Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Listen, Mon, I’ve already had this talk with…” Vel averts her eyes for a moment, then continues with renewed intensity. “So I’ve heard it all. It’s risky; I know.”

There’s something new in her eyes. Something Mon has not seen in her before, at least not for a long time. Her lip is just barely quivering. She’s desperate. She’s pleading.

“I’ve already lost everyone else, okay?”

Mon swallows and nods. “Alright. What’s his cover?”

Vel’s jaw clenches. “He’s my secret boyfriend. We’d been talking on the HoloNet for a year or two, and I ran off to see him six months ago.”

Mon scoffs, taken aback. “Are you sure about that?”

She nods, confident. “It’s the easiest way to do this. Diverts attention away from everything else.”

Mon nods. It is better that their family speculate about this novel and unexpected development in Vel’s love life rather than dig into anything she’s really doing. Distract from the scandalous truth with tantalizing yet mundane gossip. Mon is intimately familiar with the tactic.

“It was my idea. And he’s on board.”

“And he’ll be able to play the part?”

Vel’s eyes flicker for just a moment. “I’m going to keep his interaction to a minimum.”

“Vel…”

“He’s in the hospital, Mon. I can keep family away for at least a month by saying he needs to recover. Which is true.”

“They’ll want to meet him eventually.”

Vel purses her lips. “We’ll get to that when we get to it.”

.

“I always knew you were a romantic at heart, Vel.” Perrin is wearing an expression of genuine delight, the likes of which Mon rarely sees. ”A secret fiance. This whole time.”

“We’re not engaged,” Vel corrects, stone-faced.

“How did you meet him?” asks Leida, as Perrin takes a sip of kaff, eyebrows raised.

Vel shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “On the holo.”

Leida gasps. “For real?”

“Now, just because your aunt does it doesn’t mean you can start holo-dating. That’s dangerous, darling.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, dad.”

“I’m sure this—what’s his name again?”

“Karis.”

“I’m sure this Karis is an upstanding Imperial citizen—”

“Can we meet him?” Leida looks excitedly at Vel.

“He’s in rehabilitation right now,” Mon cuts in.

“—but you never know who’s out there these days.”

“Once he’s doing better?”

“We’ll see. We don’t want to overwhelm him after such a traumatic accident.”

Vel nods in agreement.

“I’d like to meet him too,” says Perrin. “The man who finally stole Vel’s heart. He must really be something.”

“And I’m sure he would love to meet you all, once he can function again.” Vel gives an annoyed smile.

“What happened, anyways?” Leida asks, eyes wide.

“He was in a ship-racing accident.”

Her eyes grow wider. 

“He’s lucky to be alive.”

“He’s a racer?!”

“Was.” Mon clears her throat. “I believe you told me that this experience has changed his view on the dangers of his hobby.”

Vel nods. 

“I doubt he could do much flying in the state he’s in now anyways,” Perrin muses. “But at least before retiring, he scored the best prize of all; isn’t that right?”

A tiny flicker of panic passes through Vel’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

Perrin chuckles. “I mean you, Vel. True love, and all that.”

“Oh,” Vel breathes. “Of course.”

“It doesn’t seem like he ever won anything else, so…”

Vel narrows her eyes at Perrin. “It’s a good thing I don’t love him for his racing skills, or I would be very disappointed right now.”

“True enough.” Perrin takes another sip of kaff.

Vel taps her fingers on the table. “I should go see him. I’ll see you all later.”

“Bye, Aunt Vel!” says Leida.

She gives a wave as she stands up and walks out of the room.

A beat, and Perrin furrows his brow. “I didn’t make her upset, did I? Mentioning his racing record?”

“I don’t think so,” replies Leida, at the same time Mon says, “Well, you didn’t have to say it.”

He shrugs, dismissive. “I’ll apologize tonight.”

You won’t, thinks Mon.

“I think she was much less… volatile than she has been in the past.” Perrin smiles to himself. “The perennial rebel, finally done in. I’m glad to see it.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Leida says, looking out the window. “That she kept him a secret.”

“Oh, do you? What’s so romantic about keeping secrets?” Mon asks.

“You know…” She rests her chin on her palm. “Knowing the love is true, because they’re not trying to show you off or use you. It’s romantic.”

Perrin shoots a look at Leida. “You can’t expect your mother to understand something like that. She’s not built for it.”

Mon narrows her eyes. “Not built for what?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind, forget I said it.”

Leida snorts.

.

Nemik wakes to a world of white.

Sterile. Pristine. Blinding.

Imperial.

The hums and beeps of machines form the background noise for the ringing in his ears.

What planet is he on?

How long has it been since… since…?

All at once, the memories come flooding back.

The Eye. They won. They did it. They stole almost an entire sector’s payroll. They made an announcement, loud and clear, for the whole galaxy to hear. They did it.

And he can’t feel his legs.

He can’t feel anything, really, except the numbness from whatever pain meds they’ve given him masking the real pain he’ll no doubt soon be in.

There is no one else in the room. He is alone.

No. Vel was here, wasn’t she? She had whispered in his ear something about not giving anything away. Pretending to be her boyfriend. And he’d nodded and agreed, barely able to register her words with the throbbing in his head but knowing they were important.

That must’ve been before he passed out again.

