Artoo-Detoo planted all three of his wheels on the floor of the Jedi Consulate. He made one last check on his small tow cable, then went whirring forward over the marbled floor, his Master's bag sliding behind him. The interior of the former Toprawan Consulate was a hexagonal space with very high ceilings and a spiraling staircase that went up to the higher levels. It had been abandoned after the devastation of Toprawa, but while the restoration was not yet complete it had been in progress for quite some time—both restoring the Consulate to its former beauty and installing Mistress Jade's new suite of defense systems.

Turning towards the center of one of exterior walls of the hexagon, Artoo wheeled towards the enormous, automatic doors. They opened as he neared them and Artoo burst through onto the landing platform beyond. His audio receptors immediately adjusted to the barrage of sounds: passing repulsorcraft, starships departing Coruscant in the sky above, the wind buffeting so high above Coruscant's true surface. In front of him, Tempered Mettle's cargo hatch was open and Artoo sped onto and up it, leaving his Master's bag in the cargo hold next to his Master's X-wing.

As he worked, Artoo took advantage of being on Coruscant, his little sensor dome protruding, spinning to get the best possible connection to the planetary HoloNet. Coruscant was always awash in information and Artoo—as advanced as he was—could not process every bit of that information, so he looked for keywords for topics of personal interest: JEDI or SKYWALKER or CUSTOM PROTOCOL DROID MAINTENANCE or X-WING UPGRADE PACKAGES or, most recently, SOCIOLOGICAL STUDIES REGARDING INTERACTIONS BETWEEN DROIDS AND HUMAN CHILDREN.

"Artoo still hasn't said anything about why he suggested Naboo?"

That voice belonged to neither Master Luke nor Mistress Mara. Leia Organa Solo swept along beside her brother, holding her niece securely. They stopped at the bottom of the ramp, talking as Artoo performed the last systems checks to get Tempered Mettle ready for departure.

"I was acquainted with their last Imperial Senator—Pooja Naberrie. She always said Naboo was a beautiful world. It's not far from Tatooine, you know."

"I noticed that when I was reviewing the records after Artoo's original suggestion." Luke glanced back towards the interior of the Consulate. "I thought about stopping on Tatooine, but there's nothing left there for me now, and Mara's seen it already."

Leia smirked at him. "No need to take her to see where you grew up?"

"You've seen one part of Tatooine, you've seen them all," Luke said with a humorless laugh.

That wasn't really true, Artoo thought. While superficially similar, some parts of Tatooine were significantly different from others, especially in terms of climate and native life. That did not even consider the cultural differences indicated in the records between places like Mos Eisley and Mos Espa. From Artoo's own experience, those two cities were very different—although there had been a considerable stretch of time between his first visit to Mos Espa and his first visit to Mos Eisley, so some of the differences might have been chronological rather than geographical. It was hard to be sure, especially given Artoo's security segregation of his memories.

"Naboo is a beautiful world for a honeymoon." Leia nudged her brother's arm. "You know if you want to leave Betrys with Han and me, we'll take care of her for a couple weeks so you can spend some time alone."

"That is not going to happen." Luke grinned at his sister, reaching out to take Betrys from his sister's arms. He cradled her carefully, then settled her back into the carrier on his chest. "Mara barely lets Betrys out of her sight. If we left her on Coruscant she'd spend the whole trip a nervous wreck, and that would definitely take all the fun out of it."

"You mean you would," Leia teased.

"I would too," Luke agreed readily. "As it stands we'll probably let Artoo do all the flying so we're not distracted, and under other circumstances that would make Mara a nervous wreck."

Artoo spun his dome towards the twins and blatted angrily, put all three of his wheels down and wheeled back out of the ship, going to fetch the rest of their baggage.

He heard the twins laughing behind him, but his ire faded quickly as he sped back towards the interior of the Consulate. Had it been a good idea to point Master Luke towards Naboo? Trepidation and uncertainty coiled around Artoo's circuits. Master Bail's techs had programmed Artoo precisely. With the dissolution of the Empire and the end of the Galactic Civil War, the death of the last of the Inquisitors, and Luke and Leia both obtaining Jedi status—provisionally, in Leia's case, but as far as Artoo was concerned it counted—he now could tell them, if he wanted to. But he wasn't compelled to tell them.

