The man had, so far, left him to his own devices. With no formal charges yet filed, Bail was merely in custody on suspicion of illegal activities. If anyone but Vader had been in charge, Bail might have been kept under house arrest. Palpatine liked to taunt his traitors with the illusion of freedom. He could have stayed at Cantham House, the Alderaanian consulate on Imperial Center. He could have been ensconced in the Imperial Palace.
Instead, he was kept in a prison designed centuries ago. There were no keypads or access cards here, just durasteel bars and uncomfortable shackles. There were no sanidroids to efficiently scrub down the cell block. The most advanced technology in the place was either the holocam positioned outside of his cell or the blaster holstered on the guard's hip.
It was strangely flattering to think that Vader took such pains to insult him. If Bail were to complain about his conditions, someone would undoubtedly point out that Alderaan was known for its nostalgic use of pre-repulsor technology and classical styles.
That wasn't the point they were trying to make, of course. It was in this sort of place that noise was conspicuously absent. He had been caught off-guard by the approach of visitors because there had been no sound of a turbolift or the hiss of an opening door. He suspected that, should they let him live long enough for the formality of a trial, he would find himself listening eagerly for the sound of boots on the duracrete or the jangle of the guards' old-fashioned keys on his belt.
So far, his only visitors had been the guards who casually tossed his food tray into the cell twice a day. Vader would not be busy gathering evidence for the judicial department. He would leave that to subordinates who cared if the prisoner's execution was done under the correct legal guidelines. Knowing Vader's methods, he was either putting out a fire or starting one.
Or perhaps the man was avoiding him. Bail was a prisoner and a politician and, by Vader's estimation, a dangerous criminal, but he had another dangerous perspective. The prisoner had been a friend of the Jedi and one exasperated Master in particular. Bail had never been more than an associate of Anakin Skywalker, but he certainly remembered the man himself. He could recall the news holos of Skywalker and Kenobi, the heroes of the Republic. He had personally congratulated Skywalker on his defeat of Count Dooku. He also remembered the Anakin Skywalker who had accidentally knocked over a Kilik-made vase and spilled Alderaanian green wine on his first visit to Cantham House.
More dangerously, Bail had heard Senator Amidala's anecdotes of her Jedi protectors and heard the love behind the fond exasperation that she expressed. He had never outright asked when she had married Padawan Skywalker, but he had suspected.
Most perilously, Bail saw traces of Anakin Skywalker every time he looked at the High Princess of Alderaan.
He had thousands of secrets to keep, ranging from the makeup of the Alliance High Command to the location of the Yavin IV base. But the secret buried deepest was the name of his foster daughter's birth mother.
Leia had never known a time when she didn't have guards. The number varied depending on the venue and the number of people involved in a meeting. Most of them were Palace Guards, though the Guard had counterparts all over Alderaan. On one occasion, she had been a bored eleven-year-old and asked the man on duty how he knew to catch a criminal.
"It's not an exact science, Your Highness," the man had said, "but you don't have to be a Jedi to know a perpetrator. There are those carrying blasters in the wrong place or hiding a thermal detonator in their coat pocket. There are those with tattoos to mark an affiliation. Some even wear certain colors. Most of the time, instinct plays a part. But the easiest perpetrator to spot is the one looking too harried or too relaxed in the aftermath of a crime."
It was with this in mind that she had ordered business to go on as usual. No one outside of the Council of Thanes had been notified of her father's arrest and that made it easier for the communications director to speak to her about the viceroy's upcoming speech at the University of Aldera. When Winter went over her schedule, she calmly agreed to fill in for her father for the formal audiences until he returned.
In the privacy of her quarters, this business as usual did not keep her from having gut-wrenching nightmares and checking every intelligence report for additional information, but it kept Alderaan running for now.
It was on the fourth day that something finally happened. She did not find it on IBN's nightly news or see a holo of her father being escorted by stormtroopers. Instead, Winter knocked quietly on her office door and asked if she was willing to take an unscheduled meeting with one of her father's colleagues.
"Garm," she greeted the Corellian Senator warmly. "I had not heard that you were coming our way."
