by Claudia Gray
“I hadn’t even told my son. Now he has to find out in the most horrible, public way imaginable, all because of you.” Leia’s hands were clenched in fists at her sides. “Obviously I overestimated our friendship. But you owed it to me to come to me with this information first. Even if you still felt you had to shout it out to the entire galaxy, you could have talked to me privately first. Given me a chance to speak with my son. Not even out of friendship—just out of common decency. But I guess you didn’t think I even deserved that.”
“You had your chances to speak to your son,” Ransolm insisted. “He’s not a child any longer, is he? You could’ve told him at any point before this. Do you think you’d ever have had the courage to tell the truth?”
“What I kept from Ben, I did for his own good—or what I hoped was his own good. Now we’ll never know. But what you did to me, you did for your own benefit. Well, congratulations, Senator Casterfo. May you enjoy all the power you bought by betraying me. And keep on condemning me as the heir of the Empire while you sit in here surrounded by all of this.” Leia grabbed the Royal Guard helmet from the wall and hurled it toward the nearest display case; the glass shattered with a crash, slivers and splinters scattering all around. “Goodbye, Casterfo. May you get absolutely everything in life that you deserve.”
She turned and marched out, shoulder colliding with the droid that had returned in the middle of all this and stood mutely just outside the doorway of Ransolm’s office. The impact sent the lunch carton tumbling from the droid’s hands, spattering noodles onto the carpet. Leia never even paused. A moment later the door swished again, and he knew she was gone.
“Senator Casterfo, are you unharmed?” The droid tilted its head.
“I’m fine,” Ransolm answered, the words no more than automatic. His empty stomach churned; the smell of the food on the floor now sickened him.
“Cleaning and repair crews can be summoned. If Senator Organa caused the damage, she can be reported for assault upon the property and person of a senator—”
“No. Don’t do that. No reporting her, no repair crews, nothing. I’ll handle this.” More than anything, Ransolm wanted to be alone, to process everything he’d heard in the past several minutes. The droid hesitated, obviously unable to understand why a human would refuse necessary services, then rolled back to begin cleaning up the spilled food. It went far enough away for the door to slide shut and seal Ransolm inside again.
For a few breaths he simply stood there, shaking from pent-up adrenaline. Then, nearly numb, he got to his knees to begin picking up the shattered glass. He misjudged an edge, however; a hot sliver of pain sliced across his skin. Ransolm put his thumb to his mouth and tasted blood.
The moderator droid’s words rang out through the vast chamber: “The Senate recognizes Senator Leia Organa.”
Leia stood, aware of the spotlight heat as she hadn’t been in years. Yesterday’s applause lingered only in memory; now her fellow senators greeted her with stony silence, except for a few faint hisses from the back. She gave no sign she’d heard them, or that the thousands of faces staring at her showed only disgust and disbelief.
This might be the last time she ever addressed the Galactic Senate. For her family’s sake, she had to make the most of it.
“I come before you today to withdraw my nomination for First Senator.” Someone in the far distance laughed disdainfully, but Leia paid it no heed. “That’s simple to accomplish—merely by speaking the words before you all, I’ve already ended my candidacy. But I would be doing the Galactic Senate a disservice if I did not take this opportunity to discuss yesterday’s revelations about my birth father. The citizens of the New Republic have the right to hear exactly what I knew and when I knew it.”
No one stirred. Even the most hostile listener would want to learn every detail. Leia might not have their support any longer, but at least she had their attention.
“It has always been known that I was adopted by Bail and Breha Organa of the royal house of Alderaan. I was described as a war orphan—a story I myself believed until adulthood. As you heard yesterday, Bail Organa had not shared the truth with me when I was younger, and sadly, the Empire’s destruction of our world meant he never had the chance to speak of it later.
“My brother, the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, was the first to learn that we were twins and that our father was the man who later became known as Darth Vader.” Vader’s name seemed to darken the room. “He told me on the day preceding the Battle of Endor. As you can imagine, I was shocked. Horrified. I had never guessed that the truth behind my birth could be so tragic, or that my birth father could be a man I had such strong personal reasons to hate. My efforts to accept this lasted a long time. In a very real sense, I still struggle with this knowledge, and I expect that I always will.”
