Got this chapter finished up today, and since I've used up my allotment of self-restraint for the week, it is hereby released :)

Last chapter was largely set up, but there's a bit more going on in this one!

Capital ships exchanged fire over Errece, spewing forth continuous torrents from ion cannons and turbolasers. Vader piloted his TIE Advanced nimbly among the blasts in pursuit of a particularly agile Sevret Defense Forces starfighter. A burst of extra speed from the TIE, a rapid turn and roll to shake another fighter coming up behind, a shot fired at just the right moment, and the SDF fighter exploded. Shrapnel sprayed outward and crippled one of its comrades close by.

Vader did not immediately lock on another target, but hung back a moment to survey the battle. Tyrant had isolated one of the SDF cruisers from formation and was giving it a thorough pounding. Stalker's rightmost engine appeared to have been damaged, but the ISD was giving as good as she got, while Devastator led Avenger and Conquest in a wedge to scatter the rest of the enemy.

An interesting strategy, when the SDF cruisers outnumbered Death Squadron. Admiral Piett was risking having his own ships become surrounded and split off from their fighter complements if the SDF chose to regroup that way. But the SDF formation was unconventional, Vader observed, as if it had been specifically designed to cover certain weaknesses of its ships. The flagship, which appeared to have the most powerful battery, was at the center, shielded by all the others, her ability to fire hindered by the allies in her way. She had weak or unreliable shield generators, perhaps. One pair of cruisers also stayed closer together than was typical, as if shielding the side of one or both.

Piett was inexperienced at command, but he was observant, and he was familiar with the operations of a fleet with older ships and a smaller budget from his time in the Axxilan Anti-Pirate Forces. His sharp eye must have caught the anomalies in the SDF fleet, and he had strategized accordingly.

The realisation brought Vader a feeling of malicious satisfaction, and of relief. His Master had given command of the Sevret campaign to a fleet admiral rather than to Vader himself, in consequence for Vader's failures against the rebels at Kafrene and Wrea. In a calculated bid to further humiliate Vader for making a mockery of the Navy by replacing Ozzel with a mere lieutenant, Sidious had placed Death Squadron at this Admiral Ardek's disposal, with orders that Vader was to defer to the man in all naval matters. Sidious' plan was clear enough. When Piett, on his own against the brunt of the SDF, inevitably failed, he would inquire the real reason Vader had placed a lieutenant in command of his squadron, and then by degrees—or by force—he would extract the truth about Piett, about Vader's intended treachery, and about Padmé and Luke's survival. And then they would be his pawns, to use against Vader. Or perhaps he would kill them, to ensure the wayward apprentice would again have no one but his Master to turn to.

Vader's fury rose. He would not lose her! Not again—he would not lose either of them again!

But if Piett succeeded against all odds—there was vindication. The young rear admiral would prove his right to his rank and the soundness of Vader's decision. It was a slim possibility which grew wider every minute. As Vader watched, a final barrage from Tyrant's ion cannons took out her target's shields, and the SDF cruiser fell victim to a swarm of TIEs around her bridge as Tyrant glided away to seek a new quarry. The rest of the Sevret fleet was breaking up under the pressure from Devastator's wedge formation, and the ships' vulnerabilities came into greater focus. It was still a risky play—Conquest's shields flickered under an assault from the SDF flagship, and even at this distance Vader could see that she had taken damage to her starboard side—but it was Piett's greatest chance of success.

He felt again that faint updraft of pride which the Apprentice's beads had evoked, and this time, he let the feeling linger. Piett was his Admiral, these were his ships, and a victory at Errece would be his first small victory against his Master. It would be the first, tangible step toward the day when his wife and son would be at his side, and the Empire would be theirs.

Padmé.

Luke.

Sometimes it was all he could do not to drop everything and ransack the galaxy to find them. He had all the resources of the Imperial military at his command, he was one of the two most powerful individuals in the galaxy, and yet here he was, unable even to hire a bounty hunter to search for his wife and their son, lest his Master should learn of it.

