Private A Long Held Breath

[Amani Serys]

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.”

Gram Arranda​

 

[Gram Arranda]

It was just after four o’clock on a Saturday morning. Gram Arranda sat in his kitchen, clad in a navy blue bathrobe, a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and his datapad clutched in the other. Unable to sleep, he had left his bed and came downstairs to avoid disturbing his wife.

A news app was open on his datapad screen, allowing him to scroll through various articles. He had already read most of them, yet he continued to refresh the page, hoping for updates. Still nothing. With a sigh, he took a bite of his toast, chewing morosely.

In the weeks since the Galactic Alliance's collapse, the threat of invasion had hung over Alderaan like a deadly smog. Imperial forces were gathered along the border, ready to strike as soon as the order was given. The vizier knew just how unprepared Alderaan was to combat the Imperial Fleet and its armies. It was a burden of knowledge he dared not share with anyone else, not even his own family.

His comms abruptly began to buzz, startling him. The Queen of Alderaan was trying to contact him. “The queen?” he muttered. At this hour? Something must have happened!

In a moment of panicked absurdity, he remembered that he was wearing a bathrobe. He started to stand up to go and put some real clothes on for his audience with royalty, but then he sat back down. “Oh, forget it.” This was too important to wait for a wardrobe change. Thankfully she would only see his upper half. He pulled his robe more tightly around himself and answered the call.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” he greeted, bowing his head respectfully. “I’m surprised you’re awake at this hour. How may I be of service?”

Amani Serys​

 

[Amani Serys]

"It's the Empire," Amani got straight to the point. The ominous start of her sentence led to a lone second of tension, but she broke with a smirk; Albeit a restrained one, as though she were afraid to get excited about what came next, "...They're pulling back."

"We don't know the reason yet. But all signs point to a large-scale withdrawal, rather than a feint." A new pair of hands appeared through the hologram, applying subtle makeup to the contours of the Queen's face, "Alderaan may just have regained it's freedom. We need to figure out what comes next-- And what happens if we're wrong."

"How soon can you make it to the council chamber?"

Gram Arranda​

 

[Gram Arranda]

Gram held his breath, waiting for the Queen's answer. He fully expected to hear that the Empire was moving to attack Alderaan. Perhaps even that they were already firing upon Alderaanian forces. He didn't hear fighters zooming overhead or bombs being dropped, but he knew that war could be deceptively quiet. Especially wars that were primarily fought in the soundless dark of outer space.

"It's the Empire... They're pulling back."

He stared at the hologram of Amani, eyes widening and lips parting. For a moment he couldn't fully process what she was saying. But shock soon gave way to relief, then a strangely muted joy. This was good news, maybe the best news he had heard in months. But it didn't mean they were out of the woods yet.

"Why would they withdraw now?" Gram muttered to himself. His brain mulled over possible motives. Was it some new strategy of theirs? She said it wasn't a trick. But if they really were pulling out--

"How soon can you make it to the council chamber?"

"Give me fifteen minutes," he said, already starting to rise from his chair. Already his body language had begun to shift into that of the steely statesman. "No--Ten minutes."

---

Gram arrived at the High Council Chamber seven minutes after he ended the transmission. His footsteps echoed through the vast halls of stone, their rhythm brisk and purposeful.

He had changed his clothes, of course, albeit on short notice. His long black coat, with its large collar and glossy, almost leatherlike sheen lent him the air of a commanding officer rather than a politician - but given the circumstances, it seemed fitting.

Besides, it was cold on Alderaan at this time of year.

"Your Majesty, I have a theory as to why the Empire has ended their expansion so abruptly," Gram said, walking around the large round council table to where the Queen sat. "It's Coruscant. They must have lost Coruscant to the Sith." He could think of no other event with the kind of cataclysmic ripple effect that would stop Imperial expansion dead in its tracks.

The only thing more dangerous than an Imperial is a Sith. But he didn't need to tell her that. She had dealt with them firsthand. "The collapse of the Empire has bought us valuable time, which we must use wisely in preparation for facing an even greater threat."