Whenever she’d talked with Luke about their birth father, this was the part where he’d refuse to use the name Darth Vader. He was Anakin Skywalker when he fell in love with our mother, Luke would say, taking her hand gently in his. And he became Anakin Skywalker again in the last hour of his life. He came back from the dark side, Leia. They said it could never be done, but our father did it. He made that journey because of his love for us.
Leia believed Luke. She could feel that truth within him. But it was difficult for her to find solace in this the way Luke did. How could Vader torture her without mercy if he had that good inside? He’d still had the power to make the right choice, but had instead forced her to suffer.
The Senate, of course, would not be open to hearing that Darth Vader hadn’t been so evil before he died. Even introducing the topic would turn her into an apologist and probably get her thrown out of the building. Leia had to stick to the truths that would help her and her family the most.
“As many have known for a long time, and as you heard on the recording yesterday, my birth mother was also well known. Padmé Amidala Naberrie served the planet of Naboo first as queen, then as senator. She was among the few who stood up to Palpatine during his rise to power, one of the only people who warned against the evils to come.” Leia thought of the holos she’d seen of a delicate young woman in the ornate regalia of the Naboo throne; they shared the same eyes. She continued, “My mother is every bit as much a part of me as my father. Her courage in her own political career has always informed my own role as a senator. And as for my father…I can think of no more powerful example of the dangers of ultimate power. That is why I have always identified as a Populist, why I have always warned against the concentration of political authority, and even why I agreed to run for First Senator—to keep such authority from ever being so poisonously misused again.”
People were listening to her now. Really listening. Leia knew she hadn’t won back their loyalty, but she thought they recognized her honesty. Hopefully, when Ben heard this someday, he would understand, too.
She began to breathe a little easier. For now, at least, the worst seemed to be over.
Then the moderator droid said, “The floor recognizes Lady Carise Sindian.”
Screens and spotlights shifted to reveal Lady Carise, overdressed as usual in glittering blue. She gestured upward, as if toward space and the great galaxy beyond. “On behalf of my fellow senators, I first wish to say that I appreciate Princess Leia’s honesty…however late it was in coming. Yet something in her speech today has given rise to other, potentially more dangerous concerns. Princess Leia spoke of her brother, the famous Luke Skywalker, who has been little seen in the public sphere for many years now. Perhaps Her Highness learned virtues from her father’s example, but can we say the same for her brother? If he uses his rumored strength in the Force for evil, how could we ever defend against him?”
Leia had been prepared for boos. For insults. Even for rocks or rotten fruit to be thrown at her. Whatever attacks they could aim at her, she could take.
But she couldn’t bear hearing them turn on Luke.
“How dare you question him?” Leia knew her voice sounded too
sharp, too shrill, but her temper had gotten the best of her. “After everything Luke’s done for the Rebellion and the New Republic? Maybe Lady Carise has forgotten that he was the one who destroyed the first Death Star—or that he was responsible for ridding the galaxy of Palpatine—”
“So Skywalker claims.” Lady Carise put on her cocktail-party smile. “But we have only ever had his word for what happened on the second Death Star, and if his word is worth no more than yours has been these past several decades—well, Your Highness, we hardly know what to believe.”
Murmurs began, welling louder by the second. Leia felt her breath catch in her throat. No, no, not this, don’t let them drag Luke down, too…
“The floor recognizes Tai-Lin Garr,” said the moderator droid.
Tai-Lin’s mere attention calmed the room; sometimes Leia thought he would be able to turn a cyclone into a breeze. His scarlet robe looked like a badge of office, and he was the only one that day, Leia thought, who seemed to be above the political fray.