Coruscant? He’s on Coruscant. That’s what she said, wasn’t it? The imperial core of the imperial core. He had barely been off Aldhani before and now he’s on the goddamn capital planet. 

His chest clenches. He has to be careful. It’s one thing to pretend to be shepherds in the hills, it’s another to move in the den of vipers itself. He has no script prepared for this, no scale-model of what’s to come already built. This is new territory. 

But, he reasons, challenge will be good for his theories. New experiences are the only way to develop new ideas. Nothing revolutionary about staying static. He repeats this to himself, forcing it to sink in. It doesn’t.

“Karis Nemik?” a synthesized voice asks. 

Nemik freezes, heart in his throat. An Imperial droid.

“I have your afternoon meal.”

Oh.

“Thank you,” he whispers, realizing his throat is dry and in horrible pain. 

The droid says nothing, and slides away.

There’s something there. Something for his manifesto. Something about… imperial infrastructure. Impressing into the public consciousness the idea that machines of oppression are friendly and helpful. He can’t quite find the words. They’re just out of reach.

Maybe Skeen could help him figure it out. He’s always great to bounce off of, even if he pretends to be annoyed.

Nemik hopes he’s okay.

Cinta, too. And Clem. 

He has no idea how to find out. After six months of spending every day with them…

He hopes Vel shows up again soon. He’ll have to ask her.

.

Mon is hosting another party at the Chandrilan embassy. It is all she does these days, it seems. Perhaps it’s all she has ever done.

They blur together, the toasts and the chatter and the numb feeling that this may be all the galaxy has to offer her. 

She’s standing next to the bar, indulging in a moment alone after the Senator she had been talking with was pulled away. 

“I heard your cousin was here,” says a familiar voice, and Mon looks up to see Tay Kolma sliding into the space next to her with an intrigued smile. “Something about a secret lover?”

Mon laughs, looking to each side. There’s an imperial waiter standing a bit too close. “Yes, it is quite a story. I’ll have to tell you the whole thing later.”

Tay raises his eyebrows. “Does that mean…? Vel Sartha…?”

Mon smiles, looking him right in the eye. “Yes, she’s finally dating. And the poor boy…”

He nods, the slightest gleam in his eye at the suggestion that Vel is in on this too. It could not be more of a surprise than when Mon brought him into the circle in the first place, though.

But, she finds herself thinking, he believed her without question, did he not? He did not have to do that. He could have doubted her intentions, her dedication, her plan that she still will not fully reveal to him. But he did not for even a second.

Mon blinks. Anyways.

“It did not cross my mind that you would want to see her; she’s visiting her boyfriend in the hospital right now.”

Tay gives a wry smile. “She does not care for Coruscant parties either.”

“Yes, you have quite a bit in common.” Mon smiles. “And yet, you are here.”

Tay nods. “To see you.”

“About the charity.”

“Of course.” He grins at her. “What else?” 

Mon blinks.

“Ah. Mon, there you are. Senator Organa was looking for you.”

Perrin’s voice draws closer and Mon looks up to see her husband with yet another new drink in his hand. 

She glances toward him. “Thank you; I’ll find him later.”

He smirks and takes a sip of his drink. “Falling back in with the radicals of the Senate, are we?”

Mon scoffs. “Bail Organa is not—oh, never mind. I don’t know why I bother with you.”

He shrugs. “The crime rate on Alderaan these days…  I certainly wouldn’t want to live there.”

Mon feels heat rise in her cheeks. “That is completely beside the point.”

Tay clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, I haven’t heard anything about rising crime from Alderaanian clients.”

Perrin’s expression turns bitter for a fraction of a second as he glances towards Tay, then back to Mon. “You must like having someone around who agrees with you.”

Tay narrows his eyes but says nothing.

Mon smiles. “I’ll find the Senator now, come to think of it.”

She nods at her husband, then at Tay. “We can continue our discussion on finances later.”

He nods back, giving her the tiniest tinge of an apologetic look. Something about it makes her feel ever so slightly more calm.

Then, she turns on her heel, takes a deep breath, and walks into the crowd.

.

Tay watches Mon walk away, and is left with the frightening realization that her husband is still standing next to him.

“Finances, hm?” Perrin asks, eyebrow raised.

Tay nods. “Such is the life of a banker. Always discussing finances.”

Perrin leans against the bar, waiting for a drink he must have ordered. “How are you liking Coruscant?” 

“It’s a lot to adapt to.”

The bartender hands Perrin a glass of bright blue liqueur, and he takes it in his hand. “I’m sure, for someone like you.”

“Hm?”

“But my wife is an excellent guide, I would imagine.”

“Oh, absolutely. I would be lost without her.”

“Mm.” He brings his drink to his lips and downs the whole thing. He blinks. “I’m ordering another, do you want?”

Tay shakes his head, holding up the drink in his hand. “I’m alright. Still working on my first.”

Perrin signals the bartender and asks for another drink.

“So,” he turns back to Tay. “You’re still not married?”

Tay takes a sip of his drink. “No. I never had a match that was worth it.”

“You never fell in love?”

He chuckles. “As if Chandrila has any room for that.”

Perrin’s eye twitches as he takes a sip of his new drink. 

“Though perhaps things are changing, with the news of your cousin.”

“Perhaps.”

“This new generation; they may make all the difference.”

