Fourteen: Gatalenta

(Leia Organa)

"So. Where've you been slipping off to the past few weeks?" Han's tone was almost playful.

I tensed, then took a bite of my dinner, chewing slowly. Thankfully, Padmé wasn't dining with us this evening; she'd gone off with one of her obnoxious friends on an equally obnoxious outing to "de-stress" at an all-day spa in the balmy region of Isebeth. According to her, the "ordeal" with Mr. Whitesun had been very taxing, and she needed to "rest, restore, and recharge". (That girl had no idea what taxing actually was.)

At least I knew now that her frequent visits to Luke hadn't just come from of the goodness of her heart. Made more sense.

"Oh. You noticed, did you?" I asked lightly.

"Yeah, I did. Let me guess: queenly business you can't talk about, even with your 'liege man of life and limb'."

He'd given me the out. May as well take it since he'd be more apt to believe a story he had generated himself. "Sorry," I said, lips twisting to an expression of chagrin.

"Figured."

He downed the rest of his wine glass.

Irritation struck up in me, but I determinedly pressed it down. "You wouldn't like it much anyways. It's meeting with some pretty infuriating characters." At least that was the truth.

"Probably not," he agreed, casually still, but his eyes held that fighting look. "I bet I couldn't even grasp it."

Kriff him. "Do you have something to say, dear?"

"No. Why?"

He was as bad as Luke. Why did every man close to me in my life have to be acting so passively aggressively lately? I knew Han felt constrained; everyone knew that. But he had known what he had signed up for. No one had begged him to marry me. On Alderaan, marriage was actually a rarity. Women carried the children, so naturally they should raise them, and a long-held tradition was that they should do so with the help of their own relatives, with no need for a husband. Such things carried a mark of honor rather than shame. To an extent, the Empire's emphasis on "family, planet, and Empire" had changed that, but not too much.

It was Han who had proposed to me after I had discovered that I was pregnant, a male proposal a stark rarity in my culture. I'd accepted because he seemed genuine, and because I had been full of girlish feelings of adoration for him. Because, true also, I'd felt at the time that I needed him. All of my family had gone—I didn't really know Luke or Obi-Wan at all.

Now, looking into those sparking brown eyes, all I knew was furious annoyance and indignation. He disrespected me; he complained; he pried into the business of the monarch; and after all this he still expected me to summon him to my bed and cooperate with his conjugal whims. Maybe, a part of me thought, maybe if I brought him into the loop, it would be better.

But—No. I couldn't, my innermost voice countered immediately. And it wasn't just to protect him any longer, either.

It was that… I… I didn't feel safe telling him. Han cared; I knew that. Family mattered to him more than anything else. But the flip-side existed therein: almost nothing else actually mattered to him. He'd been a smuggler, a space pirate, and still acted like it. How much would it take for him to turn on me after hearing my plans?

How much would it take for him to report—?

Suddenly, I rose from the table. I had work to do, and I did not need either Luke or Han to help me do it.

Ironic. Not a day later, Luke circled back with a somber determination. "I'll go to Gatalenta and sound this thing out, if you still want me to."

I was ready. Finally, so was he. But he wouldn't go without my directive, for at some point in all this, I had become the effective leader of our newfound resolve to Rebel; where he was the hands and feet of the operation, I was the head.

I'd just been about to call Amilyn myself. Instead, I laid my hand on my brother's shoulder, even as Mon had once done for me before Pacris Major. "Go, brother, and may the Force be with you."

"It is," said he.

So, Luke went to Gatalenta. We both didn't feel entirely confident in the train of information which had brought us here. Therefore, we agreed that it proved more sensible to track down the supposed pilot first, and then visit Erso, if she checked out. I trusted Amilyn, but the Empire could trick the best of us. Had my parents' demises not proven that? For all it delayed us (and risked failing to get to Erso before he died, for now even the news nets had begun reporting on his bout of ill health) we couldn't afford any course except a circumspect one. "The Force will provide," Luke had avowed before he left. "If it's meant to be, it will be."

And it was because of these mystical nonsense statements that I knew he'd returned—at least somewhat—to his old Jedi self again.

My brother leaving Alderaan proved to be both a sorrow and a relief. Of course, I enjoyed Luke's company. He was a good, upstanding man who clearly cared. Yet for all we worked together well, we didn't actually know each other that well. Not like siblings should. Too, he hadn't been wrong: his presence here did endanger Alderaan. And for all that, he was going on a mission which might change the fate of the galaxy. What wasn't there to be excited about?

(Except failure. But I didn't countenance such things even for a moment, determined to fix my mind solely on victory.)

