#Imagine you’re just some guy in the GFFA who needed a job

[ujalayi]

Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon but is anyone writing/ has anyone written the fic about those TK troopers being trained by Scorch on Daro… Has anyone checked on them

[ladililn]

What Rogue One taught me about the Jedi, despite no Jedi actually appearing in it

So I initially started writing this for @rogueoneanniversary last year, and then Real Life happened and I disappeared from Tumblr and then Tumblr disappeared from me and now here we are, a full standard year later, and guess who still has (now very belated) Thoughts she wants to share? This girl! Because guess who still hasn’t gotten over this movie? This me! (Not sure whether @celebraterogueone is the correct place for this now?)

The first time I saw Rogue One, I completely missed the fallen colossus in the sands of Jedha. I just thought it was an overhead shot of some weirdly-shaped mountain. The second time, it took a moment for my brain to register and make sense of the image, and then I wondered how I'd ever missed it.

This one object, one blink-and-you-miss-it set piece, tells us so much about Jedha and the "ancient religion" of the Jedi and themes that run through the entire saga and even, I think, characters who aren't even in Rogue One (there's a reason the fallen Jedi statue looks exactly like Old Ben). It immediately calls to mind Shelley’s Ozymandias:

I met a traveller from an antique land 

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 

Stand in the desert…Near them, on the sand, 

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies[…]

[…]Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

To return for a moment to Admiral Motti’s “ancient religion” line in ANH—I’ve seen people point that out as a plot hole, or at least an early inconsistency, given that the Prequels show the Jedi faith alive and well a mere nineteen years earlier, which doesn’t seem very ancient. I find that charge specious for several reasons—first of all, “ancient” doesn’t mean “dead." I think you could easily and accurately refer to Judaism or Christianity as “ancient religions,” and both of those are alive and well now. The religion began a long, long time ago; thus it is “ancient.” I’d also argue that we hardly needed the Prequels to belie the idea that the Jedi Order was beyond human memory. We know in ANH that Obi-Wan used to be a Jedi Knight, and although Alec Guinness looked (and was) older than Obi-Wan’s actual age, there was nothing in that movie or the other two OT movies to indicate human lifespans differ significantly in the GFFA.

Still, I see the disconnect. On the one hand, we have a not-that-ancient man who was once one of the “guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic.” On the other, you have Luke, who’s never even heard of the Jedi, and Han, who doesn’t believe in the Force. Again, some see these as errors, considering Han was already ten when the Republic fell, meaning the Jedi were still getting up to their incredible and well-documented feats when he should’ve been old enough to be aware and remember.

Explanations for this seeming disconnect can be found across the franchise, and they boil down to two main points: the Jedi’s (relative) lack of reach throughout the galaxy, and Order 66. 

Here’s a fun figure: how many Jedi were there in the galaxy before Order 66? 10,000. Ten fucking thousand. That’s a ridiculously tiny number. A laughably tiny number. A Sci-Fi Writers Have No Sense of Scale number. An entire galaxy, all those planets and star systems, billions and billions (trillions? quadrillions?) of sentient beings, and you could name every single Jedi in a few hours. Put them all in the smallest NFL stadium, and they couldn’t even fill half the seats. 

Sometimes I find the Sci-Fi Writers Have No Sense of Scale-ness of the GFFA frustrating (although IMO the “why is this galaxy filled with the same 10 people?!” complaints fans like to toss around ignores the history of the mythic storytelling tradition Star Wars is very much a part of and how the franchise fits into/plays with those genre conventions, but that’s a rant for another day). But in this case, I fucking love how ridiculous a number 10,000 is. I think it’s perfect. Our view of the Jedi’s relative size and stature in the galaxy is warped by the lens through which we see the galaxy; up until Rogue One, we’re pretty much just hanging out with Jedi. Not only that—in the Prequels and TCW, we’re hanging out with the best of the best, the council members and the freaking Chosen One. They’re the elite among the elite. The 1% of the 1%, only more like the .001% of the .0000000000000001%.

There’s an excerpt from the Rogue One novelization that I think illustrates my point perfectly. This comes from a section of the book that’s meant to be “supplemental data [from the] personal files of Mon Mothma,” a document entitled “Short Notes on the History of the Rebel Alliance Navy” (side note: how much do I love in-universe archival material? a whole fucking lot) (all emphasis mine):

What worked in the Clone Wars cannot work again: the partnership of Jedi Knights and Kaminoan clone armies constituted a peerless weapon that no longer exists. 

