| abstract
| - Luke watched the happenings outside the Pillory in worry and frustration. He was worried for the sake of his loved ones and the outcome of battle, frustrated that he couldn’t be out in the mix having a greater effect. Wedge would have argued that as leaders they needed to put aside their personal preferences and direct the battle from the capital ships, using their aged wisdom. That didn’t make it any easier on the pilot inside of him. He closed his eyes and stretched out to the Force, which was unusually abuzz with so many sensitive minds in one place. Yet it was still his refuge, and offered the guidance he needed. “Captain,” he said to the officer in charge of the Pillory, “order the left flank of the battle group to pull back. When the Baci press forward, have the right flank come around and separate them from the rest of the enemy task force.” “Yes, Master Skywalker,” Captain Avum replied. Luke had declined a military rank—at least during this battle—mainly because it had never sat well with him. He was a Jedi, not a soldier. The fact that the Rebel fleet was not yet organized enough to have a firm chain of command played a part as well. This way, no one could restrict him with ranks. The battle was going well, over all. The Chiss fleet had given the rebels a perfect edge in numbers. The sheer size of them threatened to overwhelm the invaders. It was almost surprising, how small the Baci were. He could have sworn that the group at Clak’dor VII was twice as large as this one. Something about that nudged part of his brain. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, but there was urgency in the Force. Whatever it was trying to tell him, he needed to figure out fast.
* * * Cale’s lip twitched in disgust as his cousin limped down the ramp of her shuttle, cursing at the Baci trying to help her. She made her slow way towards him, black head bowed in failure. “You didn’t catch her.” It was not a question. “I was attacked by a Jedi, Premier,” she winced, holding the scorched hole in her side. The pain she radiated was immense. Zeya was being very strong, considering. “And you were defeated,” he finished, anger boiling black in his veins. Leia was gone, lost to him forever. And so was his heir. Yes, the rest of the ground force might be able to find and capture her, but it was doubtful. Zeya had been his one and only hope to capture the princess alive. Zeya glared at him from under her ebony bangs. “I was driven back. I escaped back to you. Would you rather I had died in pursuit of your whore?” He hit her, and not softly. It was a damaging punch on her right jaw, knocking blood and spittle onto the floor. To her credit, she didn’t cry out or stumble, only raised slowly back up to face him, hatred in her glassy eyes. He stepped close to her, unapologetic, and hissed in her face, “It is time you remembered who it is you speak to. I have tolerated your insolence enough. I will not be humiliated like this in public. The next time you fail to treat me with due respect, I will kill you myself. Do you understand?” Fire burned beneath her skin. “Yes, Premier.” “Now go to the infirmary and let the medics tend your wounds. I want you in functioning order by the time we have conquered Bilbringi,” Cale dismissed her, already on his way back to the bridge of the Dintellion. “Has the Second Fleet moved on that world yet?” she called after him, a brave move considering the warning she had just received. He gazed at her over his shoulder as he marched to the bank of turbolifts. “I only just gave the order. As soon as it is secured, I’ll give the retreat.”