“So I’m told.” Perrin’s eyes flick upward, for just a moment. “Though they said the same thing about us, didn’t they?”

“And look at what our generation has done. Quite a lot has changed since we were in the academy, I would say.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He lifts his glass. “Cheers, Tay.”

Tay does the same. “To what?”

“The fact that we’re not in the academy anymore.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He smiles and clinks his glass with Perrin’s. “And to whatever comes next.”

.

“What’s the most dangerous thing that happened to you while traveling with Karis?” Leida asks, in an approximation of casualness.

Vel gives a small smile. “Oh, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds. I don’t know if I have a story that will satisfy your appetite for adventure.”

“Aunt Vel…” Leida frowns. “I’m not a little kid anymore. You can tell me.”

She sighs. “Well… we had a close call, once, with some imperial guards.”

Leida’s eyes widen. “What had you done?”

Vel shrugs. “Not much. We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“And what happened?”

Vel smiles—the real thing, this time. “I one-upped them with intimidation. Just screamed in their face until they left.”

Leida stares at her in awe and disbelief. “And that worked?!” 

“In this case, yes. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“They could’ve killed you, Aunt Vel, if they thought you were just some criminal!”

She purses her lips and nods. “Well. It’s a good thing they didn’t.”

Leida laughs, almost nervous. “No kidding.” 

A pause, as they both take a moment to think.

“Aunt Vel?”

“Leida?”

“How did you know you were in love with him?”

Vel blinks. “That is… an excellent question.” 

“You must have a story, right?”

She looks up in thought. “I guess I knew I was in love when we started working together for real. We had this campsite in the mountains, nobody there but us and a few, uh, friends. And we had to do everything ourselves. It was really hard.”

“Wow.”

“But, uh, he never faltered in his work. And helped me when I fell behind. It was a really special partnership.”

“I think I’d like that one day.”

“Really?”

Leida scoffs. “It sounds better than what they want for me here, doesn’t it? Getting all dressed up all the time and parading around for my mom to show me off.”

Vel smirks. “I forgot how much we have in common, Leida.”

She beams. “Next time you should take me with you.”

Vel laughs. “I don’t think I can do that, Lee.”

Leida frowns. “Mother would let me go if you were the one who asked.”

She winces and shakes her head. “Not with this. Maybe when you’re an adult.”

She scrunches her nose in thought. “Okay. When I’m an adult. It’s a deal.”

.

People lie.

There are lies told in service of the struggle for freedom, and there are lies told to hinder it.

Some, too, are grey areas.

What is one to make of that?

How can we build a rebellion if we cannot trust each other?

The Empire divides. It incentivizes people to cut and run, to take their money and go. 

The Empire pays good money to those who will compromise their humanity and aid its project of repression. Because it is easier to comply and take the paycheck than think too hard about what you’re doing. Because the Empire makes it hard to survive otherwise.

And if that struggle is all one knows, how could one ever believe in the Rebellion?

It is not a new thought to Nemik, but it rings truer now than ever before: We must be different.

We must provide. We must create something new, something kind, something that allows for trust. 

We must imagine a better future. That has always been the easy part for him. It exists so clearly in his mind: shining, beautiful, free. It’s so obvious he forgets he has to explain it, sometimes. 

But he must. The Rebellion must be a reminder to the galaxy that something new is possible.

He starts a new section in his datapad.

On the Role of Deception in The Rebellion and its Allies

On the Difference Between Us and Them

On the Creation and Continuation of Hope for a Better Future

Rebellions are built on

Rebellions cannot be built on hope alone.

Hope is a resource—a renewable one, yes, but it still must be renewed. Even the most steadfast revolutionaries can be swayed against the cause when they do not believe we will provide for them in the immediate future. Even a would-be martyr will not sacrifice themself if they believe it would be in vain.

As a movement, we must not assume that all our allies will be dedicated solely for the sake of ideals, even if they should be.

The Empire takes from everyone. The Empire, by its nature, creates enemies. However, in its projection of omnipotence, it renders those enemies unable to imagine its end.

Many know only that they hate. They hate the Empire for what it has done to them, to their families, to the world they once knew or never had the chance to know. This is necessary, but it is not sufficient. 

Hate can tear down, but it cannot then build from the wreckage. Hate can only imagine the absence of what was before. And one could argue that it is good enough for now, but no one is made of hate alone—there is also fear. Fear sees that wreckage, that unknown future, and cowers.To that fear, the Empire is but the lesser of two evils, and its existence is justified—its destruction is halted before it can even begin. After all, the wreckage of an empire is not enough to feed, to shelter, to provide.

This is why we must imagine a new galaxy. We must begin building that new world in the wreckage of the old before the ruin comes, because without that, it will never come. We must show everyone what the galaxy could be, so that they might join us in creating it.

.

Mon steps into the hospital room to see a young man sitting in a hoverchair.

He has light skin, curly brown hair, and an expression that can’t quite choose what emotion to portray.

“You’re the Senator.” he says, somewhere in between a statement and a question, gazing up at her.

Mon gives a polite smile. “Yes. My name is Mon Mothma. I’m Vel’s cousin.”

The nurse places a medpack on the counter next to Karis’s bed, then turns to Mon. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Senator?” 

