by Claudia Gray
“The protocol droids inform me you were splendid today.” 2V tidied up the vanity table, putting each brush and comb back in place. “I’m sure your appearance was much admired.”
Leia had to smile. “Everyone saw what good work you did, TooVee. You should be proud.”
Gleaming with satisfaction, 2V did a little half bow, then rolled out of the room. As soon as the door was shut, Leia threw back the coverlet and returned to her window. Another lightning bolt struck the ground, half-hidden by Appenza Peak; for one second, the mountain was sharply outlined against the brilliant light.
It was so beautiful, she imagined saying to her parents over breakfast—though of course they never breakfasted with her any longer. They were already busy planning their next party before the sun even rose.
Leia threw open the window again and let the wind flow through the room. Her cheeks and arms felt the coolness of a few small raindrops. The ceremony hadn’t lived up to her childhood dreams, but a storm like this could never disappoint her. She liked the wildness of it, the unpredictability, even the distant danger. This was something she’d only discovered about herself recently, her love of storms, and she treasured it because it was one of the few things she hadn’t shared with her parents. This belonged to her alone.
Still, she wanted to tell them someday, once things had finally gone back to the way they used to be.
Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow I’ll take up my first challenge. I’ll prove myself.
I’ll do something too great for them to ignore.
Three weeks remained before the next session of the Apprentice Legislature would begin. Leia ought to have been preparing—reviewing top issues, drafting potential bills to introduce. That was what her father always did before returning to the Imperial Senate; she’d helped him for two years now, more than long enough to know how to handle the work on her own. So she should’ve been holed up in the study, surrounded by political materials.
Instead, she was dashing through the principal Aldera spaceport, 2V whirring along at her side.
“You need to show respect for the Imperial officials there,” 2V insisted as they swerved around a Gozanti freighter where worker droids levitated crates of cargo into the hold. “You’re traveling as a diplomat on a humanitarian mission and must present yourself accordingly. A princess must always dress for the occasion.”
“I will, I will,” Leia sighed. It had been years since she’d protested wearing dresses or putting her hair up, but 2V remained convinced that as soon as she let her charge out of her sight, Leia would immediately change back into her childhood play coveralls and a ponytail. “This occasion is providing rations to starving refugees on Wobani. So I don’t need to braid my hair with pearls.”
2V pulled back her upper torso in a move Leia could only describe as prim. “There’s no need to be ridiculous. Pearls are so passé.”
The royal family preferred to use Aldera’s central public spaceflight facility. Countless times, Leia had come here with one or both of her parents to be ushered aboard, but this was the first time she’d ever personally commandeered a vessel for an interplanetary trip. Putting the request through the palace majordomo, Tarrik, had felt almost routine. When she saw the Tantive IV waiting for her, however, the ship’s size struck her anew. The thought of it being at her disposal—the knowledge that more than two dozen crewmembers awaited her orders—thrilled her to the core. For months, even years, she’d been eager for some real responsibility. That began today.
She recognized the gray-shirted man walking toward her, so she drew herself up and clasped her hands together within the wide bell sleeves of her dress. “Captain Antilles. Thank you for readying the ship so quickly. When can we be under way?”
“Within the hour, Your Highness.” He smiled down at her, his head tilted slightly to one side. “You can count on us.” With that, he gave her a sharp salute and strode back to his work. Leia was left standing there wondering why she didn’t like that reply. Captain Antilles had been polite, deferential, even friendly. She had no doubt of his loyalty and willingness to serve. But the tilt of his head—
He doesn’t think of me as a leader. He still thinks of me as a little girl. She frowned. He thinks I’m cute.
It was silly to be surprised by that, much less offended. The captain had known her since she was a toddler, and she’d only just had her Day of Demand. Leia hadn’t grown to her full height yet, either…she hoped. As her mother liked to say, Authority can be given, but leadership must be earned.
Today, she would begin to earn it. Soon neither Captain Antilles nor her parents would doubt what she was capable of.
The trip to Wobani was swift and uneventful. Leia spent her time in the cargo holds, making sure all the rations were stored correctly and that the officers had clear instructions for distribution. When they reached the planet, she’d only need to look over the layout of the resettlement station to decide precisely where to set up.
“Easy as dunking a Mon Calamari,” she murmured to herself. (It was an old saying, but she’d learned by playing with Mon Calamari children at the senatorial complex pools that the real trick was getting them to surface first. You couldn’t dunk anyone who was still underwater.)
Wobani would require no special climate gear; it was a temperate Mid-Rim world, humid but otherwise unremarkable, and they’d be close enough to the equator not to have to worry about snow. The planet had never been especially prosperous or heavily populated, supporting itself primarily through basic manufacturing of small parts and armor, and growing grains and spices that thrived in marshy conditions. Like many other worlds across the galaxy, it was prosperous just past the point of subsistence, engaged in intragalactic commerce only to a modest degree, and ambitious for no greater position in the galaxy.