“I would first say to the honorable Senator Sindian of Arkanis that we have no reason to question Luke Skywalker.” Tai-Lin let his grave tone, rather than his words, condemn Lady Carise’s insinuations. “Since the Rebellion, Skywalker has lived a private life. He has asked no more of the New Republic than any of its other citizens, nor have we just cause to ask more of him than the substantial service he has already given. As Senator Vicly of Lonera reminded us yesterday, the New Republic does not blame children for the sins of their parents, and this is no time to begin.”
Leia took a deep breath, regaining her control. Luke couldn’t escape unscathed from this—no one in her family could—but at least Tai-Lin would keep a senatorial inquisition from getting started.
Tai-Lin continued, “On behalf of the Populist faction, we accept Senator Leia Organa’s withdrawal of her candidacy. But I wish to state that Senator Organa’s exemplary record remains unsullied, and that she retains my personal friendship and political support.”
Still no applause, not even from the other Populists, but Leia could feel the tension in the room diminishing. Undoubtedly she would remain persona non grata for the duration of her term, and there could be no question of running again now. But her speech and Tai-Lin’s had dulled the edge of the Senate’s anger.
Instead of being hated, Leia would be ignored. She supposed that eventually she would feel grateful for that. It could’ve been worse.
The moderator droid said, “One piece of business regarding Senator Organa remains on the schedule of events, namely the approval of her brief leave of absence from her duties.”
Leia had put in the request weeks earlier in order to cover her mission to Sibensko. The mission that exceeded her senatorial authority and went to the verge of being illegal.
The mission Ransolm Casterfo knew everything about.
She’d avoided looking at him all day, but she did so now. Ransolm sat in his place, wearing a green cloak that clashed badly with his blue shirt and trousers. His complexion was so wan he might have been a figure carved of wax. He wasn’t watching his monitors, the moderator droid, or Leia herself. It seemed as if he were staring into space.
One of the Centrist senators jumped at his chance for attention. “I see this little vacation was requested before any of the latest unpleasantness, but I wish to be the first to say that this absence could not come at a more opportune time.”
Other voices rose up, people falling all over themselves to say Leia should leave, though her few defenders framed it as necessary recovery time, while most senators seemed to feel they needed to recover from ever having been near her. She paid no attention to any of it, focusing only on Ransolm.
He said he’d put in for an emergency leave after mine was approved. That way we’d avoid suspicion. But now he’s in the clear. He can call me out, maybe have me ejected from the Senate completely, and I don’t have one bit of proof that he planned this mission along with me. Leia could have cursed aloud. Now, on top of everything else, Rinnrivin Di, Arliz Hadrassian, and the Amaxine warriors were going to get away with it all.
But Ransolm said nothing. He never showed the slightest sign of acknowledging the debate. His eyes never focused on Leia for an instant.
She realized that what probably meant, but didn’t fully believe it until her leave was approved and the Senate moved on to other subjects: Ransolm intended to let her go.
—
That evening, as they all congregated in the Mirrorbright again, Greer said, “Casterfo could just be setting us up. Waiting until he can send New Republic troops to catch us in the act.”
“It’s a possibility,” Princess Leia admitted. She sat in one of the chairs, as informal as Greer had ever seen her: facing the wrong way, folded arms atop the chair’s back, legs on either side. Essentially, the princess looked like somebody who no longer gave a—
“Can he even do that?” Joph asked. “Casterfo couldn’t report on us without admitting he had advance knowledge of our trip. Since he didn’t turn us in right away, that makes him an accessory or something. Right?”
“A smart politician could find a way around that, and he’s not dumb.” Princess Leia’s gaze had turned inward in a way that meant she was considering every possibility. “But my instincts tell me that he’ll stay quiet. If he were going to blow the mission, he would’ve done it right away.”
“But you can’t be sure.” Greer felt profoundly ill at ease, even queasy. She hated the idea of being at Ransolm Casterfo’s mercy.
Princess Leia shook her head. “No, we can’t. We just have to try it and see. So let’s stop worrying about the not-so-honorable senator from Riosa and start working out our strategy.”
Greer nodded. “Well, the plan’s pretty basic. Joph and I dress the way we did on the Chrome Citadel, take our junker ship to Sibensko. Probably the most believable reason for you to be aboard is if you’re traveling as an indentured servant, booking the cheapest possible passage on some errand for your boss.”