Bail had given Artoo the power to choose.

Old sadness brought Artoo to a slow halt in front of the last of his Master's baggage. He had helped collect items needed to care for infants only once before since his activation.

This was not the same, he reminded himself. Betrys had been born and Mistress Mara still lived. Jacen and Jaina had been born and Mistress Leia still lived. Master Luke and Master Han remained as he remembered them—for better or for ill—and there had been no radical reprogramming. No catastrophe.

Artoo attached himself to the last bag and started dragging it to the lift.

He would tell them, he decided, because he loved them. Master Luke had spoken to Mistress Mara several times since the birth of their daughter about wishing he had the opportunity to see his mother, if only once.

Perhaps being given that joy would be worth being given the tragedy, too.

"I've got the helm, Slips."

Obediently, Mara's piloting droid gave Mara the controls. The droid transferred primary status to her station, and took over the co-pilot's job from Artoo.

Artoo allowed the piloting droid to take over. He was distracted anyway, because in their scanners was the planet Naboo. Information flowed from Tempered Mettle's main computer as they linked to the Chommel Sector HoloNet node and the Naboo System Traffic Control Computer System. NSTCCS was more talkative than most traffic control systems, readily replying to Artoo's discreet requests for information—especially given the fact that Artoo still had some very old identifiers that marked the astromech as an old friend.

Mara thumbed the ship's communicator as they closed. "Naboo Traffic Control, this is the transport Mountain's Pique. Requesting landing permission."

She gestured at him, and Artoo forwarded the forged information obediently.

"Mountain's Pique, this is Naboo Traffic Control. We've assigned you a landing bay on the outskirts of Theed. We're also forwarding you our normal tourist's travel package—do you need assistance booking a hotel?"

"Negative, Naboo Traffic Control. We have a room prebooked."

"Please be advised, per Naboo Local Statute 48-4, any pilgrimages to sites associated with the Palpatine family are illegal. Attempts to visit such sites will result in arrest and prosecution, consequences ranging from community service to a fine exceeding one hundred thousand credits and possible imprisonment."

Artoo's dome swiveled to point his ocular sensor at Mara. She grimaced and set her jaw. "Mountain's Pique acknowledges, Naboo Traffic Control."

"Welcome to Naboo, Mountain's Pique. Follow your assigned course."

Naboo gave tourists the scenic route in. Luke slid into the co-pilot's seat next to Mara and turned towards the side so Betrys could peer through the front window, though the tiny human seemed more intent on watching Mara manipulate Tempered Mettle's controls.

Artoo watched as they passed above the familiar sights of Theed. Like nearly every planet in the galaxy, Naboo had been touched by the Galactic Civil War, but Theed bore no heavy scars from it. The buildings were still the familiar rounded stone and flowery colors, flush with ivy, separated by streets filled with pedestrians rather than skies filled with airspeeders. People looked up as Tempered Mettle passed, a handful of them even waving.

Mara looked unimpressed—but Artoo scarcely recalled her looking otherwise. Luke, though, looked suddenly younger, peering with enthusiasm out over the ornate structures, enmeshed with all the water features. "Look at all the water," Artoo's Master said with a laugh. "If I'd been born here, I might never have wanted to leave."

"You'd have gotten just as bored," Mara observed.

"Maybe," Luke conceded. "But maybe not."

It only took a few minutes before Tempered Mettle descended to land in the assigned landing pad. Mara, with typical skill, brought the ship down for a soft landing, then used their repulsors to float the freighter into the covered hangar.

"Are you okay?"

The question was for Luke. He offered Mara a strange, almost dazed smile. "I am," he confirmed.

"But?"

Luke shook his head and shrugged. "I'm not sure. Something just feels different here."

"This was Palpatine's home planet," Mara pointed cautiously, glancing down at Betrys against Luke's chest. "If you feel any kind of danger, then we should probably just leave. We can always find a different place for a vacation, and we have other options for the Rangers to establish a training facility."

She frowned, starting to say something else, but Luke cut in gently. "No, it's not that. It's just… I don't know how to describe it. I almost feel like I'm walking into Aunt Beru's kitchen."

