Leia, Princess of Alderaan

by Claudia Gray

  “Not at all.” Lifting herself upright again with damnable ease, Amilyn said, “Great evil can only be fought by the strong. People need spiritual fuel as much as they need food, water, and air. Happiness, love, joy, hope—these are the emotions that give us the strength to do what we need to do.”

  That wasn’t just the incense; that was genuine and true. Leia flopped back down on the bouncy floor, really relaxing in Amilyn’s company for the first time. “I guess all that meditation pays off for you guys.”

  “Yes. Well, that, and it’s pretty obvious you like Kier. You might as well use that energy, you know?”

  Leia opened her mouth to protest, but what was the point? “It’s like—like everything else is this raging storm, and he’s…the only safe place. The only one who lets me just be myself.”

  “Beware words like ‘only,’” Amilyn said, wagging one long finger, but she was smiling. “Don’t let your head be turned by the most dangerous substance known to exist.”

  “Which is?”

  “A pair of pretty dark eyes.” Then Amilyn thought about that for a moment. “Or more than a pair, if you’re into Grans. Or Aqualish, or Talz. Or even—”

  “That’s all right!” Leia said through laughter. “It’s just humanoid males for me.”

  “Really? That feels so limiting.”

  “Thank goodness it’s a big galaxy.”

  And she’d already found someone extraordinary in it.

  Later that afternoon, Leia walked through the senatorial complex in a good mood. Whether it was the incense, the conversation with Amilyn, or the promise of another pathfinding trip with Kier in the near future, her gloom had been banished for the first time in too long. Apparently this “being normal” thing really worked.

  But her steps slowed as she saw staffers ducking into offices, hurrying along corridors, gesturing to each other to hurry into their planet’s suite.

  Luckily the Alderaanian suite wasn’t far away. She reached it within minutes and rushed inside to find absolutely no one in the outer room; a crowd had gathered in her father’s office. Leia poked her head through the doorway to see everyone clustered around the HoloNet viewer.

  “—no loss of life, only through the courage of our Imperial stormtroopers. However, the attack on the convoy represents a profound danger to outposts in the Mid-Rim region, and to the interconnectedness of our Empire.”

  Only someone who knew Bail Organa as well as his daughter would’ve caught the slight exhalation of relief on the words “no loss of life.” That was the only emotion he displayed, not disquiet or even surprise.

  This isn’t like what happened in the Naboo system, Leia concluded. This is something my parents knew about.

  Something they planned.

  Something they helped to do.

  “False reports circulating through various informal channels claim that a medical frigate was captured,” the infocast reader continued. “Although many members of the frigate’s crew were found to harbor treasonous beliefs and attempted to aid in the attack, the ship remains in the control of the proper authorities.”

  Most informed members of the Senate knew how to read through the lines of official HoloNet reports. If the medical frigate in question were still under control, its name would’ve been given. If crewmembers had been captured, at least one or two would’ve been named; Palpatine never hesitated to identify his enemies. The real message was that someone higher up on a medical frigate had wanted to remove it from the Imperial Starfleet, and with the assistance of starfighters—starfighters provided by her parents or their allies—had escaped with the sophisticated ship, its supplies and its equipment intact.

  No loss of life, Leia reminded herself. Her parents had supported a swift, smart, nonviolent operation, the kind of action she felt she could condone.

  But they’d taken a medical frigate. Those frigates were designed to handle casualties on a massive scale, like after a planetary catastrophe, or—

  —or a large-scale military conflict.

  She only knew that from history lessons about the Clone Wars. In her lifetime, no such battles had taken place. Leia had always hoped none ever would.

  Apparently her parents had other plans.

  After the HoloNet had reported the exact same information three different ways, the huddle of viewers began to break up. From the outer corridors of the Senate chambers, Leia could hear numerous people talking among themselves; this would be the only subject most people on Coruscant discussed for the rest of the day.

  In Bail Organa’s office, however, the staffers remained quiet. They went back to their tasks without a word. How much did they know? Were they working with her father—or, if not his co-conspirators, were they at least willing to remain silent rather than confront the truth?

  She waited until she was the last person in her father’s office, then pressed the panel to shut the door behind her. “Dad—”

  “This isn’t a conversation we’re going to have.” Bail met her eyes for only an instant before pulling up his work on a datapad.

  “How can you say that? I know what this means. If I know, that means the Empire knows too.”

  His hands on his datapad stilled, but he didn’t look up. “Undoubtedly. Which means discretion has become even more important.”

  “But, Dad, how can the two of you—”

  “Leia, stop.” At last Bail lifted his head again, considering his daughter from what seemed to be far away. “The less you know, the safer you are. The less is said in this office, the safer the others here will be. Do you understand?”

  She already knew her safety was forfeit, but she hadn’t considered his staffers. He’d found the one point that could make her let go. Nodding, Leia walked out of her father’s office with a placid expression on her face, as though she were completely unbothered.

  Inside, however, her emotions were in a tumult, and she couldn’t tell what was worse: the separation between her and her parents that seemed to widen all the time, or her fear of the nameless conflict taking shape on the horizon.

