by Claudia Gray
Nothing she could have said would have humbled him more, or encouraged him more. Ransolm nodded. “I will always do my duty.”
“Yes, I think you will.”
They had nothing else to say to each other, perhaps ever again, so Ransolm simply bowed and took his leave. He walked back to his office in a state of melancholy, not for the task before him but for the memory of Leia, weary and isolated, still thinking of the greater good as she learned to accept her political exile.
Ransolm knew the torch had been passed. He hoped he would be worthy of it.
—
Ten days after her final speech to the Galactic Senate, Leia made her first public political appearance since the galaxy had learned she was Darth Vader’s daughter. She didn’t want to face a hostile crowd, but she also didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life in fear. Besides, as Varish Vicly had pointed out, this was an ideal opportunity.
“Let me be blunt,” Varish had said. “You have a glorious war record and a strong history of service in the Senate, which means we mustn’t be perceived as shunning you. People would declare all Populists hypocrites, even if they still despised you. But we can’t put you forward as one of our leaders any longer. That means you come to large gatherings focused around other politicians, smile and wave, and give the public time to get used to you again. Once they do, we can start expanding your role. Giving you back a little of your old authority.”
Although Leia remained certain that the public would never be fully comfortable with her again, she would follow Varish’s advice. She appreciated the show of loyalty, and besides—she wanted to see her old friend Tai-Lin Garr receive the attention he deserved.
His first campaign rally was held in one of Hosnian Prime’s largest parks, a popular gathering place for visitors from across the galaxy. Tai-Lin centered the event on a large, fan-shaped fountain that his home planet of Gatalenta had donated at the time of the New Republic’s founding. It was a beautiful setting, and a symbolic one: Tai-Lin was silently making it clear that he still thought of himself as a citizen of Gatalenta first.
Leia sat in the back row of the stands behind the new Populist candidate, wearing a simple dress of unobtrusive, olive-green fabric and hoping to pass largely unnoticed. The only ones who seemed to have taken note of her presence so far were the security guards grouped at the gathering’s perimeter, one of whom always had his eyes on her. It would have been insulting if it hadn’t been so amusing. Leia clapped when the others clapped, and genuinely smiled to see Tai-Lin being cheered by the large, enthusiastic crowd. In his scarlet cloak, he seemed to be wrapped in his own victory banner.
Fundamentally, she knew, Tai-Lin’s candidacy for First Senator was deeply flawed. He had the discipline and humility to resist taking advantage of the new authority he would gain if he won. But the strategy he planned to employ was self-sabotaging. It was the equivalent of giving up on galactic politics completely, even on the idea that a single government could protect and serve the known worlds.
But Tai-Lin Garr trusted Leia. He had not doubted her when the truth came out, and was one of the very few individuals who understood how it was possible for a man strong in the Force—even the dark side—to have fathered people like Luke and Leia. She didn’t think he’d turn his back on her even after his election, if he won.
Maybe I’ll never have my own political power again, she thought, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still work for what I think is right. If I can convince Tai-Lin to listen to me occasionally, we might be able to redefine the role of a First Senator as something that would work for both him and the galaxy. Instead of a leader, I can be an informal adviser. Maybe I can still help move us forward.
A small voice next to her said, “Princess Leia?” She turned and was surprised to see that Korr Sella had found her way through the crowds to come here.
“Korr.” Leia stopped herself from saying Korrie just in time. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Because I quit,” Korr said. “Because I walked out after we all learned about Vader. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve spent all this time thinking about what you were like when I worked for you, and how much I admire you, and I realized that I’m still sure you’re a good person. So I shouldn’t have turned against you because of something you couldn’t help.”
Leia had expected understanding from few people, but had thought the wisest and most experienced among them, the ones she’d known longest, would be the first to come around. Instead, they’d been outshone by a sixteen-year-old girl.
“I understand.” Leia kept her tone as gentle as she could while still being heard over the crowd. “I always understood.”
