Did Buteral have seasons? It felt colder. Dr. Renzatl hunched her shoulders against the wind. She frowned at the chill, and at the way it had distracted her, as if it wanted to call her attention away from what Major Klander had said. They were discussing the results of the second survey study.
They would have a formal meeting about it tomorrow with the CTC social workers, but they couldn't help talking about it now, winding their way down to General Rieekan's office. He had invited them to dinner.
The sea sounded the same, rushing forward with a roar and hissing back, gathering strength, but Dr. Renzatl felt the weight of time. Things were different, and things were the same. Why was it colder?
"What did you say?" she said into the wind.
Major Klander angled his face to her and spoke loudly. "I said, no surprises in the data."
"True," Dr. Renzatl let the wind take her agreement, her face lined with professional resignation.
The study presentation was standard; she'd written ones like it dozens of times before. Measuring the mind was not yet an exact science. Results from a study were reported in emotion, which was vague and varying, and measured also in imprecise increments of time: frequently, often, sometimes, never.
What's the difference between frequently and often? a young girl with a tattered sleeve cuff had asked. She'd received a new shirt from a volunteer several times, but Albrina could always pick her out among the youngsters, the girl with the flapping, dirty cuff.
Dr. Renzatl, standing in the back of the room while the study was administered, had closed her eyes, warding off heartbreak. The cuff, where the girl had twisted the button off, then begun to unpick the stitching, slid past her elbow when she raised her hand. It told Albrina the young girl was most likely not answering I feel hopeful about my future.
Major Klander, pacing in the front of the room, stopped to explain, confronted again by the blur of human expression. He'd looked to the Alderaani adults. "Is there a distinction in your language?" he'd asked.
The data Major Klander referred to showed how victims dealt with trauma over time. It seemed factors of treatment still could not erase thoughts or behavior of suicide ideation and self-harm. Dr. Renzatl was used to seeing it, and used to being saddened by it.
In the crook of his elbow, Major Klander sheltered several plates wrapped in foil from the wind. "The numbers are good, though."
"I suppose," Albrina sighed. "Numbers aren't beings."
Major Klander halted. "Of course not," he said. "I didn't-"
She'd regretted it as soon as she had said it. "I know, Jaf."
"I'm talking about the study," he said stubbornly. "Not the people."
It was the fault of the wind and sea; the two doctors spoke as if to conserve energy, and meaning became abbreviated.
The numbers were lower than other studies she had seen, and improved from the first study. Only eight percent reported self-harm. Seventeen percent indicated suicide ideation. By her reckoning, that was still too many.
The path seemed to rise and fall ahead of them, but it was only Buteral's sea. In the bright artificial lights the Alliance had installed, Dr. Renzatl could see only the top portions of the nearest narrow humps of land, the rest submerged by the water.
"It's difficult to pinpoint which is the contributing factor," Dr. Renzatl pointed out about the data.
Their path wound them below the residential platform, and when she looked up, the shadows passing in and out of the courtyard looked very large. There was a party tonight. The youngest Arrival was celebrating her second life day.
She thought about the population they weren't studying, the Alderaani who had moved away before the Since, as Princess Leia called it. For that matter, Dr. Renzatl would like a similar survey administered to those not in a refugee situation. It would be interesting, she thought, to learn if their sense of self and cultural identity had been fractured by the loss of the planet that provided the identity.
But that was a different study. Albrina Renzatl reminded herself of her task. That would be for someone else.
"That's the problem with surveys," Major Klander agreed. "The clinicians argue how to read them! But yes, in our situation, the factors are quite different. The population is small, for one. Compared to what's been managed at other refugee camps."
"Yes, it's quite small. Perhaps a positive factor for us, but a sad one for them."
"And this," Jaf waved his hand around, including all of Buteral, "is comfortable. Comparatively. Have you been in other camps, Doctor?"
"I have."