Another SDF fighter streaked by, and Vader sent his own TIE hurtling in pursuit to take out his frustration through the destruction of his enemies, one by one, and of all that stood in his way. He did not bother to count the passage of time. The 501st had deployed early from Devastator, before the SDF had been called out, and was now staging an assault on Cere, the city where Seventh Sister had discovered the Jedi enclave. Vader had elected to leave the ground operations to his very capable troopers, that he might remain in the space battle above—purely because he preferred to fly, of course. He was not hovering near his fleet, and his inexperienced admiral, like a master fretting over his padawan on her first real mission. He was not.

Fortunately, an incoming call from one of the officers on the ground soon interrupted these troubling thoughts.

"My lord, Colonel Veers' walker unit has broken through the city's defenses."

"Very good. Inform CC-1119 that he is to assemble his unit at the entry point and await my arrival."

The Jedi had tried to flee the city, but, unable to get through the Empire's forces, they had been forced to return to the warehouse that was their refuge. But they were not abject cowards, it seemed. As Vader led the 501st and two Inquisitors to the kill, they were confronted outside the warehouse. Ten Jedi stood in front of the closed doors, along the center path of a neatly-kept garden. Vader felt their fear, and their defiance. They knew the end was upon them, but they refused to lie down and die, even though most were formerly of the Service Corps, without Knights' training, and held their lightsabers awkwardly in unaccustomed hands. The weapons must have been scavenged from old battlefields, or perhaps bought dearly from black markets. Only three Jedi looked comfortable with their sabers. One was an elderly Caamasi, her fur light with age, while the other two were young, one human and one Twi'lek.

The Caamasi advanced a couple paces, her ears low and tilted forward. She was followed by the human and the Twi'lek, who must have been padawans during the war.

"These are not Jedi Knights, Sith," she said. She moved stiffly, and her knuckles were swollen with arthritis, but her voice was strong, her spine resolute. "They are cultivators, healers, scholars. Take me, if you must. But you have no quarrel with them."

"I have a quarrel with anyone who bears the name of Jedi," Vader countered.

"Very well."

Igniting her lightsaber, the Caamasi adopted a Niman stance. Her two younger companions flanked her, each igniting their own lightsaber. Vader ignored them and struck at the old woman, who parried his blow. Her footwork was instinctive, her strikes accurate and precise. Once a master in the Order, no doubt, but long since retired to the Corps, probably before the Clone Wars had even begun. Her combat days were far behind her. Though her training was clear, she lacked both speed and strength. Her arms trembled at every clash of her blade against Vader's. She disengaged and held out her hand, calling on the Force to push him off balance as the two padawans rushed forward. Long life and experience had made her strong in the Force, but Vader was stronger. The Caamasi's push was met with a brutal shove, and she flew back against the warehouse door with a thump.

"Eteni!"

The human padawan ran toward the fallen Caamasi, while the Twi'lek hurled himself at Vader with a furious sweep of his blade. It met Vader's in a spray of sparks. Buckling under the strain, the Twi'lek tried to twist away, but Vader anticipated him. He regarded the padawan's ineptitude with something akin to disdain. The Apprentice was no older than he, but she was parsecs ahead of him in ability. The padawan screamed as plasma seared through his arm and one lek—then Vader closed his fist with a jerk, the dark side at his command, and the Twi'lek fell silent, slumped limply on the ground.

The other Jedi rushed forward, the human padawan with them. Eight flying blades, eight bright stars against the black void of the Force around Vader and the Inquisitors—eight foolish Jedi fighting to stave off an inevitable end. But the Dark would win. It always did. Vader snapped a Pantoran Jedi's neck, fended off his Dug companion's clumsy attack, and effortlessly broke through her defense to impale her torso, then ripped his saber away without bothering to retract the blade. Nearby, Eighth Brother and Seventh Sister each felled a Corps Jedi. The darkness thickened; one by one, the lights of the Jedi were extinguished, until Vader and the Inquisitors stood in the middle of the crushed and trampled garden, surrounded by the still-smoking bodies of their dismembered prey.

But they were not done. Inside the warehouse, Vader felt the presence of several more beings, some of them Force-sensitive. He raised a hand to the warehouse doors, they flew back before the power of the Force, and then he and the 501st surged into the Jedi's haven. There was barely time to take in the room, with its pots of plants surrounding a pool that sparkled in the light from large transparisteel panels in the roof, before they were met with a hail of blasterfire from three clones in painted armor. The clones were stationed on the other side of the pond where, along with a Tholothian and a Rodian Jedi, they formed a defensive line in front of two younglings. Retaliatory shots blazed up from the natborn among the 501st, quickly cut short when CC-1119 bellowed, "Hold your fire!"