Consider a brigade of clone troopers served by a Jedi commander: Such a unit might penetrate a world’s orbital defenses and seize control of the entire planet while taking (and inflicting!) minimal casualties… [W]hat blockade could be thorough enough to keep out a handful of determined star fighters and a single clone drop ship? 

...With the Clone Wars’ end, the destruction of the Jedi Order, and the decommissioning of the Kaminoan cloning facilities, the self-proclaimed Emperor and his military advisers determined that the future of warfare was in large-scale naval weaponry—in a fleet of battleships and battle stations that could atomize any enemy, whether on a planet’s surface or among the stars. They rebuilt a military not for precision strikes but for hammerblows… No potential rebellion could dare eschew infantry altogether, but—lacking the elite support of the Jedi or clones—the cost in lives would be abominable…

From an in-universe perspective, the Jedi are OP as shit. Guys, these are a tiny handful of beings with the ability to move shit with their minds! They can run and leap insane distances at inhuman (yeah, I know that’s an impossible term in the context of a galaxy filled with humans and aliens, but you know what I mean) speeds, they can move in ways other people could never imagine, they have the sort of reflexes that allow Anakin to participate in a sport other members of his species, the most populous in the galaxy by far, physically cannot. They can manipulate the environment around them telekinetically. They can manipulate people telepathically. Their weapons can cut through anything. It’s been said before, but it bears repeating: they are literal space wizards. I know this is all obvious, but think about it from the perspective of your average galactic citizen: here is a microscopically tiny group of people who can literally do magic.

Why are there so few of them? Well, the Force moves in mysterious ways. But also, there don’t really need to be more. Talk about casting an outsized shadow: 10,000 people holding the entire galaxy together. Like Mon Mothma says, one Jedi (and their handful of trusty clone troopers) = an entire fucking battle station in terms of military power. And with the Sith so long in hiding (side note: the Rule of Two makes the Order look positively overpopulated), the Jedi have had no real opponent of their own stature and ability level to contend with for a long, long time. (We see, especially in TCW, how difficult it is for a non-Force user to be made into a credible threat for the Jedi in any circumstances. Those plotlines almost always require characters to be nerfed, either by having to hide their powers (because undercover), being restrained by the Code and not wanting to harm civilians (a Jedi’s primary weapon—though obviously not their only weapon—is hard to make nonlethal, or at least non-maiming), or conveniently forgetting most of their powers.)

Now, it could be argued that there do “need” to be more, because are they actually doing such a great job guarding peace and justice? Are they successfully holding the galaxy together? Even before the Clone Wars, we see in TPM that their power doesn’t extend all the way into the far reaches of the galaxy. Of course, you could also argue that the lawlessness of the Outer Rim has less to do with the Jedi’s inability, in terms of sheer forcible (sorry) power, to do anything about it, and more to do with the politics of the Republic, and you could be right. But that’s part of the point. The Jedi are enforcers of peace, not rulers. They’re not supposed to be making decisions on galactic policy. (That “supposed to” is key, but again: a story for another day.)

So my point is: sure, on Coruscant in the year 20 BBY, you’re not going to have anyone blinking and saying “Jedi who?” It’s a Core World—the Core World—and most of the characters we’re familiar with in the Prequel Era are by necessity among the upper echelons of galactic society, or at least moving in circles that bring them into contact with the upper echelons. High-ranking politicians, rulers of various worlds, heads of planetary militia—people who have reason to be interacting with the Jedi. (Even the criminals they interact with are top-level, crime bosses and legendary bounty hunters. You’re not going to call a Jedi to arrest a petty thief.)

99.999% of the galaxy’s citizens have never seen a Jedi in person. (We’re going to leave beside the issue of the media in the GFFA, because that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of, uh, mynocks?) The farther you get from Coruscant, the farther removed you are from galactic high society, the less you probably know about the Jedi. Han, growing up on the streets of Corellia, has no reason to be an expert on Jedi. I’m sure he’s heard rumors, but he is perfectly justified in being a skeptic, particularly once the Jedi disappear seemingly easily.

