by Claudia Gray
But Ress Batten couldn’t be her confidant. If she admitted what she knew, it could only put them at risk; her father had always said you shouldn’t put anyone in royal service in jeopardy without their free consent. Besides, Batten was sworn to serve as a pilot and an officer, not as a would-be conspirator, much less as a friend.
The divide between princess and pilot was one her mother had warned her about. The palace can be an isolated place, Leia, Breha had said to her little girl many times, beginning when she was too small to understand how their happy home could ever be lonely. We have so many privileges, but we have to make sacrifices, too. We have to bear our burdens on our own.
That still didn’t make total sense to Leia. Her parents supported each other, and they could have her support too if they’d just make her a part of their plans to push back against the Emperor.
But this painful silence—this awkwardness between her and the other person on this ship, where neither of them would admit what they’d seen—that was one of those burdens Breha had spoken of.
She’d have to get used to carrying the weight.
Leia’s plans didn’t call for traveling to Naboo itself. She hadn’t been in any hurry to set foot on Palpatine’s homeworld, but as the Polestar settled into Onoam orbit and Naboo hung large in the starfield, she felt an unexpected pang. It was a beautiful planet—green and blue, laced with faint misty clouds—and surely it could be forgiven for one of its citizens turning out so badly.
Then she reminded herself of Wobani, and Arreyel, and countless other worlds that had once been this beautiful before they were poisoned by Palpatine’s Empire. She couldn’t enjoy Naboo’s beauty knowing the cost of so much of its prosperity.
Anyway, their destination had its own charms. Unlike most moons and smaller planets with mines, Onoam remained a lovely place to be—at least, on the surface. Gentle winds stirred tall grasses that spread across vast rolling planes, beneath a pinkish sky. Many wealthier citizens of Naboo had second homes there, including the provincial governor of this sector, and only a few kilometers from the spaceport stood a secondary royal palace.
As chance would have it, the royal personage in question happened to be visiting Onoam. Leia knew enough protocol to know that even their mercy mission had to wait for an hour or two, because it was the duty of a princess to call on a queen.
“You are welcome to our system, Princess,” said Queen Dalné in the lower, more formal voice traditional for the ruler of her world. She sat on a high golden throne, dressed in the sumptuous regalia of a ruler of Naboo; her long robes were a shade of violet so dark it was nearly black, shot through with ornate silver embroidery. Her dark hair had been woven through the lattices of a silver headdress that spread out like a fan, and white makeup on her face made the red on her lips look stark. “If we had been given more notice of your visit, we could have prepared a banquet in your honor.”
“I hadn’t expected to find you here,” Leia said, which was as close to an apology as necessary. “I had thought surely the many concerns of your world would keep you on Naboo.” Uh-oh. Did that sound like she was criticizing the queen? Great. Your second diplomatic incident in two trips. At this rate you’ll start a war before the month is out.
Yet Queen Dalné smiled, a touch sadly. “Once the queens of Naboo truly were rulers of this world. But since our Senator Palpatine has become emperor, his governors have taken Naboo’s concerns in hand. Really there is very little for me to do beyond the ceremonial.”
Breha’s words came to mind again: The palace can be an isolated place. Dalné was a girl no older than Leia herself, with no ruler parents to support her and no meaningful duties to perform. She led a life of gilded luxury that some would envy, but Leia understood the bars of the cage around her.
Still, royalty didn’t have to mean total solitude. “Your Majesty, if you have both the time and the will, you could join me today. We’ll be distributing safety equipment to the miners.” She half expected Dalné to refuse immediately. No doubt there were political pitfalls to this that Leia, as an outsider, couldn’t understand.
Instead, the queen of Naboo smiled. Her heavy makeup could no longer conceal her true face. “I have the will, Princess Leia, and so I shall make the time.”
According to the files Leia had studied, the relationship between Naboo and its mining colony on Onoam had always been fractious. A generation before, the miners had repeatedly gone on strike for larger shares of the profits, and some splinter groups had even committed minor political violence—breaking windows and security shields, even burning a vacant warehouse on Naboo itself.