Her first experience was on Corellia and the orphanages which sprang up overnight after the bombing. Not really a camp, and at first not orphanages; they were intended as holding centers until someone could come and claim the children. Albrina was already back at university when she heard about the awful conditions to which the children were subjected.
"They're awful. This isn't even a camp. The CTC does its best but camps are a test of survival. Beings are hungry. They can't rest. Or wash. It's filthy."
"You think our results are a factor of improved living conditions?"
"It can't hurt. Thank the Maker for the Minister of War. She's got courtesy. I don't know if that can be said for other refugee camps. Often a camp isn't that far from where they've fled. So that territory is overwhelmed, and tired, too."
This territory wasn't battle weary, Dr. Renzatl thought. It was gone. She understood Major Klander's point, though. He wondered if moving victims away from the scene, some place unstressed and safe, made a difference. But that, too, was a different study.
The path curved around the slender tip of sea-soaked land. Here, Dr. Renzatl could easily touch the sea. Step off the path and there it was. It ebbed and swelled below the bridge, racing them to General Rieekan's office, but never trespassed.
Dr. Renzatl looked again at the peak of land where the residential courtyard jutted out over the sea and where shadows moved in and out. She couldn't hear anything because of the sea but she wondered if there was singing.
Kiss the sky, she thought.
"Hi, Dock Lander." Two young people greeted Major Klander as they passed in the opposite direction.
"Hi, kids," he said easily, and adjusted his stack of plates.
Albrina smiled to herself, noting without sting their greeting to him was singular even though she was walking beside him. Dock Lander.
No- she'd heard it wrong. He didn't land docks. Nothing of the sort. They said Doc. Doc Klander.
She saw how the wind whirled his reddish hair about his head, and noted he was a good fit here. He lacked the formality she maintained. It made him quite approachable.
He'd grown up on a sweet cane farm in a lush, tropical climate somewhere in the Outer Rim. The Alderaani thought him exotic and he thought the same of them, so an exchange developed at the start.
Greeting the Arrivals caused Jaf's thoughts to return to where they had been at the start of their walk. "The General has got to want something," he wondered for the second time.
"We'll find out," Dr. Renzatl answered him.
"I have an idea."
"Do you?"
"Well, not really." He grinned at her. "I know nothing of what it means to be a general. But, the only thing I'm aware of, and so the only guess I can make, is that it has something to do with Princess Leia Organa."
She glanced at him sharply. "What makes you say that?" It was a shrewd guess, one she was able to make too, but because she had been given information. As far as she knew, Jaf did not know of the Imperial ships stationed around the submoon. General Rieekan had not wanted the tension to trickle into the Arrivals' daily life.
"Well," Jaf pursed his lips and tried to define his process of logic. "We're TRAD, refugee services. Minister Mothma appointed her head of refugee services. And she hasn't returned."
Albrina took care with her response. She would not betray a confidence from General Rieekan. "To my knowledge there was no time-frame for return."
"And she's yours."
He meant her client, just as General Rieekan was hers, too. That was another reason why Jaf was so well-liked: she had the authority figures.
"You're going to dinner too," she said pointedly.
"I know," Jaf grinned. "I really don't know why I'm bothering with guessing. Did you see how she's been news on the Imperial Network?"
"I've heard talk from a journalist here. She's quite independent."
"I didn't know that they had originally reported she was dead."
"Very faulty reporting."
Major Klander laughed. "I'd say! Wasn't she at Yavin?"
"Yes, but she was an operative. The Alliance won't break cover, you know that. And establishment of the Alliance is what grabbed the headlines right away. The pro-Imperial publications focused on the systems that seceded after the declaration of war was issued. The press leaning in favor towards the Alliance focused on the Death Star." She added thoughtfully, "I don't think Minister Mothma wanted the Empire to know how much their losses were at Yavin."
"Minister Mothma came to Buteral. And the Princess is standing next to her in the holopics. How could they miss that?"