Which brings us to the Jedi Purge. Here’s the thing: Order 66 wasn’t just about literally killing all the Jedi and burning their Temple down. It was a planned cultural genocide as well. A revision of history. We all know the line from 1984: “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.” Palpatine destroyed the memory of the Jedi as surely as he destroyed the Jedi themselves. We’ve met, in various canon sources, history professors who lost their jobs because any mention, scholarly or otherwise, of the Jedi Order had become verboten. We’ve seen kids studying for their galactic history class in which one of the questions concerns Mace Windu, leader of a “criminal gang that interfered with a legal execution on Geonosis and sparked the Clone Wars.” Talk about revisionist: that goes against everything Palpatine himself said and did during the Clone Wars, a not-insignificant timespan of at least three years of his own personal history he has to revise, but in his role as Emperor, he can pull that off. This is what totalitarian governments do. We already see it begin in RotS, when Palps tells the Senate all about the Jedi Order’s attempt at a coup. And it’s effective! Five years on, Tarkin himself says the Jedi already feel like a distant memory.

And of course it’s fairly ludicrous (though not, I suppose, impossible) to assume that the statue on Jedha fell and was partially buried in sand within the last 19 years. But that’s one of the things I love most about Star Wars, something it’s particularly famous for: its Used Future aesthetic, the continued reminders that this is a galaxy with a history, one as complex and mysterious and tangled in its own legends as our own. That fallen colossus is one of many clues throughout canon that the Old Republic, the Jedi Order, belief in the Force—all were in decline long before the events of the Prequel Era.

Similarly, it’s clear that Jedha itself, once among the most holy sites in the galaxy, was also only a shadow of its former glory long before it got wiped off the map entirely. From Wookieepedia (again, emphasis mine):

As more of the galaxy was mapped, more direct hyperspace routes were discovered. These new passages made the old, winding routes, such as those connecting with Jedha, obsolete. The once-popular Jedha became an antiquated curiosity rather than a relevant destination, a location for those who desired spiritual guidance, a deeper purpose, or to simply exile themselves from the larger galaxy.

It’s typical Imperial excess to take the idea of Jedha’s long-buried secrets lost to the sands of time and literalize it by blowing the damn thing up. Horace Smith’s Ozymandias is less famous, but as (if not more) relevant to our discussion (“The City’s gone,” anyone?), and I leave you with its last stanza:

We wonder,—and some Hunter may express

Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness

Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,

He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess

What powerful but unrecorded race

Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

[ashlynncoy-blog]

Wading In

A pointless piece of fluff. This story features the GFFA equivalent of French fries, a game that’s basically 3D shuffleboard/curling without ice, Leia wearing shorts, and Han being Han.

You’ve been warned.

When Luke had come bounding up to the Falcon and informed Han Solo that some of the pilots were having a party, and that he ought to come join, Solo had not hesitated to agree. The last time these rebels had thrown anything they’d referred to as a party (as opposed to a reception which had been as stuffy and buttoned-up as it sounded) had been the night after their victory over the Death Star. It had been a raucous and jovial gathering, and Solo had enjoyed himself immensely. If the same pilots responsible for that night (he’d been informed that Gold Squadron always won the after party) were in charge of whatever was going on today, then he was more than happy to join in the reveling.

Luke led him out the west exit of the old Massassi temple and through a brief tangle of trees to a clearing that had until recently been home to a lookout tower. As the base was being deconstructed in advance of the impending evacuation, the clearing, halfway between the temple and the nearest friendly patch fresh water, looked to have been adopted as a social gathering place.

Most of the pilots of Han’s acquaintance were casually hanging about. They were lounging on a few canvas camp chairs and a number of munitions and supply crates that had been repurposed as seating. There was a game of hoversnap in progress, the field taking up the center of the semi-circle they’d arranged themselves in. Dressed in civilian clothes to the man—half of them shirtless and a few barefoot to boot—they might have been a bunch of university buddies on holiday rather than a bunch of battle-hardened fighter pilots eking out a bit of down time. It didn’t look so much like a party as just a few guys making the most of an afternoon off, but it still beat sitting around the hangar waiting for his next cargo.

