Star Wars, page 11
A tall human man strode out onto the mezzanine, looking down at the crowd gathered before him. He wore a captain’s uniform, but more than that, his very presence demanded respect. His general appearance—average height, portly build, gray hair, and pale eyes—would have made him seem grandfatherly at best, but he carried himself with such authority that none would dare be so informally presumptuous as to treat him as such. The man both looked as if he had a kind smile and as if he rarely used it. He did not have the same stern, cold authoritarianism as someone from the Empire, though. Rather, this man appeared to love nothing more than to do his job and erred on the side of staunch nobility rather than casual friendliness.
“Greetings, beloved guests,” he said, keeping his arms down but tilting his chin up. “I am your captain for this journey, Captain Oswin Dicto. It is my greatest honor to serve you as the Halcyon glides through the stars.”
He bowed his head, clearly gathering his thoughts. Han shifted beside her, and Leia realized she’d been gripping his arm, hard. Captain Dicto had captured her attention. In fact, everyone in the Atrium had quieted to listen to him speak, and even without voice amplifiers, Leia believed the captain’s words could be heard by all.
“Let us pause a moment,” Captain Dicto said, “and consider all that has been sacrificed and all that has been won now that peace spreads throughout the galaxy.”
The silence that fell over the crowd in the Atrium was different from the type of silence she was used to. Leia realized that while she had lived and breathed the war for so long that she couldn’t imagine it not being a part of her life, most of the people in the Atrium were the opposite. She settled on her heels and looked around at the crowd. Affluent aristocrats, wealthy merchants, influential celebrities…while she had been fighting the Empire, many of these people had been living in it. They had been pretending that nothing was wrong. And now that the Empire had fallen, they intended to keep pretending that nothing was wrong. They had not felt the boot heel of the Empire on their necks, and so they didn’t mind if it fell on others. The Galactic Civil War had been merely a shift in power that didn’t affect them.
They were here on the Halcyon now to joyously mark peace, but these people would just as likely have gone to a party to celebrate the Empire’s victory had that been the result. Leia had agreed to join this cruise mostly because Mon had insisted and had leveraged the idea of publicity influencing the populace’s view of the rebels’ victory. There were others here that Leia recognized—rebel sympathizers like Drelax Lossa, whose deep pockets and endless credits had helped Leia buy ships, and Rothy Trah, who had passed on Imperial secrets to rebel spies—but as Leia’s gaze moved from solemn face to solemn face during the captain’s suggested moment of silence, she wondered just how many actually cared about the outcome of the war. How many had seized upon the Halcyon’s voyage as a carefree vacation after rebels lived and died fighting for freedom.
“You okay?” Han whispered in her ear.
She looked up at him, seeing the concern etched on his face. Leia had let the mask slip, had let her true emotions show. Fortunately, no one but Han had seen. She squeezed his elbow in reply and turned her attention back to the captain.
“The Halcyon was the flagship of the former Chandrila Charter Company, and now that we are free from the Empire, the new Chandrila Star Line is determined to honor your journey.” The captain’s voice grew gruff, and Leia wondered what he was carefully choosing not to say. That was what being a princess had taught her—that the real truth lay behind the unspoken words. Captain Dicto was clearly no fan of the Empire; had he been forced to serve it? Or had he faced hardships for refusing to aid their tyranny?
Still, he must also know that at least some in the crowd today were either apathetic or in support of the Empire. There was a risk to what he said as much as there was a risk to what he did not say.
“This is the first time in a long time that the Halcyon has been free to fly for its intended purpose,” Captain Dicto continued. “I would like to take this moment to pause and remember that purpose. The Chandrila Charter Company was founded by Shug Drabor with one underlying principle in mind: shared journeys. Our stories have all met at this point, here, now. We are all a part of one another’s shared journey, tied together in this moment.”
Leia’s breath caught. The captain’s words reminded her sharply of her own thoughts when she’d accepted Han’s marriage proposal.