  Fifty years ago, Felucia had been a remote jungle world on the outer edges of the Outer Rim, of interest to almost no one who didn’t already live there. Twenty years ago, it had become critical to controlling the Perlemian Trade Route, which made it a key battleground in the Clone Wars. Ten years ago, it had been a shadow of its former self, cities devastated by conflict. By the time Leia went there, Felucia was fulfilling the Empire’s goal for it, which meant serving as a source of the healing plant nysillim but nothing else.

  Yet the planet still claimed thick, near-impenetrable jungles and rainforests over much of its surface, which made it a good place for pathfinding practice.

  “I suppose I should be glad we’re not climbing as much today.” Chassellon led the way as the humanoid members of the class slogged through mud up to their knees. (Sssamm swam along merrily, feeling entirely at home.) “But even snow’s easier to march through than this muck.”

  Chief Pangie called from behind, “Our first cliffs are coming right up!”

  “Kriff,” Chassellon muttered. Leia wanted to laugh at him, but she was dangerously close to agreeing. They could see little in the distance but mist and the shadows of enormous trees. Surrounding them on all sides were tall, two-branched ferns that rose in striped arcs like a Togruta’s montrals, oversized vines and roots that jutted up from the soil, and orange flowers that looked pretty but had stems with sharp thorns. Short as Leia was, the mud came up higher on her and was making the hike tough going.

  Kier walked alongside her. Never once did he try to take her arm and help her along; he obviously understood how much she would hate that. But he matched his pace to hers to keep her company. Originally Amilyn had done the same, but after a raised eyebrow at Leia and Kier, she’d gone ahead, making her way easily through the mud on her long, stilt-like legs.

  At one point when Chief Pangie was busy shaking off a slimesnipe, Leia dared to whisper to Kier, “You heard
about the frigate, right?”

  He opened his eyes wider, clearly in warning. “Of course. But we shouldn’t—”

  “No! I didn’t mean to—” Leia glanced around. A few dangling strands of hair were plastered to her forehead and neck by sweat and sheer humidity. “I just meant, that’s more of the idea—more the right way to go about things.” Something I don’t have to forgive my parents for. Something I could support them in. Unless it leads to a more dangerous path—

  “I’m not so sure,” Kier replied.

  They’d have to discuss that further. But Leia was distracted as their group stumbled from a thick patch of fog to a clearing that revealed the cliffs they’d climb that day. They weren’t nearly as tall or as steep as the rock faces they’d dealt with so far, but every stone shone wetly with condensation or algae.

  “Does it look slippery?” said Chief Pangie, with her usual fierce glee. “That’s because it is! Fillithar boy, you’ve had it easy up until now, but you’ve got one hell of a slog ahead of you.”

  Sssamm’s tongue flickered out nervously, but he didn’t protest, only nodded.

  The chief continued, “That’s another thing you should be learning through pathfinding. Every single one of you has unique skills and weaknesses. Each of you is going to run across tasks you can do better than anybody else, and you’re also going to run into a few at which you are, let’s just say it, pathetic.”

  Leia looked down toward the mud plastering her pale gray climbing suit all the way to mid-thigh. Well, if I had to be pathetic at one thing, at least it’s this and not something dangerous.

  “I’m splitting you up into teams of two,” Chief Pangie continued, “and taking you around to different bases from which to climb. You won’t be that far apart, but good luck catching a glimpse of anybody else. Coordinates for our meeting place have been auto-downloaded into your equipment. You have to figure out how to meet in the middle. Oh, and be sure to activate those anti-impact fields! If you don’t have those on, your first slip on those cliffs will be the last of your lifetime.”

  “As though we needed reminding about that,” Chassellon said. He was already surrounded by the faint, telltale shimmer of his field.

  Amilyn peered at him down her long nose. “For someone who grew up in a skyscraper, you’re awfully scared of heights.” Leia stifled a giggle as Chassellon sullenly folded his arms across his chest.

  To Leia’s satisfaction, she and Kier were paired for the climb. It seemed like a good time for them to talk on their own, but she hadn’t counted on what difference a little slipperiness would make. Although the grade of their ascent was low enough that they could’ve walked on other terrain, the slick surface required them to go up on all fours, and it was hard going. Talking about anything other than the essentials of climbing proved impossible.

  “All right,” she panted. “Looks like there’s a kind of ravine or something coming up. Not very wide, but we’ll want to use ropes.”

  From his place below her, Kier said, “Don’t be afraid. We’ve got this.”

  She hadn’t been especially worried until he said that, because it meant he had to be worried too.

  As they moved along the diagonal ascent that brought them closer to the ravine, Leia got a better look at what they’d have to deal with. It was a solid three meters to the other side; they’d have to use ropes and swing across. Challenging, and more than a bit scary, but fun.

  “I always like this part,” she confessed as they anchored their tethers to the stone.

  “Really? I hate it. Usually I have to close my eyes.”

  “Come on. The anti-impact field protects you.”

  Kier shook his head. “Doesn’t make that fall any less terrifying.”

  “Then don’t think about it.” After a couple of hours skyfaring with Amilyn, Leia had gained more experience in tumbling down. “Just think about your first handholds on the other side.”