No doubt the present miners would have given much to work in the conditions their predecessors had found so objectionable. Before, the miners of Onoam had wanted to be treated more fairly; now, they wanted to be acknowledged as human beings. As the cargo lift with the first load of equipment sank lower into the shaft, light became a rarer resource; the scanty illumination down here was hardly enough to work by, and no more than that. Heavy dust seemed to hang in the air. Leia coughed more than once, and Dalné’s snowy makeup had already begun to look dingy. This couldn’t be a safe environment for them or for anyone.
But only sentients were allowed to mine for medicinal spice. Droids could be too easily hacked or hijacked to smuggle out amounts sufficient for cooking into new, more potent substances—in other words, illegal ones. Humans could cheat too, but they were rarely as skilled at it, and other motivations could keep them honest. Leia would have thought the best of these motivations would be a fair wage, good working conditions, and a sense of community and camaraderie.
Palpatine preferred to “motivate” through cruelty and terror.
When at last they’d sunk to the deepest level of the mine for the equipment, a small group of miners waited for their royal visitors. They might have been any other committee come to greet a visiting dignitary if it weren’t for the handful of stormtroopers milling around in the background, one for every exit.
Dalné’s protocol droid announced them, then gestured at one tall, skinny man and said, “Brel Ti Vorne, designated representative of the miners.”
“My queen,” Ti Vorne said, bowing to his queen first, as was proper. But he turned his attention to Leia immediately after. “Princess Leia of Alderaan, we receive you with gratitude.”
“You’ll receive something more useful than a princess.” She gestured to the crates coming in by hoverdroid. “We’ve brought supplies for five hundred miners: safety belts, atmosphere masks, portable force fields that can purify the air, and a few other things I thought you might need.”
She expected smiles, or at least nods of acknowledgement. Instead, Ti Vorne’s face fell, and the miners behind him shuffled from foot to foot and murmured among themselves.
Queen Dalné said, “These gifts trouble you. May we ask why?”
“If you need other things more urgently,” Leia hastily added, “I’ll try to get those too. Just tell me what they are.”
Ti Vorne shook his head. “These items would make our labors much easier, Your Highness.”
Would. Not will. She cast a surreptitious glance toward the nearest stormtroopers; they didn’t appear to be paying any particular attention, but behind those helmets, who could tell? So Leia stepped closer to Ti Vorne and pitched her voice lower. “They can’t hear us. Tell me the truth.”
He hesitated a moment longer, so uncertain she nearly took back what she’d said, but finally Ti Vorne sighed. “You may give the equipment to us, Your Highness. We may even be allowed to use some of it, at least for a shift or two. But eventually everything will be taken away—as a punishment, or because the equipment’s supposedly ‘defective,’ or we’ll be told it was lost. Something like that. We’d managed to save up for a few things of our own, every now and then, until we realized they’d all meet the same fate. The Imperial major in charge of the mine sells them off and pockets the profit.”
Leia could hardly speak for her indignation.
“What—they—that’s criminal!”
Ti Vorne shrugged. “Not if the one in charge does it.”
“No, because then it’s even worse. Then it’s—it’s just—total poodoo.”
That made Ti Vorne’s eyes go wide, and Queen Dalné choked back a laugh. So much for diplomatic language.
“Forgive me,” Leia said with as much grace as she could retrieve. “Your plight upsets me, and moves me to action.”
“Then you’re already better than most, Your Highness.” Ti Vorne had a curious expression on his face—as if he were even more afraid of his next words. But all he said after that was, “We’ve reached out to others recently. Including some we thought might take action for us. Nothing yet.”
Leia clasped her hands in front of her. “Then let me do what I can for you. Please accept these gifts on behalf of all the miners. I intend to find a way to ensure that this time you keep them.”
“We both shall,” Queen Dalné added, with a force in her voice Leia hadn’t heard from her before.
