by Claudia Gray
At least the path was easy to spot. “That’s the way we came up,” Leia said, pointing toward a rockier line that traced its way downhill, maybe two hundred meters west. Sssamm hissed that he could just make out Chassellon’s group farther down that path; with his sharp Fillithar vision, that meant the others could have been nearly two thousand meters ahead.
“When I was a little girl, I used to love tobogganing,” Amilyn said.
Leia managed not to snap. “That’s nice for you. Once we get back to the path, it’s going to be too uneven for the travois. Kier—” She felt awkward about asking him this, which made no sense, so she kept on. “Do you think you can carry Harp?” He nodded, though he looked more wary than certain.
“What I loved best about the toboggan is how fast we could go.” Shrugging off the straps of the travois, Amilyn began digging around in her pack.
When Sssamm hissed that he thought he might be able to balance Harp in one of his coils, Leia was going to object because the danger of them rolling out of control was too great. But the vision of them hurtling downhill made her realize what Amilyn had been saying—just as Amilyn pulled something bright yellow from her pack. She flung it down, at which point it popped obediently into its full shape, an emergency tent.
As Amilyn stepped on the corner of the tent, she bent down to tether two of the flexible poles together. “See, if we can flatten it out—”
“—we’d have a toboggan big enough to carry all of us,” Leia finished. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”
Amilyn frowned. “I did. Didn’t I?”
“It’s too dangerous.” Kier knelt by Amilyn’s side, shaking his head. “We’d pick up speed quickly, and with that much weight on board, it would be hard to steer. If we crash, we could all wind up with broken ankles. The field generators protect us only so much.”
That was when Sssamm slithered closer, hissing excitedly. He curled onto the tent-toboggan, expanded his coils to hold out the edges, and stuck his tail into the last unfastened flap. Then he lifted it to form a perfect sail, which he turned that way and this to prove how easy steering would be. Kier began to smile, and Amilyn clapped her hands.
For the first time, Harp looked hopeful instead of depressed. “Can we try it?”
They didn’t need Leia’s permission. Really she should’ve said so. Instead she began to laugh. “Let’s do this.”
The entire descent after that was a rapid blur of snow-spray and distant trees. Sometimes they’d slalom from side to side so fast Leia thought they’d topple over, but Sssamm always managed to right their course in time. Harp yelped a time or two when they hit a ridge—or when they’d briefly go airborne before touching down—but most of the time she was laughing, just like Leia.
It occurred to her that she hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. And she hadn’t had this much fun with people her own age since…
Since ever? I think ever.
As the sun set that day, Chassellon Stevis and his group trudged up the steps of the chalet, each one of them clearly exhausted and miserable. That made it so much sweeter to watch them come into the great room, look at the enormous fireplace—and see Leia and her friends lounging by the hearth with oversized mugs of mocoa.
“Where have you guys been?” Harp called. She had an emergency bacta bag on her foot and foamy cream on the tip of her nose from her cup of mocoa. “We’ve been waiting for ages.”
Chassellon sputtered, “You couldn’t have—how could you—”
“They did it by showing some ingenuity, Stevis,” said Chief Pangie, who had taken the second-comfiest chair by the fire, leaving the best for Harp. “And by showing some compassion, a quality your group could use a little more of.”
“You’re having a good laugh, are you?” Chassellon held his chin high, looking as impressive as he could given his sodden clothes and damp hair—which wasn’t very. “We’ll see who’s laughing when Queen Breha hears about you abandoning us!”
Leia shrugged. “I’ve been talking with the chief. Turns out this part of the challenge was my mother’s idea in the first place.”
“But—a queen—she would never—”
“Push us hard?” Leia could’ve laughed. “You’ve obviously never met my mom.”
Chassellon deflated so pathetically that she almost felt sorry for him. From the corner of her eye she observed Kier lifting his chin as if in pride, maybe at the toughness of his monarch. He might give Leia a hard time occasionally, but she could tell a loyal Alderaanian when she saw one.