* * * Anakin couldn’t stay so close to his mother without searching for her any longer. She was so near by his skin prickled, and an intense urgency burned with every breath. Mara was still engaged with the Baci woman wielding a lightsaber, but she seemed very in control of the situation. The Rebel soldiers were being steadily pushed back towards Bestine, but they wouldn’t have to stay at all if he could just find Leia. He made his decision. Holding his lightsaber in a guard position to ward off any stray blaster shots, he fell back in the ranks, running to the open city gates. Once inside he followed the call in his head, twisting through the frantic crowds of people looking for escape or shelter. His mother’s voice grew louder the closer he came to the huge domed hangar, which was practically emptied of any ships. They had all turned tail at the first sign of a fight, he supposed. Cowards. The Force flared with recognition as he rounded one corner into an empty bay stacked with abandoned cargo crates. But Leia was nowhere to be seen. “Mom?” he called, desperate. He could sense her so close, but yet was unable to pinpoint her precise location. Where was she? The crates were his only option. He mounted the pile with a Force assisted leap, coming down on the top of the stack. There was an echo, instead of a thud. Excited beyond belief, Anakin dropped down one box and shoved the highest layer off into the floor. Inside the small crevice was a woman he hardly recognized. Leia’s features were sunken and her skin was almost a grayish hue. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. There were burns on the palms of her hands. Her hair was limp and dry. The thin navy blue jumpsuit she wore hung loosely on her skeletal frame. “Force help me,” he murmured, unable to tear his eyes from her. She gazed up at him not with joy, but chagrin. One bony hand extended slowly to him. “Anakin…” “Mom,” he grabbed her hand quickly, pulling her up out of the makeshift shelter and into his embrace. She was frighteningly thin in his arms. But she hugged him back with twice the strength he would have credited her with. Tears wracked her small body. “My Anakin…Don’t hate me, please don’t hate me.” Anakin felt his own eyes begin to well. “Mom, I love you. I could never hate you. Force, what have they done to you?” She began to tremble so hard it panicked him. “I couldn’t stop it…none of it. I tried, but the pull was too strong, and I gave in…” He began to realize that his mother was unstable on more than a physical level. “Come on, Mom, can you walk?” There was no response, only more tears. Setting his jaw, Anakin lifted her into his arms and dropped easily back onto the hangar floor. Leia held close to his chest, he took off at a run, determined not to stop until he reached the Rebel transports.
* * * Mara was making her slow way back to the battle when she caught sight of her nephew, running full speed across the dunes towards the nearest dropship. He carried someone in his arms. A lump formed in the Jedi’s throat. She knew who that someone had to be. Ignoring her bleeding injuries, Mara sprinted to meet him, reaching out to comfort both mother and son as she went. Anakin felt rattled, his presence shaky and harried. Leia was a mass of incoherency, both dark and confused. Whatever had happened to her during Baci captivity, it was going to leave its mark.
* * * Jaina had a finnie in her crosshairs when suddenly it vanished. Not like in a crazy maneuver she wasn’t expecting kind of disappeared, but actually gone. “What the hell,” she searched her scopes. Nothing. “Ten, I got a problem,” she said into the comm. “The fleet!” Anni Capstan said at the same time. “Look, they’re retreating!” A victory chorus sounded over the frequencies as rebel pilots celebrated the Baci withdrawal. They were jumping one by one into hyperspace, giving up Tatooine and by extension, Jaina’s mother. Her pulse raced in excitement. Finally, they could start putting their family back together again. “I don’t understand,” Pash answered her belatedly. “Where are they going?” “We’ve beaten them off,” Jaina replied. “I guess Tatooine didn’t mean that much to them.” “But it doesn’t make sense…” her flight leader trailed off. The more she thought on it, the more Jaina had to agree. The rebels had the advantage in numbers, yes, but the battle hadn’t been anywhere near the breaking point. It didn’t make any sense for them to pull out now, unless…unless they had something to gain. “They’ve got something up their sleeve,” she mused aloud, a feeling of dread settling over her. “All squadrons, return to your berths. Commanders and senior personnel, report immediately to an emergency strategy meeting on the Galactic Voyager,” a command rang over the main frequency. “You heard them,” Gavin Darklighter’s baritone voice boomed on the squad’s private line. “Rogue Squadron, return to the Pillory and prepare for debriefing when I return.” Jaina double-clicked her comm along with everyone else, and swung the nose of her fighter back towards her Uncle Luke’s new flagship. Something was definitely off, but she was determined not to let that ruin the happiness she knew lay ahead. Her mother was coming home. Finally, the galaxy would start to make sense again.