She places a perfectly manicured finger to her chin and sighs. “I hate to be a bother, but do you mind making sure my driver found a suitable place to park? His name is Kloris.”

The nurse nods and leaves the room.

Mon waits a moment, then shuts the door.

Karis points to the counter, and it takes her but a moment to recognize a sleek chrome rod, no larger than her pinky finger, hidden amongst the medical instruments. A listening device.

“Turn on the heart monitor,” he says under his breath. “The beeps scatter the signal. It’s a low quality bug.”

Mon nods and finds the switch to the other side of her. She flips it on, and the beeping starts. 

She notices him wince at the noise. Let’s make this quick, then.

“I’m Vel’s boyfriend,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I’m a ship-racer. We met on the holo a year and a half ago, and I finally convinced her to visit me when I got into my first big race. The Regal Prix, on Corellia. I did well enough to keep going, but not well enough for anyone to have heard of me.”

Mon thinks for a moment. “You don’t think much about politics. You have little knowledge of Chandrilan culture, but you’re eager to learn. What planet are you from?”

“Aldhani,” Karis answers, then winces at another beep.

Mon resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “No, you are most certainly not.”

His eyes widen and he nods. “Right. Sorry. I’m from Gatalenta.” A pause. “Vel’s idea.”

Mon nods. A good choice. Somewhere known, but not too connected to the Chandrilan elite.

“I-I’ve been learning about it. They have fascinating traditions. Have you heard of skyfaring? And apparently they have a strong tradition of tales about these mythic figures called the Jedi. It seems—“

Mon winces. “Do me a favor, and do not bring up those tales anywhere on Coruscant.”

He gives an apologetic smile.

“And speaking of things not to bring up…” she sighs. “My husband, Perrin, will frustrate you. He’ll try to rile you up. Do not, under any circumstances, say anything about the truth.”

His expression turns serious, and he nods.

“Nor to anyone else. But he will give you the most trouble.”

A pause, and Karis tilts his head. “You’re really the one who funded… our last project?”

Mon’s chest clenches. “Yes. Apparently I am.”

“Thank you.”

“I—erm—you’re welcome, I suppose.”

His eyes are much too earnest, for what she knows he has seen. 

He takes a breath in. “We’ll win, you know.”

Mon gives another polite smile. “I—”

“You have doubts. But you still fight. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“Let’s not put ourselves at risk, Karis,” Mon says in a whisper.

He lowers his voice, too. “It kills you, though, doesn’t? It makes you want to burst? Seeing the truth so clearly? Seeing what’s wrong with the galaxy?”

Something moves through Mon as he says it—an energy she knows she cannot let herself feel. She takes a deep breath in and out, maintaining her composure. She cannot linger on it. Not now. Not yet. There is too much to be done. 

A beat, and she flips the heart monitor switch off again. Silence washes over the room, and Karis breathes a sigh of relief.

“It has been lovely meeting you, Karis. It seems that you do truly care for my cousin, and I look forward to your entrance into the family.”

He nods. “You too, Senator Mothma.”

“Please,” she says, stepping towards the door. “We’re family. You can call me Mon.”

.

The Chandrilan embassy is unlike anything Nemik has ever seen before.

He is familiar with displays of power from the Imperial military, black and white and chrome, hard lines and tight uniforms. The embassy is nothing like that. It is lush and ornate, bathed in creams and neutral tones.

Not long ago, Nemik was marching in an Imperial uniform, maintaining a straight face and perfect posture with the future of the rebellion on his shoulders. He has never felt more out of place than in this party.

Senators and aristocrats mingle with drinks in hand, wearing fashion ripped from the history holos Nemik left at his home in the Aldhani lowlands seven months ago. 

These people were the high class of the Republic. He thought this world was dead. 

He watches ghosts of the past float across his vision in a trance until Senator Mothma’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts.

“Karis! Welcome!”

He gives her an awkward smile.

“Vel will be here soon. But in the meantime, there are plenty of people who would like to meet you.”

He nods, anxiety rising in chest.

She gives him an apologetic smile. “I have politicians to beg for votes, so I must leave you.”

She turns into the crowd, and Nemik watches as she greets a group of other important looking people with a fake gasp and plastered smile.

A moment of staring, and a new voice shakes him out of his thoughts.

“Are you Vel’s sweetheart?”

A man in strange robes is looking down at him with an appraising look in his eye.

He nods.

“Ah. It’s good to meet you. I’m Perrin.”

“Senator Mothma’s husband.”

Perrin nods. “So you’ve heard of me.”

Nemik shrugs. “Not much else besides that.”

“Fair enough. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Nemik is taken aback. “You have?!”

“Enough to be interested, at least. Vel tells me you were a racer.”

He nods emphatically. “Since I was a child.”

It’s only sort of a lie. Racing is basically the same as having a fascination with transportation and navigation, right? 

That’s what he tells himself, anyways, to keep the churning in his stomach at bay.

“Not anymore, though, I suppose.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll have to find something else.”

Perrin waves a hand. “You’re on Coruscant, I’m sure you’ll find something. Ask my wife about it, she loves charity cases.”

Nemik’s chest tightens and his face heats up. “Oh. Um.”

Perrin’s brow furrows at the reaction. “Not in a bad way, of course.”

Nemik swallows and nods. “O-of course.”