Korr nodded, blinking fast. In a shaky voice she said, “I know I don’t get to be your intern anymore, but if there’s ever any way I can help you, or work for you, I just wanted to say I’d do it. I mean—I’d be proud to do it.”
“Thank you, Korr. That means a lot to me.” Leia pressed the girl’s hand.
“And—if you want—you can still call me Korrie. It’s okay.”
“No, you were right. You’re not a child any longer. I think you’re more grown-up than most of the people at this rally. Korr is better.”
Korr finally smiled, and Leia felt sure that someday, if she needed to, she could call on her.
After the speeches, of course, came the pressing of hands, claws, and tentacles. As people thronged around Tai-Lin, Leia began walking away, hoping to slip out of sight unnoticed. But a long golden limb wrapped around her shoulders to keep her near. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Varish chided affectionately. “You stay right here. Tai-Lin will no doubt want to speak to you afterward.”
“If I remember the details of my last election campaign, Tai-Lin will only want to collapse afterward.” Leia watched the hubbub for a few moments longer. How could Tai-Lin keep his dignity and serenity even when surrounded by laughing crowds who wanted him to kiss their babies or cubs? “What are his chances, do you think?”
“Good. The polls are promising, though at this stage, when we still don’t have a Centrist nominee to test him against, it’s hard to say. But we expected the Populist faction to take a hit after your hullabaloo, and it didn’t happen.”
Leia had to laugh. “You are the only person in the galaxy who could possibly describe what happened as a ‘hullabaloo.’ ”
“And that’s why you love me, isn’t it?” Varish hugged Leia’s shoulders a bit tighter, then began towing her toward the crowd. “At least say goodbye to Tai-Lin before you go.”
“He doesn’t care about that. And I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You won’t. The sooner we start acting like things are back to normal, the sooner things will get back to normal. Besides, I’m not even sure anybody will recognize you in this crowd. It’s so packed we can hardly see half a meter in front of our faces!”
That much was true. Leia let Varish lead her into the throngs, taking care not to push or meet anyone’s eyes. If anybody within the mob recognized her, they said nothing she could overhear.
Finally, they neared Tai-Lin’s side. “Tai-Lin!” Varish called. “We’re over here!”
A gap in the crowd opened, large enough for Leia to see Tai-Lin standing there, smiling in welcome as potential voters surrounded him on all sides—
—and one of their faces was familiar.
High cheekbones. Silver-streaked hair. Intense dark eyes. Even though Leia had seen this person only during one night on Bastatha and in Ransolm’s holos of Daxam IV, she recognized her instantly: Arliz Hadrassian.
And from her long cape, Hadrassian had just drawn a blaster.
Leia didn’t even have time to shout a warning before Hadrassian fired straight into Tai-Lin’s chest. Screams erupted throughout the crowd, and people began running in different directions—most trying to get away from the assassin, but a few hurrying to Tai-Lin’s side. Leia managed to reach him, falling to her knees beside the place where he lay. Only then did she rea
lize Hadrassian still stood there, completely unmoving, blaster in her hand. The security guards were fighting their way toward them, but they hadn’t arrived yet.
“Leia Organa,” Hadrassian said. A slow, terrible smile spread across her face. “You’re lucky I’m thinking strategically.”
With that, Hadrassian lifted the blaster to her own temple. Leia just had time to turn away before the final bolt and the sickening thud of a corpse onto the ground.
“Tai-Lin.” She rolled him onto his back in order to assess the wound. “Tai-Lin, can you hear me?”
But of course he couldn’t. He had been hit directly in the chest, at close range, by a blaster set to kill. The deep wound where his heart used to be had been cauterized, leaving a blackened crater behind. Arliz Hadrassian had avenged her Amaxine warriors.
This meant disaster for the galaxy, Leia knew. But she couldn’t yet think of the political ramifications, the fallout, or anything else besides the fact that her friend lay dead on the ground. As Varish Vicly began to wail, Leia bent forward so that her forehead touched Tai-Lin’s. It was the only farewell she could think of.