Chief Pangie lifted her mug toward the second group as if in a toast. “Since you failed to show any teamwork out there, I’m going to have to assign some extra duty for the group as a whole, next time. Say—carrying the others’ packs for them? That sounds about right.”
Thinking about the way Chassellon’s face looked then amused Leia the rest of the evening, and the entire trip back to Aldera. As she walked back into the palace, worn-out and rumpled but exhilarated, she tried to find the right words to describe it. Like one of those wilting vines from Harloff Minor. No, that wasn’t it. Like TooVee that time when I was a toddler and ran straight from my bath into the formal dining hall. That last memory was one Leia had been told so often she wasn’t sure if she remembered the event itself or the retellings, but it was easy enough to imagine 2V’s horror at her tiny, wet, naked charge barreling into a diplomatic dinner.
“Good evening, Princess,” said the guard standing duty in front of Bail Organa’s stateroom, a kind of signal flag as to her father’s location. The guard didn’t immediately step aside to give her the door, but probably he assumed she’d want to wash up before presenting herself to her parents. Not this time, though. She couldn’t wait to tell them everything. They’d be proud of her, maybe proud enough to erase the stain of her mistakes.
“Good evening.” Leia’s face almost hurt from grinning. “I’m here to see my parents. They’re in, aren’t they?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” The guard tried to say this gently, which only made it worse. “Your parents are in conference about their next banquet and gave strict instructions that they weren’t to be disturbed by anyone.”
It was a long moment before Leia decided to risk the question. “Not even me?”
“No, Your Highness. I’m sure they’ll be eager to see you when they’re finished.”
When they’re done planning their next dinner party.
“All right. Thank you.” Her voice sounded calm, didn’t it? Like a princess, and not a hurt little girl?
Maybe not. The guard looked so sad for her, almost pitying, and she couldn’t even hate him for it.
Days later, Leia remained moody. Even her long-awaited return to Coruscant for her first session of the Apprentice Legislature couldn’t fully banish her gloom.
The adventure with her pathfinding class had brightened only one day. Afterward, she was left with her parents’ continued absence, and her lingering remorse for what had happened on Wobani. She’d devoted herself to caring for the Wobani refugees in the immediate aftermath of their arrival on Alderaan; it was the only way she knew to make up for her errors in judgment there. But the refugees didn’t know she’d messed up negotiations that might’ve saved the rest of their people, too—which meant their gratitude hurt more than it helped.
“We’ll be moving along soon,” one woman had confided as Leia helped them set up accounts for their stipend from the queen. “We’ve cousins on Itapi Prime—distant cousins, but we’ve done a little business together lately. I think we’ll have a place there.”
“I’m staying right here!” declared an old man nearby. “Alderaan’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, if you ask me. I think of it as home already.”
They were so happy. So satisfied with how things had turned out for them. Leia knew she ought to take pleasure in that instead of constantly reminding herself how much better their situation would’ve been, for them and for everyone on Wobani, if she had on
ly…
Only what? Walked off and left them there to suffer? Leia could never have done that, not without knowing a compelling reason to do so. Her parents hadn’t told her that reason because she still didn’t have access to all classified information.
Well, then, that meant she had to be brilliant in the Apprentice Legislature. Here, at least, she knew what she was doing. It would be her first step toward real political power, and with power came knowledge.
On her initial visit to Coruscant two years prior, to serve as one of her father’s interns, they had flown in together on the royal yacht, Polestar. Leia remembered her father pointing out various landmarks, legendary places becoming real to her at last. The bustle and brilliance of Coruscant overwhelmed nearly everyone who saw it for the first time, even girls who had grown up in palaces, and Bail Organa had laughed to see her wide eyes.
This time, he’d traveled here two days ahead of her, for yet more important business she apparently didn’t get to hear about.
