by Alex Wheeler
"A mistake," the Commander said, his hologram snapping into view, "but a useful one. And why has she come?"
"Delaya has become a gathering point for Alderaanians who were offworld at the time of the attack. Officially, Leia is here as their leader. She will offer help to the refugees and pay tribute to the memory of the dead."
"And unofficially?" the Commander prompted.
"She plans to recruit as many refugees as she can for the Rebel cause."
"Good," the Commander said. A ghost of a smile crossed his narrow, pinched face. "This we can use. And your mission?"
"I am closing in on a target. Leia trusts me. They all do. It's only a matter of time before they reveal the name of the pilot who destroyed the Death Star."
The Commander's smile grew wider. "And once we have confirmation?"
"The target will be eliminated," X-7 said. "If and when the Commander wills it."
"You are in a position to do so, when the time comes?" the Commander asked. "Without getting caught?"
Without intending to, X-7 allowed a hint of Tobin Elad's cocky certainty to creep into his voice. "With all due respect, sir, ferreting out the pilot's name will require some finesse. Killing him? That's the easy part."
CHAPTER FOUR
Delaya may have looked blue from a distance, but up close, it was nothing but gray. Leilani, its capital city, was packed with faceless duracrete factories puffing black smoke into the smog. Alderaan had long ago exported its manufacturing facilities to Delaya, and the centuries had taken their toll. Landspeeders clogged the narrow streets, creeping past rows of half-constructed buildings. Durasteel scaffolding flanked their exteriors, but the construction equipment sat abandoned.
"New factories," General Carlist Rieekan said, as he drove deeper into the city toward their lodgings. He had collected Leia from the spaceport; the others were following behind in a second landspeeder. Leia had wanted some time to talk to the general in private. "Or, they were supposed to be. There's no need for them now."
The Rebel General had been on a Delayan transmission station when Alderaan was destroyed, and had spent the last several weeks assisting refugee efforts around the sector. Tens of thousands of Alderaanians had been off planet when the Death Star struck. They had kept their lives—but lost everything else. "The Delayan economy has been troubled for years. But now? The planet generates most of its income from exporting goods to Alderaan. Without Alderaan…"
"No demand for goods," Leia finished for him.
"And no need for factories or workers to produce them," General Rieekan added, as they drove past a sidewalk crowded with humans and aliens. Leia spotted a Rodian, a Besalisk, three Bothans, and a cluster of white-tufted Ryn. They waited in a line that stretched around the block. "These stragglers came from all over the galaxy, looking for work. Now they have to rely on the government to feed and clothe them—or find another planet."
"Is it like this all over?" Leia asked. The General had spent much of the last couple weeks in other parts of Delaya, visiting refugees across the globe.
He nodded. "Alderaan's tragedy is borne by Delaya as well."
"All the more reason to be grateful to them for taking in the refugees," Leia said.
General Rieekan didn't respond.
"General?" she asked. He was a man who chose his words carefully, but when he did speak, it was always worth hearing.
"I don't want to influence you."
She smiled. "I can assure you, General, no one has ever accused me of being easily influenced."
The general sighed. "There are those here who feel their planet's resources should be reserved for Delayans. Prime Minister Manaa and his deputy, Var Lyonn, have sworn their willingness to help the refugees," he said.
"But?" she prompted him.
"It's just a bad feeling I have," he admitted. "Manaa's men follow me everywhere, and my interactions with the refugees are carefully supervised." He glanced out the window, nodding at a silver landspeeder off to their right. "Even now, they're following us. I've been told it's for security purposes."
"You suspect otherwise."
The general pulled up in front of a tall gray building and brought the landspeeder to a stop. The sign read Delayan Whisperpines Hotel, though there were no whisperpines—or any other tree—in sight. Leia would have preferred more modest accommodations, but the Delayan government had insisted on giving her the royal treatment. It seemed ungrateful to object. Especially since she was counting on them to keep this visit a secret from the Empire.
"I do," he said. "Perhaps I should have spent less time traveling. If I had looked deeper into the situation in Leilani…"
"You've done all you can and more," she assured him. "And on behalf of the people of Alderaan, I thank you for your efforts.
"My efforts." He shook his head and pressed his fingers to his temples. "Your Highness, when the Death Star approached, I heard the distress cries from the transmission station—and I did nothing."
"There was nothing you could have done," Leia assured him. "There would have been no time to evacuate the planet, and if you had acted, you could have revealed Alderaan's connections to the Alliance. You had no way of knowing what the Empire was about to do."
Unlike me, she thought. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I just couldn't stop it.
"You are not to blame," she said firmly. "For any of this."
He inclined his head toward her slightly, acknowledging her words, if not agreeing with them.
As they climbed out of the landspeeder, a young man approached, running his hands nervously through his spiky black hair. The General smiled and waved him over. "Leia, meet Kiro Chen," he said. "He's been an invaluable help to the cause these last few weeks."
Leia looked warily at the stranger. "When you say 'the cause,' you mean..."
"He knows your true purpose here," General Rieekan explained. "He came to me as a representative of the survivors, hoping for a way to serve the Alliance."
