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The droid spread his arms. “I am terribly sorry, Baroness. Administrator Organa Solo is engaged at present. We have had a series of rather vexing shipping problems. Perhaps I could deliver a message.”

Mara shook her head, letting the masquerade lapse. “You certainly can, Threepio. Tell Leia her sister-in-law wants two minutes.”

C-3PO swiveled his head. She almost laughed at his perpetually puzzled expression, and just how appropriate it looked at the moment.

“I … shall attempt to break her free … Baroness?” His voice sounded dubious. “Wait here, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

C-3PO swish-whirred out the door. He needed lubrication. If Leia was missing little details like oiling C-3PO, she was busy.

The door opened again forty seconds later, and Leia hustled in. She’d swathed her head in a white scarf, and her cheeks looked a little hollower, her eyes darker, than Mara had seen before. She looked long and hard at Mara.

“It is you,” she finally pronounced.

She leaned forward and embraced Mara—cautiously, as one overdressed diplomat would greet another. C-3PO backed away, shaking his head.

Mara bent down to squeeze Leia’s shoulders. “I’ve got to talk with you.”

“I didn’t know you were insystem.”

“Just arrived.”

“Is Luke with you?”

“And Anakin.”

“Sit down. I could stand to sit a few minutes.”

Mara took the metal-frame chair, facing the large window. Steam from the outbuilding created a sort of exterior curtain.

Leia sank into a similar chair behind the massive desk. SELCORE had probably shipped it. Opposite the cot and cooking area, Mara spotted a pair of incongruously ornate wall sconces, crafted of dark iron in fantastic shapes.

“Can I get you something?” Leia asked. “We have the basics.”

“Just a glass of water.”

Leia sent C-3PO to the cooking area. While he clattered and poured, Mara caught Leia up to date on the military situation at Coruscant. She said nothing about the Force-warm spot under her belt line. Instead, she related what she’d heard at Bburru—and what else she’d found.

“A Rhommamoolian code?” Leia’s eyebrows rose toward her white turban. “I hope we don’t end up with Red Knights of Life here.” She tapped the edge of her desk with a writing stylus, and her voice turned bitter. “From ten to thirty percent of our supplies aren’t getting through. I just sent Jacen to check on that.”

Mara raised an eyebrow.

Leia chuckled. “Always in character, aren’t you?”

“It’s a survival instinct.”

“Don’t change it for me.”

C-3PO brought over a pitcher and two glasses. Mara drank deeply as Leia finished cataloging her recent troubles. The water tasted musty, and one admission obviously came hard: Leia had been twenty klicks from Han, and neither one knew it.

“We’ve put it behind us,” she insisted, “but it’ll take me a long time to live it down. For all they knew, I was back on Coruscant. I wasn’t there for Jaina.”

“Jaina’s grown up, Leia.”

“So she reminds me. You know, daughters are tricky. They’re your closest friend and your worst competitor, all rolled up in a package that reminds you how you used to look.”

Mara almost told her.

Instead, she asked, “Who made last week’s SELCORE report about seeding the toxic swamps?”

“Dr. Cree’Ar.” Leia turned to the master board on her desktop, touched a few panels, and nodded. “My head researcher. He’s a miracle worker. Why?”

That wasn’t what Mara expected. “What do you think of him—personally?”

Leia shrugged. “I’m sure Threepio tried to chase you off by telling you how busy I am? Well, it’s true. And I haven’t met Dr. Cree’Ar. He’s—”

The door slid open. Jaina strode in, wearing a gray flight suit, a narrow-rimmed cap pulled low, and a peculiar face mask. Mara felt a whisper of energy brush against her.

“Aunt Mara,” Jaina exclaimed.

“Very good. I needed an introduction to get through to your mother.”

Jaina’s smile faded. “Before you ask what’s wrong, I was too close to a ship that blew. I should have perfect vision again in a couple of weeks. So whatever that fancy blur is you’re wearing, it didn’t even register.”

Mara laughed.