panacea
Alderaan had lived in the shadow of the Galactic Empire ever since the Alliance collapsed. Without their native-born son, Alicio Organa, the task of leadership fell to Amani Serys-Organa. She was Queen by marriage, Alderaanian by marriage. But it wasn't the acceptance of the people that worried her, it was her ability to live up to that acceptance.
She worked arduously with advisors, councilors, and officers to ensure that Alderaan would be as prepared as possible for an invasion that seemed a matter of when, not if. By day she counseled her Jedi contacts for aid in all manner which the Jedi might provide it. By moonlight, quiet meetings with spies and informants shed meager details of Imperial movement. Her own daughter had been sent to parlay with the High Republic to establish a relationship that might blossom into an alliance.
But suddenly, like a passing storm, the Empire’s grip over Alderaan relaxed. Their concerns turned inward, and one morning Queen Organa awoke to the reality that the Empire was, for all intents and purposes…
“Gone?” She could hardly believe the report, but it all rang true. Their ships no longer buzzed their borders. Their chatter no longer bled through comm channels. The questions it raised for the Core at large were many, but for now all Amani could do was continue to focus on her people. There would be time for celebration, yes. But not yet. First, they needed to plan.
“G-zzt-am?” The vizier of Alderaan would find his comms sputtering to life earlier in the morning than usual, “Gram?” Amani’s upper half materialized into translucent blue. The hands of aides occasionally phased into view, fixing up the Queen’s hair into a pair of buns on either side of her head, “You better be awake, Arranda.”
She worked arduously with advisors, councilors, and officers to ensure that Alderaan would be as prepared as possible for an invasion that seemed a matter of when, not if. By day she counseled her Jedi contacts for aid in all manner which the Jedi might provide it. By moonlight, quiet meetings with spies and informants shed meager details of Imperial movement. Her own daughter had been sent to parlay with the High Republic to establish a relationship that might blossom into an alliance.
But suddenly, like a passing storm, the Empire’s grip over Alderaan relaxed. Their concerns turned inward, and one morning Queen Organa awoke to the reality that the Empire was, for all intents and purposes…
“Gone?” She could hardly believe the report, but it all rang true. Their ships no longer buzzed their borders. Their chatter no longer bled through comm channels. The questions it raised for the Core at large were many, but for now all Amani could do was continue to focus on her people. There would be time for celebration, yes. But not yet. First, they needed to plan.
“G-zzt-am?” The vizier of Alderaan would find his comms sputtering to life earlier in the morning than usual, “Gram?” Amani’s upper half materialized into translucent blue. The hands of aides occasionally phased into view, fixing up the Queen’s hair into a pair of buns on either side of her head, “You better be awake, Arranda.”