TheBridge

“The Queen’s time is running low then,” Veers commented, standing tall. “If she is indeed alive as we all hope and pray, she has clearly refused to allow Naboo to vote in the affirmative. But if she were to die…”

“The Regent will give Palpatine the vote he needs,” said Skywalker, face stormy.

“That brings us to my news,” Veers continued. “I have been in contact with Piett, General. He is alive and as well as he cares to tell me.”

Skywalker raised his eyebrows.

“Good news indeed. He escaped then?”

“He did with some help. The Princess Sola aided his escape and the two of them are on the hunt for her sister. Your information, General, would be most valuable in their hunt. It is quite possible the officers sent by the Republic are going to try and persuade the Queen.”

Skywalker folded his arms.

“Hold on, Veers. Are you telling me that Piett and the Princess are trying to rescue Padme on their own ?”

“Yes, General.”

“No.” Skywalker scowled darkly. “It is far too risky. For all of them. They need to wait until we can come in with serious back up.”

“Padme does not have time for that, Anakin,” Organa said calmly. “There are six days until the next vote. Palpatine needs it. Which means Naboo has to fall in line. It seems to me that her best hope is the Captain and the Princess Sola.”

Duel of the Fates

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61209583/chapters/158581060

Birds, Firmus realized. Numerous flying rainbows making lovely calls.

“Master Plo…” he breathed, overcome with such pleasure to be here.

Plo’s hand rested on his shoulder and drew him close to the Kel Dor’s leg.

“I thought you might like this place.”

“There’s…where does all the water come from?” Firmus marveled.

“Far below us is a mighty mountain, believe it or not,” Master Plo replied. “Many rivers as well. This planet was not always purely a city. There are ancient cisterns and sewers, and some of the oldest run through the Temple.”

It was wonderful.

“Ah,” said Master Plo. “Here we are. Obi-Wan—-you look tired.”

“And thank you for that, Plo,” answered a sandy haired man with a laugh. “You shouldn’t be shocked given who my padawan is.”

“Hey!”

The younger voice belonged to another boy a couple inches taller than Firmus. (His lot in life it seemed—to always be shorter.) He was very blonde and his eyes were the bright blue of Axxilan desert skies.

“Firmus, this is Master Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker.”

THE MISSING QUEEN

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56395192/chapters/158314120

Once she exited the bar, she took a deep breath. It smelled just as bad, but it was free air and she had the needed information.

“Nicely done,” said Firmus’s admiring voice in her earpiece. “I don’t think you realize just how frightening you can be.”

She allowed her mouth to curve a little as she moved across the street toward the alley where he’d hidden himself.

“Well it helps to know you’re here,” she murmured.

Three men approached behind her and she moved to the side to allow them to pass.

“Evening, sweetheart,” said the paunchy one, gripping her upper arm and hauling her toward the alley.

Her heart sky rocketed and she yanked in panic in his grip, other hand going for her blaster.

“No, no,” growled one of the others, slipping the blaster from her holster. “You had some pretty shiny payment back there. You should be more subtle flashing that around. Give it to us and no one gets hurt.”

They’d followed her from the bar. She hadn’t even checked for that. Stupid, stupid.

“Sense already do I that you wish to keep this boy,” Yoda said, piercing Plo with his big eyes.

“I wish to see him safe and healed above all else,” Plo answered. “I freely acknowledge that he may do better with another. But I am fond of him, yes.”

There was a pause.

“You’re fond of every orphaned tooka we come across as well, Plo,” Windu said, and Kenobi smothered a grin. “Doesn’t mean they should be trained in the Force.”

“I am not in the habit of training Force sensitive tookas,” Plo replied serenely. “Loth wolves are a different matter.”

He felt Windu’s uncertainty at this statement though the man only narrowed his eyebrows a little. Plo enjoyed ‘yanking the chain’ as the humans put it with his colleagues on occasion. It was amusing to keep them guessing about him sometimes.

“Dangerous it is,” Yoda said musingly. “Much like a Loth wolf, Master Plo.”

“I agree that a child with the trauma Firmus has experienced can be more…volatile,” Plo said, nodding at Yoda. “But then, Anakin has had similar struggles. And he is doing remarkably well after a year with Obi-Wan.”

“Well there have only been three fires actually in the Temple itself, if that’s what you mean by ‘remarkably well’,” Windu retorted.

She exited the fresher and Firmus squinted a little, pressing his lip together as he took in her appearance.

“You don’t like it, darling?” she asked on a laugh, linking her arm in his as they strode toward a speeder station.

