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It is one of those formal events one could never quite get away from.
She’d fled into the Rebellion.
A lot of people had, and it had been far easier than she’d thought. Certainly more easy than it should have been. If she’d dared try to use her Imperial rank, unofficial though it was, she could have given them a fair number of pointers.
Not that she could have dared. There were very few on the Rebel side who could have identified her, and none who would have wanted her around.
Not with what was running loose in her head still running loose, anyway.
She keeps that thought shielded. She has to.
The Jedi are here, or at least some of them. And they aren’t really Jedi proper, most of them, anyway, which isn’t exactly a secret.
That was part of why she really hasn’t tried to get away from this event.
She’d been watching one of them, bit by bit.
Oh, it wasn’t hard to cover up having a serious thing for looking at Luke Skywalker. Not even cover up, just excuse. Half the women in the Rebellion before Endor had some form of crush or heavy curiosity aimed in his direction. Even after the whole mess with Vader turning back and surviving, there was still some interest in the young Jedi Knight.
Not as much, though, and to hear the female pilots talk it was mostly one night tryst material anyway.
She wanders along the wall as Kendalina gets too near in her endless circles of the dance floor with her darling. There is no way to know how much the woman and her Sith-spawned husband would be able to read out of her mind, given how much they exist in each other’s.
During the past months since she arrived, she has been working her way up the maintenance hierarchy. All on skill, of course. There’s no connection she can use here for leverage, and she doesn’t dare use the Force for anything outside her own mind. And for some reason, in the Rebellion’s eyes, even the chief hyperdrive mechanic (Force be praised she’d learned that skill, and learned it well) of the remaining squadrons on board was allowed to informal parties.
That the Lady Ex’s population was far lower than it had been under the Empire and that most of its space was either storage for material that needed to be held for later use or housing for those not in fighting trim at the moment did nothing to help her get out of coming, particularly not when the women in the squadrons had recently threatened to drag her there.
One of the few bits of her old life she had managed to smuggle out in her flight was a close-fitting but dignified calf-length red dress. It wasn’t much of anything compared to most of what she’d been exposed to growing up in the Emperor’s service, just something she wore when she had to do business on the level of ordinary beings.
She is absolutely sure that Vader never saw her wear it, which is something she could not claim for the rest of her wardrobe.
She doesn’t know why the other women pushed her so much to participate. She’s been doing her best to keep from becoming attached to anyone here. Less trouble for others if she’s found out, fewer things to hold her here, and greatly reduced chances of being found out.
Not that she’s done any damage by being here. Not that she’s collected one bit of even overheard information for anything but her own personal curiosity, of course. Even if she was spying, who would she spy to?
No damage at all.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!
Apart from that little bit of damage. She slides the thoughts behind the mental barrier her once-master taught her to build long ago.
The anger burns for a moment.
She was used, and she knows it. Not in the same ways Vader was, but used nonetheless.
Used.
He’d told her she was special. He’d told her she was the only person he would trust to do the things she did.
Damnit, she was acting like a jilted lover.
Lover.
She pushes those thoughts down, too. She can’t afford them. She couldn’t afford them even if that command wasn’t rattling in her head.
His father is the one person in the entire Rebellion who would be able to identify her. The one person who knows what she’s done.
Would it matter to anyone that she’s still just under the age of human majority on most truly civilized worlds? Could it matter?
One of her ‘friends’ walks up to where she stands in the shelter of a bit of decoration. “Benta, come on! At least go sample the food. It actually tastes like it’s supposed to tonight.”
She likes ration bars. Ration bars are predictable. Ration bars never look good after they’ve gone bad. In bad situations, ration bars are a girl’s best friend, and they’ve never given her a reason to doubt that about them.
Unlike other things in this galaxy.
There’s a ration bar and a liter of purified water waiting for her in her quarters tonight.
She lets herself be dragged to the food, and too late realizes who is already standing nearby.
Him.
Not the younger one. She can outrun that repulsorchair he’s been stuck occupying in the months since Endor, and do so quite casually if need be. (And she’d have to, the way her mind is working tonight.)
She has no desire to see if she can outrun a turned-Light once-Sith-Apprentice who finally has his health back and doesn’t mind using it. No desire at all.