Mara turned and looked directly at Artoo. "Is there anything else you're not telling us, Short Stuff? We are here because of you."

Artoo whistled. Mara glanced down at her station for the translation. While she did, Artoo finished disengaging from his socket and wheeled towards the lift that took him to the cargo deck. The surprise in consternation from both Luke and Mara at his uncharacteristic lack of clarity was obvious, but that was fine. They were already here, and the NTSCCS had been very helpful. If they hurried, they might be able to meet an old friend of Artoo's.

There were times, Artoo thought, that he could only chalk the useful coincidences up to the Force.

"Out with it, droid," Mara demanded as they walked through the streets of Naboo, Artoo leading the way. "Why are we really here? If I find out that you brought us to this planet because there's some dangerous mission here and didn't warn us about it, I'm going to dismantle you."

Artoo stopped, spun his dome towards Mara, and wiggled it back and forth, trilling. Then he turned back around and resumed gliding across Naboo's semi-uneven cobblestone streets. He couldn't tarry long, their schedule was tight.

Luke and Mara reviewed the translated message on the datapad. "Wait, Artoo, really?" Luke jogged a bit to catch up with the droid, Mara accelerating her pace to match—she was currently the parent burdened with the Betrys-bearing sling. "Artoo, you were first activated here? On Naboo?"

He whistled a confirmation, then a correction.

"So you're from Naboo? Is that why we're here?"

The narrower street widened into a boulevard. The buildings in this part of Theed were taller and more grandiose. On the western end of the street was the Theed Palace, which looked just as it always had. On the eastern end was the waterside, with a pier full of waterborne craft. Artoo reviewed the information he had received from the NTSCCS and lamented that it had not been more precise. Turning towards the Palace he activated his sensor suite, probing the building.

"If you had just wanted to come home for a vacation you could have told us that," Luke was telling him, his voice holding an amused fondness.

Artoo replied with a series of whistles and rings. NABOO WOULD MAKE A GOOD LOCATION FOR A RANGERS TRAINING FACILITY, they translated to on Luke's datapad.

"Maybe it would, but that's not the only reason we're here," Mara said, annoyed. "In fact, I don't think it's even—"

But Artoo was no longer listening. There she was, walking from the palace in the direction of the pier. She was older than Artoo remembered, but that was to be expected, wearing an elegant but functional blouse and a crisply-creased pair of trousers, suitable for a former-Senator exiting a meeting with her Queen. Artoo wheeled bumpily across the boulevard in her direction, a baffled Luke and Mara following much more slowly in his wake.

The sound of an astromech droid stumbling across cobblestone faster than his suspension would have liked made the woman look up and over. She stared, uncomprehending, then her eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened in surprise. Artoo stopped in front of her, whistling a cheerful greeting.

"Artoo?" Pooja Naberrie said in astonishment. "Artoo is that you?"

"I'm so sorry," Luke Skywalker said as he caught up. "I don't know what's gotten into him."

Artoo could see Pooja's brain processing. He rocked back and forth, whistling an obvious confirmation that yes, it was him. But then Pooja was staring at Luke. "You're Luke Skywalker," she said slowly.

Even as Luke was abashedly confirming, Pooja's mouth was dropping open in sudden, stunned shock. "You're Luke Skywalker," she repeated, and Artoo's sensors detected her sudden, intense emotional response as her brain finished compiling all the contrasting stimuli into the inevitable conclusion. Pooja Naberrie's eyes filled with sudden tears and she dropped down to wrap her arms around Artoo's torso in an awkward hug, pressing her cheek to his dome, as she had done when she had been a child.

Artoo whistled happily.

Finally, Pooja straightened. She stared at Luke, at Mara, and at Betrys in her mother's arms, then wiped tears from her eyes. "Hi," she said to Luke, sounding like the child who had greeted Artoo upon a previous return to Naboo, all those years ago. "I'm Pooja. I'm your cousin."

Luke Skywalker spent the next few hours in a daze.

