Chapter Text
It took Vader and Kenobi twenty minutes to get to a point where hostilities had subsided far enough to let everybody return to and remain in their seats. They occupied opposite ends of the first row, Obi-Wan having crossed his only slightly translucent blue arms over his chest and staring straight ahead with a haughtily raised chin and Vader doing almost the same thing, only that instead of a weak blue light, he emitted a palpable aura of malevolence. Twenty half-molten, broken or straight-up missing seats marked the space between them as no man's land.
Three rows behind them, where the density of usable chairs increased enough for three consecutive seats to be found, Leia Organa had chosen to take up residence. The three seats were slightly off-center towards Kenobi, so she was symbolically taking his side, but she had chosen the middle one to demonstrate that she wasn't too afraid of Vader.
Because Leia's friends were exactly as foolhardy as the Senator herself, they had wasted no time joining her, save for the two seconds of bickering over who had to take the seat on Vader's side. Solo lounged to her left, having been discouraged from leaning closer by the most frigid of royal glances, while Skywalker had brought and offered popcorn. He kept shooting distrustful glances towards Vader and worried / impressed ones towards Kenobi. The fight had been spectacular, since Kenobi hadn't been trying to sacrifice himself for anyone's retreat this time and Vader had been extremely, insanely angry about being locked into a room with him, and the entire thing had also been rather detrimental to the health of any onlookers due to an abundance of flying, burning cinema seats.
Chewbacca was very, very tall. As a result, he had picked the friendly option of sitting off to the left on the outer reaches of their row. He had also found a snack from somewhere. It looked raw and splattered blood over the floor with every bite, so Solo hadn't tried too hard to convince him to sit with them instead.
Rebel High Command (except for the Princess) had mostly clustered together in the middle of the room. Their expressions were ranging from coolly collected (Mon Mothma) to that's DARTH VADER (Rieekan) and my scales (Ackbar). The latter had gotten slightly singed by a flying chair earlier. Around them were the handful of rebel pilots who had survived the run on the death star, as well as two Tie Pilots who were mostly keeping their distance from the rebels, but even more from the bunch of rough-but-frightened-looking people in the back, including Max Reebo and the Mos Eisley Cantina Band. One guy with only one arm was staring at Kenobi not as much if he had seen a ghost (which he had), but rather as if he had seen a very much alive axe-murderer, or perhaps lightsaber wielder (which he had not). He seemed the only person in the room more terrified of Kenobi than of Vader.
Nobody had noticed them yet, but R2D2 and C3PO were deftly skirting the edges of the crowd, staying in sight but below notice to try and collect any and all information they could.
So far, this had amounted to the following:
1) None of the organics knew anything about where they were or how they had gotten here.
2) Whoever had done this was powerful enough to kidnap and detain Vader, Fist of the Empire, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was apparently a literal ghost, which should really have exempted him from being dragged to and detained in places he didn't want to be in.
3) The tentative peace treaty between rebels and imps was, with the exception of Vader and Kenobi, surprisingly stable, mostly because everyone silently agreed that it was best to avoid anything and everything that could set the two off again.
4) They all, Force-Sensitive or not, had the feeling that the theater was waiting for something.
Finally, R2 resorted to looking for something he could use as a data port, while C3PO wandered off to attempt to strike up a conversation with the vending machine. When the organics didn't know what was up, other droids usually did.
The lights dimmed. Chatter and conversation died down as the collective attention was drawn towards the screen, the last stragglers straightening unconsciously to get a better view as the old-fashioned red velvet curtains drew back and revealed the canvas.
There were no ads. As if they had needed any more indications that something was odd.
The 20th century fox theme appeared. In case you don't have the clip ready to play in your brain:
It starts with drums, and darkness, and blinding lights, and back then we had the clunky logo appear as a huge building with letters on top up in lights.