Kiro gave Leia a firm handshake. "It doesn't make sense to talk about 'survivors' as a single group," he explained. "There are too many of us. Though it's only been a short time, different groups have formed communities, really. Each with their own unofficial leaders."
"Like you?" Leia asked.
Kiro chuckled. "I'm no leader. I just pay attention. I know things. Like the fact that the Rebel Alliance is our greatest hope. If we want to stop another Alderaan…"
Leia winced. "It pains me that our planet's very name has come to stand for destruction and death," she said softly.
"Not all it stands for, Your Highness." Kiro smiled sadly. "You'll see to that."
"Not me," Leia said. "The Alliance."
The general nodded. " Exactly. Kiro is based here in Leilani, and he's managed to put together a coalition of survivors who might be willing to assist the Rebel efforts."
"They're hesitant," Kiro admitted. "After…what happened, they have good cause to be terrified of the Empire."
"All the more reason to fight," Leia said.
Kiro nodded. "I agree. And now that you're here, I know they'll commit. They…we—" he reddened "—have always drawn strength from your resolve."
As a princess and Imperial senator, Leia had grown quite skillful at accepting compliments. But this one touched her more deeply than most. "On behalf of the Rebel Alliance, I thank you for all you've done," she told him, aware she sounded overly formal. "I look forward to working together."
"I've been called for an operation in the Orus Sector," General Rieekan said. "And—"
"Can we have a moment, please?" Leia asked Kiro. He may have been one of her people, and General Rieekan may have trusted him, but he was still a stranger.
He backed away, leaving Leia and the general to speak privately.
"If you need me here, Your Highness, of course I'll stay."
Leia shook her head. "Go ahead. The Rebellion needs you more than I do."
"Just watch yourself," he warned her. "Minis
ter Manaa may be the official head of the government, but his deputy, Var Lyonn, holds the true power. And the man is not to be trusted."
"Few are," Leia pointed out. "It's why the Rebel Alliance is lucky to have men like you."
"And like your father," he said quietly. "I grieve your loss."
Leia looked down. "It's a loss felt by all," she said brusquely. "And I intend to make sure we never suffer another one like it."
Leilani was corroded with rust, its air fouled with chemicals and its skies black with smoke. But when they arrived at the housing development that had been erected for Alderaan survivors, Leia was surprised to find everything shiny and new. There were even a few trees poking up between the small homes.
After introducing her to the Prime Minister and his deputy, General Rieekan had returned to the spaceport. At Leia's request, the government officials had brought her to see the accommodations that had been made for her people. Though she had wanted to go alone, Luke had insisted on coming along. He said he was curious, but she knew he just didn't want her to be alone. It infuriated her, the way everyone was treating her like she was some fragile piece of transparisteel, about to shatter into a million pieces. Yes, she'd lost everything—but she certainly wasn't the only one.
"There are two hundred residents in the T'iil Blossom Homes," Deputy Minister Var Lyonn said, proudly showing off the facilities. His gray shimmersilk robe, the same color as his thinning hair, brushed against the ground as he walked. "Families who were off planet on vacation, businessmen, students on school trips—every survivor has a different story, though of course they all end in the same tragic way. It's been our honor as Delayans to offer a safe and happy refuge."
Leia smiled at the groups of survivors picnicking in a ragged patch of grass. It reminded her of lazy afternoons on the grounds of the palace, snacking on Mernily's custard bread while she watched the gingerbells bloom. The memory was as welcome as it was painful.
"We have established developments like this all across the city," Var Lyonn said. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Prime Minister Gresh Manaa, who hadn't spoken since he'd first introduced himself, nodded eagerly. He was shorter and rounder than his deputy, with a fringe of gray hair ringing his bulging chin. His wide eyes made him seem perpetually surprised. He walked a few feet behind Var Lyonn, like a child trailing his minder.
They rounded a hedge to discover a small boy huddled on the ground. When he spotted them, he wiped the tears from his eyes with two balled fists. "I'm not crying," he said defiantly.
"I can see that," Leia assured him. "Where are your parents?"
"In building seven," he said. "I got lost."
"Princess, we should really keep moving," Var Lyonn said. "We have much to see."
Leia ignored him. "Would you like help finding your parents?" she asked the child.
The boy burst into tears.
Var Lyonn grunted with impatience. "Your Highness, surely we all have more pressing matters to attend to than baby-sitting."
"Then you attend to them," Leia said, with as much politeness as she could muster. "I'm getting this child back to his family."
"As I've already explained, it's not safe for you to wander around on your own. If you insist, we can all—"
"You go," Luke said, catching her eye. "I remember passing building seven on our way in. It's just across the park."
"Excellent," Var Lyonn said brusquely, already walking away. "Rejoin us when you can." Leia nodded at Luke, and followed behind the Deputy Minister. It was clear he didn't want her out of his sight. At least this way, Luke would have a chance to do some exploring on his own.