Leia took in the scene alone as the Polestar swooped lower, taking its place among the intricate ribbons of traffic that covered the planet. In her opinion, Coruscant looked its best at night, when it sparkled with trillions of blazing lights, just like a galactic core. But it was daytime now, so she was buffeted by the frenetic energy of countless small craft, the bustle of individual traffic through transparent aerial passageways between blocks, and the ominous hulks of the tall buildings around them.
Only a place like this could make the Imperial Senate seem calm, she thought.
Since Leia was familiar with the Senatorial complex already and had her own place to stay in her father’s apartments, she hadn’t bothered to arrive early for the Apprentice Legislature opening. However, she hadn’t meant to cut it as close as she did, hurrying through the winding corridors to find her pod in the chambers as the first fanfare played. As she slipped inside, Kier Domadi glanced over his shoulder. His simple gray clothes stood in stark contrast to the formal finery worn by most of those around them, and to her own high-collared violet dress.
He kept his voice low as he said, “I wondered if you weren’t coming.”
“Why wouldn’t I be coming?” she whispered back. Speaking to him in such hushed tones meant leaning close to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Why wouldn’t you be early?”
Again Leia felt stung. Kier had earned his place here and valued it more than she did. The Senate might be familiar to her, but for him, it was new. For both of them, it was important. “You’re right. I should’ve been early.”
“That’s not what I—” he sighed. “I meant, you seem like the type to be early, most of the time.”
She considered this. “I am, actually.”
“We’ll see.” But he smiled as he said it.
Applause began as the guest speaker took the dais. It was a man Leia had never met before but one she had heard a great deal about…none of it good.
“Welcome to the Apprentice Legislature,” said Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. He stood thin, pale, and sharp, like a needle carved from bone. “Every one of you will now begin the process of representing your planet to the Senate, and indeed, before the Emperor himself. We all live to serve this great Empire, to increase its strength and work for its preservation. This is where your service begins.”
To Leia that sounded less like service, more like servility, and that wasn’t what the legislature was about. The Imperial Senate was one of the few checks on Palpatine’s power, not that Tarkin would admit it.
“Some may say that you are only young people—still children, practically, and that you therefore have nothing to offer our Empire. Indeed, there were those in the Imperial Starfleet who were surprised to hear that I volunteered to speak at your assembly today. Those people are far too shortsighted.” Tarkin’s hawklike gaze searched through the various pods; Leia wouldn’t be surprised if he’d memorized all their faces by the end of his speech—if not before he even arrived. “When I was still a student, then-Senator Palpatine took an interest in me. He provided invaluable guidance, which shaped my path forward. His example taught me to look for the best when they are young, because the earlier we begin, the more influence our lessons will have. So know that you aren’t merely practicing the form of government, deciding a few minor issues here and there. You’re also proving what kinds of Imperial leaders you could someday be. Show us your potential, and we will show you the way.”
Everyone applauded as Tarkin came down from the dais. Leia clapped along with the rest, but Kier did not. She pretended not to notice; it was safer for him that way.
The reception afterward was relatively informal as such things went: food and drink set out on one of the high ledges overlooking a broad swath of the city. Sunset had painted the horizon rosy pink, and shafts of sunlight streamed between the craggy dark silhouettes of skyscrapers. A few Rodian musicians played a jaunty tune as everyone milled around and mingled. Of course the point was to meet people you hadn’t talked to before, but still, the members of Leia’s pathfinding class found each other.
Chassellon Stevis appeared to hold no grudges; he wore his hair in braids, a stylish silk suit, and a broad smile as he greeted her. “Good to be back in civilization, don’t you think?”
“I like this better than being stuck halfway up a mountain, if that’s what you mean,” Leia said, smiling back. If Chassellon wasn’t going to sulk, then she wouldn’t hold his attitude during the first challenge against him…but she wouldn’t forget it, either.
