by Claudia Gray
And my son, she thought but did not say.
“If you have that ability, then I cannot imagine why you would not become a Jedi as well,” Tai-Lin finished. “Surely I’ve known few people who would make a finer Jedi Knight than you.”
Leia inclined her head in gratitude for the compliment, but she could not answer right away, because she could not tell the full truth. The Force was too important a subject to be shared lightly, even with Tai-Lin, her ally and friend.
Her safe, sensible, and, as far as it went, honest reply: “My duty has always been here, in the work of creating a new and better government.”
He sighed, as if in regret. “You alone can determine your rightful destiny.”
Could she? To Leia it felt as if her destiny had been out of her hands for a long time.
Together they walked the rest of the way to the conference building in silence broken only by the cries of migrating snowbirds overhead and the murmurs of the ever-increasing foot traffic around the Senate complex as staffers arrived for the day. Somewhere, probably not far away, Greer and Korrie would be arriving; C-3PO was probably already in the office happily sorting communiqués. Bail Organa’s statue sparkled translucent in the sunlight, watching over her. The pleasant weather and bright sky made Leia feel as if she might have enjoyed the morning if it weren’t for the breakfast meeting. And Tai-Lin’s probing questions about her past. And the memories stirred up by her conversation with Ransolm the evening before…maybe they were to blame for the increasing sense of dread welling inside her…
I need caf, Leia thought. Everything else she would deal with later.
The conference building of the New Republic senatorial complex contained multiple rooms appropriate for every kind of auxiliary function imaginable, from memorial concerts to awards ceremonies. Leia and Tai-Lin headed toward one of the smallest banquet rooms. The breakfast meeting had been organized by Varish Vicly, who couldn’t imagine a bad time for a party.
Varish came loping toward them now on all fours. “There you are! I was worried you’d be late.”
“We’re still early,” Leia protested as both she and Tai-Lin were wrapped in quick, long-limbed hugs.
“Yes, but I worry. You know how they get.”
“They” meant prominent representatives of both the far-left and far-right branches of the Populist faction. The far-right branches wanted to dissolve the Senate so each world would again become a totally separate entity; the far left hoped to open voting to the general populace, so that instead of thousands of senators refusing to agree, they could have countless citizens refusing to agree. The only thing these senators had in common was, it seemed, a willingness to support Leia’s candidacy for First Senator.
“Now come along and be introduced to everyone,” Varish insisted. Soon Leia found herself shaking hands and paws, murmuring greetings; thanks to some review holos Korrie had prepared for her, she recognized each senator in attendance and could even ask a few pertinent questions about their families and worlds.
In other words, Leia thought as she listened to someone cheerfully talk about his grandchildren, this is going wonderfully for everyone but me. Though not until now had she realized how much she dreaded her candidacy—or maybe just discussing her candidacy—whatever it was that made her so ill at ease.
They entered the banquet hall together, the entire group walking two by two. Leia knew the seat at the far end of the table would be hers, guest of honor as counterpart to the host. So she walked the length of the room, attentive to the senator at her side, before glancing down at the arrangements—sumptuous even by Varish’s standards, with a velvet runner stretching along the table and delicate paper streamers lying across the tables, beneath elaborately folded napkins. Leia had to laugh. “Honestly, Varish. For breakfast?”
This won good-natured chuckles from the room; Varish Vicly’s lavish tastes were well known, a foible she herself joked about. Today, however, she shrugged. “I didn’t request this. Maybe the serving staff heard my name and assumed that meant to go all out for glamour.” Varish smiled as she took her seat. “If that’s my reputation…you know, I can live with it.”
Leia settled into her chair, picked up her napkin—and stopped.
Something was written on the paper streamer on her plate. Actual writing. Virtually nobody wrote any longer; it had been years since Leia had seen actual words handwritten in ink on anything but historical documents.
But today, someone had left this message on her plate, only one word long:
RUN.
Leia shoved her chair back, instantly leaping to her feet. “We have to get out of here,” she said to the startled senators at the table. “Now. Go!”
