There is a sentence in Mon Mothma's character history that intrigues me:"After the Empire's massacre on Kashyyyk, she thought diplomacy was dead and considered becoming a fighter pilot in the war against the Empire." I think that concept deserves more than one brief sentence. I think the brilliance of Caroline Blakiston and Genevieve O'Reilly in giving the character so much depth in split second appearances also deserves to be more fully explored, and so this story was born.

Other questions about the lady in white made me curious: How did she become so respected and revered? What did she do to plant the seeds of Rebellion and gain such a strong following? Did romance ever come her way or was she married to her job? Was it too dangerous for her to get close to people? Look what happened to the Skywalkers, Bail Organa etc.

This story will be slightly AU, but I will try to keep it as close to regularly accepted Star Wars canon as I can. Some events and plot points will stray from canon just because it's fun to let Mon Mothma get to be another Leia-esque, Jyn Erso type hero (RIP our beloved Carrie Fisher).

I don't own Star Wars or the characters, but I am so glad fan fiction writers get to play with them. Thank you George Lucas!

Mon Mothma tore the ceremonial white garments from her body. She hurled them at the mirror in the dressing room. The necklace, a gift from the Chandrila minister, collided with the glass and sent splinters to the floor. The necklace shattered too. A priceless relic from her home world. Nothing mattered to her at that moment. Nothing.

Mon Mothma looked up to find Jeanida Bey watching her from the door. The middle-aged Senatorial aid looked from the floor back to her. Her gaze said volumes. It spoke of pity and disappointment. Mon didn't care. She let the anger come.

"Senator Mothma?" Jeanida took a step forward and stopped as if she thought better of it. "Mon."

The use of her first name didn't come as a surprise. She had worked with Jeanida long enough to expect occasional informality. What did surprise Mon was that she felt the urge to strangle her trusted associate for referring to her as Senator. There was no Senate. Palpatine slaughtered the Old Republic as deftly as the Wookies. Mon felt the betrayal as deeply as any of them and right now she didn't care who knew.

"Democracy is dead." Even to her own ears she sounded inconsolable. Mon hated the overtly dramatic.

"The Senators are waiting for you. They don't know what to do."

Mon ran a hand over her bare arm. She wore a white short sleeved blouse and leggings with a silver belt. Years ago, her tailor offered to make a blaster holster for her. She refused then but now she regretted it.

"It's been confirmed. The Emperor has murdered thousands on Kashyyk," Mon swallowed back her anger, "maybe more. The Galactic Senate has failed. We have all failed."

"The tragedy of our days. And now many are looking to you."

Mon looked at the mass of white cloth crumpled in the corner amid shards of glass. All the years she dedicated to that robe stretched before her in an endless empty void.

"They won't find me. Ready my shuttle."

Mon left the robes but gathered her few other belongings.

"So you are to abandon all your plans with Senator Organa?"

She did not look at her aid until she retrieved all she wanted from the room.

"Plans are pointless. All the Empire will understand now is violence."

Mon walked to the door. Jeanida Bey moved reluctantly. The aid kept her hands clasped neatly beneath her robes like some ancient priestess.

"Where will you go?"

Mon turned as thousands of bloodied Wookie faces passed through her mind.

"To learn how to kill as many of Palpatine's puppets as I can."

Mon dismissed the shuttle pilots. The chaos on Coruscant was such that they didn't even give her a second look. The lack of interest hurt her ego but strengthened her resolve to leave her old life behind. She flipped a few switches and the engine rumbled to life. Her knowledge of the controls was rudimentary, but she felt confident her skills would take her where she needed to go.

She heard something move in the back of the ship. She still didn't have a blaster. A situation she would have to remedy soon. Mon slipped a wrench from the tool kit in the cockpit and lifted it over her head. She rounded the corner.

Jeanida Bey stumbled back in surprise. Mon lowered the wrench. She felt as if she was ten again, and in trouble for rigging all the school holo-projectors to replay the image an enormous Hutt laughing.

"Why have you come?" Mon hoped her clipped tone would intimidate her aid.

Jeanida pushed passed her and took a seat at the helm.

