Leia, Princess of Alderaan

by Claudia Gray

  “Do you think this will finally make the others see what I’ve seen?” Breha continued gazing out toward Aldera on the horizon, hugging her arms against her chest. “Do you think they’ll finally accept that the Empire will only be defeated through direct action? Are they ready to take up arms?” When her husband didn’t answer right away, she added, “You still see it, don’t you?”

  Bail nodded as he leaned back in his chair, and a squat little droid took the opportunity to refresh his Chandrilan tea with hot water. “I meant what I said a few months ago. While I still don’t think such conflict is inevitable—I accept now that it’s likely. Even advisable. Mon Mothma believes so, and she works even harder on me than you do.”

  Breha smiled ruefully. “Good for her.”

  “You must see that what happened on Christophsis makes things harder for us,” he said. “Getting everyone on board after something like this will be difficult.”

  Leia could remain silent no more. “Standing up to the Empire means taking a risk. A big risk. Everybody has to have known that already.”

  Her mother returned to the table, though her attention was for her daughter rather than the meal. “Of course they knew before now. But there’s a great difference between knowledge in the abstract and the concrete reality of dead bodies and destroyed cities. We have to live with the absolute certainty that our freedom from the Empire can’t be bought only with information, resources, and money. In the end, the price will be blood.”

  Hardly able to believe she dared, Leia said, “What if that means the blood of the people of Alderaan?”

  Sharing a stricken look, her parents gazed at each other for a few long seconds before Bail said, “If we’re to be true to Alderaan’s ideals of justice, dignity, and peace for all peoples, then we must share equally in the necessary risks.”

  His words resonated inside Leia, ringing true to everything she believed. Yet she couldn’t forget what Kier had said, either. “We’ve created justice, dignity, and peace here. One place in the galaxy where people can live the way they should live, not kneeling at Palpatine’s feet. We have to protect that, don’t we?”

  Bail rose to his feet, a move so sudden that it rattled the table and made both mother and daughter jump. “I thought we raised you better than this, Leia. You’re not a selfish girl, and you’re not a cowardly one. So stop acting the part.” With that he turned and stalked off the terrace without looking back.

  Leia stared down at her plate. Her mostly uneaten meal blurred with tears she refused to shed, and she bit down on her lower lip, hoping one pain would erase another.

  “Sweetheart. It’s all right. He shouldn’t have said that.” Breha came to her daughter’s side and took one of Leia’s hands in her own. “You’re not the one he’s angry with.”

  “That’s not what it sounds like.” Leia blinked back the tears just in time.

  Her mother shook her head. “What you’re saying now isn’t so different from what he was saying last year. After the Clone Wars, your father hoped never again to see a larger galactic conflict. He accepted this only with great difficulty, and I think hearing you make those same arguments—it forces him to confront just how serious circumstances are, that this is what we have to contemplate.”

  Larger galactic conflict. That could mean a number of things, none of them good. “What exactly are we contemplating?”

  Breha pulled back; Leia had finally found the new boundary of what her parents were willing to reveal. “Let us be the ones to worry about that.” She ran one hand over her daughter’s braids. “I’m sorry we’ve burdened you as much as we have already.”

  “The truth isn’t a burden.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Breha’s smile was sad. “If only that were so.”

  That night, Leia was distracted for a brief time by a video Kier had sent her, a time-lapse image of the candlewick flowers in his family’s garden opening to the night; he’d chosen beautiful music to go with it, and she felt almost as though he’d given her a bouquet.

  Even that thrill faded quickly when she thought back on everything that had happened that day. Her father’s harsh words felt like lash strokes that would take a long time to heal; even that wasn’t as bad as remembering the fate of Christophsis. Grand Moff Tarkin’s chilly satisfaction in the deaths of so many people—

  So much for sleep, Leia decided, throwing off her coverlet. By this time the palace would be silent and still. Her parents and the human staff were probably asleep, and the majority of the droids would, like 2V, stand dormant in their charging stations.

  In other words, it was the perfect time to sneak around.

  Slipping on her blue robe, Leia tied her long hair back in one tail before tiptoeing into the hallway. Although the ancient stone walls could muffle any number of sounds, she trusted the silence that surrounded her. No light shone beyond a few candledroids hovering every few meters. Her heart thumped as she hurried along, checking each new room as she went. It felt almost absurd to be so worried about moving around her own home, particularly since no one but her parents would dream of stopping her, and she’d never been forbidden to go into the queen’s private stateroom when her mother wasn’t present.

  But the fact was, she intended to snoop.

  Breha had said, Our freedom from the Empire can’t be bought only with information, resources, and money. That suggested their allies were already pooling funds. All those hours her mother now spent huddled over the ledgers and accounts—Leia suspected that wasn’t just the usual work of handling the crown’s purse. The extra time could well be attention the queen was giving to the monies for whatever great effort her parents had in mind.

