Hello, people. I figured I'd write something for Star Wars. I've written a few other fanfics, but none with such a prolific couple like Like and Mara. So, here goes.

(Corellia, circa 2.5 ABY)

"That was a hell of a party!" Wedge exclaimed, stumbling out of a Corellian apartment.

"Han sure knows how to throw a party," Leia noted.

"Mm hmmmmm…"agreed one of the X-Wing pilots, just before he fell over.

"(Burp) I think we needed some more alcohol…" drawled one of Han's Corellian friends.

"And (hic) some more beers," cut in the collapsed X-Wing pilot.

Luke Skywalker watched with amusement as members of the Rogue Squadron, mixed with drunk native Corellians, wobbling their way over toward the landing pads. He wasn't one for heavy drinking, and was thus drafted as the group's "designated flyer."

Watching the pilots and native delinquents bumble around drunkenly was worth not having a few drinks. Grinning, he pulled out a holovid camera and began filming.

Leia grabbed the fallen X-Wing pilot by the heels and started pulling, trying to keep up with the group. "Ahh… (hic) Leia… Right there…" he drawled on, much to the groups amusement.

Frustrated, Leia dropped him on the ground and kept walking.

The pilot opened his eyes to see Wedge and three others standing over him. "Aww, (hic) it's just you guys. (hic) Where's Leia? (hic)"

Unlike the drunken pilot, some people had drank more sparingly. It was one of those Corellians who responded, "She dropped you here and kept walking."

Other than a weird facial expression and a series of slurred mumbles, the pilot was too drunk to respond intelligently.

"Don't worry," Wedge laughed. "She went to get you some more alcohol and beers."

-40 standard minutes later-

Luke snickered, remembering what had transpired less than an hour ago. He was thankful to have recorded it. If only Obi Wan was still alive. He would get a kick out of this.

Luke frowned, remembering how the old Jedi had sacrificed himself to save himself, Leia, and their contingent. Someday, he would avenge his former mentor. Someday, he would go up to that monster Darth Vader, and he would…

Smiling, he thought of the ways he would avenge his father, Obi Wan, and their extinct Jedi Order.

"Let go of your anger, Luke," the Obi Wan's spirit advised, appearing in the empty pilot seat to his left.

"Get out of here, Obi Wan. He's done too much to forget."

"Luke, I am fine with being an apparition. Saving you was worth it. I have fulfilled my destiny by enabling you to live and have a chance at fulfilling yours. And I still saw the scene on Corellia." Obi Wan laughed quietly, but with a hint of sadness, almost as if laughing put a strain on his spiritual remnant.

"What am I going to do, Ben?"

"Just never get as drunk as those pilots, Luke."

"Thanks, Obi Wan," Luke said sarcastically. "I will forever endear your words in my heart."

Shaking his head, Obi Wan slowly became more and more transparent. It was sort of symbolic, Luke assumed. Almost like saying that when you die, you have nothing to hide.

The now invisible spirit of Obi Wan Kenobi could sense his thoughts through the force. What Luke completed was true… from a certain point of view.

Mara Jade was getting absolutely nothing done. Of course, having been recently gifted with a Super Star Destroyer from Emperor Palpatine, she should have something to do besides twiddle her thumbs.

Sense the irony?

Nonetheless, she milled around her quarters. More luxurious than anyone's on the ship, it reminded her of a room in an imperial apartment, or at least a middle –class home.

Like her room, it was a nice ship. Straight from the outfitters and newly commissioned, it was one of the best, most state-of-the-art, most intimidating Star Destroyers patrolling the space lanes. But seriously, what was wrong with her old personal starship?

She pulled the bed sheets taut, and looked around idly.

"Commander Jade?" someone from the bridge asked, appearing on her desk's portable holovid.

That was another "issue." She had her own ship, but next to no privacy. And she was only given the mere rank of Commander? Sighing, she turned around towards the holovid.

Her usual strategy of being outwardly threatening took over.

"You are not to use the holovid receiver in my bedroom. It is for my personal use only. Is that understood?"

"Commander, we tried your study. You were not present," the Imperial officer droned.

"I don't care. You know the rules. It's my ship."

"Yes, Commander Jade. We just called to notify you that we are passing into Rebel-polluted space."

"Understood, Admiral. Proceed as planned."

The holovid cut short, and Mara went back to her state of boredom.

She was a bit regretful, always having to act so much like her Master. Sometimes, she was mean just to hide any vulnerability, so she could be seen as the Emperor wanted her. Fearless.

Why was she even doing this?, she wondered. A Super Star Destroyer with a large bedroom and other comforts really wasn't payment for five years of extreme loyalty as his assassin.

Palpatine, or should she say Darth Sidious, and his style permeated through the Imperial ranks. The Admiral on the holovid had referred to the Rebels as "pollution."

They called the enemy inhuman, but those hypocritical imperials were much the same. Palpatine was the worst. He had taken her from her family.

She remembered, if not vividly, but the memories were there. She had been…kidnapped? No, officially she was handed over (taken) to be trained as an assassin. Barely, she remembered her parents, not wanting to let her go, but powerless to stop it.

That was the first time she used the force. When she sensed her parent's regret, at the young age of three, sealed the deal. Since completing her "training" at the age of fourteen, almost five years ago, Palpatine had slowly sucked both her morals, and then parts of her life, out of existence by forcing her to snuff out others.

But I had been taught no other way, she reflected remorsefully.

The little girl in her, the one with the love for her parents, the one with emotions and happiness, had been locked away years ago.

She had recently sensed the same conflict in her superior's apprentice, Lord Vader. He was more machine than man-a cyborg. When Anakin "died", as she had been taught by Palpatine, he truly "unlocked his potential". She had been pulled in the same way.

The humanity in him had been snuffed out the same way, she realized. His loyalty towards his [re]creator would win, but his humanity would always come back and attempt to undermine his remorseless intent.

It was much like the Rebel Alliance she was always fighting. Outnumbered but resilient, they were nearly impossible to destroy 100%, 100% of the time.

What am I thinking?! She silently chided, squashing back the Rebel Alliance in her. She was 18 years old, and this would be her life. Like Lord Vader, things were too late for her.

She continued re-organizing, now focusing on a section of her dresser. The fatigue shirt on the top pile was so inconveniently permeated with memories. It had been given to her by an Imperial palace dancer, who had used to be friends with. Before Palpatine cut her ties to the outside world to focus on her training.

It was all black, but the front had a row of beaded wine glasses. The back read, "Wine a bit. You'll feel better." Well, she wasn't allowed to whine or complain at all. But she still appreciated the pun.

Slowly opening a cabinet in a nearby room, she pulled out a small bottle of Corellian wine. As she poured a small glass, she desperately wished she could release her pent-up feelings the same way.

But they would probably be colored the same hue as her wine.

Just an introductory chapter.

Feel free to leave PMs and reviews with plot ideas. Suggestions are always welcome.

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-ClaptonJr.