Leia, Princess of Alderaan

by Claudia Gray

  Which wasn’t always a good thing.

  Breha shook her head as she paced to and from the hearth. “Whatever possessed you to go to Wobani?”

  “There were people in need,” Leia insisted. She wasn’t about to apologize. “If you’d been there and seen how desperate they were—”

  “I know how desperate they are.” The queen sighed. “I also know how dangerous the situation on Wobani is. It may be largely forgotten at the moment, but it’s only one of many loose threads that could turn out to be a fuse.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Leia kept on. “It was a humanitarian mission. I put through for the proper approvals. You can see the records.”

  Breha gave her daughter a look. “Yes, you arranged things very well. But speak to me in truth. You knew that if you had come to us directly, we would’ve told you to choose another place for your first humanitarian mission. Didn’t you?”

  Shamefaced, Leia nodded. A lie of omission was still a lie.

  “I’ve spent the past few hours on comms with angry Imperial officials everywhere from Wobani to Coruscant. They don’t like the idea of a young girl tricking one of their own—though as far as that goes, well, they can stuff it.” Breha sighed, more casual now, less a queen and more herself. “What’s more troubling is that they’ve asked some very pointed questions about our ship appearing at Calderos Station so soon after a…dissident action. We can’t afford to be associated with that, Leia. The minute the Empire decides Alderaan has anything to do with rebellion—”

  “Shouldn’t we want to do something about the Empire?” Leia retorted.

  “Don’t change the subject. Do you see how dangerous that link is?”

  “I do, but it’s not as if I could’ve known that was going to happen,” she pointed out.

  Breha put one hand to her forehead, as if trying to ward off a headache. The steely gray streak in her black hair was painted gold by the firelight. “No. You couldn’t have expected that. But you should’ve realized that you had no business going to Wobani.”

  “Why? Because it made some major out there angry? The Emperor doesn’t like humanitarian aid going to anybody.” Leia had noticed this for herself during debates in the Imperial Senate. “If I’m going to upset them no matter where I go, I figured I should go someplace where the help would really matter.”

  “And to take people away with you—through a trick, no less—”

  Leia’s temper flared fresh. “Yes! I brought people with me instead of leaving them there to starve! How can you be angry with me for that? What kind of person are you?”

  Breha stared at her daughter, stricken. The words couldn’t be unsaid, and Leia felt as though she’d crossed a much more dangerous boundary than she’d intended.

  But her mother simply kneeled before her and took Leia’s hands in hers. “My daughter. I thought you would’ve understood. Your father, Mon Mothma, and some of his other allies in the Senate have been negotiating for resettlement of the Wobani population for months now.”

  “What? It wasn’t in any of the files I reviewed for his office.”

  “Your father doesn’t show you everything, Leia. Some things require higher security clearances than interns have, even when those interns are daughters of one of the Elder Houses. Any deal regarding Wobani would have to be carefully negotiated, and kept secret, so that the governor in charge of that sector could agree to our terms and still save face.” Breha’s head drooped. “I’m still speaking as though that deal can happen. It can’t any longer. Everyone with any authority over Wobani will be embarrassed, angry, and unwilling to bargain. Months of negotiation were effectively destroyed by what you did today.”

  The floor could’ve disintegrated beneath Leia, letting her tumble down through rock and soil all the way to lava, without her feeling more horrified than she did in that moment. “No. That can’t be true. It can’t.”

  “You’re very nearly an adult, Leia. Past your Day of Demand, and so I’m trusting you with the truth about this, even though I know it’s a hard truth for you to hear.” One of Breha’s hands stroked Leia’s hair. “Take heart. In a few months, when this incident isn’t as fresh, your father will take the cause up again. Maybe they’ll make more headway this time.”

  Delaying the rescue of the people on Wobani wasn’t much better than destroying that rescue. Leia had seen how desperate they were, and had unwittingly condemned them to so much more time trapped in that same hell.