  Breha’s private stateroom was a smaller space, bordered on one side by the vast chamber of the public stateroom and on the other by the library. One of the oldest areas of the palace still in common use, the room had stone walls, exposed wooden rafters, and a fireplace so enormous it stretched nearly the entire length of the room and was deep enough to walk into. The thick hand-woven rugs kept the chill of the stone floor at bay. So cozy was the ambiance of the space that her mother occasionally abandoned the queen’s offices to work in here, in the light and heat of a real fire.

  Which meant the info portal in that room was cleared for access to the royal accounts.

  Leia placed her palm over the silver circle of the sentry, then smiled when the portal lit up. Every member of the royal family could delve into the accounts, though she’d never done so except during her ill-fated attempt to learn bookkeeping. While her parents might have sealed off strategic information about their efforts, she was wagering that they wouldn’t have thought to hide the funds.

  The wager paid off. Her brief acquaintance with the royal accounting told her which expenses were normal, and which were more unusual. Immense amounts of credits were coming in and out under the suspiciously generic-yet-unfamiliar label Spaceport Development. Leia knew full well Alderaan wasn’t currently building or even planning a major new spaceport. That meant she also knew where to start digging.

  She hadn’t been examining the funds under that label very long before she first ran into Itapi Prime. Chandrila. Ocahont. Paucris Major. Crait. Unzel. Mon Cala.

  What she already knew about the senators and places involved told her that probably all of these worlds were in some way connected to her parents’ efforts against the Empire. Paucris Major in particular seemed especially active in the past few months; the amount of credits directed there was staggering—far beyond the capacity of even the royal purse of Alderaan. Furthermore, like Crait, Paucris Major sent no money in, only received it.

  They must be building a base there, she thought, just like Crait. But that explanation didn’t satisfy her. Paucris Major had received more than fifty times the credits given to Crait; whatever was going on there operated on an entirely different scale.

  Leia had no intentions of dropping into yet another military outpost with a blaster on her hip. Her father’s words about shooti
ng down possible intruders had stayed with her.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take a look. Evaluate.

  Once she’d memorized the information that seemed most pertinent, she eased out of the private stateroom and headed down the hallway. As she walked past the library, though, she heard her father’s voice: “Leia?”

  Her first thought: busted. She caught herself, though. The act of walking around her own home wasn’t inherently sneaky. Guilt just made it feel that way.

  She went through the library door to find her father sitting in one of the large leather chairs by the far windows. Outside the dark blue night was spangled with stars in the sky and candlewick blooms on the ground. He wore a deep green robe—once almost as impressive as his viceroy’s coat, now worn almost shabby. One of the old paper books lay across his lap.

  “What are you doing with that?” she said as she came close.

  Bail gestured idly at the book. “Looking for wisdom in the past. Though of course they had no more then than we do now.” His warm brown eyes regarded her more tenderly than they had in a long time. “I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you of late.”

  Leia’s first impulse was to say “It’s okay,” but she resisted. Better to tell the truth. “It feels like I can’t do anything right where you’re concerned.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve done almost everything right your entire life! We’ve always been so proud of you, so fortunate in you. Sometimes I still can’t believe that of all the children in the galaxy, fate brought you to us.”

  They’d always said such things to her, but it had been a while since Leia had last heard those words, and they affected her more than before. A lump in her throat, she said, “I got pretty lucky too.”

  Bail held out one hand. She took it, sinking down onto the padded bench at his feet. As he squeezed her fingers, he said, “What your mother and I are trying to accomplish…it’s the most ambitious, dangerous, terrifying thing we’ve ever done. We’re risking everything, even you. The weight of that knowledge bears down on me every day. If I’ve taken my frustrations out on you, I apologize.”

  Her voice wavered as she replied, “I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

  “I hope you never have to know.”

  As long as they were being honest, Leia figured she might as well acknowledge the hardest truth of all: “You know keeping me in the dark won’t save me, if the Empire discovers what you’re doing.”

  Her father closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Maybe not. But if there’s any chance, any at all, we have to give you that.”

  “I still think I could help.”

  “You can, in the Senate.” She rolled her eyes, but Bail leaned closer to her and continued, “Making allies, forming allegiances that exist independent of Palpatine’s control—that’s the most important work in the Imperial Senate, these days. If I hadn’t worked together with Mon Mothma for so long in the Senate, do you think we could be allies in this?”

  Leia had never considered this angle before. “So it’s not just about the official work. It’s about the unofficial connections.”

  “Precisely. Nowhere else can so many planetary leaders come together without danger or secrecy. The Imperial Senate is only a shadow of what it was in the days of the Republic, but someday, I hope, it will be remembered as the cradle of an alliance that brought freedom back to the galaxy.” He smiled gently at his daughter. “Learn to play your part in the politics behind the politics, Leia. There truly is valuable work to be done.”

  “I never thought of it that way before.” Brightening, she added, “And the people in the Apprentice Legislature are the ones who might be senators in their own right in a few years.”

  “Exactly. These are the people who will be important in your future.” Her father’s dark eyes took on the mischievous twinkle she knew so well. “Like, say, this Kier Domadi—”

  “Stop.” Leia mock-shoved her father away, which made him laugh. She’d missed the sound of his laughter more than she’d known.