But they didn’t move, even as she dashed toward the door. Varish said, “Leia? What in the worlds—”
“Didn’t you hear me?” These fools who had never been in the war, who didn’t know an urgent warning when they got one. Leia held up the paper so they could see it. “Run! Everyone get up and run!”
With that, she took off, running as fast as she could, finally hearing the others stir behind her. Maybe they thought the note was only a prank, but Leia knew better. The inchoate dread that had swirled inside her all morning had solidified; this was what her feelings had been warning her about.
As they dashed through the hallways of the conference building, Leia glimpsed an alert panel and swerved sideways to hit it. A robotic voice said, “No detected hazards at this—”
“Override! Evacuation alert now!” Leia resumed running just as the warning lights began to blink and the siren’s wail sounded. Immediately people began filing out of various other rooms, mostly grumbling but at least moving toward the exits—and when they saw her, they, too, started to run. The sense of urgency built behind her like a wave cresting, preparing to crash.
Leia’s breath caught in her throat as she pushed herself harder, running full out toward the doors, so fast they almost didn’t have time to open for her. In the square beyond, security droids had begun herding people away from the building, but too many continued to mill around, staring in consternation at the scene. The others evacuating flooded through the doors behind and around her, but once they were clear of the structure, half of them stopped, remaining stupidly within range.
Within range of what? She still didn’t know. But every instinct within her—the Force itself—screamed that disaster was near.
Leia didn’t stop. She kept running as hard as she could, never looking back, until…
Brilliant light. A roar so loud it resonated in her skull. And hot air and debris slamming into her, knocking her down, rolling her over, erasing the world.
—
Greer knew only that, in one moment, she was walking through the Senate grounds not far from the conference hall, Korrie by her side, trying to come up with an excuse to cover her afternoon trip to the medbay—and in the next, she lay dazed amid smoldering debris, her thoughts fuzzy and her body aching.
What the— She sat up, but too quickly, and her head whirled. Greer put one hand to her forehead, took a couple of deep breaths, and forced the collage of devastation around her to make sense.
Half of the senatorial conference building had vanished, leaving rubble behind; the other half smoked ominously, stained black. All around her, people either lay on the ground or stumbled around nursing injuries; skin, scales, and fur were all marked with blood. The acrid smell in her nostrils testified to the explosives that had been used.
Somebody bombed the Senate building, Greer thought.
That first moment of concrete knowledge snapped her brain back into focus. Greer looked around, searching for a glimpse of the spring-green robe Korrie had been wearing. “Korrie? Can you hear me? Korrie?”
“You’re okay!” Greer turned to see Korrie hurrying up to her, curly hair disheveled and gown torn, but otherwise all right. “I couldn’t see you for a second. It was like—like the explosion stole all the light for a moment. The world went blank, and
then it was turned upside down—”
Korrie’s voice cracked in a sob. She was still only a girl. Greer took her hand, hoping to provide some comfort. But she saw then that she’d lost a fingernail—ripped out at the root—and the blood trickling onto Korrie wasn’t helping at all.
A triage droid zipped through the air, dropping down to hover just beside Korrie, extending a scanner bar; blue rays swept over Greer’s body. “Mild concussion without internal bleeding. Negative for broken bones. External injuries and preexisting medical conditions only. Noncritical.” It scanned Korrie next, finding nothing even worth reporting aloud. After that, it took off, searching for someone more badly hurt.
“Help me up,” Greer croaked. Korrie slid one of Greer’s arms over her shoulder and got them both back on their feet. Now that Greer could see more of her surroundings, the full impact of the disaster hit her. Although security staff and med droids moved through the crowd with urgency and purpose, dozens if not hundreds of people had to be injured, and they lay amid an enormous scene of devastation.
“The breakfast meeting.” Korrie swallowed hard. “Princess Leia was in there when it blew.”
Greer’s whole body turned cold, save for the one finger hot with flowing blood. “We have to find her. Now. Go get someone to help us search. Joph Seastriker, maybe—the barracks would’ve been out of range—”
“Greer, everyone’s already looking.”
