I've realized I can't possibly maintain outside-observer-style present tense for an entire story. So from this point on, we're going to switch to the more comfortable third-person-limited-omniscient past tense. Think of it as though the rest of this is the novelization of the movie that began in the last chapter. Sorry for the shift!


CORUSCANT: 40 YEARS ABE

The first streak of deadly green light struck the edge of the celebration square, vaporizing several meters of permacrete and turning the next few meters into a superheated, bubbling metal pond. It did not directly strike any of the delegates, but that didn't matter: turbolaser fire was made to destroy starships, not individuals. Even diluted by several kilometers of atmosphere the beam was still intense enough to fry the seven senators and dignitaries closest to the platform's edge, and to send the rest sprawling. Many were on fire, many were bleeding, all were screaming. The watching crowd screamed too, panic quickly replacing anticipation and celebration.

One scream stood out above the rest: "LEIA!"

Leia Organa-Solo stirred groggily, her white robes now stained black with ash and streaked with blood in various colors. More blood—red—oozed from cuts on her forehead, her jaw, her hands. She groaned, lifted her head, blinked the world into partial focus—and suddenly she was on her feet, hands reaching to her belt for a weapon and comlink she did not have.

Around her lay other bodies, many groaning or screaming, some eerily still. The colorful finery of the New Republic delegation was tattered and torn, blood from a dozen different species seeping across the once-immaculate permacrete in one ugly dark stain. Leia started to kneel, to check for injuries on the blue-skinned Mon Cal lying by her feet, but a rough hand grabbed her arm and jerked her sideways.

Leia lifted a hand to strike back, braced her feet for a fight—then relaxed when she recognized the worried, ashen features of the man clutching at her.

He was tall for a pilot, a handsome human male with light brown skin and curly black hair, and right now his deep-set dark eyes were wide with terror. He wore an orange jumpsuit, thinner and more fitted than the usual baggy garb that X-Wing pilots flew in battle but unmistakably drawn from the same source: dress clothes for members of Starfighter Command on ceremonial assignment. Instead of the blocky white life support system that ordinarily encircled a pilot's chest, he wore a plain white vest emblazoned with the New Republic's elegant insignia in a dark orange that almost matched his jumpsuit. He had shiny black boots on his feet, shiny black gloves on his hands, and very little room in his tight-fitted clothing for the usual clutter of tools and trinkets that pilots carried around with them. Until the shooting had started, he had looked entirely out of his element but now that the adrenaline of battle was coursing through his veins, he looked like himself again.

"Commander," Leia gasped. Her chest felt tight; was it due to the smoke, or had she been injured when she had fallen? She shook her head; it didn't matter now. "Get your squadron in the air."

"Ma'am, you're hurt—"

"I'm fine," Leia snapped. "And I'm not important right now. Coruscant is under attack and our fleet is an hour away." She jabbed a finger at the nearest public broadcast screen, which now showed nothing but white static. "If they assume the worst and jump now, it still won't be fast enough for them to get here before the planet falls. If our attackers have hacked the feed with some sort of excuse to delay panic—and I wouldn't put it past them—and the fleet stays on station to avoid precipitating the kind of incident their arrival would cause to an in-progress peace ceremony, it'll be even longer. Coruscant doesn't have that long, commander."

"And I only have twelve X-Wings here, ma'am. I know Rogue Squadron is good at miracles, but that's an entire fleet up there, complete with a Super Star Destroyer. Even we aren't that good. What do you propose I do about it?"

Leia's gaze was as hard as the pilot's as she ignored the pain starting to unfold through her body to tilt her chin up and meet his eyes. "You have to get a message out," she said. When his frown didn't lighten with comprehension, Leia stabbed her hand toward the white-snow screen again. "Do you hear that? No, listen-listen!" she ordered him. Now she cupped both her hands along his cheeks and closed her own eyes, knowing he would obediently do the same. "Listen through the screams, through the explosions; do you hear that? The high-pitched whine?"

"Comm jamming," he whispered.

"Comm jamming," Leia confirmed. "Someone needs to get past that blockade of ships to get a message to the fleet." Her dirty face was grim. "Someone who can pull off a miracle."

"Understood, ma'am," the commander of Rogue Squadron said. "We'll bring the fleet. Just stay out of trouble while I'm gone, will you?"

Leia smiled sadly. "No empty promises, flyboy." She dropped her hands to his shoulders and gave them a little squeeze before letting go. "Now get your pilots in the air."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, but he hesitated again. "All my pilots, ma'am?" he asked.

Leia's face was hard and hollow. "All your pilots," she repeated. "You may need them all if anyone is going to make it out."

"Understood, ma'am," he said again, softly this time. "And you?"

Leia raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" she said. "Someone needs to get Mon Mothma out of here. And if Tolokai has already done so, well, then someone needs to get their hands on Admiral Pellaeon and find out what he has to do with this betrayal."

The pilot nodded and started to step away, but just then another orange-clad figure slammed into both him and the former princess, knocking them to the ground.

Leia cried out, but fell silent immediately as blasterfire flashed by overhead.

She shoved both pilots off of her and rolled over onto her elbows, peering through the smoke. A lifetime of experience made it easy to recognize the hazy figures of stormtroopers marching forward step by step across the square, spewing blasterfire. Tattered bunting drifted downward around them.

"We have to move," Leia commanded. "Fast."

The smaller pilot rolled to face her. She was a pale young woman whose brown hair was wrapped in a tight braid around the curve of her head, a plain and sensible style that would be comfortable inside a flight helmet. There was nothing comfortable about the blazing look on her face, however. "Mom, stay down! It's too dangerous!"

"It's going to get a lot more dangerous in a few minutes," Leia said grimly. She caught her daughter's black-gloved hand. "Breha, honey, you need to—" She had to stop and clear her throat before she could continue; the platform was wreathed in heavy, acrid smoke. "You need to get in the air before the stormtroopers transmit telemetry to the ships up there to target your fighters."

"Mom, I'm not leaving you here—"

"That's an order, sweetie," Leia said. Her voice was battlefield hard.

"You can't order me-"

"Not an order from me." Leia inched to her knees and pointed to the long-limbed man lying on his stomach next to them, his hands cupped over his eyes to give him a better view through the smoke. "An order from your commanding officer."

"But—"

"She's right, Lieutenant Organa-Solo. I need you in the air asap with the rest of the Rogues. Coruscant—the entire New Republic—is counting on us."

"But mom—"

"I love you, sweetie." Leia leaned over and kissed her daughter's forehead. "But you have something you need to do right now, and so do I. Commander Dameron?"

"I think I have their pattern of fire mapped now," he replied blandly. "When I say go…"

Leia's nod was brisk. "Good," she said. "Breha?"

"Okay, mom," Breha said softly. "I can feel Bail—he's close. He's okay."

One of the right knots around Leia's chest eased. "Good," she said. "See if you can nudge him to get to safety."

Breha snorted. "Yeah, sure," she said. For a moment the worry on her face broke and the crooked smile that flashed across her lips made her look remarkably like her father. "I'll get right on that."

"Leia, are you sure—" Commander Dameron ventured, but Leia silenced him with a look.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said. "Of course you are. In that case, may the Force be with you...and...MARK!"

The three of them lurched to their feet, Leia and Breha's hands clinging together for a moment before they broke apart, the two pilots running back in the direction of their X-Wings and the one-time princess plunging deeper into the smoke.