Then, six years ago, Palpatine had begun the “Commodities Enhancement Program,” which promised better market access galaxy-wide for food and other organic raw material. Like so many of the Emperor’s other promises, it was a lie designed to conceal other plans; her parents had taught her how to see through such things. Wobani was given impossible quotas to fill, and when the planet’s farmers fell short, they were fined. Large areas of common land were instead parceled out to various Imperial officials who would, supposedly, “put them under better management.” Really this meant they could now profit while the native Wobani became ever poorer and hungrier.
Every world targeted by the commodities program suffered, but Wobani had entirely collapsed. Famine was now widespread. As the agricultural sector faltered, the factory cities became overcrowded with desperate migrants in search of work, which in turn meant that the factories could pay lower wages and force people to labor in more dangerous conditions. By now the Wobani would do anything to stay alive. There was talk of building Imperial work-camp prisons on the planet; that was virtually the only industry it could sustain any longer, and the populace was demoralized enough to accept such prisons in their midst. Free movement between star systems was the norm, but the Empire had put Wobani under strict travel restrictions, to “prevent its exploitation.” In the Senate, it was widely believed the restrictions were primarily an attempt to cover up how bad the situation had become.
Leia thought that was ridiculous. Every senator and staffer knew about the mess on Wobani, but they didn’t say so. If people had just spoken the truth, the news would’ve spread to everybody on every planet, everywhere, and then there would’ve been no point in covering things up in the first place.
Even her father had remained quiet. His silence angered her even more than the blockade.
So she hadn’t told her parents where she was going on this mission. Leia, familiar with travel protocols, sought diplomatic landing clearance first. For someone representing the royal house of Alderaan, approval was very nearly automatic. Captain Antilles might think of her as a child, but he’d never question her commandeering the Tantive IV for a preapproved mission. Probably he assumed her parents had put
in the request, but his assumptions weren’t her problem.
She imagined herself returning to Alderaan, strolling into the palace’s dining hall, and casually explaining to her parents that she’d been to Wobani herself, yes, that political hotspot even members of the Senate—like her father—hadn’t dared to speak out on. That would show them….
But Leia didn’t really want to show them up. She only wanted to make them see her again.
This melancholy turn of thought vanished when Captain Antilles’s voice came over the comm: “Your Highness, we’re beginning our landing approach.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’ll be right there.” With that, she brought the hood of her dress up over her braids and headed for the boarding ramp. Only moments stood between her and her first, maybe boldest, humanitarian mission, and she felt nothing but the burning desire to do something that would matter, both to her parents and to the entire galaxy, and the confidence that she could.
That lasted until the Tantive IV’s doors slid open to reveal hell.
Leia’s lips parted in shock as she walked out. The rolling countryside, which once would’ve been covered with fresh green stalks of spring grain, now was only mud and a few yellowing stalks of plants that could no longer thrive. Wobani’s sky had taken on the dingy tint that came only from pollution, a haze that might never clear again. However, the desolation of the planet itself didn’t come close to that of its people.
Surrounding the landing field, stretching out to the horizon in every direction, were cheap, prefab shelters, like what someone might take on a long hike to sleep out in the wild. They weren’t meant for daily use, but from the looks of things, thousands of people had been living in these for months. Deep ruts scarred the muddy pathways that served as roads between the shelters. Every single one of those ramshackle shelters housed a family, or perhaps two. Surrounding them stood gaunt people with stained, worn clothing and a febrile neediness in their eyes that scared Leia as much as it moved her. Even before she stepped off the platform, people had begun to shout and call, pleading for help.
Yet not one stepped forward, because the platform was surrounded by stormtroopers, blaster rifles in hand, their white armor grimy and mud-splotched.
An Imperial official climbed the short ramp that led to the Tantive IV. His eyes were as dead as his tone. “The ‘humanitarian’ mission from Alderaan?”
“Yes.” Leia had prepared a few things to say—some lofty, some defiant, depending on their reception. Any of those careful speeches would’ve sounded so hollow spoken in front of this hungry crowd. “We, ah, we’re ready to get started.”
The official shrugged. “Fine.” With that he made a swift hand motion, and all the stormtroopers went into resting stance.
What happened next seemed to Leia like an avalanche in the Grindel Range, or maybe a flash flood. A rush of people, vaster and faster than she’d ever imagined, surged toward the landing platform, cresting at the edges where they climbed or jumped or pulled others up. Within seconds she and her crew were surrounded by wide eyes and outreached hands. She could hear nothing but their shouts—“We need food!” “Water purification systems? Do you have those?” “Anything, please, give us anything!”
Captain Antilles was trying to push them back. From the corner of her eye she saw another crewmember struggling to set up the first of what would’ve been her many orderly distribution tables—and at the ramp, the Imperial official standing like a stone amid the struggling crowd and smirking at the melee.
It was the smirk that got her. Leia’s fear burned to ashes in a blaze of anger. She leapt onto the table and shouted, at the top of her lungs, “Everybody STOP!”