"Again, the focus of the Empire has been to not let attention gather to Alderaan and the Death Star. I'm sure the establishment of a refugee services department on a base was vastly underplayed, if not ignored."
"Well, you can't miss her now."
"No, you can't."
"That's why the General wants to see us, I think."
Albrina finished the conversation as it had started. "We'll find out."
General Rieekan ushered them in. His shirt sleeves were folded back neatly and precisely, and his grin was affable. "Come in," he greeted them. "I hope you don't mind the change in venue."
On the center of the conference table, three glasses of chilled wine were clustered together, droplets of condensation rolling down their sides. In front of three chairs, covered trays waited for diners to take a seat.
"Of course not, sir," Dr. Renzatl replied. General Rieekan had gone to some effort, which she appreciated. She found it also piqued her curiosity.
"We're treating it as a night out," Jaf said, his familiar manner on display. He presented his stack of foil-wrapped plates. "I brought cake, sir."
The general's expression wobbled briefly. "Did you." His cheek ticced as he watched Jaf uncover the plates. "Very thoughtful," he finally said.
Jaf placed a plate of cake beside each tray and set the foil wrapping off to his side. Albrina took a seat, and as she arranged the napkin on her lap, asked Jaf quietly, "Is the cake from the party?"
He nodded. "It's the little one's lifeday. Maline. She turns two. They wanted to make sure the General had some."
Albrina reached for her wine, thinking again about the difference between her and Jaf. She'd come to learn some things about Alderaan talking with the others, certainly, though she had missed the notion of cake. Had he been invited to the party? She knew of the lifeday; the mother had told her in session. It hadn't occurred to her to think of participating.
General Rieekan's voice was grave. "It's traditional. On Alderaan, when invited to dinner, the guests bring cake." He reached for his glass of wine and held it up, waiting for the others to join him. "I thank you for having learned that, Major Klander."
They set their glasses down, and General Rieekan signaled to the service droid to remove the tray covers. "As a matter of fact," he said as he buttered a roll, and he actually chuckled, "it's one of those things... it could border on the ridiculous. Cake. Not a choice; everyone brought cake. It's symbolic. Sharing home and grain." He looked at them. "The goddess Hearth. I remember planning a dinner party, drawing up the guest list, and my wife looking at me, what are we going to do with all that cake." He laughed again, and the others laughed with him.
Smiling, Albrina asked, "What did you do with all the cake?"
General Rieekan squinted in memory. "Oh, let's see... if you had a child in school you sent it with them the next day. Or brought it to a care facility. I know a man with a nerf ranch, and he fed it to his herd."
There was only the noise of eating utensils scraping the duroplast tray for a moment. Then Major Klander chuckled, glossing over the use of present tense and renewed sadness clouding the general's eyes. "I can't imagine cake was very good for a nerf."
"They seemed to like it." General Rieekan's expression cleared. "But then they eat anything."
"Oh, well, then it helped the humans," Jaf said brightly. "A symbiotic relationship. You are overflowing with cake and they are happy to eat it for you."
Albrina dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "A rather complicated symbiotic relationship. It involves cooking."
"We have one too, where I'm from," Jaf said. "The velabrill and the humans. They eat insects. We grow sweet cane. They eat the insects on the cane. Simple, right? It would be, if not for the fact that neither humans nor sweet cane are native to their world."
"Interesting," Albrina said as she brought food to her mouth.
Jaf nodded at her knowingly. "It is. It's become more so, to me anyway, as I look at it from a distance. Don't get me started on that. I'll talk for hours. But cake," he pointed his fork at General Rieekan, "sounds like a nuisance to you. Where I'm from it's a specialty food."
"Then, please," the general, who was grinning again, slid his plate over, "you enjoy for me. Not as symbiosis, but as man to man."
"Thank you, sir. I might wrap it back up and enjoy it at breakfast."
"Enjoy. That's what I like to hear." General Rieekan placed his fingers on the table's edge on either side of his half-eaten plate. He seemed poised to say something, but was unable to bring himself to do so.
