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When Leia was very young, she’d thought that the whole galaxy was celebrating her birthday.
Every year on that day, the palace was decorated with a stunning array of flowers, and lights glittered on every tree and in every fountain. Every year her mother took the day away from the court, and most years her father managed to come back from Coruscant for the occasion, and they would all escape together for a few hours up into the mountains, where Leia’s grandparents still kept their famous herd of nerfs. Leia would splash in the stream and weave flower crowns with her mother, and the two of them would chase her father, pelting him with flowers, until they all fell down laughing and got all their fine clothes covered in grass stains.
And then they would return to the palace, where a feast of Leia’s favorite foods waited, and all of her friends were invited to dinner, and she was allowed to stay up far past her bedtime.
And every year, after all of her friends had gone home, and all the marks of festivity had been cleared away, Leia would go out on one of the high balconies with her parents, and the three of them would stretch out on a blanket and look up at the stars.
But there were other things that happened every year on her birthday, too. Black and white banners were unfurled in the streets, even though her favorite color was blue. Lines of stormtroopers marched in formation, though Leia thought that as parades went it was rather boring. They didn’t even have any flowers.
And every year on her birthday, the Emperor’s face would appear on every holoscreen in Aldera – even in the palace. The Emperor talked for a long time, and he never said anything interesting, but Mama and Papa always listened to the whole thing.
As she grew older, Leia began to understand that all of these things were not for her. Her birthday fell on Empire Day, and the banners and parades and boring speeches were all in honor of that. She was both disappointed and relieved. At least that meant she wasn’t expected to like such dull things.
She didn’t truly understand, though, until her eighth birthday.
***
The year that Leia turned eight, Moff Tarkin came to visit her mother. Leia hated him instantly.
He spoke very politely and observed all the proper pleasantries with the Queen, and he mostly ignored Leia. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong about him. And his smile never looked real. It reminded her of a Tyrran lizard: all teeth and venom.
That year, for the first time, they didn’t go to the mountains. Instead, Papa took Leia out to the gardens. He explained that Mama wanted very much to go with them to the mountains, but that she had to stay here and talk with Governor Tarkin. He looked very unhappy as he said it, and Leia felt a tug of fear in the pit of her stomach. Mama and Papa were always smiling. But not with Moff Tarkin.
That evening, when they should have been feasting with Leia’s friends, there was a big fancy state dinner instead. Leia hated state dinners. They were long and boring and she had to wear the most uncomfortable clothes and sit still and quiet the whole time.
This dinner was different than others, though. This time, Moff Tarkin had the seat of honor, and Queen Breha sat beside him, as though she were the guest in her own dining room. Leia sat between her parents and listened to Tarkin welcome his guests and propose a toast to the Empire, to their glorious Emperor, and to the brave members of the Imperial military who kept them all safe and free.
Leia glowered at that. She didn’t feel very free at all.
But her mother tapped her foot under the table, and Leia turned back to her dinner, biting her tongue. She’d seen something new and strange in her mother’s face, something almost like fear.
When the main course had been cleared, just as dessert should have been served, two stormtroopers came into the hall, dragging a struggling young woman between them.
Leia watched her mother stand stiffly, her severe Queen’s face settling over her like one of the painted masks the actors wore in traditional drama, fixed and impassive.
“What is the meaning of this?” Queen Breha demanded.
But now Moff Tarkin was standing too, smiling his lizard’s smile. “Your pardon, Your Majesty, for the unexpected interruption. But this woman was caught just today attempting to access confidential Imperial files. She has been positively identified as an agent of the Rebellion.”
There was a sharp collective gasp. Leia’s eyes were fixed on her mother’s face.
Queen Breha stood as though carved from stone, cold and unmoving and, Leia thought with a surge of fear, horribly fragile.
“Such betrayal is unforgivable at any time,” Tarkin said. “But today of all days, when we celebrate the birthday of our glorious Empire…today it cannot be tolerated.”
Leia felt more than saw her father tense beside her. “Leia,” he said softly, but in the breathless silence of the room, his voice seemed thunderously loud. “It’s time you went to bed. Say goodnight, please.”
She’d never heard Papa sound so terribly calm. Leia didn’t even think of arguing with him. She rose from her seat and curtsied to the assembled guests.
But before she could go, Moff Tarkin turned and fixed his smirking gaze directly on the Queen. “No,” he said. “Let the girl stay. It will be educational for her.”
A long moment of silence passed. Tarkin and the Queen seemed to be holding some terrible wordless battle, and the air was heavy with some unknown possibility. Leia wanted very badly to escape from that room, to get away from Tarkin’s venomous smile and the slowly growing look of despair in her mother’s eyes.
“Sit down, Leia,” Queen Breha whispered at last.
Leia sat. Her mother sat too, her hand clasping Leia’s in a grip so tight it almost hurt. Her father took her other hand, and she could feel his trembling.
“On this most celebrated day,” Tarkin declared, “let all loyal citizens of the Empire rest assured that the Emperor’s justice will be swift and righteous.”
He gestured sharply, and the squad of stormtroopers who had followed the prisoner and her guards in now formed a line against the far wall.
Two troopers still held the woman between them, her hands bound in front of her, her eyes blazing with anger. She lunged forward in their grip and spat at Tarkin. “That’s your justice, sleemo,” she snarled.
