Saga - OT In Memoriam (Han, Lando, Mas Amedda) | Feb 2018 Word Race Mini-Game | One-shot, complete

Title: In Memoriam
Timeframe: 4 ABY, a few days after the Battle of Endor
Continuity: New Canon
Length: One-shot
Genre: Drama with a bit of humour
Characters: Mas Amedda, Lando Calrissian, Han Solo
Notes: Written for the February 2018 Word Race 1st mini-game, which entailed including as many as possible of the words listed here in a single story or chapter. This story includes all 199 words (bolded in the text).

In Memoriam

Mas Amedda was devastated. The Grand Vizier’s devotion to the New Order bordered on fanaticism and the death of Emperor Palpatine had dealt him a debilitating blow.

The Chagrian liked to think of himself as one of the artisans of the Naboo senator’s ascendancy to power. He had dedicated endless hours to ensure that Palpatine rose to the rank of chancellor even when he was still Finis Valorum’s deputy. Once Palpatine had succeeded in his bid for election to the highest office in the Republic and proclaimed himself emperor, Amedda had only ever been second to him in the political hierarchy. But now, he suddenly found himself having to fill his friend’s extremely large shoes, and he felt so utterly listless that he didn’t even experience ambivalence at this sudden promotion. Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t really up to the task. He had always worked behind the scenes as the Emperor’s éminence grise, and he feared that the Empire would collapse with him at the helm. In the days that followed the battle of Endor, he hid his dejection and anxiety behind a façade of aloof haughtiness as he tried to focus on running the day-to-day affairs of the government.

It was an unexpected news item on the HoloNet that caused him to shake off his apathy. He had been disinclined to announce the Emperor’s passing to the galaxy at large for fear that the people’s anxiety at the prospect of unrest and penuries would spiral into panic, but one of his political opponents had apparently decided to force his hand. The media now claimed that he would be addressing the citizenry of the Empire on that very same evening at twenty hundred hours Galactic Standard Time. He stared at the holoscreen in disbelief for a moment, then pondered his options.

Cancelling the appearance that had been scheduled for him was a possibility, but it would cause the rumour mill to run amok on every level of the Imperial administration, and he was already spending his governing council meetings trying to alleviate the concerns of his colleagues at this awkward situation. Making a speech without mentioning Palpatine’s death was hardly better, and the news was bound to leak to the population at large at one point or another. No, as much as he disliked the idea, he would have to go ahead with a formal announcement.

The trick, of course, was to phrase his speech so as to appease those in the Navy who would demand immediate revenge against the Rebellion regardless of military cost, but also to placate the governors of peripheral systems that may find themselves cut off from the Core in the turmoil that would ensue. Furthermore, there was the small matter of Darth Vader’s whereabouts – Amedda wasn’t certain whether the capricious dark lord was alive or not, but if he had survived, the speech would have to assuage his anger as well. The Chagrian tugged nervously at his tentacle horns. Delivering long, formal public addresses had never been his strongest suit, and now he faced the daunting task of coming up with a formula that would mitigate this absolute disaster.

He switched on his datapad and started jotting down notes. He wanted to exalt the Emperor’s achievements and end his speech with an elegy, but he had to avoid the profusion of rhetorical flourishes and the surfeit of hyperboles that were typical of Chagrian poetry. He would inspect each sentence meticulously and eliminate superfluous words as he went along. He was determined that his address to the galaxy should not become an opportunity for polemical debates. He had to come across as a sage, not as a zealot, and to reassure the populace that, even after Palpatine’s death, the Empire would be ruled with a steady hand.

* * *​

It had been a fallow few days for the men and women of the Rebellion. Those who had been celebrating on the forest moon of Endor slowly returned to their ships while High Command plotted the Alliance’s next move. The atmosphere aboard Home One was so uncannily quiescent that Lando Calrissian was bored out of his wits. Most of his friends were sleeping off their liquor; Han was disappearing with Leia for hours at a time; and Lando found himself wandering the hallways of the Rebel flagship on his own. This sort of solitude and idleness went against every fibre of his gregarious nature and he was desperate for some company. He peeked inside one of the smaller entertainment rooms, hoping to find someone to talk to, and saw the top of a balding head with wisps of red-brown hair poking above the back of the couch.

