by Claudia Gray
But now Leia’s memories were claiming her again, taking her back to the forest moon of Endor in the aftermath of the tremendous celebration that marked their victory. Han had held her so tenderly as they rested on soft mosses, the scent of cedars and pine all around them. When she’d told him the whole story, she’d been terrified that Han would immediately abandon her. Their romance had been so new then. Only the day before, he had offered to step aside if she wanted Luke instead. Would he be even quicker to leave once he knew she was a part of Darth Vader himself?
But Han hadn’t flinched once. He had simply rocked her in his arms, giving her what comfort he could. If she could only be in his embrace again now, maybe she would feel as if this were something she could bear.
The keepsake chest on her desk seemed to loom larger by the moment. Leia rose to her feet and gently lifted the creaky lid. Although she felt a pang at the sight of her doll and other mementos, she reached for the music box first. Leia opened it and immediately heard the strains of the song: Mirrorbright, shines the moon—
Alderaan had possessed a moon for only one day of its existence. When the Death Star appeared, little children must have looked up in awe, believing the moon from their bedtime lullaby had come to their skies at last. They would’ve smiled up at it, pointed their tiny fingers, sung the song. Leia squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to imagine it.
Those who loved you but are gone, those who kept you safe and warm—
Bail Organa’s message restarted from the beginning. Leia walked to the nearest sofa, sinking down onto it to hear him explain everything again. At times she’d wondered how her father could keep such a secret from her; it helped to know that he had always intended to give her the truth.
His initial words had been played in the Senate, so Leia concentrated on the loving tone of his voice and the simple comfort of hearing her father speak once more. But soon they reached the end of the message, words Ransolm Casterfo had not shared with the rest of the Senate.
“I hope to have told you all this myself,” Bail Organa’s voice said. “I hope we have enjoyed many more happy years as a family, that we have seen the Empire fall, and that we have gone forth together to find General Kenobi and your brother. If so, this recording can serve only one purpose. You must be listening after my death, so let this be my chance to say once again how much I love you. No other daughter could ever have brought me more joy.”
Tears welled in Leia’s eyes, but she fought them back. If she began to sob, she wouldn’t be able to hear her father’s voice any longer.
He concluded, “Please know that my love for you, and your mother’s love, endures long past our deaths. We are forever with you, Leia. In your brightest triumphs and your darkest troubles, always know that we are by your side.”
She could resist no more. At long last, Leia put her head down on her desk and allowed herself to weep.
One day after Princess Leia’s parentage had been revealed on the Senate floor, Joph Seastriker and Greer Sonnel sat inside the Mirrorbright, waiting for her. Neither of them made eye contact with the other, and for a long time, no one spoke.
Finally, Joph said, “I don’t know about this.”
Greer turned her head toward him, a lock of black hair falling over her shoulder. “You don’t trust her anymore? Because she turns out to be Darth Vader’s daughter?”
“It feels weird.” Joph had heard the nightmarish stories of Vader’s evil deeds his whole life. Yeah, he’d known Darth Vader had really existed; he wasn’t stupid. But to Joph, Vader had seemed almost like some folktale creature from stories told to frighten little children so they wouldn’t run away from home. He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea of Vader as a man like any other, who must have once fallen in love and fathered twin children.
Then again, the story could be far darker. “Do you think Darth Vader assaulted Queen Amidala?” he ventured.
“I thought of that last night,” Greer said heavily. “But no. I’ve helped the senator research Queen Amidala, so I plugged in some of the data last night. The queen died before the first records of Vader ever appear.”
So, a man named Anakin Skywalker had become a Jedi Knight, fought courageously in the Clone Wars, and won the love of a senator-queen…and had still chosen to become a monster. Joph shuddered.
Greer murmured, almost to herself, “Captain Solo always knew. He knew and he married her anyway. If he didn’t turn his back on her, we shouldn’t, either.”