"If you think I'm letting you do this alone, you're crazy. Not to mention, do you know anything about flying?"

Mon struggled between tossing the wrench at Jeanida's head and hugging her.

"I know enough."

Jeanida grunted and flipped a switch.

"Is that why you left the docking clamps engaged?"

Mon felt a pang of stupidity but buried it away. She put the wrench down and sat next to her aid.

"You won't like where I'm going."

Jeanida's eyes softened. Sometimes they reminded Mon of her favorite Aunt who died on Chandrila long ago.

"I have served as your chief aid since your appointment to the Galactic Senate. I took an oath, just as you did, to uphold freedom and democracy." Jeanida leaned forward and put her hand on Mon's arm. It seemed like years since anyone had reached out far enough to touch her.

"If upholding democracy means I have to uphold you through a rough patch, so be it."

Mon was angered by the words. They were presumptuous and suggested a level of familiarity that Mon did not appreciate. She pulled her arm free of Jeanida's grasp. The hurt in the eyes of her aid was immediately clear but replaced by the mask all politicians could call upon in an instant.

Mon calmed herself with a deep breath. It was clear her aid would not leave without a significant amount of trouble, and Mon just wanted to get off the planet.

"Fine. Set a course for Tatooine."

Jeanida gave Mon a second look and then pushed some buttons. Mon hated to admit she was glad for Jeanida's piloting skills. The ship pulled away from the docking bay. Stars and blankness of space swallowed the ship and they were on their way.

Mon looked out the cockpit window. Her mind settled a bit now that they were away from the bustle of the city, but a white hot rage still consumed her heart. She wondered if Kashyyk was silent now like the reaches of space. She wondered if under the starless sky the wailing of women and children could be heard along blood stained beaches.

"What is on Tatooine, Senator?"

Jeanida's proper accent pulled Mon from her thoughts.

"I'm no longer a Senator. Don't refer to me as such."

Jeanida didn't nod, but Mon took her silence as a confirmation that she agreed.

"We are going to a spaceport called Mos Eisley."

"I've heard of it. Nothing there but murders and rogues."

Mon instinctively made a fist. She turned her eyes to the stars.

"Exactly. The heartless and the blood thirsty. Only they can teach me what I need."

"I've never heard you speak like this. I know you are upset about Kashyyk, we all are, but Mon-"

Mon stood quickly enough to knock the rotating chair into the dash. The clank startled Jeanida, exactly what Mon wanted to capture her attention.

"If you are going on this journey with me, then I only ask two things. One, you never refer to me as Senetor. I don't want anyone knowing of my time in the failed Senate. Keep it to yourself."

This time Jeanida did nod.

"Secondly, you allow me to do this without your counsel or input. I have made my decision. I'm not being foolish or irrational and I don't need a constant lecture from you."

Mon forced herself to relax her shoulders in order to prove to her aid the truth of her words.

"I have wasted my life on a career that has only brought about the genocide of the Wookies. You're right, I took an oath to defend freedom. Now, the only way I can honor that oath is through deed. If you have a problem with that I will drop you at the nearest spaceport."

To Mon's surprise, Jeanida regarded her thoughtfully. It was more than that. Mon had seen the same expression on the faces of the Jedi. A kind of deep wisdom that she didn't comprehend but deeply respected.

"I understand, Senat-I'm sorry. Lady Mothma? Will that do?"

Mon kept her gaze a moment longer then started to leave the cockpit. She had a headache and wanted to rest.

"There is one thing."

Mon braced herself as she turned back to the older woman.

"For years I have counseled you. You have sought my advice. If you ever wish to seek it again, just know I will always be here for you."

Mon felt the impact of the offer but years of living behind the lonely mask of Senator withdrew her from all emotional connection. She cared about people but she forgot how to care about a single person and how to let a single person care about her.

Without another word she left Jeanida in the cockpit.

Mon found the Mos Eisley street even more primitive than she imagined. A line of domed dwellings and shops stretched outward from the spaceport. On almost every corner she was sure some underhanded deal was being made between the most notorious cultures in the galaxy. A nausea settled in the pit of her stomach with the realization places like Mos Eisley were ripe for the Empire's picking. Palpatine would reach out with greedy fingers and profit from every devious transaction.