Davits Draven was comfortably settled in front of the HoloNet projector with his umpteenth glass of fine brandy for the day, with the firm intention to continue fuelling the pleasant state of inebriation that he had carefully cultivated since the Imperial Navy’s retreat. He had barely perked up at the announcement that Mas Amedda would be addressing the citizens of the Empire later that evening when Lando Calrissian came in with his usual affable nonchalance. The relationship between the two generals was cordial. Draven had thought at first that Calrissian was something of an opportunist, but the man had proved his mettle. He invited him to sit at his side, offered him a drink and pointed at the broadcast.

“It sounds like the galaxy will finally hear about the Emperor’s death from the dewback’s mouth,” he said.

Lando looked at the static holo of Mas Amedda that the Imperial News Network was displaying with a voiceover announcing the official address. He snorted. “They couldn’t find anyone better to deliver Palpatine’s eulogy? Our beloved Grand Vizier isn’t exactly what you’d call an ardent orator.”

Draven grunted and took a sip from his drink. “You tell me. I had to listen to hours of his speeches back during the Clone Wars. He was ponderous... sluggish… all-around soporific. It’s a wonder our clones were even awake when they left to fight the Seppies.”

“I can just imagine how tonight will go. All the hardy perennials of Imperial propaganda for us to enjoy in his monocord tone.” Lando shook his head. “No fun.”

“Unless he chooses to keep it short and go in full funeral mode. It’s just the pretext they need for a feast of adulation, to remind the populace of all the good the Empire is doing for them, and –”

“Good?” a sarcastic voice said behind them. “When did the Empire do any good?”

They turned around to see Han Solo saunter in. The smuggler-turned-Rebel’s mood was visibly exuberant; Draven assumed that he was still under the effect of the euphoria induced by their recent victory – although, if the rumours were to be believed, there was a budding romance with Princess Leia that must have been contributing to his high spirits. Solo launched himself ravenously at the platter of ryshcate that was on the table and gobbled up three pieces before he even sat down. Draven cringed. He had a robust appetite, but he’d make himself sick if he ate that way.

“So,” Solo said as he slouched in an armchair and helped himself to a glass of brandy. “What were you talking about?”

His two colleagues brought him up to speed. “That won’t do,” he grumbled between mouthfuls. “We want our side of the story out there. We should slice that holofeed and broadcast instead a full recount of the Emperor’s crimes.”

“I agree,” Draven said. “Letting them announce Palpatine’s death on their own terms will poison the impact of our victory.”

Lando rubbed his chin. “What if,” he said, “what if we went for the antidote? Not a pompous Rebel announcement, but something to ridicule them.”

Draven looked up. “You mean, a satirical speech? That could work.”

Han grinned. “Yeah, that could definitely work. Lando and I should be pretty good at this.”

Draven thought of it for a moment. “Slicing the Imperial HoloNet broadcast should be feasible, but we may want to go behind Mon Mothma’s back. She’s not one for such an iconoclastic approach. There are a few techs who might be willing to help us though.”

“No need,” Lando intervened. “I know a slicing virtuoso who can facilitate this for us.”

Han winked. “Lobot?”

“Bingo. He has this piece of… surreptitious malware in his memory banks that will saturate the frequencies until we can broadcast over the Imperial feed.”

Draven held up his glass. He wasn’t sure how big a role the brandy was playing in the hatching of this whimsical plan, but they could allow themselves a little entertainment from time to time. “Gentlemen, we have a plan. To old Palpy’s in memoriam!”

* * *​

Mas Amedda decided that the venue for his address would be the throne room itself. It was appropriately imposing for such a momentous announcement and would remind every HoloNet viewer of the code of Imperial aesthetics, decorated as it was in the eclectic style that Palpatine used to favour. He headed there, followed by a few palace attendants and an exceedingly talkative HoloNet technician, to ensure that everything was in order and that the decor conveyed the message that he wanted to emphasise. There were several expensive-looking artefacts scattered around the cavernous hall that he ordered the staff to remove in order to bolster his claim that, even at the height of his power, the Emperor had led an austere life, and he asked that black drapes be thrown over the ornate mosaics. He was adamant that nothing should be ambiguous or equivocal: he was announcing the Emperor’s death to trillions of sentient beings, and the throne room had to look like a funeral venue.

He watched the attendants do their work diligently; he checked with the tech that the holocams were fully operational and that the connection was adequately fast; and he approached Palpatine’s throne with a sense of apprehension. He dared not sit on it yet – he still couldn’t think of himself as the ruler of the galaxy – so he stood in front of it instead and reviewed his speech scrupulously. He interrupted the technician’s constant blabber to verify that the broadcast wasn’t live yet, and he experimented with a few faces. He had to appear sufficiently morose for the occasion, but he also needed to display strength and resolve.