But Tarkin was unmoved. He merely raised one eyebrow, cast another laughing glance at Leia’s parents, and said, “Fire.”
For the barest instant, the prisoner stood tall and defiant. Her eyes met the Queen’s, and then they caught and held Leia’s.
Leia could hardly breathe. There was something terrible and beautiful in the woman’s eyes.
And then there was the sharp sound of blaster fire, and those bright eyes went glassy and cold, and the woman slumped to the floor. Everything was silent.
“Now,” said Moff Tarkin. “I believe we are expecting dessert?”
Later that night, as Leia huddled between her parents in their bed and none of them slept, she thought that Tarkin had been right about one thing, at least.
It had been educational.
***
Leia turned seventeen on Coruscant, in the midst of the most overblown Empire Day celebration she’d ever experienced. There were parades. There was a public speech by the Emperor, surrounded by pomp and ceremony on the steps of the Imperial Palace. There were speeches from countless senators and Moffs and worthies of Coruscant society, all praising Palpatine profusely. There were demonstrations of military might throughout the day, and fireworks at night. And of course there was the annual Senate gala.
Leia had always hated Senate galas. They were raucous, glitzy affairs, each seemingly more pointless than the last. And she invariably had to deal with sleazy senators twenty years or more her senior, leering at her and making the sort of disgusting commentary that passed for humor in this place.
Whenever possible Leia avoided these overwrought celebrations, but unfortunately for her, she usually had no choice. Especially not on Empire Day.
She’d now lived on Coruscant for just under a year, and she’d attended twenty-three galas.
It was probably her least favorite aspect of her work, and that was saying something. On her last visit home to Alderaan, her father had laughed at her when she told him as much, and then admitted with a rueful grin that it had been the same for him.
“The hardest part for me was always keeping a neutral face,” Bail had said. “You hear things that just – ”
He hadn’t finished, but he hadn’t needed to. Leia knew all too well the sort of things that were said at Imperial galas.
“I used to practice in front of a mirror,” Breha had said, raising her shoulders in a laughing shrug when Leia and Bail both looked at her in surprise. “What? It sounds silly, I know. But it works.”
It did work, though Leia wasn’t sure she’d ever find the courage to tell her mother that. But she now felt fairly confident that she could keep a straight face even if the Emperor himself were to suddenly stand up and start dancing a jig.
Well, all right. If that happened, Ekkreth’s shielding techniques would definitely prove useful, too.
Leia kept her expression painfully neutral while allowing herself an internal laugh. She had to find something to take her mind off the tedium. And it wasn’t as though she could socialize with any of her fellow Rebel agents, so any genuine conversation was out.
For the barest instant, Leia’s eyes caught Pooja Naberrie’s across the room, and a knowing look passed between them. Just as quickly she turned back to the ongoing prattle of the honorable delegates representing Senex and Uyter. She didn’t need to worry that she’d missed anything. They weren’t discussing anything of note.
As far as she could tell, tonight’s gala was no different than any other Senate function, in spite of the grand occasion. With one exception.
The crowd of people swarming for Palpatine’s favor parted briefly and she caught sight of a stark black shape towering up beside the much frailer form of the Emperor. For the first time that she’d seen at one of these events, Darth Vader was in attendance. And he didn’t look happy about it.
Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. Leia supposed he looked exactly the same as he always did, which was never happy. If the mask lent him any sense of emotion at all, it was probably anger. But not a hot-tempered anger. Something cold and implacable.
At the moment, that was more than a little misleading. He was definitely annoyed.
Leia allowed herself another internal chuckle. She’d been right, apparently, all those galas ago and before she’d even met Ekkreth, when she’d imagined that Darth Vader would be just as disgusted by the display as she was.
But it was more than that. Her amusement slipped as she realized what it must mean, that his annoyance was so evident in the Force.
It was part of his shield.
Oh, she didn’t doubt he really was disgusted. He’d told her that the shield worked best if you used emotions you really felt. But it was just as important to use emotions that your enemy would expect to find – emotions that they could believe you might have wished to hide, and therefore believe they’d read you fully and not look any further.
And that meant that Ekkreth’s annoyance with this gala was not only genuine, but also fully expected by the Emperor.
Leia’s gaze shifted back to Palpatine, who was receiving his sycophants with a bare minimum of attention, though anyone would have thought, watching their faces, that they were being lavished with praise and acknowledgement.
Her disgust deepened, tinged with something almost like pity. If she was Emperor, Leia thought, she would certainly have found ways to entertain herself that didn’t involve tormenting her underlings.
In his own way, Leia realized with a start, Palpatine was really quite pathetic.
“Ah, Princess Organa,” someone said just beside her, and Leia was grateful once more for her training, both in espionage and in the Force. She didn’t jump.
“Moff Pirus,” she said coolly, waiting a full three breaths before turning to face him. “How pleasant to see you.”
The Moff of the Chommel Sector regarded her with a smirking condescension that told her he didn’t believe her for an instant. “The pleasure is all mine, Princess,” he said. “I have been hoping to speak with you for some time.”
A surge of sudden, sharp foreboding rose in Leia. She locked it ruthlessly behind her shields, and gave Pirus only what he expected.
“Have you?” Leia asked, the picture of polite surprise.