He finds himself wondering what Mon Mothma could possibly see in this man. Maybe he was different when they first met. Maybe it’s just that Imperial Coruscant can turn you into a monster. 

Perrin grins. “Anyways, you need something to drink? I can’t accept you into the family until you’ve at least tried a Chandrilan squig.”

He shakes his head. “I’m still on pain meds, you’re not supposed to mix.”

He gives a surprised look. “Straight-laced, too? I never would’ve imagined our little rebel Vel would end up with…”

Nemik’s heart jumps. “Not a rebel, sir.”

A beat, and he tightens. That wasn’t the right thing to say, was it?

Perrin chuckles. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. Shame these days we have to clarify, with all this rebel Aldhani business.”

“Ah. Right. Yes. I knew that.”

He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Hey, these are scary times. You never know who might be the enemy.”

“Honey, there you are!” 

The sound of Vel’s voice is a comfort in the midst of everything incomprehensible about Nemik’s current situation. Her cadence is slightly different, and so is her word choice, but it feels a whole lot more like home than anything else. 

She puts a hand on his shoulder from behind his hoverchair. “My niece has been wanting to meet you!”

“Well, I’ll leave you to the girls. Let me know if you change your mind about the squigs.” Perrin flashes a smile at Nemik and disappears into the crowd.

Vel leans in to whisper in his ear as she turns his hoverchair. “Sorry about him. And, uh, sorry about her too.”

Before he can ask any follow-up questions, Nemik is facing a young girl, twelve or thirteen years old, with long brown hair and curious eyes. 

“Karis, this is Leida. Mon’s daughter. Leida, this is my boyfriend Karis.”

The girl nods. “How do you do?”

“I’m—uh. I’m well. How are you?”

“Were you really a racer?”

Nemik nods. 

“Wow! That’s so exciting!”

“And dangerous,” Vel adds.

“My friends from school think it’s so cool that you were a racer.”

“Your friends from school?”

“Maybe you’ll meet them sometime. They’re much more fun than the people here.”

Vel snorts.

“Aunt Vel’s laughing because it’s true.”

A smirk forms on Vel’s face as she places a hand on her hip. “You’re just trying to distract me from asking about that boy. What was his name again? Doren?”

Leida begins to blush. “His name is Darin, and that wasn’t a date!”

Nemik’s mind wanders as Vel continues to fondly needle her niece. 

Based on his guess at her age, Leida was born after the rise of the Empire. And on Coruscant, too—she’s been surrounded by it, suffocated by it, her whole life. And she’s giggling about a boy.

There’s something so surreal about it. Nemik has known austere and cruel Imperial officers, he’s known fellow Aldhani who resigned themselves to the enterprise zones, perhaps even relished their work there. He’s known the Empire as a machine that tears down people and cultures and planets and leaves everything barren and cold and lesser. 

But Coruscant is different. It would be unfair to call it vapid, though it does feel that way, in this room, in this party. Here they are, surrounded by wealth, the spoils of the very machine grinding worlds to dust, and they live their lives. 

Leida is not happy here—she detests the artificiality too, that much is clear—but Nemik still can’t help but feel a pang of bitterness looking at her. She’s on Coruscant, in the den of vipers itself, and she’s giggling about a boy. 

Over one hundred Aldhani were taken into questioning after the heist. Nemik wonders if he knew any of them. Maybe his cousin, the one who he promised to teach how to use his navigational device when he got back from the Highlands. They turned fifteen while he was away. He wonders if he’ll ever see them again.

“—but anyways, what about you, Karis?”

Nemik startles out of his thoughts. “What?”

“Leida wants to know where you would travel, if you could go anywhere in the galaxy.”

Ah. It seems that the subject has changed.

“I’m sure you’ve been to a lot of cool places, too. As a racer.”

He nods, awkward. Think of planets. Think of planets. “Maybe it’s—uh—well, with all the news… but… I’d always wanted to see the Eye of Aldhani.”

Vel’s hand, still on his shoulder, squeezes tighter. He hears her take a sharp breath in.

In fairness, he never got the chance to see it properly. Three years ago he was too young to make the trek, according to his older sister, and this time… well…

Leida’s eyes are wide. “Really? What even is it?”

“It’s… sort of like a meteor shower. A band of crystals forms around the planet every three years, and then they explode.”

“Wow!”

“I’m told it’s beautiful.”

Leida nods. “You said it’s every three years, right?”

“To the thousandth of a second.”

“Maybe three years from now, everything will be calmed down there, and you could go!”

Nemik winces despite himself.

“One can only hope,” Vel responds.

Back home, they say The Eye never stops. They mean it in a sort of spiritual way, which is nice and all, but also, they’re not wrong. 

Even now, those crystal bands are forming again in the Aldhani atmosphere. Spinning, stopping, condensing. Coating the sky in a formation of potential energy, until they explode yet again.

The Empire seems inevitable. But it is not the only thing that is. One day, whether he’s there or not, those beautiful streaks of green and blue and purple will light up the sky again. The Rebellion will live on. It must. 

“It was nice meeting you, Karis! I’m really happy for you two. And I hope you recover and everything!”

“Thank you,” Nemik says, as Leida walks away.

“The Eye of Aldhani? Really?” Vel mutters to him, frustrated.

“I got nervous! I don’t know other planets!” he whispers back.