Especially since his buddies from the flight line were hardly the most interesting thing to Solo’s eyes. It was the unexpected presence of Princess Leia that had his attention. She’d run off almost immediately after the ceremony where she’d hung the Medal of Heroes around his neck and he hadn’t heard yet of her return to base.

She wasn’t dressed like herself, either. The cut-off trousers she wore were only barely decent, hanging onto her hips only thanks to a length of rope she had tied through the belt loops, and rolled up at the cuff to show more leg than Han ever imagined he’d see of her. She had a short-sleeve uniform blouse unbuttoned and tied up at her waist, her ivory camisole was visible, as was a strip of bare skin between its tail and her shorts. She had her hair braided around the top of her head, and a look like she hadn’t a care in the galaxy as she stood behind what looked to be a makeshift work station.

“I didn’t know you were back!” Han said to the princess as he and Luke joined the group.

“Just this morning,” Leia answered. “these guys accosted me almost the moment I landed. But I had heard that you were sticking around. Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Han said back, “your Commander Willard took me aside—told me you all’d be evacuating this base. Said he could use good pilots with fast ships to get through the blockade. Told me I could name my price. So here I am.”

“How noble.”

“We can’t all be heroes, Princess.”

“Didn’t you just get a medal for heroism?” Wedge teased from his seat just to Leia’s left.

“Yeah, well,” Han said with a shrug, “we can’t all be heroes all the time.”

“I suppose,” Leia groaned, “Here,” she said, pointing to a plate of golden-brown something at the far end of the table where she stood, “have a handful, we have plenty. Luke, you too.”

“What is all this?” Luke asked, not hesitating to pick up one of the long, thin pieces and have a taste.

“These are Alderaanian salt tubers,” Wedge replied, “Tycho grew them.”

“Her highness brought me the starts four… five trips home ago,” Celchu piped up from his seat nearby. One of the few pilots with a shirt on, he also wore a hat and sunglasses. Solo wondered if he was concerned about possible sunburn.

“Help yourself,” Leia encouraged, “there’s plenty.”

“And If we need to do another batch, we can,” Wedge added, “Get Leia to cut them, she does it better than the rest of us.”

“But whatever you do,” Tycho added, “don’t let her highness touch the fryer.”

“It was an accident!” Leia challenged.

“How’s your hand, by the way?” Janson asked. He was standing at the edge of the hoversnap field, scoping out his next throw, and looking a little ridiculous in a pair of too-tight shorts and a faded old shirt in a very loud print, which he wore open over an otherwise bare chest.

“It’s getting a pretty nice blister,” she replied, holding up the back of her left hand for inspection.

“Yeah, it is,” Han affirmed. He’d seen burns like that plenty of times on his own hands when he’d gotten a little too careless working on his old speeder before allowing the manifold proper time to cool. It was an oil burn, and it was liable to hurt—a lot. He was kind of surprised she seemed so nonplussed by it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his commlink, waiting to hear Chewie’s characteristic warble on the other end before speaking again. “Hey pal, listen,” he said, “I’m out in the clearing off the west end of the building with a bunch of the guys. Do me a favor, will ya? We got a coupla cold cases under the deck plates—pull one out and bring it back here. And grab a medpac while you’re at it. “

“I don’t need a medpac,” Leia insisted, “it’s not that bad.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Han agreed, putting his commlink back into his pocket. “Put a little burn cream and some firm wrap on it to keep it from gettin’ infected and it’ll stay that way.” Leia rolled her eyes and went back to slicing tubers.

“These are really good,” Luke said, his mouth full of fried tuber as he reached for another handful.

“They’re my favorite,” Tycho said back, lining up at the edge of the hoversnap field to aim his next throw.

“I still can’t believe they took to the soil,” Hobbie said.

“I’m not surprised,” Tycho replied. He tossed the sphere into the field and balled his hands into fists as it hit Janson’s last sphere, knocking it into a lower scoring range. “They’re pretty hearty,” he added, turning around and flashing a grin at Wes, who was shaking his head as he stepped back to the throwing line.

“But they won’t grow in space,” Wedge added, crossing to stand beside Leia and beginning to scoop the newly-sliced tubers into the fryer basket.

“Just about the only thing that kills them is artificial light,” Tycho explained, making his way over to the platter and snagging another few fried tubers for himself. “So we’ve got to eat ‘em before we evacuate. Wedge built the fryer,” he said to Skywalker, who was still hovering over the platter, helping himself to the bounty three at a time, “and Janson spent days rendering the lard and nicking pots of cooking oil from the galley to get the thing working.”