  “You can’t stop us from asking questions forever, you know.” Bail’s curiosity appeared very real, but she knew him well enough to understand he wouldn’t pry if she didn’t want, and she didn’t. What she had with Kier was too new, too fragile to fully reveal yet. It would be like prying open the petals of a candlewick blossom in the daytime, only to have the sunbeams scorch the bud within and permanently extinguish the light.

  “I’ll tell you about it when there’s more to tell,” she finally said. “Okay?”

  Her father nodded once, sharply, like a man making a deal he was happy with. “Okay.”

  When she left the library that night, she felt aglow with happiness and relief. Being at odds with her father had haunted her; at least now they were friends again, and she understood him better. More than that, she saw a way for her work in the Apprentice Legislature to be truly useful.

  But that didn’t mean she’d forgotten about Paucris Major.

  Looking for allies in the Apprentice Legislature also meant looking for them in her pathfinding class. It made sense to start with Harp Allor, since Chandrila was already so strongly allied with Alderaan; Mon Mothma appeared to be even more central to the work against Palpatine than Leia’s parents were, and the other Chandrilan senator, Winmey Lenz, had attended several of the banquets-that-weren’t-really-banquets. Together, Leia figured, she and Harp could assess everyone else.

  So she managed to get on to Harp’s team for the next pathfinding trek, through the marshlands of Chandrila itself, hoping they’d have a chance to talk.

  They didn’t.

  “This is disgusting.” Chassellon waded through the hip-deep mud, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “I thought Felucia was bad. And I thought Chandrila was supposed to be a civilized planet.”

  “It is! We are! But the marshes are—well, they’re like this,” Harp finished, deflated.

  One of the few wildernesses remaining on Chandrila, the marshlands were swampy and hot, wreathed in opaque mists exuding from the twisty, blue-leafed trees that formed at least ninety percent of the landmarks. Chief Pangie had told them that finding their way through the marshes would test their ability to observe and remember small details. Leia decided she should’ve known from the chief’s grin that the trip would also involve extra misery.

  “We’re running behind, I just know it,” Harp whined. “We’ll be the last ones to the rendezvous point.”

  Leia managed to smile for her. “Doesn’t matter as long as we get there.”

  “Aren’t marshes supposed to be flat?” Chassellon griped as they trudged on, their way illuminated by sunlight filtered greenish by the mists. “Because we’ve been going upward at a small incline for the past three hours, and I’m bloody well sick of it.”

  “We’ll get to the mud flats in a few klicks,” Leia promised. At least, they would if she was correctly remembering the oddly splinted-together roots of one particular tree.

  Chassellon looked toward the skies for mercy that wouldn’t arrive. “Mud flats? Mud flats represent our big opportunity for everything to get better?”

  “You said you wanted to stop climbing!” Harp retorted. “Well, this is your chance!”

  Would I fail my Challenge of the Body if I abandoned two of my pathfinding partners in the wilderness? Leia gritted her teeth and pushed onward.

  Sure enough, once they reached the mud flats, she was glad to see them. The flats rose up from the swamps in a series of plateaus, none of them appealing but at least more solid than liquid, unlike the gunk they’d been soldiering through. If they could just work their way up the flats, they’d have a clear view to the shorelands beyond, which would lead them to the rendezvous point and home. Leia glanced down at her skintight trek suit and sarong—both thickly coated with mud—and wondered what Kier must look like. She couldn’t wait to tease him about it, or to be teased in return—

  “Finally,” Chassellon said. “All right, Har
p, boost me up and I’ll pull the two of you after me.”

  Harp put her hands on her hips. “Why should I be the one to boost you up? Why shouldn’t you boost me? You’re taller than me; you’d be better at it.”

  He doubled down. “Well, I’m also stronger than you, so I’d be better at pulling you up, too.”

  “You don’t know that you’re stronger.”

  “Oh, please, Harp! You hardly come up to my elbows.”

  “That doesn’t make me weak!”

  Force give me the strength not to actually murder them, Leia thought. But their endless bickering, combined with her exhaustion and the general grossness of the day, had worked on her temper until it was near the breaking point. Once again her temples throbbed, and the only thing she could think of to be glad about was the fact that she was a few paces behind them and still—for the time being—out of the argument.

  “You’re just angry that you can’t buy your way to the top of the class, like you do with everything else!” Harp shouted. “Some of us actually care about doing the right thing!”

  Chassellon yelled back, “Some of us just want to get out of the mud already!”

  The anger within Leia boiled hotter, until it felt like the only strength left in her body. Surely, at any moment, she would snap—

  That was when she heard the distant rush, and felt the faint rumble beneath her feet.

  Leia lifted her head, looking up the flats. Through the greenish mists, did she see…movement?

  The sound loudened until it caught Chassellon’s attention. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, kriff,” breathed Harp, her eyes widening. “Mudslide.”

  It was as if the name made the image snap into focus. Horrified, Leia realized half the hillside was now sluicing down toward them. Those on the bank could run for it, but anybody still in the mud when the slide hit would be swept away.