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“You hit the moon, not the planet.”

He saw she was right. The moon that had served as a garrison for the fighter ships had exploded into fragmented rubble that was raining down in spectacular meteor showers on the planet Kessel.

The fighter ships that had evacuated from the moonbase swarmed about in a flurry, like fire-mantids disturbed from their nests during mating season.

Tol Sivron coiled and uncoiled his naked head-tails, feeling tingles along his nerve endings. He leaned back in the chair and waved a clawed hand in dismissal.

“That can be corrected. The target was irrelevant. At least now we know the prototype is fully functional.” He nodded approvingly. “Just as all the progress reports said.”

Sivron took a deep breath, feeling the thrill build within him. “Now we can put this weapon to use.”

29

Leia was amazed that Mon Mothma still clung to life. Anxiously, she stood over the deathbed of the Chief of State, looking at the kaleidoscope of medical apparatus and life-support systems that refused to let Mon Mothma die.

The auburn-haired woman had once been such a fiery rival of Leia’s father on the Senate floor; now she could no longer stand on her feet. Her skin was gray and translucent, thin as crumpled parchment on a framework of bones. Her eyelids struggled open as if they were heavy blast doors. Her eyes took a long time to focus on her visitor.

Leia swallowed, feeling hot lead in her stomach. She reached out with trembling fingers to touch Mon Mothma’s arm, afraid that the slightest pressure could cause bruises.

“Leia …,” Mon Mothma whispered, “you came.”

“I came because you asked me to,” Leia said.

Han had dropped her and the children off on Coruscant, grumbling about having to go away again with Lando, but promising to return in only a few days. She would believe that when it happened. In the meantime Leia was shocked to see the accelerating decline of Mon Mothma’s condition.

“Your children … are safe now?”

“Yes. Winter is staying here to protect them. I won’t let them be taken from me again.”

Leia would be even busier than before; she would see less of Han, less of her children. Momentarily she envied the peaceful life of a lower functionary who could leave work at the end of the day and go home, letting unfinished tasks wait for tomorrow. But she had been born a Jedi and raised by Senator Bail Organa. Her life had been focused toward a greater destiny, and she could not shirk either her public or her private burden.

Leia took a deep breath, tasting the nauseating chemicals that clung to the air, the disinfectants, the medicines, the ozone smell of atmospheric sterilizers.

She felt so helpless. Her excitement at defeating the Imperial strike force and rescuing her son seemed trivial in the face of Mon Mothma’s battle against the slow-acting poison. Leia took little consolation in knowing that Ambassador Furgan was no longer alive to gloat.

“I …,” Mon Mothma spoke ponderously, “have tendered my resignation to the Council. I will no longer serve as Chief of State.”

Leia realized that empty encouragements would be useless. She reacted in a way that Mon Mothma had taught her to respond, thinking of the New Republic first.

“What about the government?” she said. “Won’t the Council bicker with each other and accomplish nothing because they can’t reach a consensus? Who will they look to for leadership?”

She looked down at Mon Mothma, and the haggard woman blinked at her with shining, hopeful eyes. “You will be our leader, Leia,” Mon Mothma said.

Leia blinked in shock and opened her mouth. Mon Mothma found the strength to nod slightly. “Yes, Leia. While you were away, the Council met to discuss our future. My resignation is no surprise to anyone, and we voted unanimously that you should be my replacement.”

“But—” Leia said. Her heart pounded; her mind whirled. She had not expected this, at least not now. Perhaps after another decade or two of dedicated service, then …

“You, Leia, will be the Chief of State for the New Republic. If I had any strength left to give, I would