Although Joph hadn’t met Han Solo, much less actually been mentored by him the way Greer had been, he’d hero-worshipped the guy from afar. So did virtually any other pilot who loved racing. But Solo’s trust in his wife didn’t reassure Joph as much as it did Greer. Anybody who’d watched Han Solo fly a race knew the man loved taking risks.
Big risks. Crazy risks. The kind of chances that got other people killed.
The Mirrorbright’s door remained open to the hangar, so Joph and Greer could hear the faint crackle of a welding torch and the chatter of nearby pilots and mechanics. He’d paid the noise no attention until suddenly, as if on a well-rehearsed cue, it all fell silent.
Princess Leia must have just arrived.
He and Greer exchanged glances before getting to their feet. Joph went into standard at-ease posture, hands behind his back, heart thumping as if the footsteps on the gangway were those of Darth Vader himself.
But then Princess Leia entered the Mirrorbright. Her pallor shocked him; overnight, Leia’s skin seemed to have turned as pale as the white jacket and trousers she wore. Joph noticed, as he had not before, how much gray had threaded its way through her brown hair, and the fine lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. It was not that she looked older, but the powerful vitality that had always been a part of her seemed to have drained away overnight. He wondered if she’d been able to sleep at all. Probably not.
Answer suffering with kindness. That was what his mothers always said, one of the tenets people on Gatalenta tried to live by. Joph had always found the saying trite, when he’d bothered thinking about it at all. But that was his first instinct now—not to shun Princess Leia, but to help and protect her.
“Lieutenant Seastriker.” The princess’s voice sounded thick and rough, as if she had a cold. “Greer. Thank you for coming today. I…realize it can’t have been easy.”
“It’s a pretty quick trip from the barracks.” Joph kept his tone light; they all knew the terrible truth that hung over them like a storm cloud, but he figured acknowledging it would just drag everybody down. “Made it here even faster than usual. No big deal. I mean, no big deal, ma’am.”
The ghost of a smile passed over Princess Leia’s face. “All right, then.”
Greer said, “We’re ready to do whatever you need done, Your Highness. If you’re planning on—on leaving Hosnian Prime, maybe traveling to rendezvous with Captain Solo in the Theron system, just say the word.”
“Same here.” But Joph wondered whether that was a promise he could keep. He’d been assigned to Princess Leia’s detail by his superior officers. Would they belay those orders now?
Princess Leia shook her head. “We’re not going anywhere until our voyage to Sibensko—which, as far as I’m concerned, is still on. I called you both here today simply to make sure you both remain willing to take on the mission.”
“Of course I am, Your Highness, but—” Greer paused, gaze drifting to the floor for a moment before she looked back up at Princess Leia. “—are you sure you can take this on? The fallout from all this…forgive me, but it has to take a toll. Maybe this isn’t the time.”
“Rinnrivin Di is moving large amounts of spice and larger amounts of money around the galaxy, funneling it to Centrist worlds,” Princess Leia replied. Some of the light had returned to her eyes. “A paramilitary organization has begun arming and preparing itself for war, and may already be responsible for a terrorist attack on the Galactic Senate. What’s happening to me, personally, doesn’t matter. We have to ac
t now. If it’s not the ideal time, well, it’s the only time we’ve got.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Greer straightened, her uncertainty gone. “The Mirrorbright will be ready to go as soon as you say the word.”
Joph added, “And so will we.”
“I always thought I could count on you two, but it means a lot, knowing that for sure.” Princess Leia’s voice sounded like her own again. Joph wondered if this was the quality that had won the loyalty of her troops during the war against the Empire, her ability to press on even in the face of disaster. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to take care of.”
With that, she walked out. Once again, silence followed in her wake, but Joph paid it no attention. He and Greer were sticking with the princess, and he intended to make sure that was enough. “So what do you think she means by ‘unfinished business’?” he said to Greer.
Shaking her head, Greer replied, “I wouldn’t want to be Ransolm Casterfo right now.”
