by Claudia Gray
Ransolm had argued that he and Princess Leia should present the Senate with the possibility of a shadowy power behind Rinnrivin’s rise. They’d debated that point from the Mirrorbright’s journey home straight through to this morning, when they’d met to go over their joint address one last time. Surely, if Rinnrivin was in league with someone even more powerful and better hidden, the Senate should know of the greater danger. But Princess Leia had remained adamant. We have to stick as closely as we can to the most concrete information we have. If we start speculating, we’ll lose the Centrists immediately, she’d said. A smile had tugged at her lips. And if you present a conspiracy theory to the Senate, they’ll think I turned you Populist.
Ransolm knew hers was the more prudent course of action, but standing in front of the Senate and holding back information that might be crucially important felt dishonest. He had sworn not to turn into one of the backstabbing sycophants of politics, to remain true to his convictions. Now here he was, lying…
Merely being cautious, he reminded himself. His goal was to spur the Senate to a more in-depth investigation. After that, he could present not mere suspicions but hard facts.
He and Princess Leia weren’t hiding the truth; they were fighting to reveal it.
She had begun their address and given him the chance to conclude it. He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “Honorable members of the Senate, we hereby put forth a joint proposition: An extensive investigation into Rinnrivin Di’s cartel should begin immediately and be supported by the Senate’s full resources. Senator Organa and I are willing to lead this investigation, working together. We urge you to act without delay.”
There. He’d been courteous but forceful, clear and concise. Although he’d felt nervous a time or two, Ransolm thought his voice hadn’t betrayed it.
He felt good about his speech until the moment the moderator droid said, “The floor is open to responses.”
Lights signaling the desire to speak blinked on all around the room, sending holodroids zipping in a dozen directions at once. Senator Anib Ney of Sullust rose first, the vocoder translating his words: “Senator Organa’s life was put in danger by the vigilante actions of a Centrist politician, and we are expected to simply ignore this? Can we trust a major investigation to a renegade?”
Thunderstruck, Ransolm barely managed not to gape at the senator in astonishment. Renegade? That might have been flattering under other circumstances. But vigilante?
Next was a Centrist in a gaudy suit, Senator Mortan of Comra, who bellowed, “Senator Organa withheld critical information from Senator Casterfo! She recklessly endangered her life, and perhaps that of the entire delegation!”
Princess Leia tried to respond. “I fully admit that I made certain errors in judgment—”
“As did I.” Casterfo wouldn’t let her take the blame alone, even though he remained pretty sure it was hers alone. They were moving past this and concentrating on what really mattered.
But the Senate could concentrate on nothing. The droids kept cataloging debate after debate, with countless senators shouting into their amplifiers but listening to not one word.
Ransolm glanced at his console screen to see Princess Leia standing with her hands clasped in front, her face completely composed. In her calm stillness and the pale blue of her robe, he could almost believe her painted in frost—but by now he knew her well enough to detect the irritation in her brown eyes, and he suspected she saw it reflected in his. Their understanding was immediate; she might as well have leaned over and whispered, Can you believe these idiots?
This is temporary, he told himself. Only posturing. When the senators have time to review our evidence, they’ll take action.
He refused to give up on the political process, as he suspected Princess Leia had. Although Ransolm had learned to respect her, he would not copy her mistake. Giving up on the government was not an option.
But he so wished his words had been listened to, that he’d actually managed to do some good and make his mark.
—
Lady Carise Sindian was considered by most who knew her to be vain, shallow, and frivolous. She cultivated this reputation at every opportunity.
Those who underestimated her ambitions would overestimate themselves. That made them vulnerable. Even if she never had to use those vulnerabilities, she would always know the soft belly, the unhealed break, the very place to strike. And when you understood a person’s weaknesses, you could figure out anything else about them you needed to know.
Meanwhile, the others would never understand her at all.
(Well, the vain part of her reputation was accurate. Lady Carise had enough self-awareness to acknowledge that. But she felt there were worse faults than taking pride in beauty and rank.)
She sat in her position, listening to the Senate roar its outrage over the mission to Bastatha. Probably most people in this room thought this would be the Senate’s main point of controversy for the day. They were very wrong.
To have gone all the way to Bastatha and found so little, she thought as she looked up at Princess Leia and Ransolm Casterfo. Lady Carise liked what little she knew of Casterfo, and as for the princess…well, she might have no regard for her own rank, but Lady Carise tried to honor Leia Organa as a fellow daughter of one of the Elder Houses. One had to respect titles and bloodlines. Without that, royalty would be meaningless.
Finally, the Ithorian representative moved to “table the discussion” of further investigation of Rinnrivin Di. In effect, this meant that no one would take action on it again. Casterfo’s shoulders sagged in obvious disappointment, but Princess Leia simply sank back into her place without so much as a frown. Lady Carise knew then that the princess had never expected anything to come of her speech in the first place.
Perhaps the next speaker would prove more effective.
“The floor now recognizes the honorable senator from Arkanis, Lady Carise Sindian.”