The older man kissed her fondly on the cheek as he had since she was three. "Your father extended an open invitation this year to visit his vacation home," he quipped.
It was the term Father used for the Aldera Palace, since for all its formality, it was a paradise compared to Imperial Center.
"Would that he could host you himself," she responded, "but he was called to a conference on your world."
"So I had heard," Garm commented. "I only have a few days' liberty from the Senate, so I thought my time would be best spent here."
"Well, you are welcome here as always," Leia assured him. "Shall we dispense with the formalities and find something for you to eat after your journey?"
This was another ritual, though one that Father usually initiated. Leia had not been privy to many of his conversations with Garm Bel Iblis, the famed Corellian patriot, but he had allowed the man to befriend her over the years. Something with unhealthy amounts of sweetener was usually involved.
"Lead on," he requested.
Within five minutes, they had raided the kitchens and rerouted to the family's private balcony. It was remote enough that there were no eavesdropping staff members and she had it swept regularly for any kind of surveillance devices. It was not prudent to speak too openly, but it was more secure than the residential quarters or the audience chambers.
"You have news of my father," she guessed as soon as they were alone.
Rather than explain himself or answer the question in detail, he removed a small projector disc from a pocket and tapped the side. A holo flickered to life,a static one of her father being led into an imposing building.
"Prison?" she guessed. "It's certainly Imperial in design."
"One of the oldest ones on Imperial Center," Garm agreed. "They are keeping him in custody quite discreetly. Our sources at judiciary say that no charges have been filed. No indictment has been handed down."
"And you're certain that there would be an indictment?" she asked baldly. "Vader has executed men without trial."
"Vader has never had a Senator in his care before," Garm rejoined. "Your father would be the perfect person for him to exploit as an example. While he might want to dispose of him immediately, he knows that a public shaming of Alderaan's most honored son would do more damage than a martyrdom."
"Then he has a chance of surviving this," Leia breathed.
Garm squinted at her, his mouth set in a hard line. "I'm disappointed, Leia, that you think we would allow him to be killed," he said.
"I think that there is very little choice where Imperial custody is concerned," she answered.
"So I've heard."
He tapped the disc once more and a different holo appeared, timestamped for this morning. This one was not static, but a video recording. Her father did not look as though he was sleeping comfortably, but he certainly looked well. Without asking for permission or even thinking clearly, she snatched the disc from Bel Iblis and held it in front of her face. She could see no wounds or broken bones. He was no thinner, which meant that Vader had not yet begun the traditional softening-up period of starvation and abuse.
"This was taken from..."
"Within the prison, yes," Garm confirmed. "We have friends in the guard force."
Leia dropped the disc onto her lap and lunged forward, trapping the old family friend in a tight, relieved embrace. "Thank you for that much," she whispered.
"This is an opening offer,' he said once she had pulled away. "I am not here to give you the reassurances that you could get from a secure transmission. I am here to offer the full support of the Alliance."
"My father is the one involved," she protested. "I am in no position to..."
It was impolite to interrupt any person, but Garm had no fear of doing so with the crown princess. "We are not asking for an oath of allegiance," he said. "I believe that your philosophies will lead you to us someday, but for now, we are here to ask the daughter of a Rebel if she would like us to help her father."
Her chest tightened at that. It would allow her father to escape a possibly lethal situation, but it would mean several things. It would be as good an admission of guilt for Vader, which might lead him to commence aggressive negotiations the next time he saw Bail Organa. The effort could fail and immediately cost him his life, not to mention those of anyone who volunteered for the mission. Or the mission could succeed and while it meant her father would live, he would never be able to return to Alderaan. The last option also meant that the Empire would probably move a sector fleet into orbit on the off-chance that the rest of the population wanted to stage an uprising.
None of the scenarios were pleasant, but they were a temptation that she could not honestly ignore.
"May I sleep on it?"
"Of course," Garm said. "I am expected back at the Senate on Atunda. This is not a decision to trust to a comm unit, but we can have the plan set in motion within one hour of your approval."
Which implied that Mon Mothma had authorized the offer herself. No one else would have had the authority.
"I appreciate that."