He’s three meters ahead of them in the line. No problem, he won’t even see her if she doesn’t manage to act casual, and not one else in the room would have any reason to think of slight to moderate unease in the presence of him to be noticeably unusual.
She wonders why the Jedi and their Force-sensitive friends are even here. This is a general open party, and none of the Force-sensitives but Kendalina and her man are going to be dancing.
Luke certainly won’t be.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!
She makes her guards firm, but not until there’s ever so slight a shift in how the man ahead of her balances his weight as he stands.
He’s gone from relaxed to battle-primed. He might even be warning the boy of the apparent danger right that very moment.
//What are your intentions towards my son, Jade?//
She wants to run.
It’s not her fault she’s got that command stuck in her head.
//I don’t want to hurt him.// It is as honest a statement as she thinks she can make without giving the man any more information than he has to have. //And I’m Benta Nahim here.//
She catches the start of a held-in mental snort – it really was a horrible name. Not that anyone else in the room would know the language it was mildly based on, of course.
YOU WILL KILL LUKE SKYWALKER!
She hides it down, but from the way he stiffens she knows he caught part of it. He’s too close to her mind right now to miss it.
She busies herself with the salad bar, letting her self-appointed friend move away back into the swirl of people.
“I need help,” she whispers, just loudly enough he should be able to hear it. And it’s true. She was never taught how to remove a Force-compulsion.
“I won’t argue with that.” His voice is gruff with emotion but as quiet as hers. //Don’t think I don’t remember what your job usually was.//
//And don’t you think I want to do what that voice is telling me to!//
He turns his back completely to her as he investigates a meat platter – no telling how fresh, but it’s food and it hasn’t spoiled. //And just what do you want to do?//
//Stay here. Be Mara. Other than that, I don’t know.//
//You don’t know? Wandered from Coruscant to here, exchanged the safety of Imperial Center for the Lady Ex in the middle of nowhere space, and you don’t know?//
//Damnit, Vader, I’m not even seventeen!//
//!//
From that nonverbal reaction, the sense and the strength of it, she knows he understands what she was trying to make him see.
On any of the Alliance’s worlds or ships, she’s too physically too young to be considered an adult.
She’s got the physical appearance of an adult human female, and more than enough experience of the world to not be an innocent little girl anymore.
She isn’t one, and hasn’t been one for a long time. Not since she was five and Palpatine showed her what happened to people who defied him.
But she’s never been an independent person until this past year. No one, least of all her, had planned on little Mara Jade, Emperor’s Hand and trained Force-guided assassin, to ever have to come up with her own orders.
She’s surviving just fine, except for that command, but thinking about the far future is a bit past her at the moment.
//Just get this thing out of my head!//
//You’ll have to let me in…//
She glowers at the back of his head.
…
A few moments later, he’s gotten rid of the compulsion.
Anakin is rather surprised at how easy it actually was. The old Sith Master had been so distracted that he hadn’t done as secure a job as Anakin knew he was capable of. Besides that, young (she was really THAT young?) Miss Jade had done a good job beginning to rip it down herself. A few more months of work and she would have had it thrown out of her head completely on her own.
//Don’t tell anyone who I am.//
//Considering what I just did for you…// He finally moves away from the table with his plate and begins heading to the table where Luke is explaining cultural issues to Kalani as she listens with bright eyes.
//Considering your family was the target…// she counters.
//You do have a point.// He debates with himself over whether or not to continue. //And to be honest, having an unidentified Force-sensitive on board could be useful for everyone. Although perhaps Piett and Veers may need to know you’re around.//
He shouldn’t be planning strategy around someone her age, not given how much she’s already been used. Not given how little Force-training in anything but communication and sensing she’s been given.
He glances at her out of the corner of his eye.
The look in those green eyes…
Those golden years in the Jedi Temple before the war began… his friends, those exchange students from that other Force tradition… Kennet had never had that look, but Hannar and Saman both had in the odd moments between incidents of Padawan mayhem in the hallways and meditation corridors.
//No details,// she begs.
Anakin is suddenly aware of just how intently Luke has begun to look in their direction.