The entire Senate unanimously declared an official period of mourning for the death of Tai-Lin Garr. In her darker hours, Leia wondered if the Centrists had gone along with it only for show, but she thought probably most of the sentiment was sincere. Nobody, regardless of political faction, wanted to see elections decided by radical fringe assassins.
They were all unified in another belief, however, one that horrified Leia: Arliz Hadrassian had been the terrorist, the criminal, and the true threat. Thanks to the data from Sibensko, Hadrassian could be credited for the Napkin Bombing, for Rinnrivin Di’s rise, all of it, by Centrists and Populists alike. Now that she had committed suicide, as far as the Senate was concerned the danger was over.
“You can’t make an assumption like that,” Leia pleaded in a small gathering of Populist senators after Tai-Lin’s memorial service on Hosnian Prime. “Rinnrivin’s money came from Hadrassian, but where did Hadrassian’s money come from? She was an Imperial soldier of the line, then a small-time businesswoman. That’s not the individual who bankrolls an entire would-be army.”
“Leia, please,” Varish said sharply. Tear tracks matted the golden fur on her cheeks. “Tai-Lin deserves to be grieved for in peace.”
In frustration, Leia had to let it go—at least for the time being. If even one of her very few remaining close friends and allies in the Senate wouldn’t listen, no one would. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe that the investigation into the splinter groups would be tabled forever. People had the data. She’d given them the proof, and Ransolm had supported her findings with his own testimony. Sooner or later, they would see the need to dig deeper, search further.
Wouldn’t they?
The next morning, as she walked through the Senate halls, she saw a large group of people clustered around the office suite of the junior senator from Mon Cala. Within, she could hear what sounded like an official broadcast being played at high volume. “Looks like breaking news,” she murmured, heading closer to the group.
As she approached, she heard a few whispers: “Just goes to show you can’t trust a Centrist.” “Can you believe this?” “Looks like Princess Leia got that part wrong—”
That last one broke off when the speaker saw her joining them, blushed deep green, and stepped aside. Leia only cared that she now had room to angle herself and see the holo being projected in the middle of the senator’s front office, and hear what was being reported: “—expressed shock that a paramilitary group could have received intelligence and assistance from a member of the Galactic Senate.”
Leia felt relief sweep through her, and vindication. Someone had investigated after all; someone had reviewed the data and dared to follow the trail where it led. And while she hadn’t wanted to believe that the Centrists were involved, she wasn’t at all surprised to hear that one of theirs had been party to this from the beginning.
Then the broadcast continued: “Senator Casterfo has already been taken into custody and, in accordance with Senate policy, will be taken for imprisonment, trial, and sentencing on his homeworld.”
Ransolm? They’d arrested Ransolm?
“It can’t be,” she whispered, nearly numb with shock.
“I know it must come as a surprise,” said a more sympathetic listener, a Chandrilan staffer. “But obviously he was good at playing the game.”
“No, you don’t understand. It can’t be. It’s absolutely impossible for Ransolm Casterfo to be the person responsible for this.” Leia knew every moment, every step, of her investigation by heart. Much of the most critical information had come from Ransolm himself. He’d risked his life for her on Bastatha. He’d even called for further investigation on the Senate floor. Did everyone actually think he had done all this just to cover his tracks? Only a fool could believe that.
Then Leia realized—the people who had accused Ransolm didn’t believe it.
They’d set him up to take the fall.
—
Greer sat in the front office of the senatorial suite in semi-darkness; the day was too cloudy for much sunlight through the windows, and she hadn’t even bothered turning on the main lights. The datapad in her hands illuminated her face as she scrolled through the recordings again, and again, and again. But the images never changed.
The door swished open and Princess Leia hurried in, breathless. “Greer, they’ve arrested Ransolm—”
“I know.” Her voice shook. “I ran here the moment I heard. I thought we could clear him, that we could do it in a heartbeat.”