"Oh no," Solo mumbled over the sounds of the brass section, "Please don't let it be gladiator fights, please don't let it be gladiator fights -"
Among the others, side-eyes and shrugs were exchanged. The air tasted like the staleness of a large hall with dusty plush seats and fear, stretched taut over too many rows.
Why was the picture flat? Why was it in colour? What did the exotic letters on top of the building mean and why were they being worshipped like a god?
"Please don't be another cult," a rebel murmured. "We had way too many cults lately."
The Lucasfilms Logo appeared in green plasma, sparkling and turning green with the triumphant end notes before fading to black. There were many questions.
However, rebels knew how to keep their mouths shut, and usually practiced that especially diligently when Vader was around. The imperials also knew to keep their mouth shut and usually practiced that especially diligently when Vader was around.
Out of the black silence rose blue letters, this time finally in Aurebesh.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away …
Almost reverent silence, torn apart by a sudden tone from the brass section, quickly joined by an entire orchestra in a joyous, determined kind of march, adventurous as the yellow letters appear on-screen -
Oh, come on. You all know what the opening crawl looks like.
STAR
WARS
Episode IV
A NEW HOPE
“Why are we starting with Episode IV?” Skywalker asked over the music. “That doesn't even make sense.”
“Maybe the first three have a completely different mood that changes the way you see the others if you see them first - wait, what?” The Princess suddenly narrowed her eyes at the screen.
It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships […] evil Galactic Empire -
“That's us!” Skywalker whispered, eyes wide in surprise.
Vader’s fist met the arm of his chair and nearly snapped it off. “What is this thinly-veiled rebel propaganda -”
“Rebel propaganda?” Obi-wan said with mock surprise. “You weren't even mentioned anywhere. This story explicitly states it's not about our galaxy. Or do you mean to tell me you identify with the term “evil galactic empire” specifically? How strange -”
Vader ripped the armrest from his seat and threw it at Kenobi, and off they were again. Screaming broke out as Rebels, Imperials and random Tatooine citizens alike scrambled for cover, ducking into alcoves and against the walls. Chewbacca, Leia and Han dragged Luke away from the attempt to help Kenobi, who needed zero help considering his body was only physical about 30% of the time and none of it was allotted to when Vader was trying to choke him.
The movie had conveniently paused the second property damage had occurred.
Order was restored only after Vader had calmed down enough to remember that a) Obi-Wan was already dead, b) he didn't have his lightsaber, and c) whatever had trapped them here was more than powerful enough to keep him there, so maybe complying with the program really was be the smartest option.
As they had all realized during the first time they had tried to get out.
The rest of the theater crawled out of corners, seat rows and, in the case of one particularly small nonhumanoid, the snack vending machine. The movie resumed with its crawling exposition. The runtime in the corner showed 0:00:59.
We are going to die in here, a terrified Tie fighter pilot thought desperately.
[…] Rebel spies […] secret plans […] DEATH
STAR, […]
Vader turned his helmet to pointedly stare at Kenobi, who just shrugged.
“Yeah, that could be anybody,” Solo drawled. It wasn't quite clear who of the two he was making fun of. Knowing him, the chance was about 50/50, so Princess Leia refrained from elbowing him in the side and limited herself to a narrow-eyed glare.
[...] Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess Leia races home aboard […]
The entire movie theater turned to look at her as one. Her Highness’ back was very straight, her face very blank and her skin very pale.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Rieekan mumbled.
[Who's that?] a member of Max Reebo's band mumbled. [A story character, obviously,] the saxophonist replied. [Have you never seen a holomovie before? Just wait. We're gonna find out.]
[I have definitely never before read a holomovie,] the first one grumbled, but obediently fell silent.
Mon Mothma concernedly mustered the back of Leia's head, but for the moment, she remained silent as well. She, too, had a bad feeling about this.
[…] custodian of the stolen plans that can […]
“Are you still denying it was you who stole the plans, your Highness?” Vader asked sardonically. “Even your own people admit it.”
Organa raised her head a little higher. “A shame that knowing that didn't rescue your space station.”