She sighs. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s come up with an excuse to leave.”

“Would that be suspicious?”

Vel laughs. “For me? No, it’s realistic. Come on.”

.

The Imperial Core turns people into monsters.

No. That’s not fair, is it? Leida isn’t a monster. She’s just a kid. 

The Imperial Core is ignorant of the atrocities done by the Empire.

Is that true? Nemik is not certain. They must know something, at least. Everyone is always pretending, they must pretend not to know the violence in which they are complicit.

The Imperial Core functions as

New experiences create new ideas. Challenge would be good for his theories. That’s what he told himself. But maybe not this much, all at once. It’s a whole different world, on Coruscant.

No more writing tonight, he decides. He’ll sleep on it, and figure out his new thesis for the Rebellion in the morning. That’s all.

.

Upon her arrival to the embassy after a long and exhausting day in the Imperial Senate, Mon finds herself in the rare throes of an empty house.

Vel has taken Leida out for the day, to culminate in some concert she begged to attend, Perrin is out with friends for who knows how long, Karis may be here, but he keeps to his room most of the time.

The entertaining area looks different when empty of people. Hollow. Purposeless. 

Or perhaps, she thinks, with a deep breath in, she is simply projecting how she feels at the moment.

There are so few walls on the inside of the Chandrilan embassy. The panels that separate rooms are riddled with cut-out patterns, placed sideways to never give full privacy to those in a given room. One could always be lurking just out of sight, spying from the corner of their eye.

The architecture is reflective of Chandrilan custom, the story goes. Chandrila has always prided itself on its progressive political ideals. Those who act as leaders, policy makers, and ideologues cannot hide from their subjects. They must be accountable, they must be seen.

Mon still tells guests that story, when they ask. No one ever laughs, but it always goes over like a joke. At least it feels that way to her.

Mon takes a careful seat on a living room chair and breathes out a deep sigh. She does not allow herself to run a palm down her face, but she does allow herself to slump.

The Senate was never perfect, she knows that better than most, but it used to be… something. It used to feel like a way to improve the galaxy. Now, she makes purposefully meaningless speeches in front of Imperial sycophants whose only show of restraint or civility in such a hallowed hall is that they do not openly call for her death.

It is not a revelation, at this point, that she cannot change minds or policy as a Senator. She had that crisis of faith many years ago. And yet, every reminder stings. Every policy proposal gone ignored, every warning gone unheeded, every gleeful insult thrown at her. She tries her best to let it give her resolve for her rebellious efforts, but sometimes, in moments like these, she allows herself just a moment of utter despair.

She realizes her eyes are just barely wet when there is a knock at the door, and she startles.

She takes a deep breath in and practices a smile, then goes to open the door.

Standing in the doorway is Tay Kolma in a dark blue Chandrilan robe.

A wave of relief washes over her. 

“I should’ve called. I didn’t think I would have the time to stop by before I left for home.”

“Please, come in.”

He takes a step into the foyer. “The Senate was in session today, yes?”

Mon sighs. “Yes. Though I do not know what good I do there anymore.”

Tay nods sympathetically. “But that’s why you’re…”

“Of course, but…” She sighs, again.

Tay furrows his eyebrows. “Mon. Be honest. Are you alright?”

She scoffs. “Why, of course I’m--”

His expression does not change, looking into her with a concern and understanding that feels almost foreign. “Mon…”

And all at once, she cannot stop her eyes from welling up with tears. 

“Mon,” he says again, this time in a whisper. “I--”

His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out. 

“Is there anything I can do? I hate that you must carry all this.”

She shakes her head. “You are already doing so much.”

“I’m not talking about the charity or the money. I mean you. What do you need?”

She lets out an involuntary laugh. That is not a question she knows how to answer.

“There has to be something. Let me send you a box of those candies you loved when we were in school. Or, I don’t know, let me take you away from Coruscant for a day. You deserve a break.”

A tear begins to run down her cheek. “Tay… that’s very kind, but…”

He sighs. “No, I know. There are reasons you couldn’t just jet off to Chandrila with me…”

“I wish I could.”

“The candies, at least.”

She wipes away the tear. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind a taste of home.”

The corner of his lip twitches. “You’ll have them tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“I—” He cuts himself off, then starts again. “I just want you to be happy, Mon.”

“I—thank you. I will try my best.”

“I know you will.” He pauses, checking his watch. “I should head to the spaceport.”

Mon nods. “I trust you will be back on Coruscant soon?”

“Of course.” His expression is something close to wistful. “To see you.”

“About the charity.”

“Of course.” 

He nods to her and begins to turn towards the door.

“Wait. Tay.” 

As if overcome by an outside force, Mon finds herself stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. He startles for a moment, then does the same.

They stand there, entwined, and she buries her face in his shoulder, holding him tight.

Then, she jolts away, heart beating in her chest. “I am so sorry, that was inappropriate, please, I—“

Tay gives her a reassuring look. “You have nothing to apologize for.” A pause. “But really, I must go. I will be here again soon.”

Mon nods. “I will see you then. Tell your sisters I say hello.”

He nods back, then turns for the door a second time, and exits the embassy grounds.

Mon collapses onto her chair, takes a deep breath in, and allows herself to cry.

.