One thing I hadn't anticipated was my daughter's reaction to Luke's departure. Of course, she had visited him often during his weeks of recovery, but I'd presumed it was only to maintain her image. (Luke himself seemed quite fond of my daughter, though I couldn't understand why. I only knew that he had praised her for her virtues, saying that I should be very proud of her. For all his kindness, he rarely ever gave anyone such glowing reviews.) "I mean, of course, given the whole situation of those ruffians throwing him onto our property, it was our duty to minister to him," Padmé had remarked the afternoon after Luke left. We were working in my office, where she was looking over my accounting books, a task she'd happily taken on a year or so ago after learning how much I loathed it, and what an aptitude she herself possessed for it. "But what luck that we should have our duties align with keeping the company of such a fine gentleman! I shall miss him greatly," she frowned, appearing genuinely stricken.

This alone proved shocking—Padmé didn't think most princes or high lords worthy of "gentleman" status, so I could hardly imagine how Luke had managed to make the list—but the next caused a jolt of fright to run through me, eclipsing all other thoughts.

"It is too bad Dad could not meet him as well."

"You haven't told him, have you?" I heard the sharpness in my voice.

Padmé visibly quailed. "Of course not, Lady Mother. I remember what you said. He cannot be trusted with this."

That wasn't what I'd said. I'd actually said that Han was in a delicate place and knowing of the man injured whilst on a tour of the public areas of the palace (the story I gave) would only upset his sensibilities of safety. Padmé herself had seemed oddly unruffled by the idea of ruffians infiltrating her home. But given her beliefs about the delicacy of the male sex, she had lapped this tale up verbatim.

Only—apparently not. Not entirely.

"What do you mean he can't be trusted?" I asked slowly and measuredly.

A whiff of contempt came upon my daughter's face, something I'd never, ever seen associated within ten miles of Han before for her. Other people, sure. But never Padmé.

Clearly she thought herself quite diplomatic with the next: "You know how tactless he can tend. When you said we couldn't afford any scandal right now—and of course you're right, we must always strive to redeem ourselves from The Incident—I understood. I thought you meant he may generate one in his possibly indiscreet actions."

Oh, stars. It was like being punched by a Gammorean. By a Rancor. "I thought he may generate a scandal by indiscreet actions." "You know how tactless he can be." Naturally, I did. He'd been my Viceroy for fifteen years. But now, Padmé apparently knew so, too, when she'd always thought of him as sun and moon, perfection made male and paternal. And it felt like a great illusion had been shattered both within and without.

Yet—didn't I feel the same way? Could I condemn her for such sentiments when I myself… When I myself… I mean, wasn't that why I hadn't told him of any of this? In protection. In caring. Of course. But also… also in knowing that his knowledge might jeopardize all, for one tactless word, one alcoholic slip, or even his lack of support… For what reason would the ex-smuggler, former champion racer, find to back something so risky as Rebellion? I loved Han, but he was a selfish creature at his core: preserving and protective of those he loved, but only that. It was one of the reasons I suspected he'd never comprehend the life of service.

Something heavy grew up inside me that day, something leaden and deep, and as excruciating as any physical wound. I love him, I realized, finally admitting these truths to myself—but I don't trust him. At least, not enough.

OOO

Things returned to their normal rhythm. At least outwardly. As time passed, I expected to internally experience the normalcy as well as to outwardly know the thrum of the continual, ever-shifting, but ultimately predictable pattern queenly life provided. But I didn't. Not in my heart, at least, which brought thoughts popping into my mind day and night. When I was bent over various datapads, endorsing documents. When I was sitting at the table with my advisors, discussing various issues. When I was eating with Han and Padmé, the wight of our shared secret and my own unshared secrets heavy inside me. When I went out for a long walk along the paths that curved out from Aldera's bustling cityscape. It felt like I was suspended in mid-air, waiting. Everything seemed to be waiting.

Waiting to succeed…

Waiting to fail…

Waiting.

I hated waiting. I liked to do. But I knew this wasn't in my hands. I was the head of this new movement, but its feet and hands were my brother. I must find in myself the fortitude to sustain the suspension, until he returned. (Pray he returned.)

(Luke Skywalker)

Gatalenta left me feeling exposed. It wasn't the world itself, or the people on it. A peaceful, tranquil place that radiated soft evanescent light in the Force born of the hundreds of thousands of beings meditating and peacefully resolving conflict each hour, I knew a great spiritual comfort here. But mentally, not so much. I jumped at every stray sound, and kept looking over my shoulder continually. I knew I must look awfully suspicious if I kept at this, and made myself swallow down my feelings. But I worried. I worried, and I couldn't help it.

Who would be able to help it in a situation like this?

("I'm coming for you, last Jedi. We will meet very soon.")

I knew the answer to that. —a Jedi would. Meditation brought me some peace, at that, but I could hardly meditate and move forward in this at the same time.

I reached the home soon enough—a flat, squat little dwelling that appeared to have been made of all-natural materials. After drawing several deep breaths, knocked on the door. No going back now. I must find my center.