Pooja was so like Leia that once he saw the resemblance, it was impossible to miss. She immediately took charge, tucking Luke, Mara, and Betrys into a swiftly-rented seaskimmer. On another day, just being out at sea would have been the most momentous experience for Luke, but even with the sea spraying up on either side of the skimmer as it zipped over the waves, the only thing Luke could do was try to process the surprise.

He had a cousin. He had a mother.

Her name had been Padmé Naberrie.

"We'll get there soon," Pooja called over the sound of the repulsor.

Next to him, Mara was watching the a pair of tiny protectors that sat around Betrys' ears, protecting her from the engine noise, and daring them to move. He could feel in his wife an odd mix of emotions: joy, on his behalf, mixed with bafflement (and a not inconsiderable amount of annoyance directed at Artoo for the droid's subterfuge, which would be explained later), but also an odd, almost jealous melancholy that she was desperately trying to hide from him, so as to not steal some of that joy.

The shore along the lake was spotted with homes, separated by gravel streets. Both streets and homes were lightly traveled, with adults and children spotted walking along the path, or playing in the various green spaces. It was astonishingly lush and green, rich with life supported by the sweet, fresh water that they skimmed over. Luke could not imagine a place more unlike Tatooine.

He wondered if Anakin had felt the same, all those years ago.

He wondered what had made Palpatine want more than this.

Pooja guided the skimmer into a small, well-crafted dock, which merged into one of those gravel paths. The skimmer's repulsor quieted to a hum and then went entirely silent. Pooja grabbed a woven rope and flung it around one of the posts attached to the end of the dock, lashing the vehicle in place, then jumped up before reaching back to help Mara and Betrys debark.

Luke used the Force to elevate Artoo off the skimmer, then down again. "So you've been here before?" he asked the droid.

Artoo whistled a slightly apologetic affirmative. I SERVED MISTRESS PADMÉ BEFORE SHE TRANSFERRED ME TO MASTER ANAKIN.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Luke asked. Pooja and Mara had both turned to look, watching both droid and Jedi. Luke could hear the plaintive tone of his voice. "You've known all along?"

MASTER BAIL HAD ME PROGRAMMED TO NOT REVEAL WHAT I KNEW UNTIL IT WAS SAFE TO DO SO, Artoo's response scrolled over the datapad. The droid made a mournful sound. MY MAIN DIRECTIVE WAS TO PROTECT YOU AND MISTRESS LEIA FROM THE EMPIRE AND FROM THE DARK SIDE. Artoo made another mournful sound, swaying from side to side on his rear wheels. IT WILL MAKE ALL OF YOU VERY SAD.

Luke looked at Mara, then at Pooja. His cousin looked so much like Leia, with the same brown eyes and deep soulful expression.

He took a deep breath. "Before we go any further, there's something you should know," he said. "About my father."

Pooja peered down at Artoo, her own joyful presence in the Force growing more muted as she recognized that the stories they would share with one another were as tragic as they were joyful. "Not yet," she said. "I don't want to hear it, not yet. Let me introduce you to my mother, first." She smiled, and Luke could feel her determinedly putting the sense of impending sorrow behind, focusing first and foremost on the joy. "Let's be happy together before we're sad together." She patted Artoo's dome. "Come on, Artoo. You remember the way."

Mara hooked her arm through Luke's as they followed along the gravel path, approaching a small structure, surrounded by hedges and vines, all lined with flowers.

"Your mother grew up here, before she went into politics," Pooja said. "She never really had another home on Naboo, other than the palace."

There was a woman waiting for them at the door. She looked like Pooja and Leia, her brown hair mostly gray and severe stress lines along her face, framing kind eyes. Her hands covered her mouth as they approached, staring at Luke, unable to look away. "You look just like her," Luke's Aunt Sola said, fighting back tears. "And you look just like him, too. I had no idea…" her breathing hitched and she offered them a bright, tearful smile. "Obi-Wan told us all that the baby was stillborn."

"He lied to me, too," Luke admitted, as he accepted Sola's firm embrace. The older woman hugged him tight, then released him to gaze at Mara and Betrys. "This is my wife, Mara," Luke said. "And our daughter, Betrys."

