Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Doctor Aphra
- DRAMATIS PERSONAE
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- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Well, no. Because this wasn’t the end of our story. Far from it.
After that, we…
The recording goes fuzzy.
APHRA (narration):
Recording, delete that last bit. There are some things no one needs to know but me.
SCENE 29
INT. CAVE. ANTHAN PRIME.
APHRA (narration):
Back to the stuff that’s actually interesting! I returned to the caves of Anthan Prime to rendezvous with Vader. As usual, that dark, impenetrable mask gave nothing away. But I was learning how to study him closely—where to look for his tells. The way his shoulders would stiffen or his gloved fist would clench—they were the tiniest of movements, but I saw them all.
I tried to relay everything I’d learned from Commodex Tahn without embellishing too much.
I did okay with that part, but I couldn’t contain my growing curiosity—
I knew Vader was trusting me more and more, but I needed him to divulge more of his secrets. I needed to figure out how to use his power for my own gains, my own epic quest.
So I worked in a little strategic prodding about some of the things I was starting to piece together…
APHRA:
That’s my report. In short: Your sources were right. She had a son.
A weighted beat of Vader’s breathing.
APHRA:
And I mean…this is our farm kid, right? Our Death-Star-destroying pilot, Skywalker? Is that why you were so curious about Amidala giving birth, Lord Vader?
DARTH VADER:
Did you discover anything else?
APHRA:
Nothing relevant, really. I mean, Tahn really loved her—Amidala.
Sounds like she was something special.
APHRA (narration):
I…don’t know why I said that part. Except that being around Vader and his inscrutable mask was still extremely intimidating, so sometimes I babbled to fill the space. But for some reason…that particular bit of babble seemed to hit him right in the gut. He went silent for a long moment, staring into the dark abyss of the cave. There was that ever-so-slight stiffening of posture. A little thrill ran up my spine. I’d hit on something.
Another bit of information to file away—why did this affect him so much?
And notice that he didn’t exactly confirm my brilliant conclusion about the farm kid—but he didn’t deny it, either. So I was pretty sure I was right.
While he was doing his broody thing…I also couldn’t help but fixate on what I’d just said. Did I think Amidala was special? How could I?
She’d been good and weak, in the exact same way that my mother was good and weak.
That wasn’t special. That was predictable. That was something I never wanted to be.
Amidala, the good queen…she would never have looked for doors the way I did. And she definitely wouldn’t have made her own.