“Looks like I came back just in time,” Leia said, reaching around Wedge’s back to grab a bite for herself.

“Yeah you did,” Wedge replied, dropping the basket into the fryer. “We didn’t want to do this without you, but we were about to have to. This is our last day of stand-down before we’re airborne again. We won’t have another chance before we’re evacuated to hang out in our civvies eating tubers and playing hoversnap.”

“And drinking lager,” Han added.

“What?” Janson asked, turning his head to look at Solo so quickly it effected his throw. His sphere wound up outside the scoring field altogether, but he didn’t seem to care much. Solo was pointing into the jungle, toward the temple. Chewbacca was walking toward them, carrying a large rectangular case.

“Had some bottles in the Falcon’s stores,” Han replied. “Seemed like a good time to share.”

Chewie quickly closed the distance and set the cooler down between the fryer and the crates the pilots were using as seats. Solo snagged the medpac from the top of the case and raised his eyebrows at the princess. She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, following him to sit on an unoccupied trunk so he could bandage her hand.

Yowling his objection to being out in the heat, Chewie bid the group adieu and headed back toward the air-conditioned ship.

“I don’t blame him,” Janson said, pulling open the cold case and examining its contents, “it’s hotter than blazes out here. But this is going to help,” he added, “thanks Solo.” Janson then took on the job of passing out libations, pulling out the tin bottles and passing them around to his friends.

“You’re welcome,” Han replied. “And there’s more where that came from, so drink up. I’m gonna need to cargo space t help you rebels evacuate.”

“None for me,” Hobbie said, “I have deck duty later.”

“If you’re only saying that for my benefit,” Leia said to him, turning her head so as not to watch Han tend to the burn on her hand. It looked gnarly enough without the addition of the viscous burn gel he was using. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t imagine one bottle of lager would be enough to cause problems. But if you want to make absolutely sure,” she added, “pass me one and I’ll let you know if I get buzzed. If it doesn’t affect me, you’ll know you’re safe.”

There were a few hoots and chortles at Leia’s assertion, and Janson hurried to put the next opened bottle into the princess’s un-burned hand. Han finished his ministrations on the other, coating the blister and the red skin around it with anesthetic and antibiotic and then sealing it up with self-firming bandages to keep it from infection. Leia took a pronounced swig of the lager, much to the delight of the others, as Wedge pulled the fryer basket back out of the oil and dumped the freshly-fried treats onto the platter beside him.

Luke was quick to snag another several.

“Han, you really should try these,” he said to his friend.

“If you want,” Wedge added, “I’ve got a jar of Mieriks mustard for dipping. It’s over on the far side of Hobbie—help yourself.”

Han stood up and moved toward the plate of fried tubers, snagging a lager out of his cold case on the way.

“Careful with the mustard,” Tycho said, “that stuff will take the paint off your X-wing. I don’t want to think about what it’ll do to your insides.”

“Solo’s a fellow Corellian,” Wedge reminded his friend, “our palates aren’t so delicate as our dear Alderaanian colleagues.”

“Watch who you’re calling ‘delicate’,” Leia challenged between gulps of lager, “I happen to like spicy food.”

“Yeah,” Hobbie chimed in, tossing his final sphere into the hoversnap field, “well, you’re tougher than the rest of us put together. So your opinion on spicy mustard doesn’t count.” The hoversnap field unit chimed then. All of the spheres fell from their places in space onto the dirt and the scores were projected in the place of the hover-field. “You want next game, Solo?” Hobbie asked then, “I’ve beaten all the rest of these chumps.”

“Nah,” Han said, taking his first bite of fried tuber and immediately reaching for another. “I’ve never been any good at hoversnap. But if any of you have got a deck of cards….”

“Do all pilots enjoy gambling?” Leia asked, as she got up from her seat and ducked around Solo to snag a fresh fried tuber slice off the top of the platter, “or just the ones I manage to attract?”

“I think it’s all of us,” Hobbie answered her, “except maybe Skywalker.”

“He’ll learn to like it once I teach him how to win,” Solo countered. Luke, his mouth still full of tubers, couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe,” he allowed, shrugging his shoulders and reaching for another bite.