  Breha squeezed her daughter’s hands, then rose to her feet again. “We’ll speak no more of it. I know your motivations were good, Leia. You showed compassion and courage, and even ingenuity. But you have to choose your missions more carefully from now on. Recognize that you may not have all the information necessary to make the right decisions in a dangerous situation, because there are things your father and I cannot tell you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Leia said. On the first day of the Apprentice Legislature, she’d check to see what kind of security clearance upgrades they received. “But—”

  “Yes?”

  “If you two had spoken with me about my humanitarian mission before I left, this wouldn’t have happened. I tried to talk with you both. You didn’t have time.” The words came out small and quiet, unlike her. “I know that’s not an excuse. But it is a reason.”

  Now her mother seemed as abashed as Leia felt. “You’re right. We’ve been terribly busy lately, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s all right,” Leia said, making herself believe it.

  Breha put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, a signal that meant lectures were done and life would resume. “You should head back to the spaceport and help people get settled. It’s back to the books for me.”

  “How many accounts can there be to balance?” Leia asked. Breha simply shrugged as she walked out of the library.

  They’d parted well enough; still, there was no missing that, once again, her mother’s attention was elsewhere.

  Yet Leia couldn’t be that angry with her mother when she was so much angrier with herself. She’d been so proud of what she’d done on Wobani, so sure what she was doing was right.

  It can’t be all bad that I got those people out of there, she reminded herself, thinking of the ecstatic smiles on the faces of the people she’d “hired.” Some people who would’ve gone to bed cold, hungry, and afraid will instead be warm, well-fed, and happy. That’s worth something. It’s worth a lot.

  As she walked through the corridor, she passed her father’s office. The gleam of a candledroid revealed he was working within. Their palace had many old-fashioned doors that opened and closed by hand, and this was one of them; it stood half-open, revealing a sliver of the scene inside. He sat at his great desk, speaking intently with the person opposite him—who appeared to be Captain Antilles.

  Don’t eavesdrop, she reminded herself, walking away quickly. But it scalded her pride to think that the captain of the Tantive IV had a chance to report everything she’d done on Wobani before her father even talked to her about it personally. There was nothing else the two men could’ve had to discuss.

  The next dawn saw Leia on a suborbital jumper, wearing all-weather gear and drinking caf from a travel mug as she leaned against her rucksack of gear. She sat in the back with a few members of the royal guard and the supplies they were taking to the Istabith range garrison. All of them frequently served the palace itself, so none of them were self-conscious around her; after the first several minutes, they chatted easily among themselves, as if she weren’t even there.

  (Well, she suspected they weren’t swearing as much as usual.)

  Leia preferred it this way. Instead of making stately small talk, she could remain on the jump seat and look out at the snowy hills and mountains beneath. With the plasma window keeping out the cold, she could enjoy the way the sky turned pale pink at the horizon, or how the deep snowdrifts softened the jagged peaks of the range.

  In the far distance stood Appenza Peak. Alt
hough it wasn’t the tallest mountain on Alderaan, it was perhaps the most iconic—a slim, needlelike sliver pointing far above the modest hills at its base. The flag of this region bore its silhouette; fairy tales often began with a spirit flying away from its home on Appenza Peak to choose an adventurer. Religious pilgrims claimed that at its height, one could commune with the Force, and the relatively easy climb meant that hundreds of people made the trek each year.

  But relatively easy wasn’t the same as easy. Even the fairy tales warned against trying Appenza Peak on a whim. Making the journey up the mountain required training, equipment, and will.

  Equipment, check, Leia thought, feeling the backpack’s reassuring heft against her shoulder. Will, check. Training—coming right up.

  After Wobani, she craved a physical, material challenge. Exact parameters. On the mountain, success and failure would be as solid as the rock beneath her feet. The pathfinding class would prepare her for that.

  The jumper landed at the designated coordinates only long enough for Leia to hop out. She waved over her shoulder at the guards as it took off again, sending swirls of snowflakes into the air, then turned to join the pathfinding students who had already gathered in the clearing next to the high, gabled chalet that served as their headquarters for the day.