“I believe ,” he replied with dignity, “that I have shared my opinion about chesnut hair. But it serves the broader purpose, so I will endure.”

Something in Sola’s chest was warm at the thought that he preferred her natural hair color, and it was no hardship to walk beside him like this, as though it was natural.

A human concierge was manning the desk when they returned to the hotel, and it wasn’t one they’d seen before. Hopefully, most of the workers here would only recall her blonde hair if anyone came asking, which was why they had decided she should change the color before they returned.

They went to dinner at a restaurant the concierge recommended nearby and put on the happily married, very normal couple act.

Firmus leaned in while they shared dessert, smiling at her as though he was paying her a compliment.

“And now,” he said quietly, “We start to work our way through drinking establishments.”

Her mouth curled as he took a bite of the chocolate lygel they were sharing.

“Are you asking me to join you on a pub crawl, Captain?” she asked, snagging her own bite on her spoon.

“Essentially,” he responded, rising and retrieving her cloak to place over her shoulders. “But we’re not getting it all done tonight. We need to space this out to avoid suspicion. We want to be as forgettable as possible.”

“Then lead on, Captain my Captain,” Sola murmured in teasing tones. He shot her a sharp look as he donned his own cloak, and opened his mouth as though he was going to respond before he thought better of it and merely held the door open for her.

And what, Sola wondered as they walked to the first bar, had he been about to say?

“Do you have somewhere safe?” Plo asked her. “You are welcome to come with me if you wish.”

She shook her head, long braid swaying. “Thank you, no. I know where I can go. But, Firmus—” her eyes flicked to the freighter and back to his, sorrow evident. “Please take care of him.”

“I will,” Plo told her, and she trotted off into the darkness. Plo sighed and then extended a hand toward the ship, the ramp lowering with a groan of metal.

He strode up this swiftly and into the hold of the ship where he could see numerous cages holding a wide variety of species that moaned and whoofed and growled.

And one cage—-

One cage which contained a human boy, leaning despondently against the bars. They had chained his wrists and ankles to the heavy steel base of the cage and he moved awkwardly, the echo of metal on metal reaching Plo’s ears.

And the despair which permeated the Force so thickly around the child…

Plo’s teeth ached with it.

He approached carefully, drawing the Force about them like a comforting blanket and the boy’s head jerked up, sensing this.

His hazel eyes grew impossibly wide and dark fear leached from him. He moved as far back against the bars as his chains allowed.

“ You… ” he breathed and Plo paused, confused.

“Firmus,” Rilla whispered, gripping his fingers so tightly it hurt. “Firmus, you have to go.”

She sensed it too.

But everyone was watching him. And he hurt so badly, he knew he could not get far. Then his moment was lost anyway when Father came back over with the officers, one of whom was drawing the binders off of his belt.

No, no, no…

And Father wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re going with the officers, Firmus,” he said roughly. “They need to talk to you. And then ah…then you can come back.”

He was lying.

“NO!” Rilla exclaimed, standing in front of him as the officer approached. “Father, please! No! Don’t do this! I can work! I can make enough to pay for this! Father! Father… !”

But Father stood as though deaf and the other officer gripped Rilla, pulling her away as the first man pulled Firmus’s hands behind him and he felt the cold steel snap tightly around his wrists.

“NO!” Rilla screamed, wrenching herself from the officer to fling herself at Firmus, holding him tightly to her own body. “Take me! Please !” He could feel her heart thundering against his chest.

Firmus Piett didn't ask to have this strange ability. But because of it, his life is not his own, and he suffers daily until the arrival of a stranger named Plo Koon. It is then that Piett learns about Jedi and the Force and is taken to Coruscant to live in the Jedi Temple and train alongside a young padawan named Anakin Skywalker. Canon gets vaporized as the two young Jedi navigate slavery in the galaxy, a manipulative Sith Lord, and the trials of Order 66. Along the way, Commander Fox finds he isn't as alone as he thought, Plo Koon adopts yet another son, and the wife of Max Veers is a rather brilliant neuro tech specialist. Come see why all those things matter in this story!

“Firmus,” Sola said quietly, and he blinked to glance over to her compassionate face. She laced her fingers together on the table and leaned forward slightly.

“You got a little lost in thought there,” she said. “I have faith you will contact your ship. You are the sort of man who finds a way.”

He appreciated this confidence and fiddled with the end of his fork.

“I—-it was easier to compartmentalise things while we were in the thick of recovery and escape,” he said. “It is more difficult at the moment not to think about Veers. If he lived.”

There was a beat and then he started a little when one of her hands found his across the table.

