THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

agony."

  Mon Mothma's smile was full of affection and sympathy. "You would not

  be human if you were not feeling both of those things right now."

  "But I can't let either of those feelings guide what I do," Leia

  said.

  "And I don't know that I can keep them from doing so. I only watched

  it once, but I can't stop seeing it."

  "Leia, dear, surely you haven't told yourself that being President

  means that you can't listen to what you feel, that all your decisions

  must be guided solely by what you think. Leadership is more than

  calculation, or we would hand the whole messy business over to droids,"

  Mon Mothma said. "Kings and presidents, emperors and potentates--the

  best of them are guided by honest passions as much as by a noble ethic

  or cool, incisive reason."

  "Passion and power have always seemed to me to be a dangerous

  combination," said Leia.

  "Without reason or ethics, they almost always are.

  But reason needs a passion for truth, and ethics a passion for

  justice.

  Without that, neither is really alive," said Mon Mothma. "What is it

  you're struggling with, Leia?"

  "What to do," she Said simply. "What to do to-morrow--to fight or to

  concede. What to do about Koornacht while I'm still here."

  "What do you want?"

  "Han, home safe," she said unhesitatingly. "The Yevetha held to

  account. And I want to keep this job, because there's still work to

  do."

  "And if you cannot have them all, which of those would you surrender

  last?"

  The barbary birds had put in their appearance as predicted, and Leia's

  eyes tracked the darting flight of a black and yellow male. "That's

  exactly where I have trouble seeing the way," she said. "Do I answer

  for principle? For myself and the children? For the good of the New

  Republic?"

  "But you've been at this very crossroads before," Mon Mothma said.

  "When the enemy was Emperor

  Palpatine, you were ready to risk all, and you sacrificed much, for

  principle and posterity. What mattered most to you was what you

  believed was right. So it was for all of us--both those who died for

  the Rebellion, and those of us who sent them to die."

  "I have more to lose now," Leia realized. "And I am less willing to

  risk it than I was then."

  "More proof that you are human, and still no reason for shame. The

  young think they are immortal," Mon Mothma said with an understanding

  smile.

  "Those who do not survive that mistake teach a harsh lesson to the rest

  of us. And twenty years of war provided enough harsh lessons for

  all.

  We cling more tightly to what we have--to life, and to love--knowing

  its impermanence."

  Leia stood and walked to the transparency separating her from the

  darting barbary birds. "It is the same crossroads, isn't it? What

  will you risk for what you believe--and what is your belief worth if

  you will not risk anything in its defense?" She shook her head. "I

  have part of the. answer to your question, at least."

  "And what part is that?"

  "I know which of those three things I want that I'm willing to give up

  first," she said. "The moment we begin to think about staying in power

  before we think of anything else, we betray the Rebellion. That's the

  heart of what we were rebelling against."

  "It was, at the end, the only idea Palpatine stood for," Mon Mothma

  agreed.

  Leia turned and looked back at her mentor. "But I still don't know how

  to choose between the other two."

  "I think you do," said Mon Mothma. "What you don't know is how to live

  with the choice. And there I can be of no help to you. That secret

  escaped you when the clarity left you."

  "When did that happen?" Leia asked, returning to sit on the edge of

  the stool at Mon Mothma's feet. "I didn't see it go--did you? Never

  before in my life have I struggled with decisions, or with accepting

  their consequences.

  It's been so strange, watching myself from the inside, wondering why

  this woman was speaking for me."

  "Your clarity came from your certainty that our cause was just and our

  purpose worthy," Mon Mothma said. "But there is little certainty of

  that kind to be had in a place like the Senate, in a city like Imperial

  City.

  Certainty is eaten away by the thousand and one compromises that are

  the currency of democracy. Causes fall victim to the building of

  consensus. Accountability becomes so diffused that it vanishes, and

  agreement becomes so rare that it startles."

  "I would have said that I understood that--that none of that was a

  surprise."

  "Understanding it and dealing with it every day are separate problems,"

  Mon Mothma said. "You have always drawn your map with straight lines,

  Leia, and in that respect, you were ill prepared for the arcane

  cartog-raphy of the Senate." She smiled gently, fondly. "You are

  welcome to blame me for that--privately or publicly."

  Leia shook her head. "There's no need for such talk. You have nothing

  to apologize for." She stood and glanced over her shoulder toward the

  door. "I have to be going, I don't want to leave the children alone

  for too long."