To the traitorous clones, he ordered, "Soldiers! Execute Order Sixty-Six! Eliminate the Jedi!"

"Slana'pir, osy'aim!" one clone shouted back, and the barrage continued.

Vader advanced in spite of it, enemy fire easily repelled by his blade and the Force. He left the clones to his men as both Jedi sprang forward to hold him off. The younglings, wide-eyed with terror, shrank back toward the warehouse wall, where they sheltered behind a large planter that held an assortment of shrubbery.

Desperation lent power to the Jedi's strikes, and together they were momentarily able to drive Vader back—the Rodian even managed to graze his left forearm and make the hand malfunction—but their success was fleeting. Quickly recovering, Vader pressed forward again with strike after strike to wear his opponents down. He severed the hilt of the Rodian's lightsaber and used the Force to hurl them through the far wall, leaving behind a jagged gap edged with blood. The younglings shrieked in dismay, and one darted out from their shelter, only to be caught and yanked back in by his companion.

The Force blazed with raw grief and blistering fury. The Tholothian Jedi's face contorted in rage, and she hurled one of the large pots from around the pond at Vader. He redirected it, and it shattered against the wall in a spray of dirt and earthenware shards. He went after her again with a devastating overhead strike, but she caught it on her blade, dropped, and rolled clear. She came up again with a slash at his side, but rage made her careless, and she left an opening. Vader's saber sheared downward to take off her leg, and she toppled to the ground. He called her saber into his left hand, which was just functional enough still to grab it. The Tholothian clutched at her leg with one hand. The other came up in a claw. But her concentration was frayed, and Vader easily broke her chokehold.

"Seventh Sister," he commanded, "see this one taken to Nur."

"And the children?" Seventh Sister inquired.

Unbidden, Padmé's voice came back to Vader, trembling with anger and hurt.

You did that yourself. You did it when you killed the padawans.

He looked down at the lightsaber in his hand, with its blade still lit.

You did it when you killed the younglings.

His thumb slipped from the ignition switch, and the blade disappeared.

"Take them to Nur as well," he said harshly.

Perhaps the gift of three new Inquisitors would help to alleviate whatever suspicions Sidious might hold.

"My lord."

"Yes, CC-1119?"

For some reason, the CC number left a strange bitterness in Vader's mouth, like rancid rations all those years ago.

"Resistance has been eliminated. The traitors are dead."

The bitterness spread as Vader walked over to the bodies of the clones, and now it was Ahsoka's voice in his head.

With the chips… I was there, and it was no theory!

Three clones who had stood against the Empire. Three deserters. Three dead traitors who had abandoned their duty to the Republic, to the Chancellor, to the Empire. Weren't they?

Settling in for an evening of work in her tent, Padmé pulled out her datapad and a datastick. She had put off analyzing the information from Vader's navicomp for long enough.

As she had hoped, the record stretched back years. She doubted he had even cleared the device's memory once. Scanning the list, she saw coordinates for a number of familiar systems, as well as some for locations unknown. Coruscant came up repeatedly—unsurprising—likely Palpatine summoned his apprentice thither when he wanted to make an impression. Mustafar, also to be expected. She would never understand why in all the worlds he made his base there, though. It was so twisted—doubtless some Sith ideology about drawing strength from rage. Or from pain, perhaps. The thought made something feel all knotted up in her chest.

Moving on, she saw Kuat, several worlds known to produce arms for the Imperial war machine, and a slew of coordinates that matched to locations where Rebel agents had gone missing. All unsurprising. Other systems aligned with data the Rebels had on Imperial fleet movements over the years. And regularly, every half year, there was—Geonosis?

She double-checked the coordinates. Yes, that was certainly Geonosis.

Geonosis.

She could hear the roar of the crowd, the snarling beasts and the blasterfire and the humming of lightsabers; could see the glittering red sand, flashes of blue and green light, dark robes and bright eyes—blue eyes—

Padmé bit her lip against the flood of memories.

Back to work, Amidala.