Harp Allor looked flushed and happy. “Isn’t this exciting? Senator Lenz says he’ll even introduce me to Grand Moff Tarkin personally, later on.”
“Your senator came?” Leia was caught off guard. Her father hadn’t mentioned the possibility.
“He said he wanted me to get off to a good start.” Harp glanced around, then pointed to Winmey Lenz, senior senator of Chandrila. A lean, dark-skinned man with a nearly trimmed beard, he was familiar to Leia from the receptions that preceded her mother’s dinner parties. He spoke with animation to a military official, one of the few in attendance. Lenz caught Harp’s gesture and waved at her briefly before resuming his conversation. Now that Leia looked around, she realized not all the adults in attendance were staffers; there were a few other senators mingling in the crowd.
My father could’ve been here with me the whole time. He just didn’t think it was important.
Kier interjected, “Senator Organa got our princess off to a good start years ago, I guess.”
He was trying to make her feel better, which meant he’d realized she felt bad. His knowing about her embarrassment just made it worse. “He could’ve come here for you,” she pointed out.
“I’m sure your father knows I’m in good hands,” Kier said.
Interesting turn of phrase, Leia thought, but she’d consider that later.
“We meet again.” Amilyn Holdo wafted along, the same slightly glazed expression on her face. Her hair had been dyed pale blue with orange tips, and she wore a flamboyant caftan in a dizzyingly bright pattern, trimmed with glittery tassels. Rather than stopping to chat, she headed straight for the snacks; at least she knew her priorities.
Leia leaned close to Kier and murmured, “I thought they valued simplicity on Gatalenta. Dressed plainly, except for those scarlet cloaks.”
“I thought so too. Apparently Holdo goes her own way.” Kier said it gently, which was a good reminder that it shouldn’t matter to Leia what this girl wore, or what colors she dyed parts of herself, or that she always spoke in the same airy monotone. A member of an alien species she wasn’t familiar with was currently hovering in midair near the punch bowl, its many striped tentacles gesturing in an elaborate and fluid sign language; if you took a galactic perspective, it was hard to call anything truly “weird.”
Maybe to cover the awkward pause, Harp said, “So, how much do you think we’ll get to do in the Apprentice Legislature? I know we have a few real tasks
put before us, but how much do you think the Empire will listen to our recommendations?”
“Probably about as much as they listen to the Imperial Senate,” Kier answered. “In other words, hardly at all.”
“Excuse me?” Leia stepped back. “We work hard in the Senate. My father puts in ten-hour days, sometimes—”
“And so does Senator Lenz!” Harp protested.
Kier held up his hands. “Let’s just say, I have a lot more faith in the viceroy’s leadership on Alderaan than I do any leadership here on Coruscant.”
“Don’t go sounding like a radical,” Chassellon said, absently picking a bit of fluff off his jacket. “It’s so gauche.”
They needed a conversational segue, fast. Leia nodded toward Tarkin, who held court at the center point of the balcony. The setting sun silhouetted his stark profile. Again she thought of hawks, and talons. “I suppose we have to work our way around to our guest speaker. Might as well get that over with.”
“Seems like a bore, if you ask me.” Chassellon shrugged with the indifference only wealth could provide. “I propose we ditch this and find ourselves some real fun. They know me at some clubs on the lower levels.”
Since Chassellon was no older than Leia herself, she doubted this. But she said only, “No, I need to introduce myself to the Grand Moff. My father would expect me to.” Not that he’s likely ever to hear about it one way or the other.
Kier shook his head. “I doubt the Grand Moff cares much about meeting me, and the feeling’s mutual. Besides, I need to get settled into my dormitory room.”
Leia hadn’t thought much about the fact that the other apprentices would be living in a dormitory. She’d stay in her usual room in her father’s apartments. While the Organa family lived fairly simply on Coruscant—at least, for someone of his station—she felt sure her quarters were luxurious compared to the dorms. It was one more thing that set her apart from the others—apart from nearly anyone.