“There’s not a lot I miss about Chandrila,” Vel says, unwrapping a candy and popping it in her mouth. “But these things? Oh my god.”

Mon smiles. “Yes, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy them.”

“What made you remember? A holo ad or something?”

Mon tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Um.”

Vel’s eyes go wide as an amused smile forms on her lips. “You’re embarrassed about it.”

Mon attempts to come up with a response, but can only sputter. “I—“

“This isn’t even a life or death secret thing. You’re much more composed about those.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Who sent you these? I should have known there was something up when you offered me candy out of the blue.”

“Tay Kolma.”

“Tay Kolma,” Vel repeats, smirking. “Good for you, Mon. Good for you.”

Mon’s face burns. “It’s not—it’s nothing like that—“

“Just don’t let it get in the way of the mission. But I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

Mon resists the urge to cover her face. “Vel. You are completely misreading things.”

She tilts her head, still smirking. “Am I?”

“A married Senator. What would people think? No. I would never.”

“That would be better news to get out about what you’re doing with him than anything else.”

Mon sighs. “What are you trying to say?”

Vel shrugs. “Nothing at all, Mon.” A pause, and she sighs. “Wish I could send some of these to—um. I mean.”

Mon raises her eyebrows, lunging at the opportunity to talk about anything other than the current topic. “Oh? Is there someone you have in mind?”

She gives a frustrated eye roll as she grabs another candy. “I’m not embarrassed; this is about security.”

“Mm. Perhaps one day you can tell me about her.”

“Yeah,” Vel smiles to herself as she pops the candy in her mouth. “I’d like that.”

.

“My fucking cousin,” Vel mutters as she walks into the room she and Nemik share. 

“Mon, you mean?” Nemik asks, looking up from the holo he borrowed from the embassy library. 

“Yes. Mon. And Tay.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re pissing me off.”

“Who?”

She waves a hand, not bothering to answer his question. “She’s too afraid about her image to do anything about it.”

Nemik narrows his eyes but says nothing. He is not quite sure what Vel is talking about.

She groans, sitting down against the wall opposite his desk.

“She’s got this guy who cares about her. She trusts him enough to bring him in, which means he must be trustworthy. And she won’t—ugh.”

She leans her head back against the wall.

“Do you know how special it is to find someone who believes in the cause and in you? And she’s turning away.”

The hologram is still up on the desk Nemik is sitting at. A timeline of pre-imperial history, countless names and events that came before. He gives it an absentminded flick.

“Have you heard from Cinta?”

Vel’s body straightens. Her expression shifts to an icy glare. Nemik feels pulled back to the Highlands, an acute reminder of how terrifying the rebel commander can be.

“None of your business.”

“Is she alright?”

Her glare intensifies. “I said none of your business.”

A beat, and she sighs. She looks exhausted. “She’s fine. She’s on another mission.”

Nemik nods.

She looks down, fiddling with her bracelet. “I should be there with her, but…”

Oh.

“I—I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “It’s not your fault. It’s not you. I still wouldn’t be able to stay.”

Nemik is not used to Vel talking to him like this. On Aldhani, her closest confidant was always Cinta. 

But honestly, with everything else he’s had to deal with recently, this almost feels familiar.

“Do you trust her?”

“Of course I do,” she scoffs. “Cinta’s a better soldier for the cause than I could ever be.”

Nemik shakes his head on instinct. “Everyone is fighting their own battles against the Empire. They all count.”

Vel gives a hint of a smile at that. “Is that what your book says?”

He shrugs. “It’s in there.”

“Is there anything in there about love? After it’s over?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t written much about after it’s over. At least not yet.”

“Mm.”

“Maybe you’ll have to write that part yourself.”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, deep in thought. “Maybe I will.”

.

They are sitting together in a room in the corner—still exposed, in the way they must be to maintain their cover, but more intimate than Mon is accustomed to. 

Tay gives her a strange sort of smile.

“You know, Mon, I spent a long time thinking I had dodged a bullet.”

Mon tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Tay shrugs, sheepish, not meeting her eyes. “After the rise of the Empire, I saw you… diverge, I suppose, from the values of Chandrila.” 

“...Oh. I see.”

He startles at her reaction. “Of course, I still considered you a dear friend! I do not want to imply—” He cuts himself off. “My point is… I thought this place ruined you. And that was not fair of me.”

“It is not your fault for judging me based on my words and deeds.” Mon sighs. “I only continued to act as I had for many years before. It was a reasonable assumption to make.”

“I just hate that I underestimated you. I should have learned better than that when we were children.”

She laughs, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “I suppose that means the performance is convincing.”

“I suppose it does.” He’s looking at her with a small, fond smile that makes Mon’s heart ache. “You have always been a woman of many talents.”

She scoffs, attempting to stifle a grin. “I am not so sure about that.”

Tay gives her a scolding look, as if he’s insulted on her behalf. “Of course you are! Politics, history, public speaking, hosting, comedy…”

“Comedy?!” she responds, incredulous. 

“Now, don’t tell me you forgot the time in early Republic history class you made me laugh so hard I got detention.”

She lets out an involuntary laugh at the now unburied memory. “Do you remember what I said? I’ve forgotten.”

He shakes his head. 

“I felt terrible about that for the rest of the year, I hope you know that.”

“I know. You apologized several times.”

