“I thought you’d say you’ve gone back to flying with the Red Squadron,” she said after a moment.
Luke shook his head.
“It’s Wedge’s squadron now,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to swoop in and take that away from him.”
“But if you’re not flying, then what are you doing?” Leia asked. The question came out more harshly than she’d intended, but Luke didn’t take offense. Still, he looked uncomfortable.
“What I’m asked to do,” Luke said. “But I need to return to my Jedi training. I have a promise to keep.”
After Cloud City, Luke had told her of his time on a strange swamp world and the teacher he’d found there. It had sounded like something out of a fairy tale, a story a governess on Alderaan might have read her long before.
“Without your lightsaber?” Leia asked, wondering how he would train without the weapon of a Jedi.
Luke smiled, a bit sadly.
“Weapons and war don’t make you a Jedi,” he said. “I know that now.”
“But we need you here,” she said.
“I know,” Luke said. “And I’ve kept putting off my departure because I was hoping for news of Han. But now I suppose we have to wait a little longer, until we know what’s happening on Tatooine.”
“Right,” Leia said, not wanting to explain that she’d been talking about the Alliance, not Han.
“I’m trying to be more patient—that was part of my training,” Luke said, then smiled. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’ve mastered it.”
She smiled back at him, thinking that patience had never been one of her strengths, either. But then Luke’s expression turned serious again.
“What we all need is a little more time,” he said.
“We’ll never have enough of that—no one ever does,” Leia said. “And the Empire’s trying to take away the little time we do have by never giving us a moment’s rest.”
She paused.
“But maybe we can steal some.”
“What do you mean?” Luke asked.
“I don’t quite know yet—but I’m thinking,” she said, then smiled at his expression. “Patience, remember?”
LEIA SPENT THE EVENING poring over star charts and cross-referencing them with Alliance intel. She read reports about the Empire’s fleet movements and economic interests, about demonstrations and anti-Imperial activities, sifting through possibilities until her mind was made up.
And then, mercifully, she slept more soundly than she had in weeks.
She woke up to C-3PO’s familiar chatter, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was—her ears missed the familiar hum of the various systems that kept a starship running. Then it all came back: the new Death Star and the plan she’d come up with, the one she intended to present to Mon Mothma and her fellow rebel leaders.
When Leia returned to the briefing room, Mothma looked regal in a beautiful pale dress, with a silver band around her hair. But the others looked exhausted—Madine was clutching a cup of caf, Ackbar’s skin was dull and splotchy, and the buttons on Cracken’s tunic were misaligned.
It had obviously been a long night. She wondered if any of them had slept.
Mothma nodded, and Ackbar brought up the holo of the Death Star.
“While this second Death Star’s main reactor is exposed, the battle station is vulnerable—no matter what structural changes the Empire has implemented,” he said. “We’re still analyzing the technical specifications, but either our small attack craft or fighters should be able to fly into the superstructure while our warships provide protection.”
“The Empire will have its own defenses—we’ll need a considerable task force,” said Admiral Nantz.
Before Ackbar could speak, Admiral Massa was shaking his head.
“We could bring every capital ship we have to Endor and still not have the resources to defeat the Imperial starfleet,” he said.
“That’s not the objective,” Ackbar growled. “We won’t win the battle ship to ship. We’ll win it by buying time for our fighters.”
There it was again, Leia thought—time. It could be the most precious resource in the galaxy—often unobtainable at any price.
“We’ve confirmed something else,” Ackbar said. “The battle station is protected by an energy shield generated from the surface of the moon.”
He swiveled one large eye in Madine’s direction. “We’ve selected a strike team of commandos. Their mission will be to knock out the generator so our attack can proceed.”
“They’ll need to begin their operation before our fleet arrives,” General Veertag said. “How will we get them there undetected?”
“We’re looking to secure an Imperial transport,” Madine said, and Leia had the impression the two were continuing a long-running argument. “As well as gathering intel on the Empire’s security measures.”
A Mon Calamari admiral Leia didn’t know raised her hand. “Endor is so far from the main trade routes—where will our fleet assemble? And how do we keep the Empire from knowing we’re coming?”
“To that question, at least, we have an answer,” Ackbar said.
The Death Star disappeared, replaced by a map of the galaxy. As always, Leia was struck by the beauty of its spiral arms, brilliant white but shot through with blooms and tendrils of color, the signatures of nebulae and dust clouds where new stars were being born.
Red lines appeared on the spiral arms—the great trade routes that connected the galaxy’s star systems. Ackbar gestured, and a red dot sprang into existence in a location Leia recognized: Sullust, the homeworld of Nien Nunb. Then another dot appeared, on the edge of the galaxy. A dotted blue line stretched between them.
“The Empire has used S-thread boosters to create and maintain a secret hyperspace route running from Sullust all the way to the galactic edge,” Ackbar said. “It’s called the Sanctuary Pipeline and is one of the Empire’s most important military secrets. Fortunately, our agents discovered the navigational data that will allow us to use it, too.”
The admirals were muttering. Leia knew what they were thinking. The cost of such a project was enough to bankrupt whole star systems.