"We've done what we can with the funds we have," Lyonn said, as they continued to stroll across the grounds, "but of course, the more we have, the more we can help." A number of wealthy former residents of Alderaan had donated funds to Delaya, to help them tend to the survivors. Although the Organa fortune had been pledged to the Rebellion, Leia knew of many who would donate funds at her request.
They wandered through narrow, tree-lined paths dotted with small buildings. There was a cultural center, a cafeteria, even a school. It looked like a comfortable place to live—but Leia suspected that for its residents, it would never be home.
"Time to go," Var Lyonn said, after they'd been there for less than an hour. "I don't know where your associate has wandered off to, but we'll collect him on our way out."
"Already?" She'd spoken to only a few of the survivors, all quick to thank the Delayan officials for giving them a new home. They seemed reluctant to say anything more. "You go. I can find my own way back."
"That would be ill advised," Lyonn said. "You're a very public figure—with a lot of enemies."
"I'm not concerned."
Lyonn and Manaa shared a look. "I'm afraid we don't have that luxury," Lyonn said, his tone civil but firm. "If something were to happen to you here, we would never forgive ourselves." He paused. "Of course you'll want us to take every precaution against having the Empire learn of your presence here."
It was only his cold smile that made it sound like a threat.
"I should probably return to the hotel anyway," Leia said gracefully. "I do need to prepare for tomorrow."
This was partly true. She had agreed to officiate at a large memorial ceremony. Hundreds of people would attend, all expecting her words to heal their wounds. She couldn't even heal her own.
But that wasn't why she agreed to return to the hotel. General Rieekan had been right: Manaa and Lyonn were hiding something. Picking a fight wouldn't be the best way to find out what it was. That was Han's way. Shoot first, ask questions never. Leia was more patient—but no less determined.
"You sure this is the right place?" Luke asked. Once they'd found building seven, the small boy had led him around to a playground in the back, claiming his parents would be waiting for him. But there was no one there. The boy looked more terrified than ever.
"Don't worry," Luke said. "We'll find your parents. They're probably out looking for you right at this moment."
"I didn't want to do it," the boy said.
"Do what?" Luke asked in confusion—and then rough hands grabbed him from behind, twisting his hands behind his back. A bag dropped over his head. Luke kicked out blindly, and his foot slammed hard into someone's stomach. There was a loud grunt, and his legs were kicked out from beneath him. He dropped to the ground, his head slamming into the duracrete.
"Careful, don't hurt him!" someone snapped.
Luke was scooped up and tossed onto a hard surface. There was a loud bang just over his head, like a lid being slammed shut. An engine rumbled, and the floor vibrated beneath him. It looked like he was going for a ride.
Like it or not.
CHAPTER FIVE
Luke strained against the wrist binders. They wouldn't give. He twisted his arms toward his right hip, straining his fingers toward his belt. The men had taken his blaster—but they hadn't thought to search for other weapons. If he could just reach the hilt of his lightsaber…
There!
Luke was about to activate the blade, when he hesitated. It wasn't just the close quarters—he knew he might miss the binders and slice off a limb—it was a feeling, almost an inner voice, urging him to stop.
Have patience. Watch. Wait.
It was the kind of thing Ben might have said—but this wasn't Ben's voice. It came from somewhere deep inside of him. It was less a voice than a certainty that he should allow events to play themselves out.
Is it the Force? Luke wondered.
Or was it just his own fear?
Either way, Luke decided to listen. He still had his lightsaber. When the time came to use it, he would be ready. Until then, he would have patience. Watch.
Wait.
The lid swung open. Luke squinted into the light. Two figures stood over him, silhouetted by the sun, their faces hidden in shadow.
"We don't want to hurt you," the taller one said.
"And we won't—if you
come quietly," added the other. "If you don't…" He left the threat unspoken.
"Where are we?" Luke asked.
Instead of answering, they yanked him out of the speeder, holding him upright as his legs buckled. Though his muscles quickly recovered, he let himself sag as they half-pushed, half-dragged him down the narrow path.
Let them believe he was weak.
"You're making a mistake," Luke warned, as they approached a massive building of faceless gray ferrocrete. Several similar structures stood on either side. Luke suspected they'd brought him to the warehouse district. But why? "If you tell me what you want, maybe we can work something out."
"We got what we wanted," the shorter man growled. "You."
Once again, Luke considered going for his lightsaber. Here, the odds were one against two. Not great, since the two had blasters and all he had was a lightsaber he could barely use.
Watch.
Wait.
It defied sense, but Luke trusted his instincts. Just as Ben had instructed him.
The men shoved him into the building. Off balance, he stumbled through the door, toppling forward. They caught him just before he hit the ground and jerked him upright. Luke gasped.
It was a warehouse, as he'd guessed. But the only thing stored in this warehouse were people.
People everywhere—hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand. Sprawled on thin mats, leaning against the walls, sickly and pale. Huddled under threadbare blankets, fighting over foil-wrapped protein supplements. The building was hundreds of meters wide and at least six stories high, with landings on each level circling a wide open central area. The thick air stunk of rotting bantha meat.
"What is this place?" Luke whispered, forcing himself not to turn away from all the gaunt, hopeless faces.