* * *​

As soon as he was done eating his dinner, Han Solo put away his tray and made for the door, hoping to get away furtively while Leia was still chatting with Mon Mothma. The two women had discussed throughout their meal how they intended to document every detail of Mas Amedda’s speech and compile a list of his lies to use against him at his trial when he was finally captured. There were moments when it almost seemed that Mon hoped he would incite violence against civilians, as this was a top criterion to sentence someone for war crimes, and this made Han deeply uneasy. He knew that the Rebel leader could be a little cynical at times, but he found it difficult to believe that such incitement wouldn’t result in action, and he was tired of travelling to devastated worlds to pick up the pieces. The sooner the Empire sued for peace with the Rebellion, the better, as far as he was concerned. Let Mas Amedda disappear in the far reaches of space where he belonged.

He had made it to the hallway and was beginning to quicken his pace when Leia caught up with him. “Aren’t you coming to listen to Amedda’s speech?” she asked.

He gave her a cryptic smile. “Honestly, sweetheart, I can’t. I’ve got things to do.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Things?”

“Yeah. I’d rather do a few repairs on the Falcon than listen to that pretentious moof milker.”

“Oh, Han, come on! You know I need all the help I can get for this!”

He raised his hands palms upwards and went for his most innocuous grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, no deal. You’re the politician here, I’m just a flyboy.” And with that, he planted a kiss on her lips and left.

Leia glared at his retreating back. Suspicion was already gnawing at the back of her mind. She knew all too well Han’s expression of calculated candour and she was certain that he was up to something, but there was no time to have an argument now. The Grand Vizier’s address was due to begin in less than ten minutes, and she didn’t want to miss a single word.

* * *​

The HoloNet tech signalled that the broadcast was live, and Mas Amedda took a deep breath.

“People of the galaxy, citizens of the Empire… It is with the deepest sorrow that I must announce to you that Emperor Palpatine is dead.”

He paused for a moment to let that rather large bit of news sink in, then inhaled again and continued: “Our beloved Emperor was killed in battle over the forest moon of Endor, and it goes without saying that the Rebel anarchists are culpable of this crime. They claim to be pacifists but their constant quest to destabilise the New Order has resulted in war for more systems than I can count.”

A monitor had been positioned at the far end of the room behind the technician who manoeuvred the holocams, and the vizier could see as he spoke that the image was flickering sporadically. This had been an ongoing phenomenon for the last few minutes before his address began, but the tech chalked it up to the general disruption of galactic communications – the loss of the Death Star’s HoloNet array, which had been operational for several months before it was destroyed, was bound to cause this type of anomaly. Sometimes the shaky, amorphous shadow of static seemed to reveal the ephemeral silhouette of a man. It was a little annoying and made for an incongruous image, but Amedda told himself that it was inconsequential as long as the people of the galaxy could properly hear his speech, and the tech had guaranteed that the audio was clean.

“Emperor Palpatine only aspired to provide stability and security to the galaxy. We will continue his work to ensure prosperity for all. This is not the end of our reign of peace. The Empire will remain strong in the face of adversity.”

The image on the monitor flickered once more, then dissolved altogether and coalesced to reveal a dark-skinned, moustachioed man in an impeccable silk cape. He gave the audience what he clearly thought was a beguiling smile, then stepped aside to make space on-screen for another man who wore a somewhat threadbare jacket. Mas Amedda could distinguish behind them what looked like the bulkhead of a rather run-down ship. Before he could ask the technician what was going on, the first of the two interlopers began to speak.

“Why hello there, ladies and gentlebeings. I’m General Lando Calrissian of the Rebel Alliance. You’ve probably heard of my audacious little manoeuvre that won us the Battle of Tanaab against the Empire. What you may not know is that, a few days ago, I led a squadron of intrepid fighters in the guts of the Emperor’s new Death Star and blew it up.” His grin became self-deprecating and he added after a pause: “In the aggregate, I guess you could call me a hero of the Rebellion.”

The second man raised an ironic eyebrow. “And I’m General Han Solo. I helped out with blowing up the first Death Star, then the second, plus a few other things in between. My friend here tried to emulate me but he’s basically just a cheap derivative.” He paused for effect and added: “I am the real hero of the Rebellion.”

The man who had introduced himself as Lando Calrissian shrugged indifferently. “I’m not worried, buddy. Our discriminating viewers can tell for themselves.”