But then what was money to a regime that could build multiple Death Stars?
“Sullust is an opportunity for us—we have contacts with its underground,” Ackbar said. “Our armada will gather there. The commando team will go first, to bring down the battle station’s shields. Then the fleet will travel down the Sanctuary Pipeline to Endor. Questions?”
“With the fleet so scattered, it will take time to gather enough capital ships and starfighter squadrons,” Nantz said. “And during that time the Empire may discover what we’re up to.”
“What we need is a distraction,” Leia said. “And I know what we can use.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Veertag said eagerly. “We plant false information about a new principal base—”
“Actually, that wasn’t what I was thinking, General,” Leia said. “At all.”
“It’s been a successful gambit before,” Veertag objected.
“It won’t be this time. The Empire would simply add whatever planet we chose to the list of places for its new Death Star to destroy. And we have to assume the Empire will hear rumors that we’re gathering our forces. Our distraction should fit with that scenario and lead them to make the wrong conclusion.”
The admirals and generals exchanged looks, and she could guess what they were thinking: Who is this politician to tell us how to run a war?
“I for one would like to hear what Princess Leia has in mind,” General Rieekan said.
That quieted the others. Leia stepped up to the holoprojector.
“I’ll take a ship and a small crew,” she said, inputting commands. “We’ll go here—the Corva sector. It’s about as far away from Endor and Sullust as you can get without falling off the galactic disk.”
A wide swath of space in the Outer Rim, on the other side of the galaxy from Endor and
Sullust, began to blink. Leia tagged four stars with red dots.
“We’ll make it look like a recruiting mission but drop beacons along the way, with messages sending any ships that respond to a rendezvous point,” she said. “We’ll start at Basteel and continue to Sesid and Jaresh, with the supposed rendezvous point here, at Galaan.”
She tapped on the holoprojector and the fourth red dot swelled into an image of a greenish gas giant with a large yellow moon orbiting it.
“We’ll use codes that we know the Empire’s broken but that it thinks we think are still safe. Meanwhile, our real fleet will be assembling as far away from Corva sector as possible.”
“Operation Yellow Moon,” mused Rieekan.
“You see? We even have a name.”
“The Empire has a limited presence in Corva sector,” Cracken said. “After Yavin we considered that area for potential bases of operation and fleet rendezvous points.”
“Which is exactly why I chose it,” Leia said, and smiled when Cracken raised his eyebrows. “It makes the Empire more likely to believe Operation Yellow Moon is real.”
“Any ships that did respond to the beacon would be in terrible danger,” Mothma said. “How would we warn them?”
“We wouldn’t,” Cracken said, his mouth set in a grim line. “We couldn’t. For Princess Leia’s plan to work, its true nature would have to be kept secret from everyone except the people in this room.”
“We’d sacrifice them?” Mothma asked.
“We’re at war,” Cracken said apologetically, aware of the chancellor’s displeasure.
“I see,” Mothma said.
“I think Princess Leia’s plan could work,” he said. “Any advantage we can seize is worth taking. And if one small ship can tie up sectors’ worth of Imperial warships, I’ll make that trade.”
“I’ll admit the plan has its merits,” Mothma said. “But sending you, Leia, is out of the question.”
“Why’s that?” Leia asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“You’re too valuable an asset to the Alliance for us to risk your safety.”
“My value to the Alliance is what will attract the Empire’s attention,” Leia said. “Palpatine wants me in prison or dead, and I’ve slipped through his agents’ fingers more than once. That makes me a prize worth hunting.”
“At the risk of losing you?” Mothma asked. “It’s a desperate move.”
“These are desperate times,” Leia said, looking at the faces of the admirals and generals, determined to make them see things her way. “Perhaps the most desperate we’ve ever faced. Risking me is what will make the plan work.”
Mothma looked from Ackbar to Madine to Cracken. Leia watched the glances pass among them. The four of them knew one another well enough that they could tell what the others were thinking.
Eventually, all eyes turned the chancellor’s way.
“I need to think about this more,” Mothma said. “I don’t like the idea of attracting people to our cause under false pretenses—or putting Princess Leia in danger for a wild bantha chase. But as General Cracken says, we should use every advantage we can get. I’ll decide by morning; in the meantime, we need to plan the Endor mission.”
Leia wanted to scream that they had to decide now. But she’d seen too many diplomatic agreements lost at the very end because someone pushed too hard. She forced herself to turn to Cracken, face impassive.
“What did you have in mind for your team, Princess?” he asked.
“A pilot, of course. Nien Nunb, if he’ll go—and lend us his ship.”
“A wise choice,” Ackbar said. “Nunb can fly anything, in any conditions.”
“I’ll need a communications specialist,” Leia said.
“I’d recommend Kidi Aleri,” Cracken said. “She’s adept at ferreting out signals and hiding messages within comm loops.”
Leia nodded.
“I’d also suggest you take a tech specialist—a tinkerer, someone who can keep those beacons running. They’re fickle pieces of machinery. I’m thinking Antrot, from my shop. He can hot-wire anything and is handy with demolitions.”