Not two moments later, the door was thrown open by the most fascinating-looking young woman I'd ever seen in my life. Her lanky form stood a head taller than me. Her long hair was dyed pale pink on its left side and eye-dazzling orange on the other; one half was curled, the other straight. She wore a pair of pale coveralls with paint splattered across them, and one flat on her left foot.

Carefully prepared words abandoned me. "Uhm…"

She burst out, "I am sensing great cosmic energies from your core essence! Welcome!" Her deceptively strong hands seized mine. "On what quest have you come?"

"...knowledge," I decided finally. (Wow.)

"A wise summation of our journey throughout this temporal existence!" She beamed at me; I managed a somewhat weak smile back. "But of course, you're here for my mom."

"—I think so, yeah."

"Well, come in! Come in! She'll be back from Council in a few minutes. Do you want tea? Ooh! Maybe we could meditate together!" She clapped her hands together in delight. "Or skyfare?"

"Tea sounds great," I replied quickly. Seemed the safest of the three options, though I had no idea what "skyfare" might mean. "But you don't have to—I could get it—"

"Don't be silly! You're our guest. Oh, I'm Adalyse by the way. Adalyse Genevieve Topaz."

"Oh. Maybe I came to the wrong house. I actually was supposed to meet with Mother Holdo—"

"No. You're in the right house. I offer you my spiritual name, because I sense that we exist on the same plane of transcendent enlightenment."

"Oh," I said. After considering a moment, I added, "Thank you."

No wonder Leia had smirked a bit when she said I'd enjoy meeting Holdo's daughter if I got the chance.

OOO

In waiting for Mother Holdo to arrive, I chatted with the young woman, and soon I came to believe Adalyse Holdo less "bizarre" and more "high minded," in the sense that she vibrated on a frequency of intelligence that meant few could understand her and most would certainly think her severely strange. Yet I recognized profound wisdom in her, and whip smartness. You just had to wade through the… uhm… uniqueness.

Over the tea she kindly served us, she explained the studies she was pursuing during her Whim Year, a Gatalentan tradition that allowed a young adult of school age to spend a year pursuing studies of whatever direction they chose, in the belief that the Force was guiding them on a path to greater spiritual and intellectual enlightenment. "I'm comparing the different energetic and mental renewal practices employed in various star systems with their according astrological charts and atmospheric makeups. The parallels are uncanny!"

No kidding? That was really interesting. "What parallels have you noticed?"

She went on to extrapolate, then remarked, "The biggest differences I have noted are in the attitudes toward, rather than the practices themselves, on parallel systems."

"Well, it's all a question of nature versus nurture, isn't it?" I answered musingly.

"A most enlightened answer," Adalyse said, nodding in approval. "I see my initial assessment of you was correct, Mr. Whitesun: You are an Ascendant One."

Well, it sounded complementary. She was smiling anyways. So I smiled back. "Thank you, Adalyse Genevieve Topaz."

Well, that answer pleased her greatly.

OOO

Holdo arrived soon afterwards, a tall, stately woman with bright purple hair that contrasted with the simple pale gray clothes she sported. Like mother like daughter, I supposed. I could tell she was assessing me, even as I was assessing her. "I was told you'd be coming," she remarked after a moment. "What do you have to say to me?"

Certainly up front. I used the code phrase Leia had given me. "It's a long way to Alderaan."

Holdo relaxed. "Indeed, it is," she said simply, voice warmer now. "Please, sit down."

"I'd rather stay standing."

"—alright. I understand you came to get the datacron?"

"I came to find out more about this situation." I knew how remote I sounded.

Her brow scrunched up. "What is there to find out? It's all here." And she pressed the aforementioned datacron into my hand.

Its weight was greater than I'd expected. "A lot more," I replied slowly. "For one thing, I'll need to speak to the pilot who gave you this." I sensed in Leia's friend no deception, but that may only mean that she herself had also been deceived. Recognizing her building bafflement, I gentled my tone. "It's critical I make certain this is as safe and truthful as it can be, before I take any further action."

But Holdo proved sharper than all this. "You think I've fallen for a trick."

"I think that we can all fall for the Empire's machinations," I replied feelingly.

"I suppose you won't take any action until you talk to her?"

"No," I admitted. "Where can I find her?"

Holdo breathed out sharply—irritated, frustrated, but knowing herself beaten all the same. "Pamarthe," she said at last. "Look for a woman called Greer Sonnel. And good luck there, Jedi. It's no world for your kind."

What could that mean?

A/N: Thanks for your patience with these new chapters, everyone. My grandfather recently passed away and it has been a very hard time for my family. Though I have a few chapters of this written that just need some editing, but I don't want to make any promises on posting schedule right now. Thanks for your understanding & support.

Warmly,

Hope