“We can. As soon as they actually watch the footage, they’ll know.” Leia sat down next to Greer and impatiently took the datapad from her, then stared down in disbelief. “This isn’t what happened.”
“The footage has been doctored. Thoroughly. Completely.” On the screen played an image of Ransolm Casterfo shaking hands with Arliz Hadrassian as he gestured toward her starfighters—two genuine gestures mapped together to create the illusion of approval. Greer remembered well the uneasy line Casterfo had walked with Hadrassian; he had come across as friendly without ever lying about his enthusiasm. This showed him as an enthusiastic backer and, more important, one who had hidden his true actions from the Senate.
Leia shook her head. “A slicer got hold of the footage?”
“Casterfo opened the footage up to everyone. From there, it was easy work for a good slicer to doctor the images and make it look like the original footage was actually the fake stuff.” Greer’s pulse felt too weak in her limbs, but this once, she didn’t think it was the bloodburn. Instead the corruption responsible for this had sickened her to the core. What kind of government could let this happen?
No—what kind of government could do this? Because someone in the Senate had to be responsible, and that person was probably going to get away with it. Greer had had her frustrations with the Senate in the past, but she’d always believed there was something there worth salvaging, worth fighting for.
But now she knew the Senate was rotten. Dark and soft like old fruit, grown over with mold. Nothing remained pure enough to save. Although Greer had never fully come around to liking Ransolm Casterfo, she had learned to respect his abilities and integrity. More than that—he was completely innocent of the charges, and no one deserved to pay so dearly for a crime he hadn’t committed. And she could only sit here and watch it happen.
Is this the “peaceful life” I have to live if I want to avoid dying from bloodburn? This…quiet mediocrity in the service of corruption?
Leia’s face paled. “They’ll be taking him to Riosa today. On the next transport from the main hangar. When is that?”
Greer shut off the false footage and checked. “In…just under an hour.”
“I have to go.” Leia rose to her feet and headed for the door.
A tiny flicker of hope ignited within Greer. “Can you stop them? Can you save him?”
&n
bsp; Leia looked back over her shoulder, already stricken with guilt and grief. “No.”
—
The main hangar didn’t see much traffic at this time of day, nor the monorails, which meant Leia reached the designated bay in time—barely. As she dashed through the door, winded and wobbly, she saw two New Republic soldiers leading Ransolm Casterfo toward a boxy, ominous prisoner transport vessel. Ransolm still wore his usual fine clothes, though they were crumpled now, and his hands were manacled in front of him.
“Wait!” Leia called. All three men turned toward her; the guards looked confused, and Ransolm looked…resigned. She hurried toward them, trying to summon some shadow of her old authority. “I want to talk to Senator Casterfo.”
The guards turned toward each other for a long moment before one said, “Our orders say we load him now.”
Leia drew herself up, allowed her gaze to become cool and commanding. Forget acting like a senator; she was a princess, and it was high time these men remembered it. “You’ll be able to carry out your orders in due course. Let us speak.”
They let go of Ransolm that instant, stepping back several paces. It would do. Leia looked up into Ransolm’s eyes, and a pang went through her chest as he tried to smile. “Yours is the first friendly face I’ve seen all day,” he said, his voice steadier than she would have thought. “It may be the last friendly face I ever see. I must admit, at the moment I sorely regret helping reinstate the death penalty on Riosa.”
Horror swept through Leia. Worlds with the death penalty usually counted treason as a capital offense. Ransolm would be not only wrongly convicted, but executed, for crimes he had not committed.
“I’ll try to do something,” she promised. Already her mind was desperately going through the options, finding nothing, but still hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could find a way out of this. “Call in some old favors, ask for an independent investigation…”
“And you will fail.” He smiled with unutterable sadness. “A rare case of perfect irony. You no longer have the power or connections to save me, precisely because I took that power away through my own actions. I am caught in my own trap.”