  “Wait—aren’t you the princess?” said a slim, dark-skinned boy with aquiline features and an aristocratic accent. “How did you wind up flying here on that old barge?”

  None of the royal family stood on ceremony except when diplomatic protocol demanded it. But proudly proclaiming you weren’t too good to ride on a jumper was just the same as hinting that, really, you were too good for it and wanted a reward for pretending otherwise. She simply said, “They were headed this way. And yes, I’m Leia Organa.”

  “Chassellon Stevis of Coruscant.” He gave her an overly elaborate bow, twirling his outstretched hand at the wrist to make her laugh. It worked. “My mother heads our diplomatic legation, as you probably know—and now you and I follow our parents into the family business.”

  When Breha Organa had arranged this class, she’d reached out to some of the other new members of the Apprentice Legislature to participate as well. The rationale had been for Leia to get to know a few people outside of Coruscant’s sparkling but artificial social whirl. It felt more like her mother was hurriedly trying to find some friends for her daughter. That way, she doesn’t have to feel guilty about ignoring me—if she even feels guilty at all—

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Leia said easily—or what she hoped was easily. Her parents’ diplomatic polish still eluded her sometimes, and she envied the queen and viceroy their perfect, all-concealing masks. However, she knew the exact moment to stop favoring the aristocrat who’d greeted her and turn toward the others. Holding her hand out to a dark-haired girl, she began, “And you are—?”

  She went from student to student, memorizing names and faces the way she’d been taught since childhood. Harp Allor of Chandrila, friendly and overprepared—Sssamm Ashsssen of Fillithar, an unusual student in a sport usually engaged in by bipeds—an Ithorian whose name she hadn’t caught, would have to ask about that later—

  But then she got to someone who stopped her cold.

  This student was human, a tall, gangly girl with a narrow face and long nose. Her hair was acid green, which meant that either she was from Iloh or she really liked standing out. While the others mostly wore white gear with silver or orange reflective stripes, this girl wore a rainbow of bright colors that clashed so painfully Leia had to fight the urge to squint. Her goggles were already strapped on, and they were of antique make, with pink lenses that curved out from the frames to an almost ridiculous degree. Although she’d obviously noticed Leia, she didn’t introduce herself. She just stood there, staring and smiling.

  “Hi,” Leia began. “I’m Leia Organa.”

  “Of Alderaan,” the girl said in a curiously even tone, like someone groggy after a bacta treatment. Her thinness and gawkiness reminded Leia of a marsh crane.

  “Um, yeah. And you are—”

  “Amilyn Holdo of Gatalenta.” The reply came in the exact same drawn-out monotone. “Thank your mom for inviting me to the class.”

  All right, good. She can make normal conversation. Maybe she just needs to…warm up first. “Are you looking forward to trying pathfinding?”

  “Definitely.” Amilyn’s loopy grin widened. “I hope it’s dangerous! I want to get more comfortable with the nearness and inevitability of death.”

  “…okay.” Leia froze her smile on her face by force of will while thinking, There’s no way she’s handling my climbing ropes.

  (Her father sometimes said she made up her mind too quickly about people. Her mother told her to trust her instincts. Today, she’d follow her mother’s advice.)

  The final six students had all flown up with the instructor and were now tromping in from the nearby landing pad. Since Leia had already looked over the Apprentice Legislature directory, she recognized a few of them. One in particular stood out to her, a boy who wore what looked like cast-off military gear. He stood a head taller than her, which wasn’t the same as being tall. Some observers would’ve called him odd-looking, with his deep-set eyes and sharply angular features, but others would’ve called him handsome. Leia wasn’t sure which group she’d agree with. He was probably the one it was most important for her to know, so she trudged a few steps through the drift between them to hold out her hand. “You’re Kier Domadi, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Kier spoke with the deference she nearly always heard from citizens of Alderaan. His voice carried a surprising resonance for someone so young and wiry.