A short pause before Vader said dismissively, "It was badly built anyways.”
“You say that as if you think that's a point in YOUR favor,” she remarked mildly.
“... save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy,” Han read half-loud. “Someone has a really high impression of you there, your Worship, don't you think?”
“Shhhht,” someone hissed from the back. “It's starting!”
The music had slowed to a tentative chirping of flutes and the stars were shimmering peacefully in the sky. The camera panned down onto the orbit of a rusty-red planet with at least two moons.
(“Hey, look,” one of the Mos Eisley cantina patrons joked, “it's our group photo!”)
Then Princess Leia's ship rushed past, followed by the Devastator's gigantic, ever-growing, sky-devouring, absolutely massive hull. Chatter broke out, mainly among the rebels.
“Is that the Tantive IV?"
“That must have been directly after Scariff, how did they -”
“Where did the footage come from?”
“That was your ship?” Han turned to the Princess with a semi-appreciative look, one eye still on the screen. “Hey, not too bad for someone who has never been in a real dogfight before. She takes more than you would think with that exterior.”
When Leia didn't answer, he did a double take. She had gone back to being pale again and was staring at the screen mutely.
She and Vader were the only ones left alive who knew where this had led next. And, Force, the things that had come after.
The droids, Threepio fearful, Artoo doubtful. Running rebel soldiers. Leia's bad feeling intensified. She knew these faces. She knew these people. She knew how most of them had died.
She knew none of them were here right now.
“Oh,” 3PO said from the back, because he had exactly one volume setting and it was made for easily understandable conversation, “that's me!”
An annoyed blat, followed by indignant sputtering, and the droids faded back into unremarkableness. Leia thought to throw a worried glance over her shoulder - Artoo on the loose, when the fire exits were blocked? Oh well, she would have to trust him.
Nobody ever paid much attention to droids, anyway.
R2 cursed quietly to himself, leading to another tirade from 3PO. The door locks themselves were easy to pick, but the doors didn't so much as budge Something from the outside had to be holding them shut. The room had no windows, either.
Alright, he decided. On to the fire exits. If that didn't work, the room still had a ceiling and a ventilation system. No time to waste. The organics might believe they had tried every possible exit in the initial panic when they had all woken up together, but he wouldn't believe it until he had failed at using all of them himself.
With a series of clonking noises, the Tantive IV was sucked into the giant underbelly of the star destroyer, like a small fish into the mouth of a sting ray.
Captain Antilles' determined face appeared behind a gun. Leia closed her eyes, even as everyone else leaned forward.
She didn't want to see it.
The door was cut open and stormtroopers spilled into the hallway, surrounded by mist. The crew in the hallway put up a brave fight, but they were unarmored and outnumbered. They were slaughtered within seconds.
Luke's fingers had turned white where they were gripping the seat. Obi-Wan looked faintly sad. Leia's face was as pale as alabaster and just as unmoved. Horrified silence was hanging over the rebel part of the theater as the droids hurried through another corridor and the hunt continued around them. Leia flinched almost imperceptibly as another rebel fell.
Han mustered her out of the corner of his eye and then stretched a little, hoping to take some of her attention. It didn't work, but he and Luke exchanged a quick glance over her head. This was not going to be pretty - in fact, it was probably about to get way, way worse.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Han murmured. "We could just relocate towards the back and loudly play rock, paper, scissors with our backs to the screen until everything is over."
"No," Leia said grimly, her hands digging into the armrests of the seat. "I don't know who is forcing us to watch this or why, but I'm suffering through it with dignity."
Han grimaced slightly, but nodded.
"Let us know if that changes," Luke offered, sounding so sincere she didn't even manage to get mad at him for it. Leia nodded stiffly without looking at him, and that was that.
Then Vader entered the ship, striding in through the hole in the door like a lethal pillar of black, all swishing cloak and shiny, insectoid armor - imposing, surrounded by mist and an aura of fear, seeming at the same time more and less than human.