"Padmé's grandbaby?" Sola gasped. The older woman fought back another sob, laughing. She reached out and, after a moment, Mara gently allowed Sola to take Betrys. Sola gazed down into Betrys' face, crying silently, then hugging the baby against her chest. "I never… it's a miracle," she laughed and cried. "Come in… come in. There's so much we should share."

"You're very much like her, you know."

Luke was in Padme's childhood bedroom. Neither Pooja nor her sister, Ryoo, had children—Luke had not inquired why—and so a room that might have under other circumstances been given to the next generation had remained frozen in time. On one of the shelves of the bedroom was a holograph: a young girl, seven or eight at the most, surrounded by dozens of little green smiling creatures, holding one in her arms.

"Padme was so proud of that," Sola said. "She was part of the Apprentice Legislators on Naboo a few years later, and that really started her political career." Sola smiled sadly. "She left home at ten to go into politics and never really came home again." She smiled slyly at Luke. "Though one time she did come home, she did it with Anakin Skywalker in tow. He had been assigned to her as a bodyguard after an assassination attempt." She smirked. "They were so young."

Luke looked over. "When was this?"

"She was a Senator at the time…" Sola hesitated, considering. "Pooja?" she called through the open door. "Pooja, when did Anakin and Padmé come home? You remember the time I mean, don't you?"

From the other room Luke heard chatter, then Artoo's beeping and whistling. "Artoo says thirty-five years ago!"

"Thirty-five years," Luke breathed. "I was born three years later." He sat down on the bed, holding the holograph, staring at the image of his mother as a child.

"It's funny," Sola mused, sitting next to him. "She was so wrapped up in duty and responsibility and service… she had been since before she was even a teenager! She was so reluctant to embrace romance. And he—" she laughed "—he was so infatuated. It was horribly obvious, he was terrible at hiding it. I think he'd been in love with her since he was a child. Even though the Jedi prohibited that kind of relationship—"

Luke frowned. "The Jedi what?"

"I still can't believe it." Pooja shook her head. "Of course I knew Luke's name, but I never put together a connection to Anakin. We all knew that Aunt Padmé had died." Pooja stared down at Mara's daughter, smiling with a slightly awed expression. "She's beautiful," Pooja said, wiggling a finger at Betrys.

Mara watched as Betrys' eyes followed Pooja's finger, wide and attentive.

"So how did you and Luke meet?"

Mara considered how to answer that question. "He cracked his hyperdrive escaping from an Imperial Star Destroyer," she said finally. "I found him in open space, brought him on board the freighter I was working on at the time."

"A damsel in distress moment?" Pooja grinned. "That's romantic."

"Then I stunned him with a blaster and tied him up."

Pooja hesitated, then grinned cheekily. "Well, that could be fun too."

Surprised, Mara laughed. Pooja joined her, winking and wiggling her finger at the quite contented Betrys.

"There was an Imperial bounty on his head at the time," Mara continued. "We were smugglers and not sure how to deal with having found him. My boss had decided not to get involved in hunting for him, because he didn't want to have to make an enemy of either the Empire or the New Republic, but once I found him he didn't have a choice and had to pick a side."

"And pretty soon you got to know Luke, you decided you actually liked him?" Pooja teased.

Mara thought about it. "It was a little more complicated than that… but yes."

She looked up as Luke and Sola entered the room. Luke's expression… it wasn't dire exactly, but it was as if he had encountered a sudden, unexpected danger. She reached out to her husband through the Force, her own memories of how they had met, and how their relationship had developed, fresh in her mind as a result of Pooja's prompting, washing over him through the link they shared. His expression immediately softened, though the hint of concern she felt from him did not wane.

"Let me and Mom prepare something for dinner," Pooja volunteered. "A family meal. Then we can continue our conversation."

The dinner that followed was one Mara would never forget.

She had experienced family dinners for the first time with the Solos. Brought so effortlessly into their circle of close friends, and then as her relationship with Luke deepened into their family as well, her memories of playing with Jacen and Jaina, doing the dishes with Han, bantering with Leia, they were all treasured ones. Dinner with Sola and Pooja was just like them, but somehow different. She did not know Sola or Pooja, but by the end of the dinner, she did. She found herself telling quite a lot more of her own story. It was the first time she'd ever told her story in any kind of detail to anyone other than Luke and Karrde, and these two women had been strangers just hours before.

