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By Root 640 0

Both the commotion and anticipation were more muted in the private back corridors and chambers, but only by comparison to the public ones. The recall was the signal event of the Third Electoral, and no one with a claim to a seat in the great chamber meant to miss it. Crowds and unfamiliar faces were everywhere, and the normally tranquil Council caucus room was hosting a heated shouting match between half a dozen senators who couldn’t wait for the session to begin.

In such an atmosphere, Leia’s unheralded arrival in the Senate anteroom went unnoticed at first. And the first to spot Leia were among the last she wanted to see—Engh’s image analysts.

She had never troubled to learn or remember their names—she called them the Ventriloquist and the Costumer. The Ventriloquist, who called her President Solo, was forever trying to put words in Leia’s mouth, then critiquing the words that had come out of Leia’s mouth. The Costumer, who called her Princess Leia, treated Leia like a dress-up doll, endlessly worrying about whether her clothes sent the right image for a particular public appearance.

They came rushing up to her together and greeted her with a rush of words.

“Princess! Where have you been?—”

“President Solo! I haven’t seen your speech yet—”

“—I have your clothing in the diplomatic lounge. There’s no immediate urgency, but I need to talk to you about your jewelry choices—”

“—thank goodness you won’t be the first to the podium. Let’s find a room where we can go over what you expect to say—”

“—I’ve opted for a very plain look, not quite widow-in-mourning but moving in that direction, and anything too gaudy would just be jarring—”

“—I’ve scheduled you for interviews with Global, Prime, and ING right after the session—”

“Stop,” Leia said sharply. “Both of you—just stop.”

Both stared at her with the same flavor of we’re-just-trying-to-help surprise.

“Is there something wrong, President Solo—”

“I didn’t mean to be insensitive, Princess Leia—”

“Not another word,” she said, interrupting. “Not one more. As of this moment, you’re both fired.” With two quick movements, she collected their area passes from their clothing. “Report back to the ministry and resume doing whatever it is you used to do—which I can only hope is something more useful than what you’ve done here.”

By then, everyone within ten meters was aware of her presence, and a curious crowd had begun to gather around her. Ignoring them, Leia brushed past the Ventriloquist and continued on through the anteroom until she found Behn-Kihl-Nahm. The chairman was with Doman Beruss, huddled over what looked like a chalice of dark brew and a schedule of speakers at a table near the courtesy bar.

“Bennie,” she said, turning her shoulder to Beruss and ignoring him completely. “Let’s go upstairs. We need to talk.”

There was a sudden murmur—a collective gasp, more truly—from the thousands packed into the Senate chamber when Behn-Kihl-Nahm and Leia entered together and ascended to the upper tier of the podium. When the murmur subsided, all that could be heard were the faint voices of newsgrid commentators echoing through a dozen or more active comlinks scattered across the floor of the chamber.

“—was not expected to appear until much later, until called on to make her own presentation. Her unexpected—”

“—fueling immediate speculation here of a surprise resignation—”

“—was considered unlikely that she would choose to be present during what promises to be a long and intense debate—”

But the Senate’s protocol officers quickly hunted down the offending devices, and there was barely a rustle as Behn-Kihl-Nahm walked to the podium.

“Fellow senators,” he said, then cleared his throat twice. “Fellow senators, there will be a change in the published schedule for today’s session.”

Innocuous as they were, his words caused an immediate stir in the audience. He ignored the stir and went on, leaning in toward the podium’s audio scanner. “As provided for under the Senate rules of order, and in respect of the provisions of Article Five of the Common Charter, I yield the gavel