  She spotted her own potential holds, double-checked her rope, and pushed off as hard as she could. For one second she could have been flying—swinging sideways through midair, hardly even able to feel the tether’s pull at her harness. But that momentary exhilaration had to give way as the other side came close. Leia hit it with her arms and legs braced properly to give a bit, and instantly found purchase. She shoved a new bolt anchor into a crack in the stone until she felt secure enough to tether herself to that.

  Breathing heavily and smiling, she called to Kier. “Come on! Try it!”

  The way he smiled at her then made her feel as if she’d just performed a magic trick and offered to teach him how. He shoved off—

  —in the same moment Leia saw grains of rock dust falling from his anchor. Before she could even shout in alarm, it gave way, and he dropped from her sight.

  “Kier? Kier?” Twisting around as best she could, she saw to her relief that he’d managed to make the other side, barely. He clung to the inner lip of the gorge, his handholds precarious. The useless anchor and rope dangled from his belt.

  “I’m all right,” Kier said. “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

  “I hit the other side hard. I think—I’m pretty sure it took out my field generator.”

  Leia went from mere fright to near-paralyzing horror. If Kier’s generator was broken and he fell, he would be killed. He was completely untethered to the rock face, and in a poor position to climb. It was too easy to imagine him tumbling down, broken against the stones long before he ever hit the ground.

  Yet after that first rush of terror, her mind cleared. Resolve focused her better than anything else. “I’m coming down for you.”

  “Don’t. Your rope might not support two.”

  “It could,” she protested, though she knew their weights together would be near the limit of the hold she’d prepared.

  But she hadn’t yet unclipped herself from the rope on the other side. Quickly she spooled out more length on her newer tether, hopefully enough to reach her and Kier.

  He still didn’t want her to risk herself; she knew that because she could see him trying to angle himself for a better foothold. There wasn’t one to be found, and he was only endangering himself in the process. “Will you just hold still?” she shouted. “Hang on!”

  Leia pushed off yet again, swinging back to the other side of the gorge—a far longer and steeper arc this time, which gave her the full effect of falling. She didn’t love that part. Yet again, she made a solid landing, and instantly she shoved off again, this time going straight toward Kier.

  He flattened himself against the rock as she made impact just next to him. Grabbing the edge of the gorge was harder than she’d thought it would be; Kier had done well not to fall immediately. Still, she had it.

  Up close, she could see how pale Kier was, but somehow he managed to smile. “My hero.”

  “Not yet.” She craned her neck around and realized just how tough it would be to get out of the gorge, with its many sharp, jutting stones. Any outcropping could easily slice their ropes, or Leia and Kier themselves. In fact, swinging back over to the other side—her original plan—looked extremely likely to do just that. Okay, we need a new plan. “We’re going to have to—somersault, throw ourselves, however you want to put it—around the lip of this gorge. That’s the only way we’re going to get over.”

  “We shouldn’t try a maneuver like that blind. The chief told us a hundred times.”

  “Chief’s not here, and this is our best option.” Nothing was more sobering than realizing the “best option” was still bad.

  She used a locking carabiner to clip her belt to Kier’s. This close she could make out the muscles in his arms, and how they were shaking from the sheer strain of holding himself on such a tenuous perch. His eyes met hers at the sound of the metal clip, and he said, “I should try this on my own.”

  “There’s no place to put in a bolt anchor.”

  “You shouldn’t have to put yourself at risk for me.”

&nbs
p; “Hey, my field generator’s still working, remember? You’re the one on the line here.” She grinned at him, hoping he wouldn’t think about the fact that in a fall as precarious as the one below them, there was a chance her generator would also be damaged before the emergency activation.

  Either he had thought about it, or he’d picked up on her nervousness. But he didn’t argue, only steadied himself as best he could as she slung one arm around him. They pressed together tightly, enough that she could feel his heartbeat hard and fast against her own chest. He said only, “Out and over?”

  “On three. Count it off for us.”

  As soon as she said that, Leia felt…centered, in a way she hadn’t before. Her nervousness fell away, and she took a deep breath. It wasn’t just an inhalation; it felt as though she were taking in the scents, the moisture, becoming part of the planet itself.

  Kier asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Leia was surprised at how much she meant it. “I have a good feeling about this.”

  “Okay. One.”

  She shut her eyes, breathed in again. It seemed to her she could feel the shape and dimension of the rock around them, that she knew the location of every spar and outcropping as automatically as if they were a part of her.

  “Two.”

  Instinct told her to connect to what she was feeling, to make herself a part of it—no, to know that she was a part of it, because of course she’d been a part of this planet all along—

  “Three.”

  Leia leapt at the exact moment Kier did, her limbs flooded with strength beyond what she’d thought she possessed. They swung around the outcropping and easily reached the other side. The instant Kier made contact, he shoved in a bolt anchor and clipped himself to it, independently supporting himself so Leia’s rope wouldn’t have to bear all the weight. For a few seconds afterward, they hung there, panting hard, steadying themselves.

  “That was one hell of a jump,” he finally said. “How did you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Already that odd spell that had fallen over her was broken. The strange vital energy that had so briefly sung to her had gone quiet again.