, since the grasp was only just above her knee. "Mommy," came a plaintive voice. "Mommy, can we have flatcakes for dinner?"
"I'm busy, Ben," Mara said, brushing the top of his head with her fingertips before setting the platter of appetizers on the next table. "Maybe Nakari could—oh, never mind," she finished the thought as she noticed Nakari pirouetting in unison with Corissa in the middle of the room. "She's busy too. Maybe Grandpa can make flatcakes."
"A truly attentive mother would tend to her own children's needs," a familiar voice rumbled, and Mara whirled toward the vague sense of darkness from which the words had emanated.
"You can keep your parenting advice to yourself," she informed Vader, who remained silent. Probably sulking because he was just a half-visible dark cloud now instead of a towering armored cyborg with a dramatic cape. Figured.
"Mara," Karrde said from beside Vader, thoughtfully stroking the ysalamir draped over his shoulders as he studied a datapad. "That delivery we scratched for Bpfassh, did we ever finish that?"
Bpfassh? She hadn't thought of Bpfassh in—
"Excuse me," came a haughty voice. "Excuse me. My authority for this mission comes from Mon Mothma herself."
"Take it up with Leia," Mara told Fey'lya. Leia wouldn't thank her for that, but then, Mara had never claimed to be the politician in the family.
"Mommy," Ben insisted, and abruptly Mara had had enough.
"No, you know what?" she told Palpatine and Gorb and Vader and Karrde. Fey'lya had apparently already skulked off somewhere, presumably to bother Leia. "I don't do this anymore. I haven't done this in years. Decades. Serve your own drinks."
"Yay!" Kaela cheered. "Now you can make flatcakes!"
Mara looked around but couldn't see her younger daughter anywhere. Terrific; she'd gone intangible like Vader. Just what she needed to deal with today. "Ben," Mara said firmly. "Get your sisters. We're leaving."
"Where are you going?" Luke asked. Mara looked up, squinting against the light of the triple suns. The grass was still singing, and she really wished it would shut up already. She was getting a headache. Luke, meanwhile, looked down at her with big innocent blue eyes as he swung his legs back and forth from his perch on a tree branch.
"I'm quitting this job," she told him. "Again. How did they get me back here, anyway?"
"You're on the schedule," Luke pointed out reasonably.
That was true, she was on the schedule. It was rude to walk out in the middle of a shift—Mara paused. Why did she care about that? She didn't even really work here anymore. If they wanted to schedule her without even asking first, they could deal with the consequences.
"In that case," Luke said, "you'd better duck."
Mara frowned at him, then slammed into the railing behind her with a thud, a crackling in her ears and the stink of ozone curling her nostrils. She looked down to see the front of her tunic smoking faintly as pale blue Force lightning created a halo around her.
"Oh, come on," she said.
"What was that?"
"I said—" Mara looked up again, but Luke was no longer in the tree, and the tree itself was nearly translucent. And the damned grass was still singing…
"Are you even awake?"
Mara blinked, then flinched away from the light that was streaming in through the window. The light of only one sun, she thought.
Well, obviously. What were you expecting? In her younger years, she'd routinely snapped to full alertness immediately upon waking. Clearly she'd lost her touch.
"Hey," Luke said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, already fully dressed. "You okay? Bad dream?"
Mara laid her forearm across her eyes to block out the light. "I was working in a cantina again," she said. There had been more to it than that, she was sure, but the details were dissipating rapidly. Something about ysalamiri, and…
"Oh, that's nothing," Luke said brightly. Even after all these years and as much as she loved him, the level of cheer this man had first thing in the morning was nothing short of offensive. "I dreamed that Uncle Owen turned into a krayt dragon and was scolding me about not calibrating the vaporators in the south field, while Aunt Beru scolded him for tracking dirt in the house and Biggs was feeding him marshmallows."
That was definitely weirder than waiting tables, Mara had to admit. Still…
She lifted her arm enough to squint blearily at her husband. "Caf. Now."
Luke laughed and leaned over to kiss her. "Yes, dear."