Han shifted Leia’s grip on his elbow, pulling her hand down so he could weave his fingers through hers. She felt the amber ring on his finger, warm. A moment caught in time.
CHAPTER 15
HAN
THE WINE WAS GOOD, BUT Han wanted something more than fruit juice. He swirled the fading bubbles in his glass and wondered where the real stuff was.
It seemed like there was a spotlight on his bride. As soon as all eyes left the captain, they shifted to the center of the Atrium. Seemingly everyone in the lobby area knew Leia, or knew a friend of hers, or “just had to say hello.” As soon as she politely greeted one person, another stepped up. Everyone was smiling, and it turned his stomach. They were all fake smiles, all of them except Leia’s. They homed in on her because of her title, her fame, her prestige. They wanted to bask in her glow, but they didn’t know her. Why were they even bothering?
Han grabbed another glass of wine.
A young Pantoran woman with reddish-brown hair that stood in contrast with her blue skin approached. Her crisply pressed Chandrila Star Line uniform was immaculate, barely creasing despite the fast pace she cut through the crowd. Han touched Leia’s arm to get her attention.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head. “And you must be the new husband.” She turned to Han.
“Solo,” he said, unaccustomed to being recognized first and foremost by his relationship with Leia. Then again, when people recognized him for his own merit, they tended not to look that pleased to see him.
To her credit, the woman spoke to both of them, not just Leia. “I am Riyola Keevan, the ship’s quartermaster.”
“Is something wrong?” Han asked, his brow furrowing.
The Pantoran’s eyes widened slightly. “No, of course not!” She shook her head. “Apologies; I did not mean—I’ve been assigned as your personal attaché for the journey.”
Han raised his eyebrows at Leia and mouthed the words, personal attaché. He was starting to think that the only time things would be normal for them would be aboard the Falcon.
“My job is to ensure that this trip is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience for you,” Riyola continued. “Is there anything I can provide for you?”
“Everything is so lovely,” Leia started.
“Where’s our cabin?” Han interjected.
Riyola pulled up their access details on a datapad. “You have been assigned one of our best suites on the ship,” she said. “I am certain you will find your accommodations to your liking, but of course do not hesitate to tell me if there’s anything else I can do.”
A suite, huh? Han liked the sound of that. He glanced around the Atrium, looking for the lifts that would take them to their cabin while Leia exchanged small talk with Riyola.
“Let’s get out of here,” Han told Leia in a low voice after Riyola left them.
“Princess Leia, a moment?” a slender man with bulbous eyes said tentatively.
“Yes?” She turned to him, and then her gaze fell on the little girl who clutched the man’s hand. Dressed in blue with a puff of curly brown hair on top of her head, the little girl stared up at Leia with clear adoration. Despite himself, Han melted a little at the sight. Here, at least, was a fan of Leia’s who was sincere.
“Would you mind?” the man asked. He held up a slender cam with one hand.
“Go on without me,” Leia whispered to Han before she bent down to be on the girl’s level. Her father clicked a button on the cam, capturing the moment, and Leia turned to talk to the child.
“My mommy was at Yavin,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Han’s heart wrenched, noting the use of past tense, the lack of a woman alongside the man. Leia shifted her weight, fully kneeling in front of the girl, ignoring the way the other guests looked at her on the floor, her attention solely focused on the child.
Han nodded at the girl’s father, hoping to convey some sentiment. The man didn’t notice; his eyes were on his daughter.
Time to make an exit. No one wanted to hear him talk—and he didn’t blame them, this wasn’t his crowd, neither the elites nor the condolence-seekers. He slipped through the groups of people unnoticed by anyone and found a turbolift.
As he waited for it to arrive, though, Han’s gaze drifted to the left. The Sublight Lounge was connected to the Atrium, and music and laughter spilled out of the room. Even though the captain’s reception had just ended, people were slipping into the lounge to find something with a little more kick than green juice and a little more action than fake smiles.