  Mon Mothma rose to her feet as well. "There is something your father

  told me a long time ago, when I was new to Coruscant and its ways were

  a mystery. It was valuable to me--perhaps you will find something in

  it as well. He said, do not expect to be applauded when you do the

  right thing, and do not expect to be forgiven when you err. But even

  your enemies will respect commitment-and a conscience at peace is worth

  more than a thousand tainted victories."

  By the time the recitation was over, Leia's eyes had misted. "That

  sounds like Bail, all right."

  Mon Mothma gathered the younger woman into a fond, comforting embrace

  that lasted fully half a minute.

  "Draw a straight line, Leia," she whispered as they separated. "You

  will see where it leads."

  It was still an hour before the Senate was to dissolve into the New

  Republic Assembly to consider the petition of recall against Leia, and

  the session itself promised to last many hours under a rule of

  unrestricted debate. But both the media and public levels of the

  Senate gallery were already filled, and the corridors outside were

  choked with the overflow.

  Some of those crowding the public areas held a color-coded gallery pass

  for a later three-hour block.

  Others had managed to wangle only a site pass and a place in one of the

  overflow auditoriums. With demand exceeding supply, the going price

  for a gallery pass had already topped ten thousand credits--if you

  could find someone willing to sell.

  And despite the efforts of Palace security to discourage it, there was

  a brisk and animated swap meet under way among those already holding

  passes, driven by a series of contradictory rumors about when key

  events might take place--most especially when Leia would appear at the

  podium. Session Three passes, covering the period f
rom seven to ten

  that evening, were presently commanding a three-thousand-credit premium

  over Session Two and a five-thousand-credit premium over Four and

  later.

  Both the commotion and anticipation were more muted in the private back

  corridors and chambers, but only by comparison to the public ones. The

  recall was the signal event of the Third Electoral, and no one with a

  claim to a seat in the great chamber meant to miss it.

  Crowds and unfamiliar faces were everywhere, and the normally tranquil

  Council caucus room was hosting a heated shouting match between half a

  dozen senators who couldn't wait for the session to begin.

  In such an atmosphere, Leia's unheralded arrival in the Senate anteroom

  went unnoticed at first. And the first to spot Leia were among the

  last she wanted to see--Engh's image analysts.

  She had never troubled to learn or remember their names-she called them

  the Ventriloquist and the COs tumer. The Ventriloquist, who called her

  President Solo, was forever trying to put words in Leia's mouth, then

  critiquing the words that had come Out of Leia's mouth.

  The Costumer, who called her Princess Leia, treated Leia like a

  dress-up doll, endlessly worrying about whether her clothes sent the

  right image for a particular public appearance.

  They came rushing up to her together and greeted her with a rush of

  words.

  "Princess! Where have you been?--" "President Solo! I haven't seen

  your speech yet--" "--I have your clothing in the diplomatic lounge.

  There's no immediate urgency, but I need to talk to you about your

  jewelry choices--" "--thank goodness you won't be the first to the

  podium. Let's find a room where we can go over what you expect to

  say--" "--I've opted for a very plain look, not quite widow-in-mourning

  but moving in that direction, and anything too gaudy would just be

  jarring--" "--I've scheduled you for interviews with Global, Prime, and

  ING right after the session--" "Stop," Leia said sharply. "Both of

  you--just stop."

  Both stared at her with the same flavor of we're-just-trying-to-help

  surprise.

  "Is there something wrong, President Solo--" "I didn't mean to be

  insensitive, Princess Leia--" "Not another word," she said,

  interrupting. "Not one more. As of this moment, you're both fired."

  With two quick movements, she collected their area passes from their

  clothing. "Report back to the ministry and resume doing whatever it is

  you used to do--which I can only hope is something more useful than

  what you've done here."

  By then, everyone within ten meters was aware of her presence, and a

  curious crowd had begun to gather around her. Ignoring them, Leia

  brushed past the Ventriloquist and continued on through the anteroom

  until she found Behn-Kihl-Nahm. The chairman was with

  Doman Beruss, huddled over what looked like a chalice of dark brew and

  a schedule of speakers at a table near the courtesy bar.

  "Bennie," she said, turning her shoulder to Beruss and ignoring him

  completely. "Let's go upstairs. We need to talk."

  There was a sudden murmur--a collective gasp, more truly--from the

  thousands packed into the Senate chamber when Behn-Kihl-Nahm and Leia

  entered together and ascended to the upper tier of the podium.