“If your friend has half the stubbornness and courage you have displayed, Captain Piett,” Sola said, lips curved gently and her skin warm against his, “I think he made it. I really do. It is the same faith I have that my sister still lives because I know her .”

She wasn’t wrong. Veers had far more courage and grit than Piett could ever have. But he still longed to hear Max’s teasing tones and receive insults about being ‘a mother hen’.

“Thank you,” he said huskily, gripping her fingers. He would be selfish for all of three seconds for the feel of her hand in his.

Veers turned, and was not completely surprised to see General Skywalker approaching with purpose. He too straightened and saluted.

“General,” he said calmly. “What—”

“Follow me, Veers,” Skywalker ordered curtly. “We’re on a time crunch.”

Veers blinked, but was not one to stand gaping like a gorm fish.

“Travis, take over,” he said, striding to catch up with Skywalker who was headed toward the nearest lift.

Once they entered, the General met his inquiring gaze, blue eyes intense.

“We’re going off ship,” he said curtly. “We need to meet with some contacts and there is only a short window of time to do so. Pack a kit for several days, Colonel. Speak to no one about this and meet me in hangar 12.”

“Yes, sir,” Veers answered, brain whirling.

Sola glanced at the map on the datapad, then slid it back into the pocket of her long jacket. They were on course to reach the valley by dawn. There they would need to maneuver a bit to blur the trail in the rocky areas of the dry stream bed before following it down further.

They likely had two hours before the sun’s arrival. She appreciated the grey of early morning as it was easier to mark their terrain, but equally it was easier to see them.

Firmus had not spoken much, and she was certain he was grimly enduring by this point. He was as determined as she was to put significant distance between themselves and the Capitol.

Sola allowed herself to take comfort in his presence once more. Surely, the Force would not have sent her a man such as this only for them to fail? She had to believe Padme was still alive. Her Uncle would have declared himself as the official ruler with great ceremony if she was dead.

It hurt to think of what her sister must be enduring—-alone and a prisoner somewhere. She wondered briefly about Colonel Veers. Had he reached safety?

“Here, duck in here!” he told her, guiding her as carefully as he could while they ran.

Padme panted and groaned, holding her large stomach with the other hand as they ducked under the heavy stone into a small cave.

The best that could be said about it was that it was dry. There was no other comfort but stone and dirt here.

But that was apparently all she would have to welcome her babies with.

“Firmus—-” she began, just as another contraction hit and she doubled in agony. “Hguhhhn!”

“What can I do?” he asked urgently. “I’m so sorry, Padme. Tell me what I can do to help you best.”

She scanned the small interior and pointed to the flattest place she could see.

“There. Help me sit. And…” she paused to breathe, “...I need something other than dirt beneath me for the babies.”

Dear Sir,

Hmm. That sounds so very formal.

Greetings Lieutenant? I don’t care all that much for that address either.

It’s difficult to know how to begin a letter to you. I rather feel that after one has gone through the experience of saving someone’s life and subsequently spent weeks on a voyage in their company, surely there should be less formality?

Dear Firmus.

I like that and I think I shall stick with it. Also, it is much easier to write than ‘Lieutenant Piett’. I hope you don’t mind.

The weather is beginning to turn here and it makes me wonder if you are sailing in balmier seas.

Oh dear.

I’m talking about the weather.

I’ve already started this letter three times, and I have three drafts sitting in the waste basket beside me. I am determined not to do it again, so I am afraid you are getting my flow of thought as it is.

She turned to Firmus.

“You mount first,” she hissed, well aware that she would not be able to lose the tension wound inside until they reached the river. “Then slide to sit right behind the saddle.”

He gripped the saddle horn and she helped to boost him. He grunted softly in pain, but made no comment as he obeyed her orders. She mounted easily and settled into the saddle.

“Hold tight around my waist,” she commanded. “No chivalry here. You can’t fall off, so I mean it. Tight.”

His arms slid around her firmly and he pressed close to her back, bringing both welcome warmth and an alarming hitch in her breathing.

“We have a three hour ride to the location where my contact has left the second horse,” she informed him. This was hardly the time to appreciate those wiry arms around her. Stop it, Sola. “Then we ride through the night. We’ll sleep in the day. But we must make it to the hiding place I have in mind before they start searching for us. It is going to be difficult.”

“I promise not to be stoic,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “If that is what you’re saying. I’ll take painkillers when I need them.”

“Good,” Sola answered, almost not believing they were finally doing this. “And Firmus—I’m glad you’re finally free once more.”

His arms tightened slightly around her waist.

“As am I,” he replied. “Let’s find your sister.”

And Minyas set off into the night.