“Indeed,” the Moff said. His smirk deepened. “Regarding a matter of some delicacy. If you’re free?” And he gestured carelessly behind him, indicating the series of balconies jutting out from the hall and overlooking Coruscant’s theater district. They were secluded places, and Leia knew that each was equipped with further privacy screens. The better to facilitate political discourse, she thought bitterly.
She looked up at Pirus and raised one eyebrow, hoping to disguise the sudden queasiness in her stomach. She had a bad feeling about this.
“Lead on, then,” she said brightly, and followed him to one of the alcoves. But she kept her senses sharp.
Something nudged against her mind, and Leia felt herself relax just slightly. Ekkreth wouldn’t risk mental communication, not here where he stood so close to the Emperor, but the reminder of his presence was a relief in itself. And it was a reminder, too, of everything she could do. She had the Force, and more importantly, she had her wits.
She was more than capable of handling Moff Pirus.
They stepped out onto the balcony, and Pirus immediately engaged the privacy screens. He turned to her with a sharp-toothed smile.
“I wonder, Princess Organa, if you know what it is we celebrate on this day,” he said.
Leia regarded him levelly. “Why, the victory of order over chaos, of course,” she said, offering him a smirk of her own.
The Moff’s eyes narrowed, but Leia only met his gaze evenly, and at last, with evident displeasure, Pirus said, “Indeed. We celebrate the birth of our prosperous Empire from the ashes of the old Republic’s decadence.” Something of his vicious humor returned as he added, “But perhaps not all of us celebrate this day truly.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Leia said easily. “I’m afraid I’m still not used to the complexities of Coruscant life.” She affected an apologetic, girlish shrug. “Life is much simpler on Alderaan.”
“How pleasant that must be,” Pirus said sourly. “Very well, Princess, I will speak plainly. Because you are still new to us, and perhaps unaware of – how did you put it? – ah yes, the complexities of Coruscant life, you may not be aware of the dangers of certain associations. There are some within this Senate who are widely believed to be party to Rebel sympathies. You would do well not to associate yourself too closely with such likely traitors.”
Leia’s blood ran cold, but nothing of her fear showed on her face. The rush of apprehension she felt was channeled as confusion and innocent dismay. “Whoever could you mean?”
For a moment Pirus simply glared suspiciously at her. In spite of the danger, Leia had to fight back the urge to laugh. He was not at all subtle, and his outrageous mustache only made the image more ridiculous. She was severely tempted to tell him that it looked as though a badly mauled rodent had died on his face, but she wasn’t feeling charitable.
At last he said, “Senator Pooja Naberrie of Naboo has demonstrated clear Rebel sympathies.”
Leia allowed herself a faint start of surprise. “Moff Pirus, that is quite an accusation to make. And against the Senator representing the Emperor’s own home planet, who hails from your own jurisdiction. Do you have any proof of this?”
The Moff’s scowl only deepened, and Leia relaxed internally, just a little. If he had no proof, they could still salvage the situation.
“That will shortly be seen, Princess,” he said. “I intend to present evidence to Lord Vader shortly. But I advise you to look to your own reputation before it is irreparably damaged. It would be a great pity, if your own loyalty to our glorious Empire were to come into doubt.”
Leia kept her face carefully blank, though only with difficulty. She hoped he did present himself to Vader. She could just see it, Pirus and his ridiculous dead-rodent mustache, puffed up with self-importance as he offered up his evidence.
Of course, she doubted he was expecting to tell Vader only about Pooja. Pirus was not nearly as clever as he clearly believed, and it was obvious enough to Leia what he was attempting here. Whether or not he had any real evidence against Pooja was secondary. He was hoping that Leia would leave this meeting and try to warn the other woman, and that he might then catch two Rebels in a single net.
A net called Vader, she thought with a mental grin that showed no trace of itself outwardly.
“I thank you for your concern,” Leia said. She kept her voice flat, afraid she might laugh if she allowed any hint of inflection. Pirus, no doubt, thought she was trying to put a brave face on it.
The Moff was regarding her with thinly veiled triumph in his eyes. Leia bit the inside of her lip. If she stayed out here much longer, she was going to laugh out loud, and that would be impossible to explain.
“Please excuse me,” she managed. “I promised Senator Hulstra a dance, and if I don’t deliver soon, I’ll miss my chance.” Then she swept away from the balcony without a backward glance.
Of course, the downside of that excuse was that she really did have to dance with Senator Hulstra. But the senator from Cerea was less odious than many of her other colleagues, and at least he limited his conversation to the glories of the Empire and the praises of their illustrious Emperor, and never once complimented her appearance or tried to stare down her dress.
The dance ended, and Leia beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the refreshments. The evening was still young. It would be at least two hours yet before she could reasonably make her escape.
But there was one person, at least, who seemed even more eager to be gone than her.
Ekkreth was no longer trailing in the Emperor’s wake. Palpatine had taken his seat on the raised dais overlooking the ballroom, along with Grand Vizier Sate Pestage and a gaggle of councilors, bureaucrats, and sycophants, each seemingly more shriveled and colorless than the last. Like a brood of maggots swarming over a corpse.
Vader stood some distance away from the Emperor, surrounded by his own pack of Moffs. But unlike Palpatine, who was clearly the sun around which all of his satellites orbited, Vader looked more like some wild creature hemmed in a cage.