Amani Serys​

 

[Amani Serys]

The Queen was dressed in an all-white sleek, androgynous jumpsuit, with a similarly white toga-like cloak draped half over the right side of her body. A chalcedony diadem hung around her forehead. She was seated, eyes glued to a holographic display of the galactic core that hovered over the center of the council table. The hologram showed a sped up, repeating visual of the change in known imperial ship routes over the last 48 hours. As expected, the unofficial perimeter seemed to shrink rapidly over the course of that time. There was only a small collection of aides and droids present so far, most of them muttering to one another or over comms, pacing in and out of the room as they tried to collect as much information as possible.

"I think you're right, Vizier" Amani replied as Gram entered the room, evidently already having the same suspicions, "There's little else I can imagine that would cause such a drastic and hasty retreat." She pushed herself to her feet, hands still on the table, "The Sith taking Coruscant. Hasn't happened in a long while… Still not long enough, though."

"The collapse of the Empire has bought us valuable time, which we must use wisely in preparation for facing an even greater threat."

"It gives us some much needed breathing room. We can ramp up defensive measures without alerting any would-be antagonists. It might also give potential allies the confidence to meet us halfway, too."

Gram Arranda​

 

[Gram Arranda]

Gram's mind was already working faster than his mouth could keep up. "We can update our military technology. There are contractors who would be eager, yes, very eager to supply us with weapons and ordinance..."

They would also need to increase the size of their army. Even if the situation were truly dire, instituting a draft was out of the question. Mercenaries could be hired to fill out their ranks, or perhaps a droid army. They could build more starships, starfighters, fuel stations--

But no matter how much they did to strengthen Alderaan's defenses, they could never contend with the firepower of the Sith. After all, they were just one planet against the full might of a major faction. Gram knew this, Queen Amani no doubt knew it, and so did the rest of the High Council. The smart ones, anyway.

That left them with only one option. "We need allies," Gram said. "I know that you have sent your daughter to the High Republic as a junior ambassador. Princess Liana has done well to ingratiate herself with the Naboo. But we need more than promises of aid from them. We need guarantees.

"We must seek membership within the Republic. It's the only way we can face the Sith with any real hope of survival."

Amani Serys​

 

[Amani Serys]

"Even if they're willing to risk it, can they get to us in time?" Amani muttered rhetorically. Her gaze flicked back and forth between Gram and the holodisplay, thoughts unspoken but clearly swimming through her mind. The Sith taking Coruscant would buy them time, but when the dust settled, they would arguably be a bigger concern than the Empire would have been. Alderaan could end up wishing the Empire had stuck around after all.

"You're right. It's our only chance." She walked around the table, approaching the vizier face-to-face. "Gram Arranda, you've been a good friend and an even wiser counsel for me ever since I took leadership of Alderaan. Which is why I entrust only you with this mission." Amani paused for a moment, letting it sink in before continuing, "Join Liana on Naboo. Become our Ambassador. Convince them to help us."

Gram Arranda​

 

[Gram Arranda]

Gram pursed his lips into a thin line. It was a question he had asked himself ever since they began pursuing a diplomatic relationship with the High Republic. Even if they convinced them to help, the odds were not in their favor.

“The Sith are vicious, but not stupid. The Empire’s assets, intelligence, et cetera are valuable to them. Any Imperial personnel remaining in the Core will be incentivized to assimilate into the new order.” He didn’t need to say more. If the Covenant played their cards right, they could devour the Empire from within, claiming all of their territory for themselves.

The queen stood up from her chair and walked around the table to where he stood. When she praised his service, Gram inclined his head in gratitude… then looked up slowly, eyes widening, when she commanded him to be her ambassador.

That, he had not anticipated. But as he considered the matter further, it made sense. What qualities Liana lacked—experience, in particular—he had in spades. In many ways he was the ideal candidate, able to mentor the princess and rein her in where needed. His term as Vizier was approaching its end; Amani could easily appoint a successor. It helped that he despised the Sith, too, and would brook no quarter with them.

That didn’t mean he wanted to go. In all his years on the High Council, he had been away from Alderaan but rarely. He didn’t like to be away from home, from Vera and the girls and the snow-capped mountains outside his window.

But home wouldn’t exist if he didn’t keep it safe.

“I accept, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing. “I will go to Naboo at once.”

Amani Serys​