—
Calling the meeting had been the right move for Princess Leia; Greer knew that. After the princess had sent that message to her son yesterday—the Force alone knew what she’d said, but her red-rimmed eyes testified to the tears she’d shed. No wonder she’d needed to realize she wasn’t completely alone. And it was good for Greer, too, to discover that Joph Seastriker would come through for them; beneath his youth and his daredevil attitude lay the kind of decency that could stand up to the ugliness of the world. On Pamarthe they called that quality bedrock. A warrior of bedrock was one on whose loyalty a kingdom could be built.
Yet Greer had spent the meeting only half concentrating on the incredibly important things happening around her. It took so much of her will to remain still and steady on her feet.
As soon as Joph left the Mirrorbright, Greer slumped onto the long padded bench. She lay on her side, feet still brushing the floor, cheek pressed against the cushions, as she struggled to even out her breath.
She couldn’t inject again. Not so soon. Dr. Kalonia had warned her about relying on the stuff too much, and Greer knew where dependency led.
But how else was she supposed to keep going? The princess’s words still rang in Greer’s memory: What’s happening to me, personally, doesn’t matter. If it’s not the ideal time—well, it’s the only time we’ve got.
“All right,” she said to herself. “Once more.”
Pushing herself to an upright position, she waited for the rush of dizziness to subside, then got to her feet. Although a few of the pilots watched her walking out of the hangar, clearly eager to discuss what she’d known about Princess Leia and when, Greer ignored them all. Luckily, a wheeled transport making its way through the complex turned out to be headed in the general direction of the medbay, so she could catch a ride most of the way there.
She walked in to find the place deserted, no patients, and Dr. Kalonia taking her break. Good. The 2-1B medical droid turned its half-blue, half-transparent torso toward her. “May I assist you with your illness or injury?”
“Yes, you can.” Greer eased herself onto one of the beds. “I need another dose of hadeira serum.”
The 2-1B remained stationary, its circuits whirring in consideration. “Your use of hadeira serum already exceeds suggested limits.”
“But I’m not in danger of an overdose, am I? That means you’re able to give me the medication.” She rolled up the sleeve of her coverall, exposing the tender crook of her arm and the barely visible latticework of veins just beneath her coppery skin.
“I can administer the serum, but I am required to remind you that you are now considered high risk for hadeira toxicity.”
“I know.” Greer sighed. “Believe me, it’s impossible to forget.”
Sometimes at night the muscles in her legs would spasm painfully, leaving her to swear as she rocked back and forth on her mattress. The day before, when the stress of Casterfo’s explosive revelation had rocked them all, Greer’s pulse had quickened far past human norms, pounding so hard she could see it through the fabric of her shirt. If she went over the line that separated “dependency” from “toxicity,” those symptoms would stop being occasional nuisances and turn into her constant state of being.
But if that was the price of going on, of remaining by Princess Leia’s side for the duration of the mission, then Greer would pay it.
—
To the undoubted consternation of most members of the Senate, not to mention the public at large, Ransolm Casterfo had refused to give any interviews or take any meetings to discuss the revelations about Leia Organa. He had instead busied himself with the other work of a senator. He found it easier to concentrate on that sort of thing: reading up on the proposed new water purification systems for New Republic ships, or doing research for the upcoming debates over shipping-lane restrictions. When calls came in from Lady Carise Sindian, the senior senator from Coruscant, or other high-level officials, Ransolm simply requested that they all leave messages for later. He did not intend to answer any of these messages for several days. His staffers kept asking him about each one, however, their consternation obvious; after a while, Ransolm could stand their presence no more and gave them the rest of the day off. The droid could handle what little administrative work had to be done, and he preferred to spend the day alone.
Everybody wanted him to expound on his role in bringing down Princess Leia. They wanted him to step up, take credit, and emerge as the Centrist leader he had long dreamed of being. Even a few short months ago, he would have been unable to imagine passing up such a golden opportunity for advancement.