The thought caused that now familiar surge of protective anger to spark somewhere in her gut. Before she could think better of it, Leia sent Ekkreth a mental nudge, followed by a teasing question: Why, Lord Vader, don’t you like Empire Day?
She’d expected at least a trace of amusement, maybe a mental chuckle or some scathingly sarcastic reply, but his answer came back clipped and final. No.
Leia suppressed a shiver. Ekkreth didn’t even sound angry. His tone was one of bleak resignation. The last time she’d heard him speak that way, he’d been unable to stand. She could still hear the wheeze of his breath as he told her, flatly, that whatever Palpatine had done to injure him wasn’t important.
I’m sorry, she thought, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for, but meaning it all the same. This was only her first Empire Day on Coruscant, and she already felt unimaginably tired. She wondered how many of these events Ekkreth had endured.
He didn’t answer, which meant he was either ignoring her or he needed to focus on his outward reality.
So Leia let him have his silence and instead swept her gaze over the group of Moffs gathered around Ekkreth. Most of them were relatively unimportant, as far as Imperial governors went, but Tarkin was there. Or as she’d taken to calling him, Moff Sleemo. Ekkreth seemed to appreciate the name, and he’d even used it once or twice himself.
The sight of Tarkin brought her mind back to that first Empire Day, the first time she’d known the true significance of this day that was also, coincidentally, her birthday. Leia could still see the captured Rebel’s eyes and hear the defiance in her voice as Tarkin gave the command to carry out the Emperor’s justice.
It was Tarkin who seemed to be the primary speaker now. Leia watched him surreptitiously from across the room, sipping slowly at her punch and nibbling on some lovely, nearly tasteless dainty that probably cost more than an entire meal at a place like Dex’s. She would have preferred Dex’s.
Leia wasn’t quite as good at lip-reading as her mother, but she was passable, and it was easy enough to work out what Tarkin was talking about.
They seemed to be discussing the slew of information leaks that had plagued Imperial Intelligence for the last several months. Leia watched Tarkin’s lips still, and when no one else’s moved either, she realized that Vader must be answering. She hid a smile behind her punch glass and savored the irony.
Then Tarkin was speaking again, saying something about the necessity of making an example, of the power of fear as a motivator, and Leia was done paying attention. She’d heard that particular screed too many times before.
We may have an information leak of our own, she thought. Or more likely a jealous and power-hungry Moff who’s managed to grasp at the right straw through sheer dumb luck.
Oh? Ekkreth said – a single word, but Leia was relieved to hear some spark of interest and life return to his mental voice.
Moff Pirus has some very interesting theories to share with you, she thought. On the subject of suspected Rebel traitors.
How very…convenient, Ekkreth thought. Leia felt a momentary, startling flash of dark satisfaction, and then Ekkreth’s mind was closed to her entirely.
He remained walled away for the rest of the evening. Eventually Leia gave up on trying to get through; she knew from experience it was impossible. So instead she spent two more tedious hours engaged in wonderfully stimulating conversation about holo dramas, this year’s hot vacation spots, and the latest fashions. Apparently, black was in this year.
Her companion glanced pointedly at Leia’s own white gown, and Leia fought the urge to roll her eyes. The Emperor was still sitting on his throne, surveying the room with the expression of someone absolutely assured of his power: at once sharp-eyed and indolent. He was, as always, wearing black.
Finally, just as she was beginning to think she could endure no more, the Emperor rose. Leia watched as Ekkreth fell into step behind him, and ground her teeth. His mind was still a closed door.
But just before he swept entirely from the room, the door opened the barest crack, and she heard, Meet me tomorrow at 2300.
Leia didn’t bother answering. The Emperor was gone, so there was no longer anything to keep her here, and she thought she might scream if she stayed a moment longer. With only the barest of apologies to her companions, she took her leave.
*
It was already 0130 by the time she arrived back at her apartment, which meant it was well into the middle night in Aldera. A persistent beeping at her com station told her she’d missed her parents’ birthday call.
Fiura greeted her at the door with a bright smile that didn’t quite manage to hide her exhaustion. It had been a long night for everyone, seemingly.
Leia started to say something, she wasn’t even sure what, but her aide took one look at Leia’s stormy face and steered her instantly into the dressing room. “There’s hot mountain tea and jam tarts, Your Highness,” Fiura said briskly. “And I took the liberty of ordering something from Dex’s. I know how you hate these galas.”
Leia spun around and hugged her, startling a yelp out of Fiura and a laugh from Leia. “Thank you,” she said. “I think this has been the second worst birthday of my life. But this…this helps. Thank you, Fiura. Really.”
Fiura pulled away from the embrace, smiling. “Of course, Leia,” she said, and Leia felt her own smile widen. It wasn’t often that Fiura addressed her by name.
Leia sank into the chair at her vanity with a long, exaggerated sigh. The smell of food and the green, woody scent of the tea went a long way toward easing her annoyance.
Fiura started on the complicated process of taking down her hair, while Leia tore into the takeout with relish. It was greasy and smothered in cheese and Dex’s unidentifiable “special sauce,” and in that moment she thought she’d never tasted anything better.
“The Queen commed while you were gone, Your Highness,” Fiura said, her fingers carding through Leia’s unbound hair. “There’s a message waiting on the com station.”
“Thank you, Fiura,” Leia murmured.