She continued going through the data until her commlink chimed. Time for Luke and Leia's weekly call.

"Mama?"

"Hello, loves. How have you been?"

"Bored."

Luke's pronouncement was accompanied by the fwump of a small body flopping down on a cushion.

"And we hate not being able to use the you-know-what. It feels like my foot itching when my shoes are on, but all the time," Leia complained.

"I know, Leia, but it's better than the alternative. If you father finds you, or if his superior does..."

"I know!" Luke exclaimed. "Let's send him a krayt!"

"A hungry one," Leia added. "And a sarlaac, too. Just in case."

Sheev Palpatine as a krayt dragon's chew toy—now that was something Padmé would give much to see.

"If only we could," she said.

"Well, why don't we?"

"And just how do you think you're going to catch a krayt dragon without getting eaten yourself? Let alone send one to our esteemed friend?"

"Um…."

"Let's get Hondo to do it!" was Luke's suggestion.

"A krayt, and a sarlaac, and a pirate? Now I think you're just being silly. Besides, what are you going to use to pay Hondo?"

"Oh, that's easy," replied the ever-resourceful Luke. "We can give him Uncle Ben!"

Padmé nearly choked. "Oh, I'm sure Uncle Ben would be just delighted to be given to a pirate in exchange for a krayt dragon."

"Well, he wouldn't be there long," Leia said. "He'd get away. He's good at that."

The flap of Padmé's tent moved. She grabbed her comm, about to click it off, but then two montrals poked through the opening, and Ahsoka crawled in.

"Who's good at what?" she asked, adding "Hi, little ones!"

"Aunt 'So—ouch!" Luke cried. "Hey! Don't kick me!"

"Well, you were gonna say it, weren't you?" Leia demanded. "Her name! You're not supposed to say it!"

"Well, you could've just said, you didn't have to kick me for it!"

"They're feeling cooped up," Padmé murmured. "According to their aunt, they were trying to catch profoggs last week."

"It was more fun than watching sand blowing around," said Leia. "'Sides, we didn't get bit or clawed or anything."

"What were you going to do with profoggs, anyway?" Ahsoka asked. "I can't imagine they'd make very good pets."

Sure, the desert rodents were furry and all, and they were amiable enough if you left them alone, but if she recalled correctly from the few stories she'd heard from Anakin, they were notoriously irritable creatures and had no scruples about attacking any being that perturbed them.

"We were gonna hitch 'em to little carts we made and race 'em. Since Mama says we can't really race."

"Were they what was getting away earlier?"

"What? Oh, no, that was Uncle Ben. We're giving him to Hondo so he'll catch us a krayt dragon and give it to you-know-who so it can get rid of him."

"That's certainly quite a plan. All it's missing is a thermal detonator or two."

"Don't give them ideas," Padmé muttered, and Ahsoka smirked. Her eyes glinted mischievously as the twins oohed and began to discuss how to work thermal detonators into their scheme.

"Come on," she teased, "look whose kids they are. There're bound to be thermal detonators involved eventually."

"I've been hoping to hold that day off for as long as possible."

They continued to talk until Beru came to herd the twins off to wash up for lunch. After a chorus of goodbyes and I-love-you's, Padmé tucked the comm away in her pocket with a sigh.

She told herself this was better than being one of the families that had sent their children to the Jedi. At least she still talked with Luke and Leia, even though they were sectors apart. At least she could hope that someday they would all be together again. She still hated to miss any part of their growing up, though. She missed their laughter, the pride they radiated when showing her something they had made, Luke's infectious joy and Leia's liveliness. Some days, she even found herself missing the noisy games and the squabbles and the Force-assisted hijinks that had driven her near the end of her rope.

"What's this?" Ahsoka asked. She had picked up Padmé's datapad, with the TIE data still on the screen.

"Hyperspace log from Anakin's fighter. I thought maybe we could dig some useful information out of it."

"Anything so far?"

"Maybe. Do you know if we have any intel on Geonosis?"

"Geonosis?"

"He's made repeated trips there. It has to be weapons-related, doesn't it? And it must be something important, to warrant Vader's personal attention every half year."