This was evolving into a circus, and, while Mas Amedda did his best to remain stolid in the wake of this unexpected interruption, he was boiling inside. He deactivated his mic for a moment. “Who are these two bombastic braggarts?” he asked the tech in a querulous tone.

“I don’t know, Your Highness,” the technician said. He was scrutinizing the monitor, utterly confounded by what he was seeing.

“Now, to return to the reason for our presence here…,” Calrissian was saying, “I’m sorry, but what you just heard from Grand Vizier Mas Amedda is a highly embellished account of the Empire’s deeds. The Emperor’s sycophants claim that he was an altruistic advocate of the poor and the downtrodden, but the people of the galaxy aren’t so gullible as to believe something that reality belies every day. It was Palpatine’s nefarious egotism, his lavish spending on vanity projects and his utter disregard for sentient life that caused –”

The technician let out a victory whoop as he managed to stabilise the holofeed, and he gestured for Mas Amedda to resume his speech. The startled vizier looked hastily at his datapad, picked a paragraph at random and began: “Sheev Palpatine rose to notoriety and then through the ranks of the Senate by sheer tenacity. His natural preference would have been to spend his life in obscurity and seclusion, yet he dedicated himself to improving the lives of the citizens of this galaxy on every level, from the spiritual to the mundane. He never sought to profit for himself. Even as Emperor, he led an ascetic life.”

The technician let out a string of curses as Calrissian’s evanescent form returned. The Rebel’s face expressed absolute disdain. “How hypocritical. It wasn’t asceticism, it was avarice. Old Palpy was a hedonist who spent prodigally our tax credits for his own pleasure and self-aggrandisement. Portraits! Statues! Holos! And that’s just the beginning of it. He had a whole cohort of dancers just for his personal entertainment. I mean, who wants their little girl around that old pervert? He –”

This was tantamount to heresy. Mas Amedda could simply not believe the Rebels’ impudence. “The people of the galaxy have no time for a charlatan’s fabrications,” he snapped. He realised that his voice was outright strident, which was most unbecoming of a grand vizier in this sort of situation. He took a deep breath and lowered his tone by an octave. “The depravity of the Rebellion knows no bounds! They discount our late Emperor’s achievements and deride him even in death.”

The man in the threadbare jacket chortled. “Depravity?”

“Oh yeah, Han old buddy,” Calrissian said. “Those Imps love big words, don’t they? Let’s fight them on their own turf.” He turned his gaze back to the camera. “I’m sure the people of the galaxy will love to know that Palps was a follower of the antiquated, archaic beliefs of the Sith.”

Solo interrupted him. “Uh-oh. Antiquated, archaic… Ain’t that redundant?”

“You know, you may be right. Hmm… To use a single, very Imperial word: antediluvian. But we digress.”

Mas Amedda realised that he had walked into a quagmire, and for the briefest of moments he wondered if whoever had put him up to delivering this address was in league with the Rebellion. He had expected to give a speech, not to participate in a disputation, and he could never have anticipated that the Rebels would disclose the Emperor’s affiliation with the Sith to the public at large. For all the years he had worked with Palpatine, his own knowledge of this matter was scanty and he couldn’t fathom how they came about the information. “Your comments merely reveal the insularity of the Rebellion,” he said forcefully. “The people of the galaxy know better than to believe the conspiracy theories of a group of mercenaries without an ounce of integrity who seek to intimidate them by defaming the man who dedicated his life to their safety and well-being. I will not tolerate –”

“Holy banthas, Lando, looks like we hit him where it hurts. That Sith business got him all riled up, didn’t it?”

* * *​

Leave it to Han, with his superficial understanding of politics, to treat the official announcement of the Emperor’s death as a trifling matter, Leia thought. Han and Lando’s arrogance had her fuming. How could they decide to do such a thing without consulting with Mon Mothma and herself? This was not the place and time for pithy sayings and raucous humour. Following Amedda’s rambling speech was fastidious enough because of the immutable uniformity of his tone, and while the two men’s prank broke her torpor it also hampered her job. A truncated speech meant less material against Mas Amedda in a future court of law.

She turned to General Draven, who stood by the door with an amused expression, swirling what looked like brandy in a glass, and snapped at him. “What are you waiting for, General? They’re in the Falcon, in the main hangar. Get them offline! Now!”

It was only after Draven had spun on his heel and left that she realised how unusual it was to see him smile. And the man was known for his affinity for unsanctioned operations.