She finished her meal, and Fiura finished arranging Leia’s hair to her satisfaction and wished her princess good night. Leia sat still for a moment, eyes closed, and simply breathed. Then she moved into her bedroom and activated the com.
Breha and Bail smiled out at her from the recorded holo. “Hello, love,” her mother said. “We’re sorry to miss you. Your father and I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” To the casual observer, nothing in the Queen’s face changed, but Leia saw her mother’s smile turn strained as she added, “And a happy Empire Day too, of course.”
“We love you so much, Leia,” her father said. “And we’re so very proud of you.”
“I love you too, Mama, Papa,” Leia whispered as the holo faded away.
*
She had no meetings scheduled for the next morning, and she’d been looking forward to sleeping in, but Fiura woke her early. Any reproof Leia might have made died on her lips. Fiura’s eyes were wide and frightened.
“Your Highness,” she said. “I think you’d better take a look at this.”
She handed Leia a datapad. On it was an official Imperial proclamation, announcing that Moff Pirus of the Chommel Sector had been found a traitor to the Empire, working in collusion with the terrorist organization known as the Rebel Alliance. What became of him was not said, but it didn’t need to be.
Leia stared down at the report and tried to decide how she felt. It was obvious enough, now, what Ekkreth must have meant by “convenient.”
For months now Darth Vader had been hunting for the source of the information leaks. It was an incredibly dangerous game to play, and Leia thought that if he had been anyone else, he could never have pulled it off. But the Emperor seemed to trust Vader implicitly. Or, more accurately, he trusted absolutely in his own control over Vader. It was a rather startling oversight, Leia thought, for a man who seemed to plan and analyze everything else to a nicety.
Fiura was watching her closely, so Leia kept her face carefully neutral as she looked up.
“Pirus wasn’t – ” Fiura began, but Leia cut her off before she could say too much.
“No. He wasn’t.”
Fiura’s eyes narrowed, and then she nodded decisively. “Well. That’s all right, then. I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but he was a sleemo.”
That much was certainly true. Leia could think of few people better to take the fall, other than Tarkin himself. And Tarkin as a Rebel agent would have passed the threshold of belief.
“Still,” said Fiura, “you were seen talking privately with him at the gala last night, Your Highness. It could reflect badly on you.”
Leia blinked, then threw her head back and laughed. It was a long time before she’d calmed herself enough to explain to Fiura just what was so funny.
*
For the first time in a very long time, Ekkreth arrived at their meeting place before Leia. She found him with his hands clasped at his belt, staring out over the murky skyline of Coruscant’s industrial district.
“You killed Moff Pirus,” Leia announced without preamble. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Ekkreth. He didn’t turn.
Leia blinked in surprise. She’d known he had, of course. But she hadn’t expected him to admit it so baldly.
“He was a Rebel spy,” Ekkreth added, without a trace of irony or sarcasm. “I followed Governor Tarkin’s advice and…made an example of him.”
Finally he turned to look at her. A sudden jet of flame from a distant refinery reflected red and livid off the planes of his helmet, and Leia was reminded of the masks worn to represent the spirits in Alderaanian theater. Torhu, she thought. The spirit of destruction.
The thought wasn’t new, but this time it didn’t carry with it the usual sense of apprehension. It felt…right, somehow. Torhu’s appearance in a drama always signified some great change, or the execution of some necessary justice.
Perhaps it should have bothered her more than it really did. She was, after all, if not directly responsible for then at least an unwitting accomplice in the Moff’s death. But her primary emotion was one of relief. Pooja would be safe, and the Chommel sector would be free of Pirus.
Leia didn’t know what to say and so, of course, what emerged when she opened her mouth was something flippant. “Well,” she said, “it’s certainly the most unique birthday present I’ve ever received.”
Ekkreth went suddenly very still. She could feel his eyes boring into her behind the lenses of his mask.
“Yesterday was…your birthday?” he said at last, something strange and hesitant coloring his voice.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Leia said with a laugh that was more bitterness than mirth. “I can’t imagine a less appropriate day.”
Ekkreth was still staring at her. Leia shifted, rocking back on the balls of her feet. She wondered if he knew how unnerving his stare was. But surely he must. That was the point of the mask, after all.
“On the contrary,” Ekkreth said softly. “It seems very appropriate indeed.”
“I don’t see how,” Leia muttered.
“It is only fitting,” said Ekkreth, “that with Depur’s Empire should be born the seed of its destruction.”
Leia gaped at him. “What?” she asked, the words drawn from her in a half-involuntary whisper. “Me?”
“Yes,” said Ekkreth, as though it should have been self-evident. “You are Leia.”
What was that supposed to mean? Of course she was Leia. And if anyone could be called the seed of Palpatine’s destruction, surely it was Ekkreth himself.
Leia said so. But Ekkreth only looked at her.
“I have sworn the destruction of my Master,” he said slowly. The jet of flame had faded from the skyline, and now his mask was cast in deep shadow and his voice seemed almost to echo, as though it were not one, but many. “Depur will fall, and all his slavers and his weapons with him. But what comes after – that will be for you to decide. And only then will his failure be complete.”
A surge of foreboding washed over Leia. He was talking almost like –
“But you’ll be there too,” she insisted. “In the world that comes after.”