Of course the troops would have been called in immediately. But she couldn’t sit by and do nothing. “Not everyone is looking, because we’re not looking. I don’t care if we have to go through this brick by brick. We find Princess Leia.”
Korrie nodded. Having a concrete task to perform helped.
Within another minute, Greer could stand on her own. Her dark-blue tunic and skirt had been shredded by debris, rips and tears revealing the skin of her belly and thighs. Grayish-white dust coated her hair so thickly that every turn of her head shook forth a few more flakes. But she kept going, checking out each injured person, summoning med droids where needed, ignoring her own dizziness. She wouldn’t stop until she found Princess Leia and made sure she was all right. Greer refused to consider any other possibility.
As she went, she recognized other people she knew: Count Jogurner’s chief of staff, blood staining her white-blond hair as Dr. Kalonia helped her to stand. Andrithal Robb-Voti of Taris, leaning against an intact wall in a daze. Ransolm Casterfo helping a wounded Togruta woman toward the medcenter. Zygli Bruss of Candovant being lifted onto a stretcher. This was unquestionably the single biggest attack on the government since the final battles with the last surviving ships of the Empire more than twenty years before.
It was Korrie who finally called, “Over here!” Greer turned to see Princess Leia getting to her feet at the far edge of the square, one hand in Korrie’s, the other at her temple as though her head hurt badly. Greer limped to their side, only to have Princess Leia immediately embrace her.
“Thank goodness,” the princess said. She sounded as though she had been screaming, or crying. Terror and the ash in the air were stealing all their voices. “I was so worried about you both.”
“What happened?” Greer didn’t expect Princess Leia to know, but her mind kept returning to the question, worrying it over and over, as if this time an answer would come. “Who would have wanted to destroy the building?”
Princess Leia’s gaze turned upward, toward the statue of Bail Organa. Despite the sunlight, it showed as gray due to the coating of soot and dust, and his outstretched hand had been broken off halfway to the elbow. Greer realized she could see the shattered fingers lying amid the rest of the debris.
The princess said, “This bomb destroyed something far more important than a building. It may have destroyed the Senate itself.”
Who could have done this? Greer thought. Too many candidates sprang to mind: Organized crime, whether minions of Rinnrivin Di or a desperate attempt by the Hutts to reclaim their former power. Extreme Populist factions angry that the Galactic Senate even existed. Centrist radicals attempting to create a climate of fear that would justify their grab at absolute authority. Some wild-eyed loner with a grievance no rational person could ever understand.
She was sure of only one thing: As soon as the immediate shock had dissipated, accusations would fly in every direction. The Senate’s torpor would inflame into turmoil—and the fate of the galaxy itself could follow.
Leia refused to accept a healing treatment for her concussion until everyone more seriously injured had been attended to. At one point, Dr. Kalonia told her to stop acting so noble and get help already, but nobility had nothing to do with it. Healing treatments usually included sedatives, which meant she’d pass out within an hour of receiving one and probably not wake for at least half a day. Leia wanted to remain clearheaded as she tried to comprehend what had happened.
First thing, she recorded a voice-only message for Han, telling him that she was all right and that he didn’t have to come to Hosnian Prime on her account. Although she would have taken comfort in his company, she also knew that, as soon as she was able, she had to get to the bottom of who was responsible for this bombing. There would be no time left for sentimental reunions.
To her amazement and gratitude, no one appeared to have been killed. Although a few hundred people had been injured, some seriously, the med droids reported that nobody was in critical condition. But there certainly would have been a death toll—a high one—if not for the warning Leia had received.
The paper streamer had still been clutched in her hand when she came to, and she had given it to a security supervisor as soon as she found one after the explosion. RUN. Obviously it had to have been planted by someone who knew about the bomb, presumably the bombers themselves or a mole in their organization.