Leia sighed. She had a bad feeling about this.

* * *​

“I told you to fix it,” Mas Amedda said angrily.

Sweat was beading on the technician’s forehead. His earlier garrulousness was gone; his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he flipped switches frantically. “I’m trying, Your Highness, I’m trying, but it’s… elusive. Whatever malware these people are using, it’s really clever and powerful.” The holofeed reverted to a view of the Imperial throne room. “Here, I think I got it, but make it fast – I can’t promise this will hold.”

The Chagrian shot his subordinate a furious look. How was he to undo the damage that had been done, and while improvising a speech in a rush, no less? He inhaled a soothing breath, flicked his forked black tongue in a reflexive gesture to assert his authority and began.

“People of the Empire! Do not believe the lies that you heard from these two demagogues. Let us be clear: the antagonism, the enmity between the Empire and the Rebellion is one-sided and has always been. The Rebellion is a stagnant cesspool of disease that seeks obstinately to contaminate all of the galaxy with its heinous propaganda. But we will force this infectious tide to subside. For decades, the Empire has provided you, its citizens, with a homogeneous and safe society. The Empire never sought to persecute anyone. We even offered to treacherous senators several opportunities to return to the fold. They always declined. Instead, they came up with tall tales of Imperial oppression and they even claimed that Alderaan, the most traitorous world of all, was a peaceful planet when in reality they were armed to the teeth! They had been planning for war since the days of the Republic, and they were inciting other worlds to secede, to start a new separatist crisis! The destruction of Alderaan was not aggression, it was self-defence. It was for the greater good of the galaxy, and –”

To his dismay, the holofeed burst with static, and moments later Han Solo’s face replaced his own on the screen. The Rebel general’s earlier jocularity was gone; he looked dead serious now and his eyes were glaring blaster bolts.

“Stop lying, you pathetic nerf-herder,” Solo said. “I got to Alderaan moments after your people blasted it. I saw it. It was murder – it was mass murder. Everybody knows that your Empire seeks to quash any form of dissent. Everybody knows that your dead Emperor was dogmatic and didn’t tolerate divergent opinions. And everybody knows that the suppression of protest and resistance is your Empire’s number one priority on every possible level. I was a pilot in your Navy for a while.” He paused and grinned. “For a very short while. Anyone who’s been anywhere near your military can tell you. Any sign of autonomous thought lands you in the brig. Any tendency towards innovation earns you the rancour of your superior officers. Any objection to the actions of an Imperial official gets you killed. You Imps need your own men, and everybody else in the galaxy, to be terrified into servility so as to survive.”

Amedda saw that Lando Calrissian was tugging at Solo’s sleeve, apparently to interrupt his rant, but Solo would have none of it.

“And when terrorising individuals didn’t work anymore, you took your anger out on cities and planets. NiJedha was razed into oblivion. Alderaan was obliterated, vaporized. Your Emperor knew it. He ordered it. He ratified it. He was a killer, and he would do it all over again given half a chance. But I’ve got news for you, Amedda. He’s gone. We rid the galaxy of him.” He paused to catch his breath and continued: “And there’s more. The destruction of your first Death Star over Yavin IV was the end of complacency, the conflagration that set us, the Rebel Alliance, on the path to victory. The destruction of your second Death Star over Endor, just days ago, is our affirmation, in the name of the free people of the galaxy, that the time for your Empire’s crimes is over. You’re done for. Your Emperor is dead and we’re coming for you. You and your ilk are going to pay for your crimes. The little guys know that they needn’t fear us, that we’ll treat them fairly. But you, the big fish, the big honchos who killed millions on Jedha, Alderaan and elsewhere… be afraid, be very afraid. You’re going to pay. You can take my word for it.”

* * *​

Han ended his virulent tirade, and whoever was handling the holocam lingered a little on his face before cutting off the Rebel broadcast and revealing the image of a discomfited Mas Amedda. Leia stared at the monitor for a moment, then switched off her datapad and looked at Mon Mothma. She had underestimated Han once more, and she was now struggling to hide her elation.

The Rebel leader gave her a warm smile. “That was… quite good.”

Leia shrugged in a brave attempt at feigned indifference. “A little heavy on the colloquialisms, though.”

Mon Mothma’s smile widened, and she patted the princess on the shoulder. “Still. It was an exemplary speech.”

 

Wow. First off, amazing job coming up with an idea where all those words felt natural and fitting them all in! Mas Amedda is actually one of my favourite random minor characters and you did an excellent job with his characterization and speech!