His mask tilted to one side and he looked at her long and searchingly. At last he said, “We should practice your shielding. Not everyone will be so easily fooled as Moff Pirus.”
Leia frowned. It was an obvious evasion, and for that reason she knew she would get no more out of him. She’d never known Ekkreth to lie (at least not to her), but he was very good at ignoring questions he did not wish to answer.
So she let it go for now, but in the silence of her own heart, locked deep beneath her shields, Leia made herself a promise. The Empire would fall, and there would be a new, freer galaxy to follow. And Ekkreth would live to see it.
***
Leia turned twenty in a Rebel base tucked away in the rocky cliffs of rain-lashed Panoor. She hadn’t even realized what day it was, until General Dodonna, his face lit by a smile that was trying far too hard, wished her a happy birthday.
She thanked him with a smile just as false. These mountains felt nothing like home, and she hadn’t once seen the stars since they’d come to Panoor.
But she hadn’t accounted for the celebration of Empire Day. The celebration of Empire Day on a Rebel base.
It started around midday (if day it could be called, in the perpetual dark and storm of Panoor), when someone, probably one of the pilots, commandeered the base’s intercom system and announced, “Loyal citizens of the Empire! Today, we celebrate our glorious Emperor Palpatine!”
A round of boos and jeers was heard from every corner of the base. Leia was in one of the larger hangars at the time, and the sound was nearly deafening.
“Citizens, I share your joy!” the voice continued. Leia was now almost certain it belonged to Luke’s friend Biggs Darklighter. “And to mark this momentous occasion, you are all invited to a party this evening in the main hangar bay, where we will honor His Illustrious Majesty with an effigy I’m told is shockingly lifelike.”
This time, laughter echoed through the base, and Leia heard someone shout, “Good! I could use some target practice!”
“More importantly,” Biggs continued, “I’ve heard that we have two birthdays today! Two of our Emperor’s very favorite people: our Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker!”
An enormous cheer went up, and the crowd of people nearest Leia took up a chant of her name. Further off, she caught echoes of Luke’s.
“Our birthday twins will, of course, have the first audience with His Imperial Mightiness. The rest of you will just have to wait your turn.”
A surge of good-natured groans sounded. Leia heard the muffled sounds of Biggs’ laughter. And with that, the intercom cut out.
She stretched out with her feelings and found Luke almost instantly. He was evidently looking for her, too, because she felt his surprise at the ease of the mental contact, and then a moment later the warm, radiant feeling of his laughter.
“Hi birthday twin,” Luke said with a rueful smile when they met a moment later in the corridor between hangars. His X-Wing was housed in a smaller bay off the main hangar.
Leia snorted. “Hi yourself. You never said your birthday was coming up.”
“Neither did you,” Luke said, falling into step beside her as they both headed for the mess. “Pretty awful day for a birthday, isn’t it?”
Leia thought of Ekkreth, and for the first time that day, a genuine smile lit her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I used to think so. But…my teacher said something that changed my mind.”
Luke faltered slightly, and then kept walking, but she knew she had his full attention. It wasn’t often she told him anything about her teacher.
“It’s only fitting,” said Leia with a soft smile of memory, “that with Palpatine’s Empire should be born the seed of its destruction.”
“Your teacher said that?” Luke asked, his voice low and strangely startled.
“Yes,” said Leia, watching him curiously. “It was meant to cheer me up, I think, but it was meant in earnest, too.”
“I like that,” Luke said softly. He’d stepped closer to her, but even so his voice was nearly inaudible. It made his words feel like some precious secret. “But…maybe it’s something more, too.”
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“Well, Ben told me that the Force can sometimes…predict things. He meant it mostly about the immediate future, I think. Things like – well, like how I knew when to take the shot against the Death Star. But I’ve been thinking…what if it works for other things too? Like…like a foretelling.”
He was looking at her with the kind of careful intensity Leia had learned meant this was something important to him, but he didn’t want to risk saying too much without knowing if she agreed.
She considered the possibility. Luke seemed to be saying that Ekkreth’s words might be more than simply encouragement, or even an expression of personal hope. They might be in the form of a prophecy.
Leia wasn’t certain she believed in prophecy. Certainly not in the sort of foreordained, written in the stars, Destiny with a capital D nonsense that she’d heard about in stories as a child.
But this, perhaps, could be something different. A poetic justice, a prophecy that they made for themselves in order to fulfill it.
And she had to admit that it did seem like Ekkreth. There was always something very deliberate about him, as though he were constantly aware of himself, carefully crafting a performance. It was a quality that was common in spies, of course, as Leia well knew. But Ekkreth seemed somehow more. Torhu the Destroyer, she thought, and that wasn’t strange. She was always thinking of him in mythic terms.
So she told Luke, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is something more.”
He grinned back at her, a conspiratorial grin with more than a little relief mixed in, and she realized this must be even more important to him than she’d thought.
But there wasn’t time to discuss it more. They were entering the mess now, and she could already see that Han Solo was lying in wait at their usual table, some sort of cake poorly disguised behind his back. Chewie was beside him, doing a poor job of looking casual.
“Oh no,” said Leia, though it came out sounding surprisingly pleased.
“Well look at that, Chewie,” Han called as soon as they were close enough. “It’s the birthday twins!”