Ti Vorne’s smile was sad. He didn’t blame them, but he didn’t believe them, either. “Your goodwill is a gift in itself.”
Shortly afterward, when Leia and Dalné were rising from the catastrophic bloom of the mines on the cargo lift, Leia muttered, “They can’t eat goodwill. Can’t breathe it, either.”
“We all know of Imperial corruption.” Dalné sounded miserable. In the brief time they’d spent underground, her facial makeup had been rendered almost entirely gray by the disgusting dust. “It reaches everywhere. But not even I realized it dug so far underground.”
“Is there anything you can do? Any—old rule, or ceremonial duty, that lets you step in?”
Dalné thought for so long that Leia assumed she was mostly coming up with a tactful way to say nothing could be done. Then she snapped her fingers. “I can demand an audience with higher officials. The provincial governor himself has a chalet here on Onoam; I think he might even be visiting now.”
“That’s—Moff Quarsh Panaka, yes?”
“Yes. He’s a native of Naboo, so it’s not like going to an offworlder. And for all he turns a blind eye, he’s not corrupt himself.” Dalné hesitated. “He is personally loyal to Palpatine.”
That loyalty made him dangerous, but—“We should give him a chance. Honest Imperial officials are pretty rare. It would be a shame to waste one.”
Having something important to do had clearly invigorated Dalné. Much too cheerfully, given the risks, she said, “Shall I request an immediate audience, then?”
Leia nodded. “I think it’s time I met Panaka.”
Moff Panaka’s office granted the queen of Naboo and her guest an audience—though the only window they offered was that same day, very soon. Leia wondered whether the moff’s underlings hoped to avoid the queen’s request by simply ensuring she arrived late.
To complicate matters, Leia needed to change clothing. Her simple white gown suited most occasions, or it had, before she’d worn it down in the belly of a mine. Although she tried to convince herself that walking into the audience grimy and gray would make a strong point about mining conditions, she couldn’t do it. Apparently 2V’s constant admonitions about looking her best had sunk in. So they found the time to fly to Dalné’s home on Onoam, where sumptuous royal finery was available in abundance.
I’m never going to tell TooVee about this, Leia decided as she slipped into one of the queen’s gowns. She’d gloat for days.
She had borrowed the simplest dress on offer, another one in white, but the simplest dress of a ruler of Naboo remained ornate in the extreme. Pale pink and yellow veils fell in layers from the cape, and a white net stretched behind her head like a ruff. The effect was beautiful, but to Leia’s eyes, extravagant.
“This is traditional dress,” Dalné insisted as she fluffed the veils cascading over Leia’s shoulders. “Queens and other high officials wear this at times of rejoicing. It’s appropriate to wear when first meeting a dignitary; that way, you’re signaling that you expect negotiations to be successful.”
“It’s just—a lot.”
Dalné nodded in resignation. “After I was elected queen, it took me months to get used to the weight of the headdresses. The one I’m wearing now is one of the lightest. Though the one that goes with the jubilation dress is really very easy to—”
“No, no.” Leia held up one hand. “I don’t want to come across like I’m pretending to be queen myself.”
This amused Dalné. “You’re overqualified to be a handmaiden!”
As Batten sped the Polestar over the tall swaying grasses of Onoam, Leia listened to Dalné talk about all the many roles Naboo handmaidens had played in the past, serving as everything from personal counselors to intelligence operatives. The tradition had faded as the queen became more of a figurehead than a ruler, but handmaidens still had to qualify through a series of mental and physical tests that would’ve challenged even Imperial Academy cadets.
What must it have been like, to be a true queen of Naboo? The weight of it would be heavy, Leia thought, in every way—from the responsibility for a whole planet to the ceremonial headdresses. Even some of the gowns in Dalné’s closet must have weighed five or six kilos. Thank goodness Alderaan’s royal traditions called for nothing more than the monarch wearing braids.