//No details.//
She walks away, back to whatever place she was standing or sitting before. That, at least, is absolutely none of his business.
Kalani is watching Kendalina try to teach Triclops a Corellian Waltz when Anakin makes it back to the table.
Ah, real food. Finally and at long last, he can eat just about anything human-safe.
He’s halfway through when Luke asks him who he was talking to.
“I think she works with hyperdrives.” True enough, as he’d gotten hintings of that from her mind just moments before. It wasn’t breaking her cover to repeat it to others, now was it?
“What’s her name? I’ve seen her around.”
Anakin recognizes the look on his son’s face instantly. Not for the first time, he wonders if pairing off at first sidelong glance is a general Force-user trait, or if his bloodline has just been specially cursed.
//Brig. Bait.//
He has to say it. He was legally of age himself when he’d escorted Padme to Naboo – his heart aches at the memory – even if he hadn’t officially stopped being Obi-Wan’s – another ache – ward until he’d achieved knighthood.
“Benta Nahim.” He has to fight his reaction down again.
“What’s funny?” Luke asks, looking disturbed and radiating mild offense.
“The name means something in Sith. Nonsense, but funny nonsense.”
Luke settles back down. “Oh.”
After a moment, //She doesn’t seem that young.//
//Sixteen, and never had a chance to be innocent was my understanding.//
The mild hint of attraction in remaining on his son’s face turns to something much more defensive. Anakin had not really been worried that any friendship that could form between the two even potentially could go farther before she turned seventeen – and much likely a fair bit older, given the personalities involved – but better to know now. Personally, he'd bet on actual true friendship only happening after she turned eighteen - she's got too much healing left to do before she'll trust out of anything but pragmatic need.
And besides, Luke now knows she’s been damaged by her past. He will be careful.
…
She’s one of the last to leave.
That’s fine with Luke, as he’s also one of the last to leave.
He had thought she was somewhat pretty before, even running through the corridors of the massive ship in mechanics coveralls and engine grease streaked over her face, hair braided behind her, but now…
Just sixteen?
She holds herself like someone twice his age. The only thing breaking that illusion is that she still hasn’t quite physically grown into adulthood – it’s most noticeable around her face. He doubts that even he would have noticed that if he hadn't been told her real age - she'd have at least seemed twenty-five.
The only place he’s seen that before is in people like Leia, who have had to act like adults in political and social situations from childhood. Not people who could possibly work as a mechanic, no matter how handy at minor emergency repair Leia has gotten since the Senate was dissolved. Besides, that sort of person would have gotten snatched up by the diplomats the second she came to the Rebellion. The skills were too needed.
Just sixteen…
He can’t resist the urge to just passively see what he can sense through the Force about her from here, but the second he reaches out…
//GET OUT OF MY MIND, SKYWALKER!//
He barely keeps himself from falling out of the chair. Triclops drops a fork at the next table. He’s fairly sure he sees his father shake his head slightly and chuckle over at the food as he reloads his plate again. Kendalina looks flustered for a moment.
His father had given him no clue she was Force-sensitive, much less trained in any sort of capacity.
He reaches out again, more carefully and staying farther away.
//Stop that. Unless you want to be grounded for months after you finally get back on your feet again by me finding a thousand little minor things wrong with your X-Wing’s hyperdrive…//
//Yes, Ma’am,// is his reflexive response. He retreats.
He looks over at her casually and sees the hint of a victory smirk leaking through a highly schooled smile.
Definitely sixteen.
His blood chills for a second. If she’s that strong, then why isn’t Father trying to get her introduced to the rest of us?
It hits him then.
Father knows her.
She finally walks out the door, leaving the remains of the party to the Jedi and almost-Jedi.
‘Never had a chance to be innocent’?
Triclops yawns. He and Kendalina get up and move out themselves.
Anakin returns to the table with what had remained of the dessert offerings.
//Father, who is she?//
//I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone.//
//Father…//
//Not Sith, just used. If she ever wants to deal with other Force-users again, she knows where we all are.//
They sit in silence, watching people leave and the cleaning droids begin to appear.
//By who?// Luke finally asks.
//Not me.//
And that’s all that needs to be said.