“Sounds like I’ve got a crew,” Leia said. They weren’t there yet, but Cracken’s approval clearly meant a lot to Mothma, and Ackbar would have said something if he disagreed with her plan.
“If we go ahead, I insist on one more addition to the crew,” Mothma said. “A commando, for protection. Someone who’ll get you home safe if all else fails.”
“This isn’t a combat mission,” Leia said.
“You don’t know what it may become. It’s not negotiable, Leia.”
Leia saw immediately that if she fought Mothma on that point she’d lose.
“Very well.”
“General Madine?” Mothma asked. “Who would you recommend?”
“I’ll go myself,” the Corellian general said. “I’d just worry anyway.”
But Ackbar shook his salmon-colored head, his wattles wiggling. “We need you here to plan the Endor infiltration mission. And before you suggest it, that goes for General Tantor, too.”
“Major Lokmarcha, then,” Madine said, “a veteran Dressellian resistance fighter. He’s saved my life on several occasions.”
“Here’s hoping he won’t have to save mine,” Leia said. “Ideally, he’ll go out of his mind with boredom aboard the Mellcrawler.”
She was already making a checklist in her head of everything she had to do to begin Operation Yellow Moon. It was a daunting list, but she welcomed the work ahead. She didn’t know if her mission would succeed, but she did know she wouldn’t be standing on a bridge feeling useless. She’d be taking action—action that just might save the Alliance.
All she needed was for Mon Mothma to say yes.
LEIA HAD JUST FINISHED a simple dinner in her quarters when her door chime sounded. She wasn’t surprised to find Mothma standing in the corridor.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” the chancellor said.
“Of course not. I was expecting you, in fact. Would you like something? I’ll get Threepio—”
“That’s not necessary,” Mothma said with a smile, and Leia saw the dark hollows under her eyes. “You’re the one I wanted to see. Sit.”
Most of the people in the galaxy who could tell Leia what to do and be instinctively obeyed were dead—but not all of them. She sat.
“Have you spoken to your crew?” Mothma asked.
“Yes,” Leia said, knowing better than to ask if that meant Mothma had approved the plan. “They all agreed to go, though Major Lokmarcha was reluctant. He feels like he’s letting down his commando team.”
“And are you satisfied with them?”
“I am,” Leia said, then hesitated. “Antrot, he’s…let’s just say he’s a little odd. But then I’ve never met a demolitions expert who wasn’t.”
“Neither have I,” Mothma said. “I know you’re waiting for my decision. But before I make it, I want to talk about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I’m worried about you.”
“So am I,” Leia said. “I’m worried about all of us—you, me, the Alliance, the entire galaxy.”
Mothma leaned forward, her gaze direct and unflinching.
“I’ve known you practically since the day Bail brought you home to Alderaan,” Mothma said. “I watched you grow up. Tutored you before you joined the Senate. And I’ve seen you carry on Bail’s work with the Alliance. He would have been so proud of you—of the leadership you showed at Yavin and at Hoth.”
Mothma looked away, and for a moment she looked old—old and badly worn down.
“I’ve missed him these last two days,” Mothma said. “But then I miss him every day. His advice and his perspective. But mostly his friendship.”
“So do I,” Leia said quietly, waiting. She knew Mothma hadn’t come to talk about her father.
But what the older woman said next surprised her.
“You have feelings for Captain Solo,” she said.
After a moment Leia nodded.
“I’ve read the intelligence reports,” Mothma said. “We don’t have the resources to mount a rescue mission to Tatooine—particularly not with the Empire expecting us to make such a move.”
“I haven’t asked for the Alliance to do that,” Leia said sharply.
“I know you haven’t—and I know you wouldn’t,” Mothma said. “But Captain Solo has many friends in the Alliance. Which is why I’d intended to propose such a mission myself.”
Leia looked at her in surprise—and for a moment felt wild hope swell inside her. But then she saw the expression on Mothma’s face.
“You said ‘intended to.’”
“Such a mission would now be much more difficult,” Mothma said. “As you’ve heard, our commandos are needed elsewhere. But ‘much more difficult’ isn’t the same as ‘impossible.’ We have what General Cracken calls unconventional assets. Commander Skywalker is in a unique position at the moment. And then there’s you.”
Leia shook her head, annoyed that Mothma was talking around something that concerned her so deeply—and surprised the chancellor seemed to be dangling the promise of a mission to save Han in front of her.
“Bribery isn’t your style,” she said, and from the look on the chancellor’s face she knew immediately that she’d made a mistake.
“You’re right, it isn’t,” Mothma said, eyes flashing. “I don’t need to bribe you if I decide Operation Yellow Moon is a no go. My rank as chancellor of the Alliance to Restore the Republic allows me to do that.”
Leia looked away. She wouldn’t apologize, but she’d let Mothma decide where the conversation went next.
“I brought it up, Leia, because I’m not sure what you’d say if I offered you a place on a rescue mission to Tatooine. And that uncertainty is why I’m here.”
Leia looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap.
“My duty is to the Alliance,” she said, relieved to hear her voice sound unwavering. “Not to Captain Solo.”
“Ah,” Mothma said. “And what about to yourself?”
Moving Target: A Princess Leia Adventure Page 3