He wasn’t exactly quiet about it, and at his words all the people at the surrounding tables, most of whom hadn’t looked up from their food before, glanced up now, and then the whole mess hall seemed to be shouting. Cries of “Happy birthday!” and shouts of their names mixed with “Give our regards to old Palpy!” Leia was fairly certain she heard at least one person yell “Death to tyrants!”
Luke caught her eye and gave her a bemused grin. Leia only shrugged in return.
The truth was she was used to dealing with crowds. The best thing to do was ignore them.
So she simply took a seat at the table Han had saved and said, “I hope that cake is chocolate.”
Han looked distinctly shifty. “What cake?” he asked, in the worst attempt at innocence Leia had ever heard.
“The one getting frosting on your backside,” she said drily. Han stepped forward in dismay and Chewie wuffed with laughter.
Having determined that his backside was in fact entirely free of frosting, Han turned and fixed each of them with a glare. “Oh sure, laugh it up. After I slaved for hours in the kitchen to give you two a happy birthday, and this is the thanks I get.”
“You didn’t even know it was my birthday until Biggs announced it,” Leia said, at the same time as Luke laughed and said, “Han, you can’t even cook.”
“That’s vicious slander!” Han said, and Leia wasn’t sure which of them he was responding to, until he added, “I’m an excellent cook.”
All three of them just stared at him. “All right, fine,” Han muttered. “But I’m passable, anyway. Besides, Chewie helped.”
The Wookiee growled in agreement, though there was more than a little laughter mixed in. Han shot him a glare.
Luke winked at Leia. “Well if Chewie made it I’m sure it’s delicious,” he said. “So are you going to let us eat it or not?”
Han scowled at them both, and Leia, to her own surprise, decided to take pity on him. “Thanks, Han,” she said softly. “For doing this. It’s nice to have something almost normal today.”
Han’s expression froze for a moment, and she caught the barest glimpse of something warm and vulnerable in his eyes. Then he recovered his cocky grin. “You’re welcome, Princess,” he said. “And you’re in luck, too. Chewie makes the best damn chocolate cake this side of Corellia.”
*
Leia heard the distant sounds of the evening’s festivities long before she was ready to make an appearance. There was something she had to do first.
Alone in her quarters, she made a quick sweep for bugs, more out of force of habit than any real concern. When her search came up clean, she knelt beside her travel case, tapped in the combination, and removed the small collection of her most precious treasures.
In reverent silence she set them each on top of the plasteel dresser beside her cot. First, the candle. It was made of nerha wax, native to Alderaan, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to get more. She offered a silent thanks to the spirits of the insects, even though she knew there were none left to receive it.
Next, there was the small, misshapen blue dish she’d made when she was seven. Her mother had helped her, but she’d insisted that Leia had to craft the dish herself. An incense dish was deeply personal. She couldn’t use a dish that wasn’t hers.
There should have been flowers, but in the dark, rain-blasted moors of Panoor she’d only managed to find a collection of mosses. It would have to do.
And then the three most sacred things she had preserved.
She placed the holo of her parents in the center of her makeshift altar. Bail and Breha smiled up at her, their faces forever preserved in transparent blue. She watched the movement of their lips as the holo looped, again and again. “We love you so much, Leia,” they said. “And we’re so very proud of you.”
“I love you too, Mama, Papa,” Leia whispered. The wetness that stained her cheeks would be her offering.
To the left of the holo she placed the drawing she’d made of her birth mother. The woman from her dreams looked back at her with warm eyes, long curls of hair framing her face and flowers falling like rain from her outstretched hands.
Leia hesitated a moment before setting the last item on her altar. It was by far the most dangerous thing she owned, something she knew she never should have kept. But she’d meant what she said to Ekkreth on Yavin’s moon. And this was important. It was worth the risk.
So she set the little datacube on the right side of the altar, just beside her incense dish. But she only allowed herself to play it back once.
“You are strong and wise and free,” Ekkreth’s voice said. “Be brave. And don’t look back.”
The candle burned, and the incense smoldered, and Leia could think of no words to offer. So she sat in holy silence with the parents she had lost.
*
The main hangar was a riot of noise when Leia arrived.
A large space had been cleared near the very center of the hangar to form a dance floor, and a band was playing boisterously to one side. Leia recognized several of the staff from ops, and a Twi’lek woman from maintenance, and one very familiar Wookiee. Only about half of the band members seemed to have actual instruments. The rest had constructed substitutes from buckets, metal piping, old fuel canisters, and even a set of kitchen mixing bowls.
On the other side of the dance floor there were several long tables – really a series of boards laid across piled crates – and food and drink were there in surprising abundance. Leia had thought this was a spur of the moment celebration, but it seemed someone had been planning this for quite a while.
But all of that paled in comparison to the clear centerpiece of the party.
There in the very middle of the dance floor, cordoned off by what appeared to be fuel hoses slung between poles, was a massive cake, shaped with tiers and artfully placed frosting into a strikingly good likeness of Emperor Palpatine.
Leia nearly choked on her own tongue.
“His Dread Mightiness is looking especially dapper tonight, wouldn’t you say?” someone asked beside her, and Leia turned with a start to find Luke’s friend Biggs Darklighter, flanked by Wedge Antilles and Luke himself.
“He’s as resplendent as I’ve ever seen him,” she laughed. “Though I don’t know how you managed it.”