“And if I recall, you became frustrated with me for that.”

He chuckles. “It was your worst nightmare, wasn’t it? Someone else getting in trouble for what you thought of as your own actions.” 

Something in Mon tenses at that. She is not accustomed to being read so clearly. But, she supposes, it was different when she was a child.

They are quiet for a moment.

“Do you still study history these days?”

Mon sighs. “I wish I had the time.”

Tay shakes his head. “Imperial hypocrisy at its finest. Those who govern are too busy to even learn what came before.”

She shrugs. “It is not so much hypocrisy as it is policy.”

He grins, intrigued. “Now, this is the insight we need from our Senators.”

“I could never say that in the Senate. They already want Chandrila wiped off the map.”

He winces. “That bad?”

Mon gives a bitter smile. “Only the most radical, of course. But their influence grows by the day.”

Tay sighs. “There are some back home too.”

“Oh, I’m sure. They’re everywhere.”

“They’ll regret it, when they see what Imperial restrictions do to us.”

“That is a nice thing to believe.”

“Do you not believe it?”

“I do not know what to believe anymore. The galaxy has not made sense to me in a long time.”

He looks at her with that fond smile again. “You must understand what a shock that is to hear, Mon. You were always so sure of yourself. It’s always impressed me.”

She almost laughs. “The performance is convincing, then.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to stop?”

“Stop what?”

“The performance.”

Mon holds back a wince. “I…”

“It must cross your mind. Who would you be in a world without the Empire?”

“We both know who I would be; I was that person for many years.”

He shrugs. “Fine. The Empire goes away tomorrow. You no longer need to pretend. What do you do?”

“Nothing is that simple, Tay.”

“It’s a hypothetical, Mon.” There is a curious gleam in Tay’s eye that makes Mon feel fifteen years old again. “You must have thought about it, all these years pretending…”

Fifteen years old. Perhaps the last time she had allowed herself to imagine a future.

She had wanted to be a historian, forsake her family’s political legacy. Surround herself with visions of civilizations long gone, wars long over, stories long ended. 

How fitting that even her most transgressive dreams of the future are rooted in the past.

She shakes her head. “What would you do?”

“I would go to the Hanna Institute and I would smash up their exhibit on the Emperor.”

Mon lets out a rare involuntary laugh, a beautiful, surprising thing, immediately followed by a tensing in her stomach. “Now, the artifacts housed there are still a part of history; we must learn as well from the parts of history we—“

Tay is grinning, ear to ear. “Now this is the Mon Mothma I remember from grade school.”

She scoffs.

“How about this: I would carefully place them in storage instead.”

Mon cannot help but grin as well. “I can agree to that.”

“And then I would call you.”

She tilts her head. “Would you?”

He nods. “To ask you this question again.”

“I see.”

He is looking at her like he was before; that strange mix of fond and wistful. Something stirs inside her, something like longing. Perhaps that is the first step in seeing the future that he can. How terrifying.

“I suppose I will have a better answer for you then. I regret that it likely will not come sooner.”

“It’s alright,” he responds. “I can wait.”

.

“This is it,” Vel says to Mon, lips pursed. “Off to show him Chandrila.”

Her hand is entwined with Nemik’s, for appearances sake.

Mon smiles. “I hope you both have a wonderful time.”

“I know we will,” Vel responds, then leans in and lowers her voice. “We’re staging a breakup a week in; there’s a shuttle he can take to Alderaan.”

She nods. “And you’ll be alright there?”

Vel shrugs. “I’ll be volatile after a breakup… I might just run away.”

Mon sighs and rolls her eyes. “At least you’ll be showing your face there. They were after me, you know.”

Vel gives her a fond smile. “I know.”

Mon turns to Karis. “And you’ll be alright, too?”

A beat, and he gives a not quite assured nod. “I’m sure I’ll figure things out.”

“You’ll find friends on Alderaan. You’ll do well there.”

He nods. “I—“ He starts to say something, then cuts himself off. “There’s no way for me to leave any literature with you, is there?”

Mon smiles apologetically. “No. I’m afraid not.”

“That’s alright. I’m sure one day it will get to you.”

“When it does, I will read it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Vel takes a breath in. “We should get going.”

She lets go of Karis’s hand and leans in to give Mon a hug. They embrace each other, and Mon feels again like she can almost see some kind of future.

Then, Vel steps away and opens the door.

“Be careful, both of you,” Mon says as they leave the embassy.

“You too!” Vel says back.

And then they’re gone, and Mon is alone again. For the moment, at least. 

But there’s always what comes after that.

.

Truth.

It is something we feel compelled to search for. To get to the core. To find it and keep it close.

But truth is not always so simple. It is created, like anything else. We create truth through our experiences, as we move through the world. What feels true in one circumstance may lose its use in another. And we must be able to handle that. To accept it. Understand it. 

We are attempting to build something new, and we will need new truths to build it. We will need to create them ourselves.

Writing this manifesto, I have dreamed of it lasting for years as a guide for countless rebels. I do not know if I want that anymore. 

I want things to change. I want you to create truths I could have never imagined. I want the Rebellion to live on, beyond the fight against the Empire.

I know it is a lot to ask, when I don’t even know who you are, but can you do that for me? 

I believe in you. 

I believe in us. 

Even if I’m not there.

Remember that.