Not a bad idea. Leia would shake every hand in front of her, and who knew how long that would take. Better to wait for her in the lounge, surely. The turbolifts made a soft chime as the doors slid open, but Han turned on his heel, getting behind a couple dressed in matching chartreuse robes trimmed in gold. One of the women stopped abruptly, and Han almost crashed into her.
“Sorry!” the woman giggled. “But it’s a tradition!”
Han watched curiously as the woman reached to the side of the door, where a bottle of some sort of wine had been added for decoration.
“It’s lucky,” the other woman said as her partner rubbed the glass bottle.
“If you say so,” Han replied.
The women slipped into the lounge, heading straight to a table in the center where a holo display illuminated a sabacc deck. Han turned to the bar.
Blue lights streamed over the bar, and an impressive display of liquors from around the galaxy were stocked on the shelves. A bartender with braids done in the Ming Po style sidled up to him. “What can I get you?” they said.
“Your choice.”
The bartender grabbed a nearby bottle and started mixing a concoction into a shaker. Han tried to keep up, but they were quick, adding pours, tossing in ice, muddling herbs, and sprinkling in a handful of some sort of pepper seeds before snapping the shaker’s lid, tossing it about, and straining the sparkling purplish liquid into a glass. They slid the cocktail over without a word.
Doubtful that liquor that glittered would suit him, Han tried a sip. Flavor burst on his tongue, citrusy but with a bite of heat. It was nothing like what Han had expected, but it was good. The bartender smirked knowingly at his appreciative smile.
“Cheers,” Han said, raising the glass before heading deeper into the lounge. There were no viewports here, but it was still bright throughout the room.
“Join us!” one of the women he’d followed inside the lounge called from the center table. Glass in one hand, Han stepped over.
“It’s holo-sabacc,” the woman said. “Do you play?”
“I know how to play cards,” Han confirmed. He watched as the woman’s fingers danced over the cards made of light, the computer shuffling and dealing. “Is there a real game somewhere?”
“This is a real game.”
“What’s on the table?” Han asked. At the woman’s blank stare, he added. “The stakes. How much are you betting?”
She laughed. “Oh, we’re not playing for credits! It’s just fun.”
Han took a sip from his glass.
The other woman leaned over. “It is, actually. Fun,” she clarified.
“I’ll just watch, if you don’t mind,” Han said.
The women didn’t, and soon enough their table was crowded with both players and other observers. Han could see the appeal in holo-sabacc. Without the need to shuffle—or watch who was counting cards or spot the shifty deal—the focus was on the game itself. Cards flashed quickly as they were selected, tossed, sorted into winning hands. It was clear these women and the other players were excellent at the game.
But that was the problem—it was a game. Han wanted something with a little more bite. He polished off his drink and twirled the empty glass in his hand. Maybe the problem was him. He was used to flying his own ship, not being carted around like a tourist. He was used to having to gamble for something other than fun. He was too rough around the edges to be in a place like this. He didn’t fit.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
CHAPTER 16
LEIA
LEIA SCANNED THE ATRIUM, NOTING each cluster of people still lingering with their wine. There was strategy in war, but there was strategy in this, too, the politics of social life, the nuance of interactions, the subtle alliances made within banter and chatter. Were it not for the life-or-death stakes, Leia would prefer an actual battle to the social mores. More straightforward, at least.
The Atrium was slowly emptying as guests made their way to their cabins or sought other entertainments aboard the ship. Leia was keenly aware that while this trip was her honeymoon, it was also still a bit of a publicity stunt. There had been a handful of X-0X units scattered throughout the crowd during the captain’s reception. The discreet recording droids were used by reporters to get a more candid look at major events. They were there now mostly to celebrate the Chandrila Star Line’s flagship launch after Imperial control, but Leia was savvy enough to know that at least a few of them had zoomed in on her.