  When the murmur subsided, all that could be heard were the faint voices

  of newsgrid commentators echoing through a dozen or more active

  coralinks scattered across the floor of the chamber.

  "--was not expected to appear until much later, until called on to make

  her own presentation. Her unexpected-" "--ueling immediate speculation

  here of a surprise resignation--" "--was considered unlikely that she

  would choose to be present during what promises to be a long and

  intense debate--" But the Senate's protocol officers quickly hunted

  down the offending devices, and there was barely a rustle as

  Behn-Kihl-Nahm walked to the podium.

  "Fellow senators," he said, then cleared his throat twice. "Fellow

  senators, there will be a change in the published schedule for today's

  session."

  Innocuous as they were, his words caused an immediate stir in the

  audience. He ignored the stir and went on, leaning in toward the.

  podium's audio scanner. "As provided for under the Senate rules of

  order, and in respect of the provisions of Article Five of the Common

  Charter, I yield the gavel to the President of the Senate, Leia Organa

  Solo, hereditary Princess of House Organa of Alderaan and elect senator

  of the restored Republic of Alderaan."

  As Leia rose from the bench where she had been waiting, something

  unexpected happened--a slow-growing, defiant-sounding ovation. In

  scattered twos and threes, then pockets of ten and twenty, seated

  senators rose to their feet clapping and calling out the traditional

  affirmation of Ho, nuzzan. By the time Leia reached the podium, half

  of the left aisle and nearly all of the right had joined the impromptu

  demonstration.

  There was less enthusiasm from the center aisle, where representatives

  from most of the human worlds were seated, but even there nearly half

  were on their feet, with stragglers still swelling that number.

  Noisiest of all was the public gallery, the occupants of which were

  ignoring the warnings of the. protocol officers and the architects

  both and stamping in unison. Taken aback, Leia looked to

  Behn-Kihl-Nahm for a cue or an explanation, only to find him applauding

  her as well, with equal measures of determination and dignity.

  Leia turned back to the chamber and raised her right hand, asking for

  silence. "Please," she said." Please. I m grateful for your support,

  so spontaneously and genuinely offered. I accept it as a deeply felt

  expression of your concern for Han--mirroring the concern that so many

  people from all over the New Republic 'have taken the trouble to share

  with our family. I am gratified to learn that his welfare matters to

  so many of you. We love him dearly, and it's unimaginably hard for us

  to see him suffering.

  "But I did not come here today to speak of Han, or to presume on your

  sympathy," Leia said. "I have come here to make an announcement in a

  matter of great gravity. I'm glad that so many of you are here to hear

  it firsthand.

  "At thirteen-thirty today, in the presence of the chairman of the

  Defense Council, the first administrator, the minister of state, the

  admiral of the fleet, and the director of the Intelligence Ministry, I

  invoked the emergency-powers provisions of Article Five with respect to

  the crisis in Farlax Sector."

  A startled gasp from thousands of throats tore the silence. "That is

  the formal language required by the

  Charter," Leia went on. "But it can be said more simply-we have

  declared war on the Duskhan League.

  "I have taken this step for one reason, and one reason only--because it

  is the right thing to do.

  "This is not a personal crusade or a political maneuver.

  It is a campaign for justice--justice for the victims, and justice for

  the crimina
ls.

  "The crimes of the Yevetha are not as well known to you as they should

  be, nor as they will be. You have seen the faces of two of Nil Spaar's

  victims: Han and Plat Mallar. But what the Yevetha have done to these

  two--as much as it hurts those who love them--is among the least of

  their offenses.

  "The Duskhan League is led by an absolute dictator whose bloody

  amorality is the equal of any enemy the Republics have known. They

  have exterminated, without the slightest provocation, the populations

  of more than a dozen peaceful worlds. They have murdered innocents by

  the tens of thousands, without the slightest justification.

  "Humans, Morath, H'kig, Kubaz, Brigians--no one who stood in their way

  was spared. Not the women. Not even the children. Their bodies were

  incinerated.

  Their homes were leveled. Their cities were bombed back to atoms.

  "And the last memories of those children, those cities, are now held by

  the few who the Yevetha spared--spared so that the Yevetha could use

  their living bodies as shields in battle.

  "The possibility that the Yevetha may not be finished with their

  murderous expansion, the prospect that they might next fall on Wehttam

  or Galantos or another more familiar world, is unnecessary to our

  response.

  "If these horrors do not demand our answer, then shame on us. If these