* * * Han didn’t care that he was supposed to be in a meeting with Ackbar on the Galactic Voyager, and he didn’t care that there were rumors of an enemy fleet appearing near Bilbringi during the attack on Tatooine. All he cared about was that the ship Anakin and Mara had been on had docked on the Pillory nearly five minutes ago, and that Leia was with them. The turbolifts wouldn’t go fast enough for him, the foot traffic in the Star Destroyer wouldn’t get out of his way with enough gusto. He was dying a little inside every second he couldn’t see his princess with his own two eyes. The doors to the infirmary finally yielded to his anxious gait, and he stormed inside with much the same demeanor he had years before at the shield generator base on Endor. It wasn’t hard to find the right bed, because his whole family was already there. That is, minus Padmé, who was waiting to reveal herself at a more appropriate time. Ignoring them, he shoved aside his brother-in-law and came to an abrupt stop beside the bed. And there, lo and behold, was his bride. He hardly recognized her. She was sickly and wan, skin pulled tight over spindly bones, and a defeated look in her eyes that was somehow worst of all. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and soft hiccups shuddered her whole frame. They had changed her into a standard hospital gown, and the sheets were pulled up to her waist. She was propped up on pillows. An IV was stuck in her left wrist. He suddenly noticed that everyone had gone quiet at his entrance. Leia’s brown eyes stared holes into him, waiting for him to say something. “Force,” he muttered at last. He had never hated anyone so much in his entire life as he hated the Baci right then. With nothing else to say, he dropped to his knees beside her bed and clutched her hand in his, tears previously unshed rolling down his face. Her free hand ruffled his hair, such a natural thing. “Oh, Han,” she breathed. “We’ll give you two some privacy,” Luke said softly, and Han heard the smooth footsteps of he and Mara’s retreat. “No,” Han protested gently. “Stay. At least…the kids should stay.” Jaina, Jacen, and Anakin paused, uncertain. “Stay,” he insisted. They were a family, after all. Luke gave him a cursory nod and said to his twin, “We’ll be back in a little while.” Leia smiled gratefully at him. Then her attention turned to her kids. “I can’t believe I’m really seeing you,” her tears had not abated. Each of their eyes glistened as well. Anakin came forward first, kissing the top of her head like he would a baby. “I was so worried about you…” he choked at the end. “Us too,” Jacen managed, one arm around his sister and the other on Leia’s shoulder. Han was still on the floor, holding her hand like it was made of gold. “Don’t you ever do this to me again, Princess. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing.” She smiled at him, but it was an empty one. Something was wrong, he could feel it. And by the looks on the faces of his children, they could sense it too. Maybe even in the Force, he didn’t know. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, suddenly panicked. She was home, she was safe, this hellish nightmare was supposed to be over. “Mom,” Jaina braved, “we felt you in the Force. We felt…you fall. I don’t know why, but I know we’re not going to let that change anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Uncle Luke can help you, he knows all about that. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than Leia. Leia looked away, her face suddenly devoid of feeling or emotion. It was like she had abruptly put on a mask to cover anything going on inside. “Please,” she said at last, her voice hoarse, “please don’t hate me.” “Mom, we could never hate you,” Jacen gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You will,” she sighed. “Leia,” Han finally came out of his crouch. “You have to know how much I love you.” Her gaze turned on him, and suddenly he didn’t know who he was looking at. There was different edge to her, a pain that was so deep he couldn’t even fathom it. “You won’t for long.” Han looked at his kids, trying to see if they were making any more sense of her ramblings than he was. They all seemed just as dumbfounded. “Leia if this is about what happened at Clak’dor VII, forget about it. I forgive you. It’s all their fault, I know. You would never betray me of your own free will.” He leaned over and pecked her softly on the cheek. “You need some rest. Get some sleep, get better, and we’ll be here when you wake up.” They moved away from her as a unit, smiling in placation. Han was almost to the door when she looked up at him with hollow eyes and said, “I’m pregnant.” That stopped them all dead in their tracks. “What?” he sputtered, not sure whether to even believe his ears. “I’m going to have a baby,” she repeated, her left hand, the one with the IV, came to rest on her lower abdomen. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was a trick, I missed you so much…I love you with all my heart, and only you Han, you have to believe me. I love you so much.” “I don’t understand,” he said, but was grinning ear to ear. “A baby…oh gods. That’s the most wonderful thing you could have ever told me! We’re having a baby!” he bellowed, clapping his hands in delight. Her expression was crestfallen. “No. Han, you don’t understand. I’m pregnant…but the baby…is not yours.”