She rose to her feet, ready for her moment. Her glittering red robes reflected the tiny cam lights of the holodroids, and her long black hair was held in place by jeweled combs from her homeworld. Even those who didn’t expect to listen carefully would feel compelled to watch. She had their attention, and now she intended to use it.
“Honorable members of the Senate,” Lady Carise began, looking out on the enormous expanse of the chamber. “Only three weeks have passed since the glorious ceremonies marking the dedication of the statue of Bail Organa.”
This was greeted with a smattering of applause, snaps, and whistles, the various audience approval of every species. Lady Carise smiled.
“The late viceroy of Alderaan helped to forge an alliance that brought hundreds of worlds together. The unity he inspired in others reminded us of the potential for even greater cooperation within the galaxy. When we looked up at his face carved in stone, we remembered how much can be accomplished by one individual who inspires others. Although it pains me to say it, I must add that the Senate has not been as effective in Mon Mothma’s absence, and that her successors in the office of chancellor have failed to match her ability to create consensus. Now the New Republic is beginning to suffer for it. Growing lawlessness is only one symptom of this malaise. There are others, and more will develop the longer we allow this situation to continue.”
One of the very few things the Senate didn’t discuss in depth was its own ineffectuality. Uncomfortable silence surrounded Lady Carise, but it was a silence she intended to use.
“We cannot wait for Mon Mothma’s return to take action. She saved this galaxy once from the dangers of oppression; we must now save ourselves from the dangers of weakness. Therefore I wish to make a proposition, one that some here will consider radical.” She let her gaze focus on that Populist rabble-rouser Varish Vicly, but only for a moment. “Others may believe it does not go far enough. But after due consideration and input from the people, I remain certain that my fellow senators will agree that this is by far the best way to restore
our government to vitality. Gentlebeings, we must lead again. In order to do that, we need a leader.”
How she had fought to be the one to make this statement. Her allies in the Senate had been hungry for this glory as well. But she had won, and this was her moment.
“I hereby propose the abolition of the title chancellor. In its stead, we will elect a ‘First Senator’—and that First Senator will be given real authority over economic and military matters. Our troops and politicians will be answerable again. The Senate will have to cooperate.” Lady Carise brought her hand up in a fist. “And we can finally move the New Republic forward!”
One moment of silence, and then—pandemonium.
“This is treason! High treason against the core values of the New Republic!”
“How do we know the title of First Senator won’t prove just as ineffectual as the title of chancellor?”
“We would have to redraw that entire section of the New Republic’s constitution!”
“What if the First Senator turns into another Emperor?”
Lady Carise answered that question immediately. “When we redraw the constitution, we can define the First Senator’s authority and safeguard against tyranny.”
“Can you?” This came from Princess Leia, whose cheeks were flushed. “Need I remind the honorable members that Palpatine maintained the illusion of the Imperial Senate for nearly twenty years after the Old Republic’s fall? A tyrant can make anything seem to be ‘the will of the people.’ ”
Lady Carise held up her hands. The mediator droids obeyed her signal, silencing all the other senators whether they liked it or not. She felt as if she could almost drink the energy swirling in the room, an intoxicating mixture of fury and zeal. “Honorable members, I do not expect this transition to be an easy one. Nor do I expect a vote to be held today. What I request is only that the Senate study my proposal seriously and come up with a plan that would allow us to elect a First Senator at some point within this term.”
There. She knew, of course, that the arguments over this would go on for ages. The Senate accomplished nothing quickly, least of all its own improvement. But the idea of finally choosing a powerful leader had been introduced. She, Lady Carise Sindian, had been the one to introduce it. They would remember that, someday. Schoolchildren would learn her name.
One of the mediator droids intoned, “The floor now recognizes the honorable senator from Riosa, Ransolm Casterfo.”
Lady Carise would have expected Casterfo to look crestfallen after his failure with the Rinnrivin Di investigation, but instead he stood proudly, hands clasped behind his back. “Gentlebeings, this is not the time for debate. Frankly, debate is what is killing this Senate.”
A smattering of applause and chirps welcomed this. Frustration might have been the most commonly held feeling in the Galactic Senate.
Casterfo continued, “If we continue to table every discussion worthy of being had, continue to delay every motion that could make a difference, we will only sink ourselves deeper and deeper into the bureaucratic mire that now defines the New Republic. We are failing to lead our citizens. We are becoming a joke.”
Silence met this, but it was the silence of assent. Lady Carise’s cheeks burned as she remembered some of the vulgar humor at the Senate’s expense she’d heard in spaceports and such. At least she had a noble title still worthy of honor, one no government could ever take away.
“What Lady Carise has proposed is radical, yes,” Casterfo continued. He had warmed to his subject, and the electricity in his voice had begun to galvanize the crowd. “That does not make it wrong. I for one believe that this Senate does need more authoritative leadership. Others will not. For many of us, no amount of debate will ever change our minds. So I move that we vote now. Here, today. Let us see where the majority stands! Let us stand up and say precisely what we believe, and act on that belief! If the vote is no, then we do not waste further time and acrimony on the matter. But if the vote is yes, if others among you are hungry for decisive leadership again, then we can spend our energy where it truly belongs, on determining the best way to define and elect our First Senator.”
