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He stood up in alarm from a bench made of pitted flowstone, speechless as Cilghal and Leia eased themselves out of the water. Leia dripped for a moment, until the wondrous mesh suit absorbed and dissipated the water in its microthin layers.

Leia sighed with relief to see Ackbar, but she sensed his sudden discomfort at her presence—and something more. All her well-rehearsed speeches drained away like so much seawater splashing to the floor. They stood silently staring at each other for a long moment. Finally Leia recovered enough to speak. “Admiral Ackbar, I’m glad we’ve found you.”

“Leia,” Ackbar said. He held his hands in front of him, then withdrew them as if completely at a loss. He turned to Cilghal. “Ambassador, I believe we have met twice before?”

“It was an honor both times, Admiral,” Cilghal said.

“Please,” he said, “just call me Ackbar. I no longer hold that rank.”

His dwelling was like a large, solid bubble with extruded knobs for sitting, pedestals for tables, and cubbyholes for storage. Possessions lay strewn about, though the back of the room was neatly organized, cleaned, polished, as if he had methodically begun repairing and organizing the chaos one square meter at a time.

Ackbar gestured toward the warmly lit galley area where delicious-smelling food bubbled over a heater. “Would you join me? I would not insult a potential Jedi by asking how you found me—but I would like to know what has brought you all the way from Coruscant.”

Later they sat finishing bowls of simple but delicious fish stew. Leia chewed on the tender meat, swallowed another mouthful, and licked her lips to taste the burning sweet tingle of Calamarian spices.

She had spent the meal trying to work up her courage, but Ackbar finally addressed the question himself. “Leia, you have not yet said why you are here.”

Leia drew a deep breath, then sat up straight. “To speak with you, Admira—ah—Ackbar. And to ask you the same question. Why are you here?”

Ackbar seemed to deliberately misunderstand her. “This is my home.”

Frustrated, Leia was not ready to give up yet. “I know this is your homeworld, but there are many others who need you. The New Republic—”

Ackbar stood and turned away, gathering the empty stew bowls. “My own people also need me. There has been much destruction. Many deaths …” Leia wondered if he referred to the Imperial attacks on Calamari, or his own crash at the Cathedral of Winds.

“Mon Mothma is dying,” Leia said abruptly before she could change her mind. Cilghal sat up in the most sudden reaction Leia had yet seen from the calm ambassador.

Ackbar heaved his weary eyes to look at her. He set the stew bowls down. “How can you be certain of this?”

“It’s a wasting disease that’s tearing her apart,” Leia answered. “The medical droids and the experts can’t find anything wrong with her. She looks bad. You saw her before you left us. Mon Mothma was covering the worst with extensive makeup to hide how ill she really is.

“We need you back, Admiral.” Leia used his rank on purpose. She leaned on Ackbar’s small table and stared at him, her dark eyes pleading.

“I’m sorry, Leia,” Ackbar said, shaking his head. He indicated the newly refurbished workroom and his equipment. “I have important work to do here. My planet was badly damaged during the Imperial attacks, and there have been many tectonic disturbances. I’ve taken it upon myself to find out if our planet’s crust has become unstable. I need to gather more data. My people could be in danger. No more lives will be lost because of me.”

Cilghal turned her head from side to side, watching the debate but saying nothing.

“Admiral, you can’t just let the New Republic fall apart because of your guilty conscience,” Leia said. “Many lives across the galaxy are at stake.”

But Ackbar moved about uneasily, as if trying to shut out Leia’s words. “There is so much work to do, I cannot delay another moment. I was just preparing to set some new seismic sensors.” He shuffled toward a shelf filled with packaged electronic equipment. “Please, leave me in peace.”

Leia stood up quickly.