* * * The fragging bolt would not turn. Even with Force-assisted muscles, Jaina could not push the hydrospanner hard enough to loosen it from its rusted housing. “Kriffing piece of Hutt slime,” she muttered, and the kicked landing strut of her new ship for good measure. It rang metallically, and the noise pleased her. So she kicked it again. And again. Then she chucked the hydrospanner a good 20 meters across the docking bay. Breathless, she wiped the sweat and grease off her face and looked up at the ancient vessel that had been a birthday gift from her grandmother. Almost immediately she got the urge to apologize to the poor thing for striking out at it. None of this was its fault, after all. The H-type Nubian yacht had saved Padmé from a horrible fate, and if for nothing else it deserved to be treated better. Feeling stupid and guilty, she trudged up its lowered ramp and into the interior. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a welding torch in there somewhere. If she couldn’t pry the bolt loose, she would just melt it off. But then, there were so many other pressing repairs to make without worrying about a silly little bolt on the landing strut that creaked too much for her liking. Perhaps, while she had the torch out, she should try to patch some of the interior rusting, especially in the engine room. Yes, that’s just what she would do…as soon as she could find the blasted torch. Prowling through the corridors like a Barabel on the hunt, she checked everywhere she could think of and still came up short. Where was the blasted thing? She knew it was around there somewhere. “Hello?” the last voice in the galaxy she wanted to hear right then called from somewhere near the hatchway. “Anybody home?” Jaina extricated herself from the maintenance bin she had been scouring through, and yelled, “No!” “I guess I’ll just let myself in, then,” the voice grew louder as he came closer. Jaina ran a quick hand through her hair and went to meet the voice. “What do you want, Fel? I’m a little busy.” Her tone was more than tart. Jag Fel stood in the corridor about three meters from the lowered ramp, arms crossed over his broad chest, serious as always. His green eyes scrutinized her stained attire, but Jaina refused to feel self-conscious. In contrast, he was still wearing the standard Chiss flightsuit, black with red piping, pressed and crisp even after a hectic space battle. She had the urge to spit on him, just so he wouldn’t look so damn perfect. “I came to inquire after your mother,” he said amiably, even with a touch of a smile. “I heard the rescue was successful.” Not the thing to say at all. Jaina seethed, and took three steps towards him. “Yeah, that’s right. Successful. Safe and sound!” Unable to control herself, she lashed out at the bulkhead, adding yet another dent. Incensed, she stomped past him, back towards the bedrooms. “What? She’s all right, isn’t she?” he continued, following her. “Get out,” Jaina commanded, resisting the urge to draw her lightsaber on him. “Now hang on a minute. I came here with the intentions of congratulating you on something that I know meant the galaxy to you. Why are you acting like this?” he demanded, stopping in the doorway to her bedroom. Jaina went to the small table in the middle of the room, and, sure enough, there was her welder. “Get out of my way, I have work to do. Go back to your Chiss buddies.” He propped his hand against the door frame, blocking her exit. “What’s going on? If the mission objective was a failure, the Chiss have a right to know—” “No, Jag, the mission objective was not a failure. We found Mom. She’s here. Alive.” “Then what’s got you so argumentative?” He was so cool, so unflustered, it drove her insane. “Well how would you react if you just found out your mother had been screwing the enemy’s leader and was now pregnant with his child?” Open mouthed silence. “Yeah,” she shoved him out of her way, “that’s what I thought.” “You’re kidding,” he kept after her. Why was he doing this? Couldn’t he tell she wasn’t exactly in the talking mood? “Unfortunately, no,” she hefted the torch, checked the lighter fluid. It was low. She would need to put more in before she began. “How is this going to affect the war?” he mused aloud. “I don’t really give a kriff,” she spun on him, tired of this. “How can you be asking about the war when I just told you my parents’ marriage has just ended? Are you that inhuman?” Ah, a spark of anger. Good. She had finally gotten a rise out of him. It fed the flames inside her, made her want to do it again, make him furious. “Of course not. Would I be here in the first place if I didn’t care about your family?” “Why would you care about my family?” “Padmé is more of a grandmother to me than she is to you,” he reminded her, stepping close, shadowing her, almost threatening. She wasn’t intimidated. “And, if you remember, the Chiss are here only because I promised you I would help your rebel cause. I hope at least that my efforts were not in vain.” “Well, sorry to disappoint! But it turns out dear old Mom never really cared about any of it. Will you please go now?” He eyed her with something akin to sympathy. Tenderness. “Did she give an explanation?” Jaina shrugged, and wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. I can’t believe I’m crying. “I don’t know. I bolted. There’s no explanation suitable for something like this.” Suddenly, she realized he had turned the tables on her, had stifled her anger. That just seemed to rile her. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. I’m not going to tell you to get out again. Go! I don’t want you here.” Annoyance built inside his composed shell. “I’ve never met a more ridiculous woman. I’m surprised you’ve managed to live this long.” “You’re a pompous little Chiss foot-licker.” It felt so good to lash out at him, at anyone. “Which is twice as honorable as anything you’ve ever thought of accomplishing in your pampered little Jedi life,” he snapped back. His ferocity seemed to surprise even him. Jaina slapped him. Or tried to. He caught her hand inches in front of his face. He paused for half a beat, then jerked her forward, against his chest. Then kissed her. She couldn’t even catch a breath before he was all around her, his arms pinning her so close she could feel every muscle in his hardened chest. His breath was sweet and his lips soft, tongue gentle as it danced around her mouth. For a moment she went slack, losing all will to fight. And then, just as quickly, she shoved him forcefully away from her. He bounced off the bulkhead, and both of them stood there with identical expressions of confusion. He recovered first. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Forgive me—” Jaina stepped forward, pinning him against the bulkhead, and said, “Shut up.” Then she kissed him again. It was, for a lack of a better word, amazing. Her head felt like it was filled with helium, and everywhere he touched her burned. It was very hard to remember the pain of her family’s problems when he held her like that. He was so close to her, but not close enough, she realized. She needed more, ached for more. Her hands moved to his chest, to the zipper of his flightsuit. Meanwhile his lips traveled over her neck and ear, causing her to illicit a little moan. She pulled the zipper down to his navel, exposing the beautiful plane of his chest. She didn’t remember moving, but somehow realized they had when the back of her knees hit the mattress of her bed. No thought, she pulled him down on it with her. His flight suit was sloughed off his shoulders, leaving him bare from the waist up. Gods, he was gorgeous. Her own jumpsuit came open, and he placed a trail of kisses down to her belly button. And then…he stopped. “Wait,” he breathed, panted really. She had a hard time catching her own breath. Why was he stopping? “What?” “Protection.” She knew immediately what he meant. “You don’t have any?” “It’s not exactly like I came here expecting this,” he chuckled sarcastically. “You don’t?” “Oh, and you think I was?” They just lay there for a long moment, him looking down at her with a mixture of chagrin and longing. Then he sighed, and sat up on the edge of the bed. Jaina covered her face with her hands, trying to digest all this, as well as calm her racing heart. Finally he pulled the upper portion of his flightsuit back over his shoulders and sighed. “That was too quick anyways.” “Yeah,” she agreed, still not fully under control. “Yeah,” she repeated for no good reason. He looked over his shoulder at her, then turned away just as quickly. “Uh…you might want to fix that,” he gestured blindly at her. “It’s a little…distracting.” Jaina looked down and then realized she was quite exposed, a wide swath of skin and almost half her bra peeking out between zippers. Blushing, she quickly zipped it up all the way to her throat, and sat up beside him. She started to speak when she got a flash of warning in the Force. “Oh no. Dad’s coming! Get up,” she shooed him off the bed, then followed suit. For a harried three seconds they both did their best to put their appearances back together, Jaina combing her mussed hair with her fingers wildly. “Jaina?” and then Han was there, standing in the door. From his red rimmed eyes and exaggerated swagger, it was obvious he had been drinking. Force knew he had taken the news about Leia a lot worse than Jaina had. He glanced at Fel. “Hey kid. What are you doing here?” “We were going over the Chiss situation,” Jaina blurted. “Again?” Han quirked a brow. “Yeah,” Jaina nodded emphatically. Her eyes flicked to Jag, who looked like a green pilot on his first day of maneuvers. “We’ll talk later,” she stared him down. He nodded grimly, and saluted Han before leaving without a word. Jaina’s attention went back to Han. “What is it?” “Your Uncle Luke wants to see all of us. It’s about your mother.”
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