Everybody did. Probably that was only due to their surprise at a tiny teenaged girl giving orders, but Leia would take what she could get. Captain Antilles snapped a loudhailer module from his belt and handed it up to her.
“Listen to me,” she said, module set to full projection so that even the crowds in the far distance would hear. “You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to fight. We have food here for everyone.”
Barely. She’d thought the rations they brought might feed people for a season or more; this community was so large and so impoverished that they’d devour these supplies within a couple of weeks at most. Still, it was better than nothing…and nothing was all these people had.
She continued, “Give us a few moments to set up our distribution platforms. Maybe—maybe you could spend those moments finding the people in the most need, like the elderly and the sick. You could bring them forward so they can go first and not have to stand around waiting, because you’ll still get everything you need. Everything we have. Got it?”
Murmuring went through the crowd, and at first Leia wondered if they would storm the Tantive IV after all. Then the closest individuals began shuffling back to give them space. In the distance, she spotted people bringing forward a few small children and an elderly woman, with more surely to come.
“All right.” Leia hopped down from the table, skirts flying in a way 2V would certainly have called inelegant. Shouting at the top of her lungs on top of a table would count as inelegant too; it wasn’t exactly how she wanted to be perceived as a leader.
But as she handed the loudhailer module back to Captain Antilles, he looked at her differently. There was no more tilt to his head. Apparently, every once in a while, leadership meant abandoning decorum and yelling as loud as you could. The captain said, “We’ll be set up within minutes, Your Highness.”
Leia acknowledged him with a nod and got to work.
They could’ve programmed droids to do the distribution, but she left them for the labor of hauling out the crates of rations. She wanted these people to see a living face smiling at them, living hands giving them something. You aren’t forgotten, she thought as she held ration packs out to person after person after person. The Empire won’t let us save you, but we can still help.
Such things couldn’t be spoken aloud while she was surrounded by armed stormtroopers. Yet she felt the message came through.
After the rush of distribution, a few people stayed behind to be seen by the ship’s medical droid. The 2-1B could repair broken bones or stitch up wounds, and Leia was grateful for that much, but what these people truly needed was relief from desperation. She had only been able to provide the smallest measure of that, for what would be a very short time.
“Terrible scene, this.” Captain Antilles stood next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. “It reminds you how fortunate we are on Alderaan.”
“Yes, it does.”
Leia had always imagined herself very aware of the wrongs in the galaxy. Her parents had been honest with her about the cruelty of Palpatine’s rule. However, knowing about the suffering was very different from witnessing it. Coming here, she’d felt righteous; being here, she knew herself helpless.
How am I supposed to turn away from this? How am I supposed to fly away from Wobani knowing that these people are left behind?
It came to her in a flash: I won’t leave them behind.
The Empire had given her permission to land. Next, they’d give her permission to load the Tantive IV with as many refugees as it could hold, and fly them away from this place for good.
“Passengers?” Captain Antilles frowned as if trying to translate the word from an alien language. “Your Highness, with all due respect—I understand why you want to do this, but it’s well outside the parameters of our landing clearance.”
“Yes, but I’m going to talk with the Imperial official in charge of this zone. When I explain that we’re actually helping to solve his problems, I’m sure he’ll agree to it.” Already Leia had cleaned her gown and rebraided her hair, in order to make the most regal impression she could. Really she ought to have brought a change of wardrobe along. She’d have to tell 2V that when she got back. It would make the droid’s day.
Captain Antilles shook his head. “Imperial officers aren’t known for flexibility.”
Although the captain still appeared wary, he nodded and pointed toward another officer standing around in the now-empty cargo bay. “Lieutenant Batten, you’ll accompany the princess on her journey.”
Lieutenant Ress Batten was a slender woman perhaps thirty years of age, with long black curly hair and golden skin. Arms folded across her chest, she said, “If they throw her in jail, do I have to go there too?”
“Yes,” Captain Antilles snapped. “Assuming I don’t throw you in the brig before the Empire gets the chance.” Batten held up her hands in mock surrender before turning to ready one of the speeders. When Leia gave the captain a look, he sighed. “Lieutenant Batten has, shall we say, issues with her attitude. But she’s a strong speeder driver and a better fighter. More than anything, she’s got good instincts about people. If you’re going into a dodgy situation and you’re only taking one crewmember with you, Batten’s the one you want.”
He’d called the situation “dodgy.” Leia liked the sound of that.
Batten readied the landspeeder swiftly, and almost before Leia knew it, the two of them were coasting through endless black fields of mud that had once been meadows. Other camps dotted the horizon, evidence of thousands more people trapped in unlivable circumstances, unable to go home and unable to leave the planet.
“Unbelievable,” Batten said. “Did you notice not one person had their own vehicle along? Not a ship, not a speeder, not a sled. They must’ve been banned from bringing them.” Leia hadn’t noticed that, and was about to say so, when Batten pulled herself sharply upright. “My apologies for speaking informally, Your Highness. It’s a bad habit of mine.”