Star Wars_ Episode VI_ Return of the Jedi - James Kahn [51]
He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Leia … do you remember your mother? Your real mother?”
The question took her totally by surprise. She’d always felt so close to her adopted parents, it was as if they were her real parents. She almost never thought of her real mother—that was like a dream.
Yet now Luke’s question made her start. Flashes from her infancy assaulted her—distorted visions of running … a beautiful woman … hiding in a trunk. The fragments suddenly threatened to flood her with emotion.
“Yes,” she said, pausing to regain her composure. “Just a little bit. She died when I was very young.”
“What do you remember?” he pressed. “Tell me.”
“Just feelings, really … images.” She wanted to let it slide, it was so out of the blue, so far from her immediate concerns … but somehow so loud inside, all of a sudden.
“Tell me,” Luke repeated.
She felt surprised by his insistence, but decided to follow him with it, at least for the time being. She trusted him, even when he frightened her. “She was very beautiful,” Leia remembered aloud. “Gentle and kind—but sad.” She looked deeply into his eyes, seeking his intentions. “Why are you asking me this?”
He turned away, peering back up at the Death Star, as if he’d been on the verge of opening up; then something scared him, and he pulled it all in once more. “I have no memory of my mother,” he claimed. “I never knew her.”
“Luke, tell me what’s troubling you.” She wanted to help, she knew she could help.
He stared at her a long moment, estimating her abilities, gauging her need to know, her desire to know. She was strong. He felt it, unwaveringly. He could depend on her. They all could. “Vader is here … now. On this moon.”
She felt a chill, like a physical sensation, as if her blood had actually congealed. “How do you know?”
“I can feel his presence. He’s come for me.”
“But how could he know we were here? Was it the code, did we leave out some password?” She knew it was none of these things.
“No, it’s me. He can feel it when I’m near.” He held her by the shoulders. He wanted to tell her everything, but now as he tried, his will was starting to fail. “I must leave you, Leia. As long as I’m here, I endanger the whole group and our mission here.” His hands trembled. “I have to face Vader.”
Leia was fast becoming distraught, confused. Intimations were rushing at her like wild owls out of the night, their wings brushing her cheek, their talons catching her hair, their harsh whispers thrilling her ear: “Who? Who? Who?”
She shook her head hard. “I don’t understand, Luke. What do you mean, you have to face Vader?”
He pulled her to him, his manner suddenly gentle; abidingly calm. To say it, just to say it, in some basic way released him. “He’s my father, Leia.”
“Your father!?” She couldn’t believe it; yet of course it was true.
He held her steady, to be a rock for her. “Leia, I’ve found something else out. It’s not going to be easy for you to hear it, but you have to. You have to know before I leave here because I might not be back. And if I don’t make it, you’re the only hope for the Alliance.”
She looked away, she shook her head, she wouldn’t look at him. It was terribly disturbing, what Luke was saying, though she couldn’t imagine why. It was nonsense, of course; that was why. To call her the only hope for the Alliance if he should die—why, it was absurd. Absurd to think of Luke dying, and to think of her being the only hope.
Both thoughts were out of the question. She moved away from him, to deny his words; at least to give them distance, to let her breathe. Flashes of her mother came again, in this breathing space. Parting embraces, flesh torn from flesh …
“Don’t talk that way, Luke. You have to survive. I do what I can—we all do—but I’m of no importance. Without you … I can do nothing. It’s you, Luke. I’ve seen it. You have a power I don’t understand … and could never have.”
“You’re wrong, Leia.” He held her at arm’s length. “You have that power, too. The Force is strong in you. In time you’ll learn to use it as I have.