Dr. Renzatl sought to give him assistance. "Thank you for dinner, sir."
"Just us TRAD," Jaf nodded as he set his wine glass down.
"It does make us feel rather special."
Rieekan let out a breath and nodded. "It's in appreciation of all you do."
"That's not necessary, sir."
"A dinner of appreciation," Rieekan spoke over them. "Of achievement."
"Regarding that, we'll have a report on your desk in the morning, sir," Major Klander said.
"And farewell," Rieekan finished.
Jaf and Albrina glanced at each other. For one startled moment she thought of the eight percent and failure.
"Sir?" she said.
"Farewell, sir?" Jaf asked. He looked surprised.
"I've got a new command." General Rieekan pushed his hands away and sat back in his chair.
"Oh," Jaf squirmed a little in his seat. It took a moment before his face took on a look of forced cheer. "Congratulations, sir."
Rieekan acknowledged the comment with his wincing grin. "The Alliance has shifted its goals regarding Buteral. It will no longer be a military base, but an agency site for the New Republic. Crisis management. Like the CTC, but not a voluntary organization, and its focus will be not on short-term recovery, like the CTC, but on the long term."
Jaf belatedly smoothed his hair after the wind. "The New Republic? Which even isn't yet? When there's a war we may not win going on?"
"The war has created a great need for crisis management," Rieekan said sagely. "Several worlds have fallen under attack. Our military is still too small to go on an aggressive offense. We're building up, slowly, but in the meantime the strategy has been to avoid direct armed conflict and focus on recruitment. Not just an army, but political worlds, for entry into a democratic system of government. The New Republic is, Major Klander."
"And the Empire's strategy is to rid the galaxy of those who aren't like-minded," Albrina murmured.
"Hence the crisis management," Rieekan agreed. "And in preparation of charging Imperial leaders with negligence, if not war crimes, I expect, once the war is over and the New Republic takes effect. What Princess Leia has started here. Reparation funds, civil suits. Showing all citizens have rights. Buteral is to be fully staffed with administrators, counselors, lawyers, resource managers. The New Republic will shoot out of the gate demonstrating it governs for the beings of the galaxy and won't tolerate any subjugation."
"We just need to win the war," Jaf said.
Rieekan rested his fist on his cheek, and enjoyed the understatement. "Yes," he said quietly.
Dr. Renzatl spoke slowly, "Even if we don't... it's just this time around, isn't it? Because the next being who does what Princess Leia has done, after a Corellia or Chandrilla, gods forbid an Alderaan, maybe they'll be snuffed out, but that will only inspire another to try, until finally a movement has grown so large, it becomes the way things are."
"I'd sure like to see it in my lifetime," Rieekan said.
"Momentum," Jaf murmured. "Something set in motion. Unless the snuffing out is-" He shut himself up with a glance at General Rieekan. "Do you know where you're going, sir?"
"You'll know when I get there."
"Are we transferred as well, sir?" Dr. Renzatl asked. She realized she had expected something; she just had no idea what. This was the wave over the shoal, hammering and powerful. What would come after was the way of the ebb, the gathering of resources and energy.
Rieekan released his fingers from his fist and spread them over his cheek. "Check your notifications in the morning. I expect so, since we're pulling out. They might want you stay on to ease a transition first."
"That is helpful. An abrupt end, even to a professional relationship, can have consequences."
"That's why I asked you here tonight. To let you know." Rieekan grinned. "It still felt abrupt."
"May I ask, sir," Major Klander said carefully. "Did something happen? To cause this? I see the reasoning, and it sounds good, in an idealistic, very forward-thinking way. But I would describe our side of the war as crisis management. As not yet in the position to be thinking of the future." His fingers toyed with the discarded foil wrapping, and Dr. Renzatl saw he was disturbed by the news. "I'm wondering where this came from."