There were reasons to plant a bomb and ensure it only did property damage. Normally, Leia knew, this was the act of a terrorist organization seeking respectability or at least propaganda value; such bombings were intended to demonstrate both lethal power and respect for life—however disingenuous.
But no one had claimed responsibility, a necessary element for propaganda purposes. This crime remained anonymous and bewildering.
“Tomorrow, maybe,” Greer said as they finally took their turn in the medcenter. Her hand rested in a shallow dish of bacta, just enough to allow her fingernail to regrow; she’d been given a round of serum injections first thing. “We’ll probably get a message claiming responsibility tonight or tomorrow.”
Leia, meanwhile, had stripped down to her basics and already sat at the top of the tank, breathing apparatus in her hands. “I don’t think so. If they wanted us to know, we’d know by now.”
“Do you think the warning could have come from someone else?” Korrie ventured. She sat cross-legged on the floor, somewhat distracted by the synthskin patch quickly fusing the cut on her forehead. “Or maybe one of the bombers changed her mind at the last minute, and all she could do was give us a warning?”
“Possible. But unlikely. Whoever this is, they wanted us to be confused and angry. They’re going to make sure we stay that way.” Leia sighed as the doctor approached. “You’re going to tell me I need to stop talking immediately, aren’t you?”
“Indeed not.” Harter Kalonia’s coolly precise speech did little to disguise either her compassion or her sly humor. “I’m going to tell you that you needed to stop talking quite a while ago.”
“All right, all right.” Leia tucked escaped strands of hair back into her braid, slipped the breathing mask on, and dropped into the bacta.
Disgusting stuff, bacta—its viscosity seemed to mark the exact halfway point between “liquid” and “slime.” Leia’s eyes remained tightly shut, and the fluid’s temperature was warm, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she’d been swallowed alive.
Many bacta patients reacted this way, which was why doctors injected sedatives first. Sure enough, as Leia floated in the tank, one lock of her h
air swaying around her like seaweed, she felt the first wave of relaxation overtaking her.
Stay focused, she told herself. You need to think this through, step by step. Do you remember seeing anyone suspicious? But the tranquilizing pull of the drugs was stronger than gravity. Leia felt as if she were drifting into a realm without pain, without fear. Maybe this was what it was like to be in the womb. I wasn’t alone there, though. Luke was with me. Where’s Luke?
She remained conscious as they lifted her from the tank, wrapped her long hair in towels, and eased her onto a hovercot. Leia even remembered looking up at Dr. Kalonia and a med droid as they loaded her onto a transport. And if her memory served, she managed to get to her feet and walk into her own quarters with only a little assistance from the doctor.
Next had come the moment when she flopped down onto her own bed, and after that, she knew nothing at all, not for a very long time.
—
Leia woke with a dry mouth and fuzzy thoughts. Her body felt light, completely free from pain, and the sedative had not entirely released its hold on her mind. In the first few instants she simply enjoyed the experience of lying in a trance where fear could never touch her.
But memory demanded its due—that, and the red flashing lights on her comm panel.
Groaning, she pushed herself onto her elbows and looked at the nearest screen. Projected onto it was the information that she had suffered a concussion, moderate damage to her internal organs, and a few broken ribs, all of which the bacta had repaired. For the next few days, she would be restricted to limited physical exertion only. A med droid would return that night to confirm her successful treatment.
“Great,” Leia muttered. “But that’s not the damage I’m worried about.”
Next she brought up the holos she’d been sent. Her filters had been preset to sort them by her specific priorities, which meant the political messages would be at the bottom. The first image that flickered into being was Han’s face, and he looked more stricken than she had seen him in years. “Leia, sweetheart, Greer tells me you’re sleeping the bacta off. But when I heard somebody bombed the Senate, and saw those pictures…” He shook his head, as if trying to cast the images out of his mind. “If I hadn’t gotten your message, I would’ve gone out of my head. I’m just glad you’re all right. Contact me when you’re up and around again, and if you change your mind about me coming to Hosnian Prime, just say the word.” Han gave her the smile that had never failed to stop her heart. “I love you.”