“Don’t have a deck of cards,” Wedge replied to Han’s earlier question, “but you know what we could do—now that Hobbie’s affirmed his position as the undisputed hoversnap champion—?”

“What’s that?” Solo asked.

“Well, it’s hotter’n Centerpoint on meltdown,” he answered, “so I figure let’s all go jump in the river while we’ve got the chance.”

“Yessssssss!” Janson shouted, taking off at a flat run toward the narrow strip of trees that separated the clearing from the nearby river. There was a chorus of whoops and laughter as the rest of the pilots took off behind him, Luke bringing up the rear with a generous portion of freshly-claimed fried tubers clutched in his hand. Tycho was already out of his clothes and in the water, and Wes was tossing his loud-patterned shirt over a nearby tree branch.

Han headed off after them. Unlike the others, he was dressed in his everyday clothes, and it was far too hot to run—even toward the blissfully cool river. Leia seemed to be taking her time as well, following the others, but without any semblance of enthusiasm.

“I see you’re hangin’ back,” he said, “what’s the matter? Can’t swim?”

“Of course I can swim,” she snapped back, frowning up at him.

“Oh,” Han said then, “so what is it then? Don’t want the guys seein’ you in your skivvies?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s not that… I’m not modest.” Han felt a pit form in his stomach. Somehow he knew what the issue was. He lowered his voice as they moved closer to where the others were piling into the river.

“You’ve still got bruises,” he said. Leia’s eyes got wide as she looked back at him, and Han knew he’d hit the nail on the head. They’d never talked about what had happened to her on the Death Star. But he knew what the Empire was prone to do to prisoners they thought might have valuable information. He’d always approached her with the presumption she’d been tortured, or at least subjected to treatment he would classify as torture, and she’d never said a word to the contrary.

After the moment of surprise at Han’s assertion, Leia nodded subtly.

“Only a few,” she confided. “If they were fresh, I could pass them off, but it’s clear they’re not. I thought they’d be gone by now.”

“Yeah,” Han said, patting her on the shoulder as they slowed their approach even further, “Deep tissue bruises are a pill. I once had one on my leg from a speeder crash took more than six months to go away completely. It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“No,” she said promptly. “It’s just ugly and I don’t want to talk about it with the guys.”

Han patted her shoulder again before crossing his arms over his chest.

“I hate to be a party pooper, princess,” he said then, loudly enough that the guys in the water were likely able to hear, and surely audible to the few who were still undressing on the river bank. “But that firm wrap I used on your hand is kinda old. I don’t know if the seal is trustworthy—I’m not sure it’s suck a good idea for you to get in the water.”

Leia turned her head in surprise.

“Leave it to you to patch me up with substandard medical supplies,” she snarked back at similar volume, but Han could see the gratitude in her eyes for the out he’d just given her. “I’ll just take my boots off and wade in up to my knees,” she said then, “so I don’t get it wet.”

Han smiled over at her as he plopped down onto a downed tree branch and began tugging off his boots. “You okay with that?” he asked under his breath. Leia nodded.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she bent down and began unlacing her boots.

“Hey, no problem,” he said back, “we haven’t known each other all that long, but we’ve been through some stuff and I’ve got your back. You and the kid both,” he added, “as long as Chewie and me are around, we’re on your side.”

“Thank you,” she said again, “I appreciate that.” Leia slipped her feet out of her boots and yanked her socks off before standing up again and stepping to the edge of the river. Han was out of his boots as well; he rolled his trousers up at the cuff and waded into the water beside her. “You’re not getting in?” she asked. Han shook his head.

“I didn’t get dressed for swimmin’ this morning,” he said, “if you know what I mean.”

A flush rose to Leia’s cheeks.

“I’m glad we’re getting to know each other,” she said, wading farther out into the cool water, “but I didn’t need to know that.”

“I’m glad we’re gettin’ to know each other, too,” he said back. “And I fully intend to see you eat a spoonful of Mieriks mustard before I bug out of here for good, because I’m havin’ a real hard time imagining an Alderaanian princess likin’ that stuff.”

“So I just refuse to eat spicy mustard, and we get to keep you around?” she teased, grinning up at him as though she’d just beaten him at something, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”