"We're here. Now what?" Jeanida hurried out of the way of a speeding land cruiser. The machine kicked up a burst of dust which singed the hem of her purple dress.

While she brushed the dust away, Mon scanned the area. They were exposed. The last thing she needed was to be recognized as a member of the Senate.

"We find the most vile creature we can, and speak with it."

"Lovely plan."

Mon ignored Jeanida's sarcasm and canvassed the street. In her white clothes she drew many curious glances. One of the first vendor huts they came upon had a rack of clothing on display. A grey body suit, complete with a blaster holster and belt appealed to Mon. She was sick of wearing white. Black seemed too much like the color of the Sith, but grey she could embrace.

"How much for the battle suit?"

The shopkeeper held up four of his hands, each with four fingers raised. Overpriced and Mon knew it, but the curious stares started to turn to whispers.

"Agreed, if you allow me to change back there." She gestured to the small compartment behind his tent. He nodded.

"I will take the cloaks too." Mon pulled two dark green robes from the display rack along with the suit. She put the money into two of the shopkeeper's hands and then handed one of the cloaks to Jeanida.

"I don't want…" the aid started to say, but then must have realized they were asking for trouble in the elegant attire they wore. J

eanida pulled the cloak around her and Mon hurried back into the small tent compartment. She changed quickly.

The silver bodysuit fit snuggly, and Mon wished for a mirror to make sure she could pull off the look. It was a far cry from her oversized Chandrilian gown and she wasn't used to having her slender body on display. She pulled the cloak on and felt more comfortable under the fabric. She pulled the hood over her short hair and stepped back into the street.

Jeanida had her hood up as well, and Mon smirked. They both looked like Jedi. Except there were no more Jedi. Even the thought had a bitter taste.

They resumed the walk down the busy street. Mon noticed young athletic men pass them by. Men that had the look of fighter pilots, although servants of the Empire or not she couldn't tell. She moved in the direction they travelled. She stopped only once more at another booth. The gruff owner had the look of a seedy arms dealer. Jeanida's did not approach the booth with Mon. The action spoke volumes about Jeanida's disapproval.

"I need a blaster to fit this holster." Mon drew back the robe and showed the man. He pulled several guns down from the display.

"All these will work. Depends if you want accuracy, power or durability?"

Mon glanced over the guns. She really had no idea what to look for. She had only ever touched a blaster when her father took her to his favorite firing range when she was a child.

"I care about nothing but hitting and killing my target."

The alien lifted his shaggy brow. He reached under the table and set a something on the table under the cover of a cloth.

"I like you."

He removed the cloth to reveal another blaster that looked a newer and sleeker than the others.

"Don't normally sell this kind, but for the elegant wench I will make an exception."

They haggled over the price and Mon paid the man. She slipped the blaster into the holster at her side. For the first time since she learned of Kashyyk she felt whole. She looked up to meet Jeanida's gaze. The aid bit her bottom lip. Her eyes disapproved but she said nothing.

Mon continued down the street, and found the group of young pilots drinking and laughing at a table in front of a food hut. She studied them carefully and made her decision.

Mon stood in the food hut line behind an unsavory Rodian. Jeanida stuck close to Mon and for a moment she thought the older woman might cling to her arm to avoid contact with any members of the crowd. She stepped up to the window. The vendor was a six foot four Crolute male.

"What'll ya have?"

Until now Mon's anger conquered her fear, but facing the snaggletooth, one eyed cook made her heart race. The blaster at her side made her feel a little braver.

"Information."

The Crolute male laughed.

"Course you do. Most valuable trade in the galaxy."

Mon felt Jeanida tug on her arm. Clearly her aid wanted to get away from the place.

"I'm looking for a teacher. A veteran pilot who has seen space battle."

The male smiled, a strange sight on his scarred face.

"Might be able to help ya, but how do I know I can trust you? Lots of bad types around here."

Mon lifted her head just so he could see a little more of her face. She tossed three gold coins on the counter.

"As you said, information is valuable."

His touch touched the tip of his snaggletooth and he laughed. His meaty hand grasped the money.