But he had not exposed Leia’s parentage for his own personal gain. Exploiting the situation now would cheapen his actions.
I acted in the interest of the truth, he told himself as he kept staring at the purification-system schematics, his brain refusing to make sense of the tangle of pipes and filters. It would be a long time before anyone else believed that his motives had been pure, if they ever believed it at all. But he clung to the knowledge within his own heart, as if it were the only thing keeping him afloat in a stormy sea.
By lunchtime, he’d centered himself enough to concentrate on the work in front of him. He sent the droid out to fetch some Ivarujari food that could be eaten at his desk and was determinedly working out the manufacturing specs for the pipes when he heard the door chime—then open without any cue from Ransolm himself.
And he knew, just knew, who the next visitor had to be.
Ransolm took a deep breath and got to his feet, just before Princess Leia stormed in.
“What, all alone? Except for your creepy Imperial mausoleum, I mean.” Leia gestured at the artifacts around her. “I would’ve thought you’d be throwing the party of the century, celebrating your success. You pretended to be my friend and then betrayed me to the entire galaxy. A political masterstroke. So where’s the wine?”
“Pretending? You accuse me of pretending?” The horror and nausea Ransolm had struggled against since hearing the news vanished in an instant, replaced by pure rage. “You, who hid your true identity from everyone for decades?”
“This is my true identity! The person I’ve been all this time—the battles I’ve fought, the work I’ve done—that’s who I am. My birth father has nothing to do with any of that.”
“How can we be certain? How can we trust anything you say from now on?” Ransolm had lain awake all night, running through the various ways their understanding of history might be altered through this one critical fact. “The Empire found rebel bases time and time again. The Battle of Endor was nearly lost because it was all an elaborate trap. Could it be that they had a highly placed source inside the Rebel Alliance—a daughter who would obey her father?”
Leia’s eyes widened, and for one instant Ransolm thought she might hit him. “You’re accusing me of being a spy? Did you forget the parts where I nearly died along with the rest of the Rebellion during those battles? If so, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“Yes, you must have thought I was a fool.” The words tasted bitter in Ransolm’s mouth. “Because I trusted you so quickly. Because I told you the most personal and painful stories of my life, never guessing that they revolved around your father.”
“Only my birth father,” she insisted. “My real father—the only father I ever knew or wanted—was Bail Organa of Alderaan.”
What could Organa have been thinking, taking in the offspring of someone so corrupt and monstrous? Ransolm had wondered about that, too, but knew he would never be able to fathom the answer. “Well, Bail Organa himself thought the connection mattered, didn’t he?”
“That was a message recorded out of love.” Leia’s voice broke, but only for a moment; anger had eclipsed almost everything else inside her. “And you used it against me. How could you? We were friends, or I thought we were. When you found out—however you found out—did it never occur to you to come to me, to ask me about it personally?”
“Why? So you could lie to me yet again?” Ransolm again felt the pent-up, useless fury of the child he’d been, watching Darth Vader reach out with his hand to strangle the life from another helpless prisoner. “You knew how I hated Vader! You knew what he had done to me! How could you still keep your secret, knowing that?”
Leia shook her head in disbelief. “What Vader did to you? Do you think that can even begin to compare with what Vader did to me? He made me watch my planet die. He froze Han in carbonite and sold him to Jabba the Hutt. He cut off my brother’s hand and nearly took his life. And he tortured me, Ransolm. He tortured me until I screamed and shook and thought I would die just from the pain alone. Did you bother to ask yourself how it might feel, to realize the person who’d done all that to you was your father? Can you imagine how terrible it is to realize all you’ll ever know of your birth father is how much he enjoyed making you suffer? That’s what I have to live with.”
Ransolm had assumed Leia had lied about not only her relationship to Darth Vader but also her feelings about the man. It shocked him to see that her anger was real. “It’s all the more reason you should have told me.”
