Natasi stood at the viewport of her bedroom window in her stocking feet. Outside, the smoke of a thousand little fires marred the darkening skies. Every so often, the wind changed and blew the smoke in another direction, and Natasi could see the fires down below. Small ones and big ones, some sprouting from the top of the top layer of city blocks like weeds, some roaring through great gaping holes in buildings, some raging from the wreckage of warships. Each a potential catastrophic loss of life, every loss of life being catastrophic to someone. Natasi's bones ached; it had not been an easy day, but watching the war wreak havoc on this world was painful for many reasons, not least of all the psychic toll that someone sensitive to the Force but untrained in it felt in response to the countless dead.
The wind changed again, and the jagged maw at the center of the Senate District came into view; Natasi shivered violently.
How could no one have known? The Strategic Intelligence Agency had fallen down on the job once again, but in this instance the blame couldn't be laid entirely at their feet. The Senate building was under the discretion and jurisdiction of the Senate itself; the Office of the Chancellor was ultimately responsible for the integrity of the Senate and the safety of the Senators. As far as Natasi was concerned, moving the Senate to Fondor had satisfied only one of those objectives; if the move had not been made -- if the Senate had been seated --
Natasi shivered again, closing her eyes against the image. She was not convinced of the wisdom of this kind of government. It seemed prone to abuse and it was lacking in accountability. But many of her colleagues were good and genuine people who were simply doing their best in a system that did not value their work. These would not have deserved the fate that would have awaited them if the Senate had not been moved. And when she really thought about it, the Senate had not been moved because of some direct, specific threat to the Senate structure itself, but over a generalized concern for Coruscant.
The Senate had been saved by sheer dumb luck; nothing more.
Natasi wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and wash the day from her, but she was riveted to that spot at the window. She was furious and frightened in equal measure. But she was forced to look away when the commlink on the nearby dressing table chimed. She had been trying to get through to New Sterandel for hours, but communication had been spotty, mostly reserved for military and first responder traffic. Natasi crossed the room and activated the comlink.
"This is Natasi," she said.
"Mother," George Vitalis said on the other end of the line, his voice cracking with relief. "Thank God."
Natasi's anxiety eased a little and she sank onto the little stool, resting her forehead in her other hand as she held the handset to her ear.
"George. You're all right, then. They didn't strike at the Republic?"
"No," George affirmed. "The Prime Minister has the Renascent Defense Legion on high alert but so far -- no. Sorry it took so long to get through, I've been trying and trying -- "
"I know," said Natasi.
"Me, too. It's a mess, here, darling. I doubt whether we'll be able to -- "
" -- then I have to tell you," George cut her off. "Sorry -- mother -- Reima has been injured."
Natasi closed her eyes, scratched at her forehead idly as she processed this information. Reima was supposed to be at Fondor.
"They attacked Fondor, too?"
George was hesitant. "No; she and Revenant Squadron were rotated in with the 10th. Rotated into Coruscant." Natasi's head snapped up, looking out the window. She had seen X-Wings buzzing around the place during the battle and after. Could one of them have been Reima, her daughter? Could one of those smoking wrecks out there --
"Mother, are you still with me?"
"Yes," Natasi said automatically.
"Your sister -- is she -- "
"She's alive," George said. "Sorry, I should have led with that. I just -- there's no way they'll let me come to Coruscant with everything going on. But I thought you'd want to know. Maybe you can see her." George gave her all the information he had been given. The line crackled and George sighed. "Be safe, mother. I'm not ready to wear your crown."
Natasi half-smirked.
"No. Nor am I, my love." She wished she could reach out and embrace her son, despite the lightyears between them.
"Don't worry. I've got Dyrn here with me. He won't let anything happen to me. Listen, I'll be in touch as soon as I can. I'm going to see about your sister, all right? Tell the Prime Minister I'll be in touch."
A brief exchange of well wishes and declarations of love and mother and son disconnected. Natasi sighed softly and replaced the handset, then picked up her boots wearily and began working them on one at a time.
Her day wasn't over yet.