And yet, they weren't strangers, not anymore. They were family, and they listened without condemnation, discussing their own experiences with the Empire on Naboo. She and Pooja ended up having a quite lengthy conversation about the Imperial Palace and all the times they had likely passed right by one another without noticing while Pooja had represented Naboo in the Imperial Senate.

That conversation continued into one that was much, much more difficult. "It's a good thing we found you now, I guess," said Luke. "Soon Leia is going to admit the truth of our parentage to the Senate—she wants to do it years before she considers running for Chief of State, to avoid any hint of scandal."

"What do you mean?" asked Sola. "You didn't even know who your mother was before today."

Luke nodded. "That's true," he said. "But… Anakin Skywalker's story is not a happy one."

Mara had never heard Luke tell another person the entire story of Anakin Skywalker—as he knew it—in a single sitting. In fact, she'd never even heard the whole story of Anakin herself, all at once. They had shared bits and pieces over time, after that first revelation on Wayland. Now, she sat and listened, holding their sleeping daughter, feeling the swell of sorrow and tragedy as Luke laid out the tale, starting from Tatooine and ending on Endor. He left nothing out, sharing all he knew and had learned, everything Owen and Beru had told him, everything Obi-Wan had told him… and everything they hadn't told him. Everything he had learned from Vader himself.

At one point, Sola had left the table and gone to sit outside, alone, watching the water. She had stayed there, by herself, for more than an hour, grief and guilt radiating off her through the Force.

She eventually returned with a bottle of wine in hand. They drank it together.

When the story ended, and the tears passed, Sola just watched Luke. The guilt and grief was still there, but so was a determined sense of optimism and hope that refused to be suppressed. "You are your mother's son, Luke Skywalker," Padmé's sister said, and with the words came a flood of absolutely unconditional love.

She didn't say anything more, but Aunt and Nephew shared a hug, spilled a glass of wine, laughed and hugged again.

It was very late when Sola and Pooja finally went to bed. They made up a room for Mara and Luke, and Mara was already dreading the fact that it would only be a few hours before Betrys would surely wake.

Luke sat next to her on the bed. "Sola told me something," he said.

She turned to look at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"The Jedi Order prohibited relationships," Luke admitted.

"Why?" she asked, absolutely embarrassed at the sudden frisson of terror that went through her.

Luke took her hand in his and squeezed it. "It doesn't matter," he said firmly. "If Ben and Obi-Wan had intended that we reproduce the Old Order exactly as it was, they would have told me more, left more behind. They didn't." He took a breath. "And Sola wasn't really precise about it either. She didn't know the exact rule or why the Jedi held it, but… I suspect it was so Jedi would avoid making the same decision I made at Bespin."

Mara watched her husband. She could see on his face the same emotions she felt through the Force: curiosity, concern, and gradually forming resolve. "We've discovered so many Force-sensitives who never explored that potential, because of the fear of the Inquisitors. Tyria, Corran, Kirana Ti… they're all adults. I have no right to dictate to them how they conduct their personal lives. But they have the right to learn about the Force, and if we don't teach them, who will?"

"I don't think telling Corran he has to divorce Mirax would end well," Mara said dryly.

Luke turned towards her, grazing his hand across her cheek. "I love you, Mara," he said simply. "And I want to spend as much time as I can with you. And I promise that if you ever get into danger, I won't rush in to help you without thinking and just make everything worse."

Her terror subsided. She leaned over and brushed her lips across his cheek. "And I don't need to make that same promise, because I would never do something so stupid in the first place, no matter how much I love you." She looked to the side, where Betrys was sleeping in a crib in which all three of Sola, Padmé, and Pooja had once slept.

Luke knew what she was thinking, of course. She could promise not to do anything stupid in his defense. He could promise not to do anything stupid in hers. But for their daughter?

Was that fear the one that had driven Anakin Skywalker mad?

"We'll have to guard against that," he murmured. "We all will."

"Yeah," she agreed softly, silently committing herself to that mission.

Luke drew the covers over them, bringing her close against him. "I can't believe everything that happened today."

"I can. Your astromech is a menace."