Ahsoka scanned the data. "None of my contacts have ever mentioned anything about Geonosis. Asajj says there are rumors in the bounty hunter circles about a couple ships making emergency stops there and disappearing, though. I figured they were just spacer tales, but it could make sense if the Empire has a secret project there... You don't suppose that's why our data on supply shipments don't track to what we have on raw material production, by any chance?"

"We already ruled that out," Padmé said. "Rations were among the items not accounted for, so we've been assuming there's just a major deficiency in our intelligence networks. It wouldn't be surprising."

"True… but what if the Empire has a project so secret and so massive that they're basically supplying an army to work on it?"

"Doesn't that seem a little unnecessary?"

The Empire already had the power to keep most of the galaxy in line. It was hard to imagine why they would need to keep some new project under wraps.

"Not if they think this project could be something terrible enough to make rebellion look like a viable option to a lot of worlds," Ahsoka said. "Even the Imperial military, huge as it is, might be strained if the entire galaxy revolted all at once."

"Yes, but what would be big enough to make that happen?"

Ahsoka shrugged.

A cool breeze wafted into the tent, and a few early night frogs could be heard warming up for the evening chorus as the sun began to slip away. The peace was punctuated by periodic shouts and blasterfire from the distance—a nighttime training session.

It had taken almost eight years of decaying independence and a new ruler for Shili to decide to stand up against the Empire. What could possibly be terrifying enough, what could possibly have sufficient power and scale to inspire an entire galaxy to do what years of tightening strangleholds, stripping away resources, and enslaving populations could not?

Something nagged at Padmé's mind. Power—amplifying power—

"Ahsoka..." she began.

"Yeah?"

"You remember that kyber that went missing a while back..."

"The kyber that started this whole thing? The kyber Anakin mentioned? You think it's related to his visits to Geonosis?"

"It could be. Possible secret project Vader's keeping tabs on, kyber we've never heard anything about from other sources—and Vader trying to contact Tarkin over the missing kyber. We know Tarkin has Palpatine's trust and his favor. He could be involved—"

Ahsoka's lip curled in disdain.

"Why am I not surprised that that karker would be involved in some sort of evil secret plot?"

And how has Anakin not murdered him yet?

Maybe he just didn't care anymore, about the fact that Tarkin had presided over Ahsoka's sham of a trial.

"Anyway," Ahsoka went on, "it sounds plausible. We need to send someone to Geonosis to see what's going on."

Of course, that was easier said than done. If the planet was the site of a secret Imperial project, it was going to be just about impossible to sneak in for espionage. Especially if Vader was involved in the project's oversight.

Padmé's mouth twisted wryly.

"Maybe I shouldn't have ditched his ship," she remarked, guessing at what Ahsoka was thinking. "We might have been able to get someone close enough for a flyover under the pretense of being Vader. Anyway, I'll mention Geonosis and the kyber in my next report to command. I don't know how we could get anyone down to the planet for recon, but it could be worthwhile to send someone to the system. Would a Force user be able to sense a massive amount of kyber within a system?"

"Depends on the amount and how far away it is, but maybe. When I went to Ilum, I could sense the kyber before we landed, even as an Initiate."

"I'll add that to the report, then. If Obi-Wan and Asajj are free, they could at least enter the system and see if they notice anything."

"Right. For now, though, come on." Ahsoka nodded toward the tent flap. "I need to practice, and you should too. No point letting your skills get rusty."

They left the camp and hiked out through the forest, up from the valley to a hilltop far enough away that the sound wouldn't carry to sentient ears, nor would the flashing lights of saber combat be seen. They ought to be quite safe there, but Sabé and Dormé accompanied them all the same, to keep watch in case of intruders.

In the middle of the clearing, Ahsoka pulled both lightsaber hilts from the concealed pockets in her tunic and offered one to Padmé.

"You know, back when I was teaching you how to fly a fighter way back when, I never dreamed we'd end up dueling together. The one good thing to come out of the Empire."

"You're giving it too much credit," Padmé said dryly. "I think you'd have decided to teach me to use a lightsaber at some point, even without the Empire."

"You know, you're probably right."

"Of course I am. And then you would have tried to put your master out of countenance by calling me your padawan in front of him."

"Who, me?" Ahsoka asked, too innocently.

"Exactly."