Rieekan nodded and drained his glass. "Discussion started two, three days ago. I believe it was always the goal, however distant and ideal. But yes, something did happen and the Minister has seized upon the idea.
"Our system fell under Imperial watch." Rieekan glanced quickly at Dr. Renzatl, gauging his earlier confidence to her. Apparently, he was satisfied Major Klander's astonished reaction was not feigned, and let himself continue. "That's all it was. Four ships, stationed at opposite points of orbital entry, which watched traffic flow in and out."
"I can't imagine that was very exciting," Jaf muttered.
Rieekan smiled fully. "They didn't answer hails, nor did they respond to a formal protest by the Ministry of War. After forty hours or so of occupation, they simply left."
"Do you think they got what they wanted?"
Rieekan ignored the question. "Naturally, we took their presence to be one of hostile intent, which started a flurry of discussion, namely that the refugees here, and the CTC as well, were in a position of vulnerability and unnecessary danger because of the Alliance, especially since we are unable to defend ourselves should a larger force of Imperial vessels return."
"But," Jaf stammered, "but what if that is what they do? And there's no one here but-"
"That was the other part of discussion. It became a debate. Do we build up here, capable of defense, or do we leave. Believe me, it got rather tense. The Minister concluded that a defense perimeter would take time to establish, which was no help to those here now. And also, from our network of informants, we came to the conclusion that the Empire wanted nothing from Buteral, only a ship that was due in, and they wanted to intercept it before landing clearance was requested."
Rieekan twirled the stem of his wine glass, his dinner forgotten. "We think they wanted to detain Princess Leia-"
"Ah!" Jaf exclaimed, and looked at Dr. Renzatl triumphantly. She acknowledged his logic with a conceding grin.
"Major Klander and I were talking about the news stories she has generated," she turned to General Rieekan. "She has become the face of opposition. She is not only a survivor of Alderaan but also her Princess, and she has revealed herself to be the purveyor of the destruction of the Death Star."
Rieekan nodded. "Yes. She's made the Emperor appear weak in two different ways. Fortunately for us, the ship she was due back in on managed to handle the situation. We were later able to establish contact and warned them to stay away."
"It's still possible the Empire could attack," Major Klander said.
"We're fairly confident they won't. The pilot of the ship on which the Princess is passenger managed to create a diversion. The timing of the realization of the diversion on the Empire's side coincides with the timing of the departure of the ships from Buteral's system."
Dr. Renzatl raised her brows, thinking of how much General Rieekan was most likely not telling them. Creating a diversion probably had quite a story behind it.
"You say the Princess is safe?" she asked.
"Yes, to my great relief. I was able to speak with her myself. In addition," the General addressed Major Klander's concerns, "the Minister has announced the withdrawal. Should they hit Buteral, it will backfire quite spectacularly. The CTC has the respect and gratitude of the galaxy."
"They better not," Major Klander muttered darkly. "That's a hell of a price to pay."
"It is. Needless to say, we won't be providing a reason or temptation."
Dr. Renzatl straightened in her seat. "You mean the Princess."
Rieekan nodded, his chin low to his chest. "She is also transferred. Effective immediately."
Professional curiosity had Dr. Renzatl ask, "How did she take it?"
"She sounded...good," Rieekan said. "She was worried for Buteral."
"Was she anxious at all?" Albrina leaned forward intently. "Forgive me, General; I almost feel it my duty to worry about her."
Was the Princess looking out a viewport, as she had on the Death Star? Was she hearing that man's words, you're far too trusting, only now the trust came from within: the decision to go to Imperial City and pronounce the Emperor's crimes was not made by the same woman who thought she could sneak past the Empire carrying the plans to the Death Star.
Rieekan looked at her warmly. "You're not the only one. She... seemed to know she wasn't able to return but she also hadn't thought of a transfer as a solution."
"I don't understand," Jaf blurted. "What else is there to be done in such a case?"
"She's a young woman becoming a queen," Albrina said.