"That case, I know a Hutt."

"No." Mon's tone startled the male. She relished the fact her tone still had power even outside the Senate. "No Hutts. Gangsters and murders. I will not trade with the scourge of the galaxy."

The alien licked his cracked lips.

"Being choosy will cost ya extra."

Mon tossed more money on the table.

"You didn't hear this from me, but there's rumors of a bipedal like you."

The vendor leaned toward her, and Mon took a step forward.

"Legendary Imperial Pilot, best in the Empire by all accounts."

Mon stiffened at the mention of the Empire. Seeking help from the Empire wasn't any better than getting help from a Hutt. Mon realized that she would have to compromise at some point.

"When off duty he may or may not dabble in the nefarious. Smuggling, trade of illegal goods, and I'm sure if the price is right, training rich little waif girlies to fly a fighter ships."

Mon did not like the sound of this person, but the streets were filling up and it would be dark soon. Mon wanted to find a safe place for her and Jeanida before the real dangers of Mos Eisley awoke.

"Where can I find such a man?"

The Crolute male held out his hand. Mon could afford far more, but she did not like lining the pockets of criminals. She put three more gold pieces in his meaty fingers.

"You're in luck. He just returned from deployment. Comes through port here before heading to some obscure outer planet. One of the moon of Yavin, I think. Try the Cantina."

The hungry aliens behind them began to shout.

Mon took another step toward him. A sense of urgency overtook her.

"A name? Do you have a name?"

"Sorry, girlie. No names. Don't want it traced by to me, now move aside."

The Tusken Raiders behind Mon shoved her out of the way. Mon stumbled but Jeanida caught her arm.

"If it's a pilot you need I know several perfectly nice men back on Chandrila."

Mon glared up at her.

"Nice men won't teach me how to kill the enemy. Learning about the Empire from someone at its heart is the only way to hurt the monster."

A man gestured toward them from behind a dumpster. He wore in plain clothes, and had the slightly overweight look of a homesteader.

"Over here."

Mon exchanged a glance with Jeanida.

"We need to go to the Cantina."

Jeanida frowned.

"What we need is to find a safe place for the night. That man looks to me the least threatening person I've seen here. Let's see what he has to say."

Mon pulled her arm free of Jeanida's grasp. She didn't want to be slowed down by practical concerns and she began to regret letting Jeanida come with her. Before Mon could object Jeanida was halfway across the plaza. She hurried to catch up to her.

The man lowered his head to see beneath Mon's hood.

"Senator Mothma? It is you." He gasped. Mon glared at Jeanida as if getting recognized was somehow her aid's fault.

"This is no place for political royalty." He stuck out his hand.

"Names Owen Lars. My wife and I are in town getting supplies for our newborn. Come, it will be safe with us."

Mon didn't want to follow him but something cut through the rage that consumed her of late. Something that reminded her of light, truth and the force. Jeanida fell into step behind the man and Mon followed. He led them back through the streets. A few brawls broke out over the sale of goods. As darkness descended and the small amount of law and order in the streets vanished with the light.

Several blocks from the main road Mon saw a small farmstead hut glowing with warm light from the window. Lars took them to the door.

"This is where all the homesteaders stay when in town."

He pushed open the door. The sound of a baby cry met Mon's ears. A woman stood near the kitchen. She had a small bundle wrapped in her arms. Her gentle rocking quieted the babe.

Mon took in the scene, surprised by the flood of regret that washed over her. In her life of dedicated service to the Senate she had made sacrifices. She would never be the woman with the baby in her arms. The domestic scene calmed her in some ways, but only added to her anger in others. Such a wasted life she had lived.

"Owen, who is this you've brought?" The woman put a protective arm over the baby.

Mon decided to get the unpleasantness over with. She pushed back her hood. The woman blinked several times.

"Are…Aren't you that outspoken Senator from Chandrila?"

"I am Mon Mothma."

The wife pulled out the chair from the kitchen table and sat as if the knowledge carried with it a physical weight.

Jeanida took off her cloak.

"This is my aid and Counsel, Jeanida Bey."

Owen and his wife nodded.

