• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

After succeeding with the first one, Cilghal sought out another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

“Has there been any change?” Leia whispered at the doorway. She had just returned from a meeting where General Wedge Antilles, Doctor Qwi Xux, and Han Solo had given a detailed debriefing on the entire Maw assault.

Leia had listened with fascination, making eyes at her husband Han—whom she had seen too little of in the past several days. But always in the back of her mind was a pressing concern for Mon Mothma.

“No change,” Ackbar said in a tired voice. “I wish we understood what Cilghal is attempting to do.”

The female Calamarian had not moved in nine hours, kneeling beside Mon Mothma’s bedside, flippered hands resting on the dying woman’s skin, deep in a trance. The medical droids had not expected Mon Mothma to live for this long, so the mere fact that she still had not succumbed to death meant something.

From outside the door Leia peeked in to see that nothing had changed. The leader’s hand lay in a crystal dish as droplets of an oily grayish liquid emerged from the tip of her index finger. The process was too slow to watch, but over the course of half an hour a small droplet would gather at the tip of her finger, dangling, until gradually gravity pulled it off into the dish.

Terpfen walked slowly down the tiled corridors dressed in a dark-green close-fitting uniform that bore no insignia. Even after his full pardon Terpfen had refused to accept his rank again. He had sequestered himself in his rooms for much of the time since returning from Anoth.

The scarred Calamarian stopped several meters away from them, reluctant to go closer to the room that held Mon Mothma. Leia knew that Terpfen still blamed himself for the dying woman’s condition, and he refused to let the guilt be assuaged. Though she understood his misery, she was getting impatient with his withdrawal and hoped he climbed back to his feet soon.

Terpfen bowed ponderously, displaying the network of scars on his disfigured head. “Admiral, I have reached a decision.” He drew a deep breath. “I wish to return to Calamari and continue your work—if our people will have me. I wish to assist in rebuilding Reef Home. I fear …” He looked up to stare at the intricate mosaics on the walls of the Imperial Palace. “I fear that I will never be comfortable on Coruscant again.”

“Believe me, Terpfen,” Ackbar answered, “I know exactly how you feel. I would not try to talk you out of your decision. It is a fair compromise between your need for healing and your desire to make amends.”

Terpfen straightened, as if some measure of self-esteem had been returned to him. “I would like to depart as soon as possible,” he said.

“I will arrange a ship,” Ackbar replied.

Terpfen bowed again. “If I have your leave, Chief of State?”

“Yes, Terpfen,” Leia answered. She turned once again to watch the motionless tableau inside the medical chamber.

At a forgotten hour in the depths of Coruscant’s night, Cilghal emerged from the medical chambers. She staggered, cradling in her right hand a shallow crystal bowl half-filled with the deadly poison from the drink that Ambassador Furgan had thrown in Mon Mothma’s face.

The two New Republic guards stationed at the door snapped to attention and rushed to help Cilghal. She was so exhausted she could hardly place one foot in front of another. She leaned against the stone doorway, drawing strength from the solidity of the rock.

Her arm trembled as she extended the crystal dish to one of the guards. Cilghal barely had enough strength remaining to lift the small poison-filled container, but she did not dare drop it. She felt a deep, bone-melting relief when the guard took it from her.

“Be careful,” she said in a husky, utterly exhausted voice. “Take this … and incinerate it.”

The second guard scrambled to the intercom system and signaled for all Council members to come immediately.

“Do you have news of Mon Mothma?” the first guard asked her.

“She has been cleansed and she will heal.” The lids dropped over Cilghal’s glassy