A/N: Thank you to AG (a Guest), Hausman, Zati Linn, and DarthKoalaBear for your kind reviews. You have all inspired me to keep writing this story when I was considering dropping it. Much love.
Hopefully, you continue to enjoy reading Leia's tale.
…~oOo~…
Chapter 2
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
After sending R2 off with the plans, I expected to feel some measure of relief. But I didn't. My heart pounded with the same heady anxiety as before, because this was only the first step in one last, desperate ploy to get the plans where they needed to go. And as much as I trusted R2's work, I also loathed to put this all on the shoulders of a droid who didn't even possess shoulders. The weight of the galaxy itself.
I couldn't think of it now, though. Not because the firing above my head was still drawing my attention… but because it wasn't. Eerie quiet clung to the ship now, leaving nothing but hollow whispers of anxiety throughout. A sickening feeling inside me said that the stormtroopers hadn't stopped because of defeat by my brave crew.
The battle on the Tantive IV was over.
Mine… I suspected… had only just begun.
I drew my hood over my head, sliding my blaster out of its hidden holster. There must be a way out. A way down to Tatooine as well. All I needed was time to think. A safe place to conceal myself for the moment.
Then, I heard the 'click, click, click' of armor and felt a fresh thud in my heart. Precise, sharp steps echoed through the corridors. And low, mechanized voices.
Stormtroopers. Even more, stormtroopers from Vader's Fist itself, the famed 501st Legion.
In other words… not the best odds. But like my parents and all the rest of the rebellion, I refused to accept them. Pressing back into the shadows, I adjusted the grip on my rifle, holding it the way I had seen my guards do. The way I remembered holding it during practices with Kier. Those sessions with my lost love had prepared me well for combat, but stars. I needed to slow my breathing down; the rapidness of it alone would give me away. I had been prepared… but I'd also never actually been in a firefight before today.
But the best way I knew to burn through my fear was to focus on what had to be done. I was all R2-D2 had now. My distracting the troopers could well mean the difference between this mission's success and its failure. And the best way I knew to focus? Summon my anger.
All I had to do was think about Jedah. A peaceful world full of beings who had wanted nothing more than to mine and to stay well and happy. Jeda City had been a center of religion and culture. Now all of it was strafed to ash. Other planets might soon follow, if this mission failed.
This summoned the image of Tarkin, thin and sharp, like a needle carved from bone. The level of chilly satisfaction he took in such things… No doubt he knew about the so-called Death Star. No doubt he was content, even gleeful about it all. To him, this was the utmost order being brought to the galaxy. I imagined his hawklike gaze scanning idly over the Jedah landscape as the planet-killer fired…
There. That was better. A steady, warm flush of anger blossomed within me, and my hands weren't shaking around the top of the rifle anymore. I adjusted in my hiding place, working to do all I could to better conceal myself. Because this mission wouldn't fail. It couldn't. I would contemplate no other alternative.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Then—
"Search every passageway and compartment. You two, check behind those power conduits."
Of all the rotten luck—
The pipe behind me rattled, releasing a hiss of steam, and made one of the two troopers turn back around…
"Wait. I thought I saw something—"
"There she is! Set your weapons to stun!"
I was hardly about to set my weapon to stun. I took aim as I had at the holographic targets. "Shattering" one was as easy as it had been in the simulations, though the human cry that came from within the armor as he toppled was… different. But he was my enemy. Pure and simple. I raised my rifle to fire again—
"Watch it! She's armed! Fire!"
I turned tail and ran. R2 needed as much time as I could give. I knew now that there would be no escape for me, but for him it was still—
But the moment after I turned my back, it felt as if my whole body had been rammed by the Devastator itself. I toppled to the floor, stun stealing all feeling from my legs, sending me hurtling onto the rough gating of the floor.
A thousand sparks of light burst in my eyes, making me feel as though I'd been swallowed by a galactic core. I have to move! I ordered myself, even as powerlessness churned within me. I'm not done!
"She'll be alright," said one trooper, who had been joined by the other now that their comrade had fallen. "Inform Lord Vader we have a prisoner."
…~oOo~…
It felt like sand was draining from what had once been my legs. The white-armored troopers hauled me to my feet, which still refused to work properly. I stumbled the first few steps. The world seemed tilted on its axis. Fighters of Vader's Fist surrounded me, snapping binders over my wrists.
So… they really would take me prisoner, I realized numbly. I was no fool. I had known since the beginning of my involvement in the Alliance that any concrete proof of my family's activities would get us caught, arrested, possibly executed… But living the reality was different. Harsher. A simulacrum of impossibility had shaded the Tantive IV's white walls red, and as the troopers led me down the corridors, I attempted to summon the composure I'd managed to find only moments ago.
It eluded me when I came face to face with the bodies.
They had each been left where they had fallen, their wounds and lifeless expressions turning my stomach. I didn't want to see this. These were my people, my responsibility, and my leadership had sent them straight to their demises. There was no way to ever fix this, no way to make better the fact that somewhere on Alderaan they each had family crying for them.
I made myself look. Bear witness, I thought. It's all you can do for them now, so do it. Someday, when you get out—if you get out—you'll need to tell their families.
Yet I couldn't help the ringing in my ears, or the despondent my fault, my fault, my fault churning through my mind as if it were a pre-set recording on repeat. As a princess, as a rebel, I could justify their deaths as necessary sacrifices to the cause. As a human, however…
But there was no time left. No more time to bear witness. No more time to mourn. Because at the end of the hall stood a tall figure clad head to toe in gleaming black armor that was like the shell of some great insect. His cape billowed out behind him. His titanic size nearly blocked the hole the Imperials had blown through the doors in order to get into the ship.
Darth Vader.
And at his feet was the limp form of Captain Antilles.
…~oOo~…
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Thank you and until next time,
Rivkah