Padmé raised her blade, Ahsoka copied her, and they began to warm up with a simple Shii-Cho kata, side by side. Ahsoka watched out of the corner of her eye as Padmé worked through the exercise. She knew it by heart, and she carried it out with precision and finesse.

"How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

"About… eight years, almost," Padmé replied, without falling off the rhythm at all.

Hard to believe it had been that long.

Finishing the kata with an elegant flourish, they began to trade blows in a relaxed exchange that quickly picked up into a full-on spar.

Just as Padmé was attempting to disarm her opponent, Ahsoka executed an elegant Ataru flip that carried her to safety the far side of the clearing.

"Showoff," Padmé called. Ahsoka just laughed and sprang into the air again, coming at her from overhead with a downward slash. Pivoting, Padmé met the strike with her own lightsaber raised above her head, where she shoved against Ahsoka's blade to precipitate the airborne Togruta toward the ground, where she skidded and just barely managed to keep her footing. She came up grinning as Padmé, pressing her advantage, cut at her side.

"Ooh, nice one!"

But she still managed to block the cut and go into a retaliatory flurry of strikes that ended with Padmé's lightsaber sailing across the clearing, while the tip of Ahsoka's pointed at her chest.

"Not quite nice enough, though."

She turned off her lightsaber, and Padmé went to retrieve hers. They went into another round, faster this time. Their blades clashed again and again. Padmé feinted, but Ahsoka wasn't fooled. She moved in for a neat strike at Padmé's ribs, only to find herself hastily reversing to intercept a slash coming toward her shoulder as Padmé whisked out of the way with a swing of her blade.

Something prickled at the edge of Ahsoka's awareness, and she had to duck away from another incoming blow, unable to block in time.

"Wait!" she hissed, releasing her grip on her saber's ignition switch, and Padmé followed suit.

"What is it?" she whispered.

Across the clearing, Sabé's hand went to her blaster.

"Who's there?" she barked. "Hands up! Show yourself!"

A Togruta stepped out of the undergrowth at the clearing's edge, hands raised. Ahsoka recognised her as Pav-ti, the woman who had given her a strange look after the cat incident a couple days ago.

"I'm not a threat," she told Sabé.

"Then why are you here?"

Pav-ti's eyes went to where Ahsoka and Padmé stood.

"You are Jedi."

"No," Padmé said. "Anyone can use a lightsaber."

Pav-ti shook her head.

"Maybe you aren't, but she is."

She took a step forward, but Sabé held out her hand.

"Stay where you are."

"I only want to speak with Fulcrum. I'm not armed, as you can see."

"It's all right, Facsimile," Ahsoka said. Pav-ti's Force presence was a strange muddle of apprehension, excitement, and longing, but she sensed nothing threatening in it.

Reluctantly, Sabé lowered her weapon. Pav-ti glanced at her, then came toward Ahsoka—and now it was Padmé's turn to go on the defensive.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Why do you think my colleague is a Jedi?"

Pav-ti stopped just a couple paces from Ahsoka, almost within arm's reach. Her skin was orange and her lekku striped with blue, like Ahsoka's own.

"I've seen it before," she said, searching Ahsoka's face intently. "The raxshir…."

"I have no idea why it did that," Ahsoka told her. "It looked a little old. Maybe it was senile."

Again, Pav-ti shook her head.

"When I saw you with that raxshir earlier… I had a daughter, once. When she was very young, she became lost in the woods. I was so frightened... and then a raxshir came out of the forest, and there she was, riding on its back like it was a tame, old eopie."

"The same cat?" Ahsoka asked.

"The same cat. The same…. One of our elders said she was a Jedi, my daughter. We gave her to be raised by them—the Jedi."

Ahsoka didn't realise she was reaching toward Padmé until Padmé's fingers wove through her own.

"What was her name?" she whispered. She didn't really have to ask, though, not as Pav-ti came closer and traced her fingertips over her facial markings—the real ones, not the made-up disguise she had worn since reaching Shili.

"Ahsoka," Pav-ti murmured. "Her name was Ahsoka."

"What are you saying?" Padmé's voice had gone low with wariness, and she moved forward ever so slightly, as if prepared to lunge between Ahsoka and Pav-ti.

But Ahsoka answered the question for her, her gaze still fixed on Pav-ti, who looked back with tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.