“We can’t claim credit, I’m afraid,” Wedge said. “Vika in coms is an absolute genius with frosting.” He studied the sculptural cake critically. “Though I did want to give him a little Darth Vader on a leash, but she said that was a bit too difficult.”
“Just as well,” Leia managed weakly. She did her best to ignore the curious look Luke was directing at her.
Biggs and Wedge, though, didn’t seem to have noticed her preoccupation. Biggs carried on cheerfully. “Now that you’re here, Princess, we can really begin.” Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Attention, loyal citizens of the Empire! Our Illustrious Imperial Majesty will now graciously receive the adoration of his subjects, beginning with our birthday twins!”
He turned back to Luke and grinned, passing him a kitchen knife. “Well, go on Luke. Pay your respects.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Luke said, in a fairly passable imitation of many of the senators Leia had known. The effect was partially ruined, however, by his inability to hold back his laughter. “I’d be far too awed. Leia should go first.” And he passed the knife in turn to her.
Leia took it and studied the cake carefully. It wasn’t quite life-size, but it was resting on a makeshift table and so was still taller than she was.
With a shrug Leia stepped forward, stood on the tips of her toes, and carved a generous portion of cake from the place where Palpatine’s heart should have been.
A cheer went up all around her, almost deafening. Somewhere quite close by, she heard Han say admiringly, “Nice job, Your Worship. Straight for the heart.”
“Thanks,” she said with a grin, and handed the knife back to Luke.
He considered the cake for a moment. Then with a sharp grin he very deliberately cut a piece lower down.
This time the crowd was briefly surprised into silence, and then there was a riotous surge of laughter. Han let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Damn, kid,” Leia heard him mutter. “It’s true what they say about the nice ones.”
Once the birthday twins had claimed their cake, Biggs and Wedge set up a receiving line, so that everyone could pay their respects to the Emperor in an orderly fashion. The cake was pretty good, Leia thought, though not as good as the one Chewie and Han had made. She’d never tell Han that, though.
The man himself sidled up to her with a cocky grin, almost as if her thoughts had summoned him, and said, “Care to dance, Your Worship?”
Leia smirked at him. “With you? Can you even dance, Captain Solo?”
He managed to look affronted. “I think you’ll find I’m famous for it,” he said, but couldn’t quite manage to hold his offended tone. His words ended in a laugh.
It was the laugh that decided her. “All right,” said Leia, her smirk only widening at the startled look on his face.
“Er,” said Han, shooting a quick glance at Luke, and Leia realized belatedly that she hadn’t ever corrected his assumptions about her and Luke.
“It’s fine,” she told him. “Luke and I aren’t really dating.”
Han blinked, but he rallied quickly enough. “Is that so, Your Worship? Got your eye on somebody else?”
“Why?” Leia asked, arching one eyebrow at him as she led him out onto the dance floor. “Got your hopes up, have you?”
“Well you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Han said with a smirk of his own. But she noticed he didn’t meet her eyes as he said it, and so she let him have the illusion of a win.
Han certainly didn’t deserve any fame as a dancer, but he wasn’t completely terrible either, and she enjoyed watching him splutter through his embarrassment every time he stepped on her feet.
She danced a couple of times with Luke, too, and once with Wedge. She even danced an Alderaanian waltz with General Dodonna, who winked at her and told her he’d never been there, and certainly had no idea there was a party going on in the main hangar.
When the night was already old and the party had finally begun to break up, Leia found herself once more with Luke, Han, and Chewie. Luke’s grin was threatening to split his face, and even Han looked more at ease than she thought she’d ever seen him. Chewie let out a long, roaring yawn, and Leia gave a tired laugh of her own.
“You said it, Chewie,” Han muttered. “Nobody better need me for a day at least.” He waved one hand vaguely, stumbling on his feet. “I’m going to bed.”
“Lightweight,” Leia teased, but she was weaving a bit herself.
Luke, on the other hand, let out a groan. “Oh, troona,” he muttered. “I’ve got first shift in – ” he glanced at the chrono on the hangar wall “ – less than an hour.”
Han whistled in sympathy. “Bad luck, kid. That’s a terrible thing to do to a man on his birthday.”
Luke only shrugged it off. “Oh well,” he said. “I’d better get cleaned up, then. Catch you both later. Happy birthday, Leia.”
“You too,” she said, her smile softening. “Remember what I said.”
Luke nodded, gave her a playful salute, and headed off in the direction of the freshers.
“And that’s me for the night, too,” Han said. But instead of turning to leave himself, he was looking down at her with a curiously sincere expression.
Leia waited him out. Finally he shrugged, seemingly to himself, and said, “Happy birthday, Leia.”
She could feel her mouth fall open in surprise. It was the first time he’d called her by her name.
“Well, good night then,” he muttered, and turned to go.
“Han!” she called, and he looked back instantly. “Thanks,” she said softly. “For all of this. It’s…it’s good to spend my birthday with family.”
Han’s face softened. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, it is.”
“Good night,” Leia said with a soft smile of her own.
Unlike Luke, she didn’t have any duties scheduled for that morning. It had been a long time since Leia had slept in, but she was going to take full advantage of it now.
Just before collapsing onto her cot for the remainder of the day, Leia offered a prayer of thanks to the lost spirits of Alderaan. Her parents were gone, but something of them remained with her. And she’d found a family here. She wasn’t alone.