Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 03_ Tyrant's Test - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [163]
“A million people died a moment ago, all in great pain, and with great suddenness.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. A vast evil had returned to the galaxy. That much he knew.
And it threatened Leia.
He knew that too.
For now, the days of teaching were over. He and Artoo had to leave immediately for Coruscant.
* * *
Leia Organa Solo, Chief of State of the New Republic, adjusted the belt on her long white gown. She took a deep breath. Mon Mothma placed a hand on her arm. Leia smiled distractedly at her, much as she had as a young senator, facing Palpatine and his followers in the Imperial Senate.
She let the breath out. That was the emotion she was feeling, something she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager. A sense of loss, of defeat, of the life changing without her permission or control.
Mon Mothma closed the golden carved door and turned the lock. They were in a small dressing room that had been added during Palpatine’s days as Emperor, a room just outside the Senate Assembly Chamber. The room had been used as a secret communications area, but it masqueraded as a dressing room. The walls were gold leaf and delicate. A mirror covered one panel, floor to ceiling, reflecting both Leia and Mon Mothma. In some ways, Mon Mothma looked like an older, calmer version of Leia, although her short hair was now streaked with silver. Tiny lines webbed her skin, lines that had been there since her devastating illness at the hands of Carida’s Ambassador Furgan six years before.
“What is it?” Mon Mothma said.
Leia shook her head. She smoothed her damp hands on her skirts. She didn’t look much different from the girl who had walked into the Imperial Senate filled with hope and idealism, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, the youngest senator, the one who believed that persuasion and reason would save the Old Republic. The one who lost her idealism the moment she stared into Senator Palpatine’s ruined face.
“They’re members of the New Republic now, Leia,” Mon Mothma said. “They were elected fairly.”
“This is wrong. This is how it all started before.” Leia had had this same conversation with Han since the elections. Several planets had petitioned the Senate to allow former Imperials to serve as political representatives. The argument was that some of the best politicians had kept their peoples alive by working with the Empire, as minor functionaries. They were petty bureaucrats who saved dozens of Rebel lives by overlooking strange troop movements, or unusual faces in the crowds. Leia had opposed the petitions from the beginning, but the arguments in Chamber had been fierce. M’yet Luure, the powerful senator from Exodeen, had finally reminded her that even she had once served the Empire in her role as Imperial senator. She had retorted that she was serving the Rebellion even then. M’yet had smiled, revealing six rows of uneven teeth. These people were serving the Rebellion too, he had said, in their own way.
Leia had disputed that claim. They had served the Empire and not fought against it, had merely looked the other way. But M’yet’s argument was powerful, and because of it, the Senate had approved the petition. Leia had modified the election law with the help of her backers—no former stormtroopers could hold office, no Imperial of rank, no former Imperial governor—in short, no Imperial with access to power in the Empire could serve the New Republic. But still she felt this law was wrong.
“They’re going to destroy all we’ve worked for,” she said to Mon Mothma.
“You don’t know that,” Mon Mothma said softly.
Her words echoed Han’s. Leia clenched her fists. “I do know that,” she said. “Since we formed the New Republic, we have always known that our leaders have the same goals. We have the same philosophy of life. We have always worked in the same directions.”
Mon Mothma’s grip on Leia’s arm loosened. “We have always fought the Empire. But the Empire is gone now. Only bands remain. Someday