"What brings you all the way out here?" the wife asked.

Jeanida folded her arms and gave Mon a pointed look.

Mon took off her robe. She saw Owen's eyes widened at her clothes and gun at her side.

"The Emperor has enslaved the Wookie home world of Kashyyk and abolished the Galactic Senate. I have come here to learn to fight. I wish to make a difference in this war for freedom. I can no longer to that through politics."

Owen put his hand over his mouth. His wife's eyes turned grave. Jeanida stood motionless with her arms folded. Her unchanging expression looked less than impressed.

"I can't believe things have gotten that bad." Owen shook his head. Jeanida unfolded her arms.

"What a beautiful child. May I?"

The wife handed the baby to Jeanida.

"What's his name?"

Mon knew then why she had been lead to this place. She suspected when they first arrived but now the force confirmed it.

"Luke," Mon said. "His name is Luke."

Both Owen and his wife exchanged solemn glances. Neither seemed surprised Mon had been privy to the information. Jeanida looked down at the baby, blissfully unaware that she was holding the key to the biggest secret in the galaxy.

"Will it be safe to raise him here, do you think?" The wife looked to Mon with such hope. People often looked at Mon that way. She felt relieved she no longer had to carry the weight of such hopes.

"I fear there are no safe holds in the galaxy anymore."

The wife's face dropped. Mon felt a pang of guilt for no offering her something more hopeful but she didn't have it in her. Everything felt like a lost cause.

"Would you like to hold him?" Jeanida moved around the table and pushed the newborn toward Mon.

She backed away, but Jeanida wouldn't allow it. Mon awkwardly took the child. She had only once before held a baby. A surge of panic overtook her. What if she dropped it? What if it started to cry? Was she holding it too tightly?

She looked down into the innocent young face of Luke Skywalker. Her determination grew. She would become a warrior. She would fight until her last breath to make the universe safe for the innocent souls like this baby.

The next morning Mon left a pile of gold coins on the table for Owen and Beru Lars. She and Jeanida left before the couple awoke, but Jeanida scribble a note of thanks for their hospitality. The journey back toward town was filled with silence, though Mon sensed it took every ounce of Jeanida's resolve to hold her tongue.

They wandered the streets until Mon finally found the entrance to the Cantina. It was early and most of the city was still asleep.

"We should have come last night."

Mon went to the door but Jeanida stopped.

"I'll wait outside."

Mon gave her an annoyed look. Going into such a place was no longer below Mon's standards even if it was below Jeanida's.

The bar was practically empty. The chairs were still stacked upside down on tables. One scar faced man sat at the end of the bar, nursing some green liquid in a glass. Mon approached the bar tender. She removed her hood. He didn't recognize her but his did give her a lecherous grin.

"What can I do for the pretty lady?"

"I'm looking for a man." As soon as she said it she realized that was not the best way to start.

"I can help you out, sweets, you're place or mine?"

Mon stared at him. It had been years since anyone came on to her and she forgot what that was like. She blinked herself out of the shock and then mustered all her willpower not to slap him across the jaw.

"An Imperial Officer who trades in the profitable."

"What do you want with an Officer when you got me? I'll make it profitable for you." He winked at her.

"Nevermind." She sighed with disgust and turned.

"Wait. I might help you out, if you got something to offer me."

The way he raked his eyes over her body made her ill.

"Money is what I offer. Money only."

He frowned.

"Guess it will do." He seemed disappointed. She paid him.

"Plenty of Stormtroopers around, but don't know of any Imperial Officers here cept Cutter Mills. Just got off deployment. His ship is down on Docking Bay 94. If he's not your man, come back here, sweets."

Mon walked away without another word. She felt soiled from the interaction. She was glad Jeanida waited outside and wasn't witness to the degrading exchange.

When Mon emerged from the Cantina Jeanida lifted her brow.

"How it go?"

"Docking Bay 94." Mon didn't think her aid needed more information than that.

They arrived at the bay, the found a black paneled cargo ship parked inside. Mon tensed when she saw an Imperial droid working on the underside of the ship. The robot moved its head up.

"Sir, you have visitors." The mechanical voice filled the platform.