Her eyes caught a familiar face, and Leia crossed over to a group of people, a ready smile on her face. “Zohma,” she said, holding her hand out to one woman in particular. Zohma had briefly had an affair with one of the girls in the Elder Houses, and there had been a few months when she had appeared at the same social events Leia had. Quickly, Leia recalled Zohma’s details—wealthy, the sole inheritor of a veri ash refinery. Veri plants created a fine, powdery ash that could be added to a variety of adhesives, giving them a bonding power stronger than a steel weld. The rarity of the plant and the precise method with which it must be burned to create the ash made for a lucrative business.
Leia could tell that coming over had been the right thing to do—from the way Zohma’s companions turned, Leia was certain the other woman had been speaking of her, of their connection. Acknowledging Zohma first gave her social credit.
“How are you, darling?” Zohma asked, kissing Leia on both cheeks. “I was just telling my dear friends how brave you were to be so personally involved in the war.”
“It was…” Leia trailed off. If she said it had been the right thing to do, that would imply all the people gathered around her now—a collection of wealthy offspring from wealthy families—had not done the right thing. Then again, Leia knew they hadn’t. The veri ash farms had been subsidized by the Empire—it was just small enough of a business that the Empire hadn’t seized it, but important enough that it had become a primary customer. Zohma had profited well from the war, and she stood to lose nothing at all now that it was over—the contracts would shift from the Empire to the new republic that formed because there was nowhere else to get veri ash. The war had likely barely even registered as an inconvenience to Zohma, whose easy compliance with whoever was in power had helped secure her family’s company’s protection.
Fortunately, none of the others expected Leia to finish her sentence. One of them, a young man Leia didn’t know, leaned forward. “Is it true,” he said, “that the Emperor is actually dead? We all saw the feeds of the Death Star, but my uncle knows the Emperor was on Coruscant at the time.”
The others tittered; this was gossip to them, an amusement.
“He’s dead,” Leia stated flatly.
The man gave her a knowing smile and even winked at her. He winked at her. Leia felt her flat smile growing rigid. “Of course you have to say that, and no doubt this ‘new’ republic will…” He waved his hand, not saying whatever he meant.
Leia narrowed her eyes. “What are you suggesting?” she demanded. There was an edge to her tone that she knew she should modulate, but she simply could not.
Zohma jumped in. “Oh, he’s being silly, darling.” She shot her friend a look, but he ignored her.
“I’m being serious,” he continued, getting far too close to Leia for comfort. She refused to take a step back, despite the man’s lack of concern for her personal space. “The Emperor rarely went out in public. My uncle said—”
Your uncle’s full of— Leia cut the thought off in her mind before she accidentally spoke it aloud. “He’s wrong,” Leia said, the words a little too loud. She didn’t care, though, not even if the X-0X droids caught her. “There were witnesses. He’s dead.”
The peedunkey wouldn’t back down, though. “Rebel witnesses,” he said, looking over his shoulder at his friends, his tone clearly indicating how little he thought of the veracity of their accounts. He spoke loudly, obviously expecting a laugh.
“We’re not rebels anymore.” Leia’s voice was soft, but they were all listening. “Haven’t you heard? We won.” She didn’t blink or break eye contact with the man as she spoke, but she did smirk when he took an unconscious step back.
“Right, darling, see?” Zohma said, pulling her friend even farther back. “I do think he might have had too much wine.” She crinkled her nose at Leia. “A delight to catch up, Princess, as always.”
Zohma and her friends left, creating a vacuum around Leia in the middle of the Atrium. A gleaming flash of chrome caught her eye; there was the X-0X droid, its lens whirring as it zoomed in on her. A fantastic publicity event. Leia silently cursed herself, but she knew that the feeds from the X-0X units would be edited later. Her smile did not drop. It could not drop. She must be the positive, shining beacon for the people, even when what she wanted to do was knock that smug, half-drunk smirk right off Zohma’s friend’s face. She took a steadying breath, her mask carefully in place, as she crossed the Atrium. She could feel eyes on her, both from people and from droids. But there were no X-0X units lingering near a display case against the wall.