Double mechanical breathing filled the movie theater as two frightened rebel pilots in the back reached for each other's arms, holding on tight as their gazes jumped from the Vader on-screen to the real one.
"Top ten dramatic entrances," Leia said, forcing herself not to shake and aiming for her usual dryness. She didn't quite hit it, but Luke gave her a smile anyway, and she relaxed minutely. For a second.
She'd be damned if she gave the people who were doing this to her the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
A pale hand fed the plans into a white-and-blue astromech droid, seconds before Threepio blundered into the room to complain and demand, “R2D2, where are you?”
In his seat, the real Vader raised one hand as if to massage his temples, then dropped it again. This explained ... a number of things.
Fine. Perhaps watching whatever this was was going to end up being informative, even if he doubted it.
The lady in white who the hand belonged to ducked away into the belly of the ship before Threepio could react to her presence, then watched the two droids leave before disappearing herself.
[Is that the princess?] the annoying band member asked.
[Probably,] the saxophonist ground out.
The surviving rebels were being detained quickly and efficiently, their hands behind their heads. All of them knew they were going to their deaths, and their faces showed it: stony resignation paired with fear.
Ackbar made a mournful noise.
"Why are they making us watch this?" a particularly young Rebel pilot whispered to their colleague. They sounded like they were about to be sick.
Then the camera nonchalantly panned to Vader holding a regular-sized human being up by the throat with one single hand.
Someone audibly choked. “What the F-” But they were instantly assaulted by a chorus of shushing, because the dialogue had begun.
Despite being choked to death and visibly panicked and in excruciating pain, the Rebel soldier lied through his teeth without so much as flinching. Leia looked grimly satisfied. That was, had been, her crew: loyal and determined until their last, well, breath. It was the only good thing she could find about the entire horrid situation, but at least, they had died loyally and they had died with honor. Her people would be remembered. By her if by nobody else.
Vader casually threw the rebel aside, who hit the wall with a flinch-evoking thump before crumpling to the floor. He didn’t get up again.
Somebody whimpered.
Screen-Vader, clearly at the end of his patience, was throwing around orders. "... and bring me the passenger. I want them alive!"
On the screen, Leia was silently approaching a group of stormtroopers, gun at the ready. She looked very, very young under her make-up, Mon noted, with a hint of pride, a good deal of sadness and a coating of horror at this near-child being in this situation. She had watched this young woman grow up. She had watched her pick herself back up again and again in the days after Alderaan. After Yavin.
“What," Han murmured, "the hell is that music?”
The melody was soft, sweet and gentle, like a lullaby promising a better tomorrow, and while he could imagine that fitting Leia in the 0.5 seconds of the day where she wasn't angry at someone, it fit patently badly when someone small, silent and deadly was sneaking up on a group of unaware soldiers, carrying a gun of the caliber that pierced body armor like so much paper.
Annnnd the first soldier dead. Never judge someone by their theme music -
Leia hit the ground, stunned.
The rebels groaned in frustration for her.
“Why'd she run?” someone in the back asked.
“She was a target either way,” someone sighed back. “Guerilla warfare really was the only way, she had to take the risk and it backfired.”
“Guys, she's nineteen. How good of a strategist were you at nineteen?”
Leia was sitting too far away to hear this exchange. That was probably a good thing.
For background characters #1 and #3.
After a bit of arguing, the droids finally got into the escape pod.
Delight dawned on the faces of the rebels who understood where the plan was going.
Under his helmet, Vader rolled his eyes. The plan's success had hinged on a mixture of Artoo being Artoo and possibly the Force intervening to get rid of the Death Star. It had hardly been a move only a brilliant strategist would come up with and it was a miracle it had worked. 1
When the weapons officer finally said, “Hold your fire. There's no life forms on board. Probably a short-circuit …” he caused roaring, cheering applause, persevering even as the escape pod trundled down towards Tatooine.
The plans were on the way.