"You—my mother?"

The answer was in the Force, a chord of contentment, something slotting into place.

Pav-ti nodded. She reached forward as if to pull Ahsoka into a hug, but aborted the gesture, hands falling awkwardly back to her sides.

"I—I don't really know how to do this," she confessed. "I couldn't believe—I had to be sure—and it's you, but—our little 'Soka—maybe I shouldn't have—"

Her eyemarkings scrunched together in an appeal for patience, or understanding, or maybe even forgiveness.

"It's… okay…" Ahsoka assured her, though she was feeling none too sure herself, at the moment. "I mean—I understand why you wanted to say—"

How was a person supposed to react when the mother she couldn't remember was suddenly standing right in front of her? It was something out of a holodrama, not the sort of thing that was supposed to happen in real life.

She glanced toward Padmé.

Help?

Padmé gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to reach out to Pav-ti.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't believe we've met yet, Mistress…?"

"Pav-ti Tano."

It was strange for Ahsoka to hear her own surname given as someone else's.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Tano. I wish I could introduce myself properly, but my Alliance handle will have to suffice, so please, call me Genetrix. I've known Ahsoka for a good many years," she added, by way of explaining her blatant intrusion into a private matter. "She is a dear friend."

"Of course," Pav-ti replied with a gracious dip of her head. She seemed as uncertain as Ahsoka about what to do next, and grateful for Padmé's interruption.

"Perhaps we might return to the camp," Padmé suggested, "and if Ahsoka is amenable, continue this somewhere more comfortable, and secure, over tea or caf?"

"Well, it's over," said Veers.

Errece and the rest of the system had fallen under Imperial occupation, and Piett and Veers had regrouped in the former's quarters. Veers poured out two glasses of the Savareen brandy he kept for special occasions and handed one to Piett.

"Your first major victory, Admiral. May there be many more to come."

He raised his glass. Piett copied, and their glasses met with a dull clunk.

"For the glory of the Empire."

"Glory of the Empire," Piett echoed halfheartedly.

Glory of the Emperor, more like.

"You did well, you know—proved yourself to Lord Vader in a situation we can be damn near sure was stacked against you, and showed up that overinflated Fleet Admiral, to boot."

"I know."

Veers frowned. "Something troubling you, Firmus?"

Piett took a sip of his drink and paced the length of his sitting room. "Are we doing this for the Empire?"

"I am. Aren't you?"

"Yes… but…. Does occupying sovereign systems glorify the Empire?"

"The system harbored Jedi."

"A group of Jedi were living on Errece. Intelligence reports never suggested that the greater system government on Sevrevar even knew they were there. No attempts were made to coordinate with the Sevret government for elimination of the Jedi. We just moved in, without warning, and…" He made a there-you-have-it sort of gesture. "Now, the entire system is under occupation."

Veers' frown persisted.

"It was a necessary example. The rebellion is only growing stronger. There were two Jedi on Wrea, you know. Lord Vader went up against them, and it's been hushed up since, but at the time the word among the troops on the ground was that he didn't walk off that battlefield. And both Jedi escaped. If that's the kind of threat the Jedi pose, then we need to respond decisively."

"By glassing cities, like Admiral Ardek did on Sevrevar?"

Veers scrubbed a hand down his face. Weariness fell over him like a heavy cloak.

"I don't agree with all the Empire's means. You know that, Firmus."

"But peace and security in the end will justify those means?"

"It's more that without those means, peace and security may not be possible."

They drank in silence for a time, and then Piett spoke again.

"I looked into Ardek. He has connections in the Mining Guild, and he's not been particularly quiet about his ambition of rising to the position of Moff. It's convenient, don't you think, that he was in charge of this 'necessary example' that will enrich the Guild?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that make you uncomfortable, Max?"

"I won't deny it. But this kind of talk—Firmus, be careful. I understand what you're saying, but there are those who might interpret it as being a little too in sympathy with the rebels."

So, I can't decide whether Vader not killing children but then sending them to Nur is actually progress or not. Like… not killing kids? Yay! But sending them to be trained as Inquisitors? Uhhhh… I guess… he's… trying? Sorta? Ish?

*sigh*

Yeah, Vader, you've still got a ways to go.