“I can do that.” Princess Leia obviously didn’t mind traveling incognita for a while. “And Threepio?”
“We’re bringing Threepio?” Joph said in quiet dismay.
That won him a sharp look from the princess. “We’ll want to slice into the central computer core. That’s not Threepio’s specialty, but his programming is more than adequate for the task. There are other droids we could bring, but I’d rather stick with the one I know and trust.”
Resigned, Joph said, “Okay, but even as old as he is, Threepio looks too nice for pilots as broke as we’re supposed to be.”
Privately Greer doubted this; C-3PO had been antiquated for decades now. But it wasn’t a point worth arguing. “Maybe he can be traveling with the indentured servant. Helping her perform whatever task her boss requires, and keeping tabs on her, too.”
“I guess we could grub him up a little.” Joph began to warm to the idea. “Add some dust, a few dings here and there. That would help, right?”
“It’s a good plan,” Princess Leia said. “And you know Threepio’s just going to love getting dirty.”
Greer laughed at the thought of C-3PO’s dismay, but even that small motion of her head made her slightly woozy. Her last dose had hit her hard, she realized. Usually it was smarter to take a break for the rest of the day after a serum treatment, but she had work to do. “Once we get there, we broadcast the access codes we received when we took the job. That should get us into Sibensko, and we’ll have to play it by ear from there.”
“Oh, hey, I forgot to mention—we got a new data packet from the Ryloth satellites today.” Joph looked sheepish at not having shared the news earlier, but Greer figured they’d all been distracted by Princess Leia’s predicament. “Turns out Rinnrivin Di’s paying one of his visits to Sibensko right now. So is that good news for us or bad?”
“Bad if he recognizes us, good if he doesn’t.” Princess Leia rose to her feet. “Which gives us all more reasons to work on our disguises. Whate
ver you need, make sure you’ve got it by oh six hundred hours tomorrow. Understood?”
“Absolutely,” Greer said. Already the doubts she’d briefly harbored about Princess Leia seemed far away and nonsensical. “We’re ready.”
Princess Leia nodded and headed out of the ship. Joph grabbed a nearby datapad, eagerly searching for something. “Remember how the princess told us about the time she disguised herself as a bounty hunter? I’m going for the same kind of thing. Same species, even.”
“Should work.” Greer had acquired her armor days ago. She got up to leave—
—and the entire world spun and swayed, then went black as it vanished entirely.
—
Joph had dived toward Greer so quickly that he’d been able to break her fall to the floor. Instantly he cradled her head in one hand as he reached for his comlink with the other. “Medbay, emergency! We need medical assistance on the Mirrorbright in the main hangar, registry number 22061270. Repeat, we need a medic here immediately!”
“No,” Greer whispered. Her faint had lasted only a few seconds. “It’s okay.”
“Like hell it is. You nearly smashed your face into the floor, you know that?” Joph hooked his free arm under her knees, propping them up slightly so more blood would flow to her head. “Maybe it’s not a big deal, but you have to get that checked out.”
Greer shook her head. “Wrong on both counts, Seastriker.”
On the gangway came the thump of footsteps. Joph turned to see Dr. Harter Kalonia, medkit in hand, wearing an expression so gentle it belied her words. “Ms. Sonnel, how many times must we review the proper procedures for a hadeira serum treatment?”
“At least once more,” Greer said wearily.
Dr. Kalonia raised one of her angular eyebrows. “And will you finally listen to me then?”
“…probably not.” Greer tried to smile.
The doctor tsked as she knelt by Greer’s side. She wasn’t rushing to begin treatment; Joph realized Dr. Kalonia agreed with Greer about this not being an emergency. “You’ve been sneaking around to see my Too-Onebee when I’m away, haven’t you? I thought so. I see I shall have to ask maintenance to install a restraining bolt. In the meantime, we need to run a blood scan to ensure nothing more serious happened because of your dosage.”