Batten would stay with the Polestar, which set down a respectable distance from the chalet. Imperial security regulations didn’t bend, not even for princesses or queens. It was a civilian worker who registered the landing, however, an odd tall fellow who wore a breathing mask. How strange it must be for him, surrounded by such natural beauty and fresh air he couldn’t safely inhale.
The veils of her cape rippled around Leia’s feet as she and Dalné climbed the steps leading to the moff’s chalet, an imposing structure built of thick beams of richly patterned red wood. But she was able to walk smoothly and with assurance, and with no fear of tripping. She hadn’t been a princess her whole life without learning how to deal with a gown that had a train.
A squat little LEP droid showed them into a high-ceilinged room with broad windows that revealed the beautiful vista spreading out to the horizon in three directions. But that, Leia noted, was the space’s one true luxury. Most higher Imperial officials liked to surround themselves with the overripe glamour of ill-gotten gains: statues looted from museums, ostentatiously expensive furnishings, and the like. Moff Panaka preferred the simple and practical, while still showing good taste.
Despite her many years of experience with Imperial authorities, Leia began to feel hopeful. Dalné had told her Panaka was a decent man. This room confirmed at least that he wasn’t like most of the Empire’s higher-ups. Maybe negotiating would actually get them somewhere.
“Your Majesty.” The deep masculine voice rang through the room. Leia half-turned to see a tall, handsome, dark-skinned man walking toward the queen, a cup in hand. He was about her father’s age, though not quite as tall, and flecks of gray marked the hair at his temples. Another LEP droid waddled behind him with a steaming pot and more cups for the guests. Moff Panaka continued, “You caught me having my afternoon tea. I hope you and your guest will—”
Panaka’s gaze finally turned to Leia. He stopped short, eyes wide with shock. Although he managed to hold on to his cup, some of his tea splashed onto the floor.
“Moff Panaka, are you well?” Dalné hurried forward as the little droid reached out an extender to mop up the spill.
“Of course. Forgive me. Your guest—reminded me of someone else.” Recovering his dignity, Panaka straightened and walked toward Leia, seemingly at ease again. Yet she could see the intense curiosity in his eyes. “You are Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan?”
“Yes, Moff Panaka. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Leia felt more disconcerted by Panaka’s odd behavior than she should’ve. Instead of engaging in the usual pleasantries, she got directly to the point. “We need to discuss the situation of the miners here on Onoam.”
She smiled. It wasn’t much of a joke, but it was more than many Imperials would offer. Surely it had to be a good sign, especially after such an awkward beginning.
They sat with Panaka on his terrace overlooking a narrow river that gleamed like silver in the sunlight. Leia laid out what they had seen in the mines, and described the problems Ti Vorne had told them of, though she knew not to mention the miner’s name. Panaka pressed his lips together, perhaps in anger, as she spoke, and she could tell the anger was for Imperial grifters.
“Of course Emperor Palpatine encourages a certain degree of”—Panaka sought a word that would be tactful enough—“initiative among its officers. They’re meant to handle disobedience through economic means when possible, rather than resort to violence.”
Is that what you’re calling it? People should be grateful they’re being robbed instead of being shot? Leia simply nodded and gave him a noncommittal “Mmm-hmm.”
Panaka shook his head. “The problem arises when less experienced officers begin to believe they can act this way against all citizens, instead of only lawbreakers. We need to be vigilant against such behavior, or else discipline among the troops will disintegrate.”
Virtually every other planet in the Empire saw “such behavior” constantly. However, maybe Moff Quarsh Panaka was willing to make sure Naboo wasn’t one of them. Leia ventured, “If you could establish some oversight in the mines—beginning now, with the new equipment I’ve brought—that could begin to make a real difference.”
“Then let it be done,” Panaka said.
She turned to Dalné, smiling in victory. Although Dalné smiled back, the elaborate makeup on her face couldn’t disguise that she was as confused as happy. Apparently Panaka wasn’t always as obliging. Why was he making an exception in Leia’s case?