"Mm." Rieekan looked like he didn't understand the comment but didn't want to ask. "The Minister wanted me to convey to her that all efforts would be expended towards her protection and safety. It didn't sound as if that impressed her, but she went along with it."
"There were some missteps made at Yavin concerning her."
"Yes," the general answered curtly.
"Like what?" Jaf asked interestedly.
Dr. Renzatl looked at General Rieekan to see who would answer. His face was guarded, but he looked away, giving her the moment. Of the three at table, she was the only one who had been at Yavin.
But she was careful not to drag the Alliance through the mud, or disdain General Dodonna's leadership. "With her arrival at Yavin, the future of the rebellion was at stake. She had brought them the chance for victory or destruction, and they had to act with immediate urgency. It let other, ordinary procedures fall to the side."
Jaf didn't look as if the answer satisfied him, but he knew not to press it. "Ah," was all he said.
"This diversion," Albrina brought up, "it worked? I see that it took the pressure off Buteral, but what about the freighter? And the captain and Wookiee copilot?"
"I talked to him some, too," Rieekan said. "Or rather, I heard him in the background. Captain Solo." He smiled. "They are safely away, for the time being. The Princess was trying to get assurance for Captain Solo about his future with the CTC, which of course I couldn't give, and there wasn't an authority from there to put on the comm. They were bickering. I got the impression if she doesn't like help, he likes it even less."
Amused, Dr. Renzatl raised a brow. "Bickering?"
Rieekan shared her amusement. "Clearly. He called her 'Princessness'. You're the professionals: is that a form of stress relief, after so much tension?"
Jaf chuckled and Albrina smiled, eyes directed at her half-eaten meal.
"It's good he is there," she murmured. "He sounds like just the foil she needs at this time. Someone who won't let her feel responsible for everything, like his future."
"Yes, well," Rieekan was finished discussing the captain. "He's made deliveries to Alliance bases before. He'll drop the Princess off- I asked to serve with her even though it's my command- and, provided he isn't captured or shot down- he was quite proudly insistent of his abilities- he'll help clean up here."
"Oh, he's coming back," Albrina said mildly. But this was no small thing. To her, a journey- whether taken in a dream or reality- was quite important. The captain was circling back to Buteral when the Princess could not.
Jaf's head jerked up. "Is that wise?" he asked. "After that diversionary escape?"
Rieekan flipped a hand. "With the departure of the Imperial cruisers, Buteral stopped being a point of interest, Major."
Albrina looked at Jaf, whose fingers were still working a crease in the pliable foil, about to embark on a journey he seemed to have no desire to take. He would miss- not the work, but the life here, the people. Lifeday parties and cake traditions.
And I? she wondered about herself. The work was good, special. It always was, no matter where she was located. But she would pack her two burnt pieces of brick and move on to the next location. It wouldn't be too hard.
There was no real life for her here, she saw, other than grief; no restaurants or museums like elsewhere and yet she hadn't missed it. But Jaf evidently hadn't had the same experience; he would be found singing a lifeday song later up on the residential platform. He took breakfast each morning at the same table with the geography teacher, one of the very first Arrivals, and he went fishing with a group on his days off, floating docked on a water cruiser when the sea was far away and still.
Maybe he had earned a nickname, Dock Lander. What did she know?
There was life here. She just hadn't looked for it, or bothered to make one. She had professional interactions, thoughtful, beautiful words spilling out of people like Princess Leia and General Rieekan, conversations she wouldn't forget. But one couldn't subsist on memories alone, even when they came from a transcriptor.
Memories were mostly what the people here arrived with. And pain, and sadness, and fear. Dr. Renzatl worked to help them overcome the emotions. Major Klander did that too, during office hours, but after hours he was making memories, and he ensured the Arrivals did so, too.
Rieeken reached behind him on his desk and handed her a data chip. "This is for you, Dr. Renzatl. It's from the Princess. She sent it through the comm. Would you both like to stay for some kaf?"