Work Text:
In the aftermath of the Battle of Endor, the people of Imperial Center continued on in their normal routine, blissfully unaware of the events that had recently occurred in another corner of the galaxy. Men and women went to work. Younglings went to school. Groceries were bought. Couples were married. Wives and mothers gossiped and boasted.
“My son’s an officer.”
“Really? Well, my son serves on the Executor.”
It didn’t take long for the gossip to sour, poisoned by an insidious rumor.
The Emperor is dead, it whispered. Lord Vader, too. The fleet suffered heavy losses. The Executor went down with all hands. The Empire is descending into chaos.
Life went on, but the peaceful unawareness had evaporated, replaced by a constant, gnawing worry. The end of the Empire would mean the end of their way of life. Some of them had known life in the Republic; none of them had any guarantee that a band of terrorists would live up to their promises to restore that former standard of living. All over the planet, people worried for their loved ones that had fought in the battle. The not knowing was sickening, but knowing could be even worse. At least there was some hope in ignorance.
Mothers tucked in their sons and daughters and dreaded having to tell their little angels that Daddy wasn’t coming home.