The applause returned, louder this time. Lady Carise felt as if the spotlight had shifted to Casterfo entirely. Jealousy prickled at her, but she forced it back. If the Centrists could gain a vote on this question today, regardless of the outcome, that had to count as a victory. Even raising the idea of a First Senator would start the conversation among the peoples of the galaxy, readying them for future unity and greatness. Besides, Casterfo was proving himself to be a worthy ally—a talent worth cultivating.
“I call for the vote.” Casterfo’s blue eyes were bright, his form silhouetted by the chamber’s lights. He looked like a heroic figure on a poster or in a propaganda holo. These images would no doubt be transmitted later. “Here and now. Stop debating. Stop questioning. Don’t worry about the details of the procedure, which can be determined later. Only say whether or not you are ready for this Senate to finally move forward again.”
“Opposition to the vote?” the moderator droid said flatly. Lady Carise knew most Populists would object immediately, but it was very difficult to avoid a vote on the Senate floor; the government was structured to let everyone have a say, always, which was finally working to Centrist advantage.
Calling a vote was one thing. Winning it was another.
We haven’t had time to make people see the benefits of strong leadership, she thought. The people remain afraid of Palpatine’s shadow.
Yet as the objections to a vote failed to reach veto status and the preparations began, Lady Carise realized Casterfo’s true brilliance. He hadn’t couched his argument in terms of accepting a First Senator. Instead, he had emphasized the frustration everyone felt about the Senate’s inertia. Casterfo hadn’t asked them to vote for anything, only to vote against a despised, deadlocked bureaucracy.
The votes began to tally on the viewscreen floating above—each individual anonymous, but guessable. The nay votes of the Populists lit up in green, while the yea votes of the Centrists went yellow. Normally the planets not committed to any one faction either split roughly half and half or abstained completely.
This time, however, the yellow marks on the board multiplied until they cast a golden glow. Lady Carise stared into the light, her hand over her heart. She and Casterfo would share the credit for this, and there would be more than enough credit to share. When he caught her eye through the holos, he was smiling, and she grinned back. By now, they both knew.
Through the many speakers and translators came the final result: “The motion carries.”
—
Leia generally refused strong drink at functions with her fellow senators, even purely social ones. That night, when the droid asked what she wanted, she ordered a Corellian brandy. “And make it a double.”
“One vote, and our entire system of government is wrecked?” Varish Vicly used her claws to pull her golden fur back from her scowling face. “How could that happen?”
“It happened because our government is designed to be flexible,” Leia pointed out as she took her seat at Varish’s long, enameled table. “We didn’t want to be rigid. We wanted to bend. Well, we just bent so far we broke.”
She and several other Populist senators had been invited to this dinner several days earlier; Leia had looked forward to the party, not only for the rich banquet that would be presented but also because she had intended to begin informing her colleagues of her plans to leave the Senate at the end of her term. Instead, they would spend the whole evening grappling with the political disaster that had just befallen them.
“But how could virtually all the neutral worlds turn against us like that?” Varish snapped her fingers; Lonerans could snap eight of them at once. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”
Tai-Lin Garr settled himself onto the long cushions that lined Varish’s table, just next to Leia. As a native of Gatalenta, he came across as calmer and steadier than
anyone else in the Senate—but today’s vote had clearly shaken him badly. “Lady Carise convinced no one. Casterfo convinced nearly everyone.”
“He got up there and pretended to cooperate with Leia, then sold out the whole galaxy. That power-hungry snake. No offense!” Varish added as she waved at a Fillithar at the other end of the table. The Fillithar hissed that none was taken.
Leia shook her head. “Casterfo’s sincere. Wrong, but sincere. He’s also convincing, and he has charm to spare. If the Centrists can muster up a few more speakers like him, or even a candidate, we could be in serious trouble.”
Groans and curses filled the room, and the droids began hurrying out the second round of drinks.
Most senators kept relatively modest homes on Hosnian Prime; even Leia, who had no other primary residence, lived in a simple but comfortable apartment close to the main governmental buildings. However, Lonerans believed in opulence as a virtue unto itself, which meant Varish Vicly’s suite of rooms was at least four times larger than most people’s living spaces. Despite the almost outrageous level of luxury she maintained—abstract artwork blazing across the walls in vibrant color, and crystal arrays hanging from the lights—Varish’s home created a sense of welcome and comfort that almost always put visitors at ease, something they all needed tonight.
Yet Leia couldn’t relax. She found herself thinking of her mother—the birth mother she hadn’t known, Padmé Amidala. After Leia had learned her mother’s identity years ago, she’d done what research she could to discover something more about the former queen and senator. She’d learned that her mother had been present at the vote that had given Palpatine ultimate power over the old Galactic Senate, and Leia could imagine the despair that must have been within her heart.
Is that happening again, today? My mother watched the old Republic fall—is it my turn to see the New Republic crumble?
Leia took another gulp of brandy.
Tai-Lin sat up and straightened his scarlet robe. “We cannot now avoid the election of a First Senator. All we can do is make sure that the First Senator will be a Populist, to ensure that this power won’t be misused.”
