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“That particular bit of bad news has been inescapable, I’m afraid,” Mon Mothma said, resting her hand gently on Leia’s. “How are the children coping?”

“Jaina is angry. Jacen is afraid,” Leia said. “Anakin is mostly confused—he can’t understand why anyone would want to hurt his daddy. We’ve managed to keep them from seeing the recording, but I had to tell them—too many other people know, and I didn’t want them to hear talk.”

“And you,” Mon Mothma said, giving Leia’s hand a squeeze. “How are you doing?”

“I’m having trouble seeing my way.”

Nodding silently, Mon Mothma set her datapad on the floor beside her and sat back in her chair, waiting.

“Tomorrow afternoon, I have to go before the Senate to face a recall petition,” Leia went on. “The Ruling Council thinks that with Han being held by the Yevetha, I can’t be trusted with the power of the Presidency.”

“How foolish of them.”

Leia shook her head. “To tell the truth, after seeing that last transmission from N’zoth, I’m not sure they aren’t right. My first impulse was to give Nil Spaar what he wants, to recall the fleet if only he’ll send Han back to me alive. My next was to go ask Special Operations for the most horrible weapon they have, something I could send to N’zoth to kill every last one of them—preferably in lingering agony.”

Mon Mothma’s smile was full of affection and sympathy. “You would not be human if you were not feeling both of those things right now.”

“But I can’t let either of those feelings guide what I do,” Leia said. “And I don’t know that I can keep them from doing so. I only watched it once, but I can’t stop seeing it.”

“Leia, dear, surely you haven’t told yourself that being President means that you can’t listen to what you feel, that all your decisions must be guided solely by what you think. Leadership is more than calculation, or we would hand the whole messy business over to droids,” Mon Mothma said. “Kings and presidents, emperors and potentates—the best of them are guided by honest passions as much as by a noble ethic or cool, incisive reason.”

“Passion and power have always seemed to me to be a dangerous combination,” said Leia.

“Without reason or ethics, they almost always are. But reason needs a passion for truth, and ethics a passion for justice. Without that, neither is really alive,” said Mon Mothma. “What is it you’re struggling with, Leia?”

“What to do,” she said simply. “What to do tomorrow—to fight or to concede. What to do about Koornacht while I’m still here.”

“What do you want?”

“Han, home safe,” she said unhesitatingly. “The Yevetha held to account. And I want to keep this job, because there’s still work to do.”

“And if you cannot have them all, which of those would you surrender last?”

The barbary birds had put in their appearance as predicted, and Leia’s eyes tracked the darting flight of a black and yellow male. “That’s exactly where I have trouble seeing the way,” she said. “Do I answer for principle? For myself and the children? For the good of the New Republic?”

“But you’ve been at this very crossroads before,” Mon Mothma said. “When the enemy was Emperor Palpatine, you were ready to risk all, and you sacrificed much, for principle and posterity. What mattered most to you was what you believed was right. So it was for all of us—both those who died for the Rebellion, and those of us who sent them to die.”

“I have more to lose now,” Leia realized. “And I am less willing to risk it than I was then.”

“More proof that you are human, and still no reason for shame. The young think they are immortal,” Mon Mothma said with an understanding smile. “Those who do not survive that mistake teach a harsh lesson to the rest of us. And twenty years of war provided enough harsh lessons for all. We cling more tightly to what we have—to life, and to love—knowing its impermanence.”

Leia stood and walked to the transparency separating her from the darting barbary birds. “It is the same crossroads, isn’t it? What will you risk for what you believe—and what is your belief worth if you will not risk anything in its defense?