  “I’m glad we’ll be serving in the Apprentice Legislature together. Sharing the same pod, going over the same material—we’ll have to cooperate almost every day.” She felt her smile brightening, too much, really, for the occasion.

  His expression was hard to read, but his focus on her had intensified. He wasn’t greeting his princess any longer; he was evaluating her, the same way she was measuring him. “I look forward to it.”

  “Luckily it looks like we’ll get along.” Did I just say that out loud? Am I flirting? Diplomats aren’t supposed to flirt. But she’d figured out that she was in the “handsome” camp.

  “Luck didn’t have anything to do with my being here.” Kier straightened, and the intensity of his gaze became more uncomfortable. “I guess it didn’t have anything to do with you being here either.”

  It felt like being slapped. Did he think she hadn’t earned her own spot in the Apprentice Legislature? She’d interned for two years with her father, was as familiar with the Senate’s workings as some senators (and more than others), and had passed every mandatory test with top marks. I work as hard as anyone! Leia wanted to protest. Harder than most.

  Then she remembered Wobani, how proud she’d been of herself and her royal authority, so sure she knew what to do and how to do it. Instead she’d made a mistake that affected thousands of lives, maybe permanently. Never before had Leia doubted the wisdom of their hereditary monarchy, but now she thought, I inherited power before I earned it. I misused that power, and people got hurt.

  Kier’s expression clouded. “I didn’t mean to—hurt your feelings, or—”

  “I’m fine,” she said shortly, turning away and pushing her doubts aside as best she could. This was something she’d have to consider, but she’d be damned if she’d let stiff-necked Kier Domadi think he had the power to make her upset.

  “All right, everybody, gather around!” called the instructor, a dark, broad-shouldered woman with a wide grin who stood even taller than the Ithorian. “I’m Chief Pangie of the Chandrilan Pathfinding Corps. You’ll address me as ‘Chief’ if you want to stay alive.”

  Leia observed a few worried glances around her, which clearly meant, Is she joking?

  “Her Majesty Queen Breha was kind enough to set up this class, so assignment one is here on Alder
aan. During the next few months, we’ll visit different climates on different worlds. The goal here is for you all to know how to handle yourself anywhere, with nothing but your own two hands and some basic equipment.” Chief Pangie paused to nod toward Sssamm from Fillithar. “If you don’t have any hands, you’re going to learn how to use your coils. Those of you with prehensile tails are in luck, because that’s as good as an extra rope, out here.”

  “I knew I ought to have bioengineered a tail,” Chassellon muttered.

  Apparently tails were in vogue on Coruscant at the moment. Extra, bioengineered body parts never lasted more than a few months, and in Leia’s opinion they never quite looked right. Maybe she’d feel differently about a tail once she tried to climb her first cliff.

  Chief Pangie continued, “Pathfinding is also about orienting yourself with little equipment or none at all. Even celestial navigation won’t help you if you’re not on your home planet and you don’t know the sky! So you have to notice every detail of your surroundings. Memorize every turn you take. If you don’t, you’re as good as dead.”

  Amilyn Holdo beamed. Leia wondered if heirs to the throne ever changed their Challenges of the Body after their Day of Demand.

  Clapping her hands, the chief finished, “We’re going to go over specific techniques later. Today, I just want to see who here has it in them to go the distance, and who’s going to pay close enough attention to landmarks along the way. So get those packs on your backs and let’s start moving. Has everyone got a field generator? Show me!”

  Leia pointed toward the small box clipped to her belt. The generator would respond to sudden changes in velocity with a small personal force field that would shield the wearer and prevent any falls, rockslides, or collisions from being fatal—in theory, anyway. Everyone was duly equipped with one, even Amilyn Holdo, who’d decorated hers with some kind of glitter. Only after seeing every single anti-impact field generator did Chief Pangie nod and signal for them to get going.