Bahahaha. I just love this image of Lando and the idea of him and Han interrupting Mas Amedda's announcement cracks me up.

Lol! I love the reference to "all the big words" being used.

Uh oh, he hit a button for Han. But I love that Alderaan is now something Han holds close.

Bahahaha!

Loved this! Amazing job!

 

Fantabulous idea of Han and Lando breaking in and telling it like it is! Very seamless working in of all thosewords too Leia is impressed and I doubt not she will let Han know how much

 

I can't say much beyond what Bri already said. I just love Lando in this ...bored Lando, you know you're in trouble! He and Han causing trouble, while Mon Mothma and Leia are trying so hard to be 'professional' to formulate a cool, measured response... and then Han really goes cold at the mention of Alderaan...

And as for working in all of those words, so quickly, in a one shot...

Just. In. Awe.

 

Damn, girl. That's all I've got to say!
.
.
.
Okay, so it's not all I've got to say, but I am soooo impressed you managed to not only work all 199 words into a story, but a cohesive and fun story at that!

I loved this! I'm going to have to find a way to work aloof haughtiness into real life somewhere. It's just too good not to be used!

I love that Leia recognised that Han was up to something from how calculated he was being, but she didn't have the time to do anything.
And the 'argument' between Han and Lando about being the hero of the Rebellion and then the argument with Mas Amedda was hilarious!

And here, when Han really got going it was quite something! Such a powerful message for the galaxy! It was awesome!


Fantastic job! If there was a standing ovation emoji, I'd use it!

 

Han Solo, Lando Calrissian and Dravits Draven. A recipe for disaster with a seasoning of fun. Thanks for writing this, even though Mas would disagree.

 

As one of the above reviewers finished:

Just. In. Awe.

This was a fantastic and inspired effort, and I can see why the mods were tempted to share some of the mini-challenge reward with you.

You did some great stuff here, the camaraderie between the three Rebel generals; plenty of post-Endor brandy on offer; the elevation or clarification of the Battle of Tanaab to a Rebel engagement; Mas Amedda's whole personality and attempts to grasp some sort of control of the world around him.

Splendid work.

 

Thank you for the reviews and thanks to everyone who stopped by to read!

@Briannakin Thanks for hosting the challenge, and thanks for the word list that gave birth to this (mildly absurd) fic. I had a great time working with the prompts once I got an idea for the story; my starting point was that someone would call someone else a "bombastic braggart" and then it all kind of flowed from there. Also:

It made me laugh that you picked up the meta-reference. It was just too tempting not to include it!

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Thank you! You too made me laugh with:

I think the master of mush needs to write the sequel to this!

@Mistress_Renata Thanks! I mentioned above that my first thought for a story based on the prompt list was that someone would call someone else a bombastic braggart". My second thought was that the person who gets called a bombastic braggart would be Lando... and, well, it snowballed from there. But then, you know everything about writing Lando, and bored Lando is a mental image no one could say no to

@mavjade Thanks! I can't quite imagine a RL situation where you could use "aloof haughtiness", but figuring one out is certainly a worth challenge

I'm sure you know exactly what typical 'yes but not really' facial expression of Han Solo I'm talking about

@AzureAngel2 Thanks! Like you, I'm a big fan of Draven. I really wanted to include somewhere a version of him that's up to innocent mischief while still going behind Mon Mothma's back... and this story was my chance to do it!

@Mira_Jade Thank you! My third idea (after calling someone a "bombastic braggart" and deciding that it would be Lando) was that Mas Amedda would be doing the name-calling. He comes across as such a pompous prat in the films that so many big words on the list had to be put in his mouth. At the same time...

This was precisely my idea for Han in this story. He may be playing constantly – or almost constantly – the role of the scruffy flyboy, but he's a very relatable character for the common man in the GFFA and he definitely has a way with words. There's no reason he shouldn't put it to good use for something more than witty repartie.

@Sith-I-5 Thank you One thing I'm really enjoying with the New Canon is the possibility to take a random throwaway line from the films (e.g. the Battle of Tanaab) and put my own spin on it. As for this:

I don't know about you, but I always pictured the first few days after the Battle of Endor as the biggest hangover in the history of the GFFA This is pretty much my headcanon, and I'll be using it again in the future!

Thanks again to readers, reviewers and lurkers who took the time to read this story!

 

The post-Endor piss up / hangover, should be a challenge prompt.