A man walked down the plank. A brown jacket hung open over a grey shirt. Black pants were tucked into brown boots. Most Imperial Officer's Mon encountered where pale and slight of build. This man did not have the polished look of a high ranking official. He was muscular, tall, and looked fresh out of trooper camp instead of off a Star Destroyer. A few days scruff rounded his square jaw.

As he approached, a self-assured stride toward them, Mon discovered that his face was, for lack of a better term, handsome.

"Hey, Carrots, what's up?"

Mon looked at Jeanida. The man looked directly at her so she knew he had to be addressing her. She wasn't used to being treated so casually.

"Are you Officer Mills?"

He baulked at them and wiped his greasy hands on his pants. Mon could see it wasn't the first time. His pants were covered in grease marks.

"Officer Mills sounds like my dad. I'm Cutter."

This man did not seem like an officer at all. Mon doubted her information.

"You are a pilot for the Empire?"

He put his hands on his hips.

"Who wants to know?"

"Someone interested in hiring your services."

The Imperial droid stopped what it was doing and came to the side of Cutter Mills. The two of them caused Mon some apprehension. If this turned violent she knew she and Jeanida would be taken captive. They would return her to the Empire or worse, to Palpatine himself. At this point she wouldn't put it below Palpatine to execute her outright.

"Oh yeah, Carrots? What kind of services?"

Mon did not trust the man, but she figured if she didn't come out with it now she never would.

"I want to learn to fly a fighter ship, and shoot a blaster."

Cutter put his lips together and whistled.

"Got wild streak to match your hair, Carrots."

"Stop calling me that. My name is…" She looked at Jeanida. "M. You can call me M."

"I'll call you whatever I like, and I like Carrots."

Mon inhaled and forced herself to maintain her patience.

"Can you help me or not?"

Cutter put his hand to his chin and circled Mon. His eyes looked her over from head to toe though not in the way the lecherous bar tender's did. He returned to the droid.

"What do you think C-J7? Should we help the spoiled rich kid?"

"Sir, using our resources to help a stranger you know nothing about increases the probability we will be caught by the Empire by-"

"I know better than to ask you." Cutter leaned toward Mon. "That's the problem with the Empire. No sense of humor." He slapped his hand on the back of the droid.

"Pulled this guy from a junk heap and reprogrammed him. He's tries to be funny now."

"I resent that, sir. I am quiet comedic," the droid said. Mon had never seen a droid talk back before. It amused her.

"Junk-heap is right. Training you puts my other operations at risk. No go, Carrots, much as I would enjoy bossing you around."

Mon was intrigued by the droid, but she didn't like its owner. Spending the next few months being called "Carrots" made her cringe. Despite all of that, the Imperial Officer was just cocky enough to lead her to believe he was the best, and nothing else mattered but learning to kill the enemy.

"I can make it worth your while."

The droid already went back to the ship. Cutter remained behind.

"I'm sure daddy gives you a nice allowance, but you're dealing in the big time now. You don't have enough to tempt me."

Mon stood her ground.

"Try me."

"Fifty thousand, and you have cut all ties with the outside and come with me to Yavin."

Mon really disliked him.

"Fifty thousand? Are you insane?"

"Non-negotiable. That's my offer, take it or leave it."

Jeanida pulled Mon aside.

"Your money would be better spent elsewhere. You know that. Give up this pursuit of revenge, come back to where you belong. Where you are most needed."

Jeanida might have been right, but Mon was not yet ready to listen to the voice of reason. She spent too many years listening to reason only to have it blow up in her face.

"If you want my opinion, Carrots, I'd listen to your auntie. I don't think you have what it takes to be fighter. You'd be wasting your money."

Mon lifted her chin. She couldn't wait to prove to him just how wrong he was.

"It's my fortune to waste. You have a deal, on the condition my..." Mon hesitated only for a moment, "aunt can join us." She turned to Jeanida. "If you want to. I don't expect it of you."

Jeanida looked between Mon and Cutter.

"Guess one old lady can't cause much harm. I agree. Half up front and half when we're done."

He stuck out his hand.

"Fair enough."

Mon shook the offered hand.