Chapter 7
Bail Organa sat in his favorite chair and watched a holo recording of his daughter's latest speech at the Senate, questioning his decisions regarding her for the thousandth time maybe.
Not the decision of adopting her. Never that. Leia had been Breha's only source of joy in her last years and the biggest source of comfort for him after her passing. She was the best daughter a man could ask for.
Not because she was perfect – far from it – but because he could always trust her to do the best she could in every situation. Leia had the best qualities of Padmé, Breha and himself poured into one. And, who knew, maybe from Anakin Skywalker too. Who would not be proud of a daughter like that?
Still. The same qualities that made him so proud of her made him tremble with fear and anxiety sometimes too.
She would never stand still and do nothing if she knew of some injustice that was in her power to correct. And like most young people, she still thought that her power to do good was unlimited. That there were no limits on what someone could accomplish when there was a will behind.
A saint? Leia was no saint, he was sure of that. She liked fast machines and she liked good-looking guys, and he had tuned a blind eye more than once on both weaknesses, knowing that she may not have any other time in her life to endulge in them. And boy she could throw a tantrum in her younger years, he remembered with a smile.
The Viceroy of Alderaan rubbed his hand on his face and wondered if he was doing the right thing allowing Leia to be so close to the Emperor.
One of the things Master Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi had explained before trusting him with the orphan baby was that he should never, under any circumstances, allow Leia to be near him or Vader, especially in the first years.
"Like beacons in the Force, this young one and her brother are. Recognize them at once the Sith will," Yoda had warned him.
Then he had given him some ancient texts that few sentients before had laid eyes upon. And none of them were non-Jedi.
The documents explained how Force sensitive children tended to use their powers in an intuitive way while they were very young and how they progressively lost the ability as they grew older if they were not trained. How accurate or how general that rule was, or if those abilities could be regained, the scripts did not clarify.
"These younglings, though..." Kenobi had said at last. "Nothing is certain with these two..."
Fortunately Palpatine very rarely abandoned his Palace in Coruscant and Bail had never given Vader an excuse to set his dark feet on Alderaan. But he did not know that in those first days.
Another thing he had asked the Jedi before parting with them was if the Sith would be able to read his mind and discover the true identity of his adopted daughter through him. Master Yoda had answered that Jedi were not able to read minds literally, only the strongest feelings. At least not without intention. But the Emperor and his henchman were Sith, not Jedi.
Things had gone well anyway. Leia had stayed with Breha on Alderaan while his duty as Senator retained him on Coruscant and later when her health had taken a turn for the worse he had gone back to them. The minor incidents the little girl produced that could be linked to some Force-potential where duly covered and forgotten in time. He had never had any reason to believe Palpatine suspected anything about his deepest secret, beside his obvious sympathy for the scattered groups of Rebels and his longing for true democracy.
But when the political situation had forced him to accept Leia's candidacy for the Senate he had been terrified by the idea that the Sith may recognize Leia as a Force-sensitive if he saw her face to face. He had spent many a blank night worrying about that inevitable moment.
The solution came, as it often did, in a small vial.
He had only needed one drop of it slipped in Leia's cup of water to save the day.
It had broken his heart to see her so sick, but it had been for her own protection. Maybe the last time he had the power to do so.
Turning the recording off, Bail Organa opened the latest intelligence report.
Damnit. The attempt to get someone into Tarkin's entourage had failed again.
The big Wookiee watched through eyes closed up to mere slits the complicated mating ritual of the couple of humans only a few meters away from him.
He knew that humans took some kind of permanent vows to each other at some point in their lives, but why they bothered at all with them if they broke them at every opportunity was beyond his comprehension. Maybe it had something to do with their pityful short lifespan; maybe it was just some primal urge to live everything at once before it was too late. He had to agree that even Wookiees with their far superior sense of honor and honesty sometimes struggled with their vows after the first couple of centuries of bonding.
Still, it was disgusting to see how the older female made her advances shamelessly towards the younger Lieutenant. He seemed a good enough fellow, at least as far as Imperials went. When he was in charge of supervising the slave's quarters the water they were given was cleaner, the food more abundant and Imperial regulations about slaves handling were followed to the letter. Even a tube of bacta gel had been conveniently dropped just within the reach of his arm through the bars when Rrraktiie's leg wound had become infected.
"C'mon, Slick, nobody would see us here," the woman pleaded, her hands wandering lasciviously over the Imperial pilot's body, her fingers playing with the fastenings of his uniform.
"They can," the young man said, slipping out of her tight embrace.
The Wookiee's blue eyes opened a fraction of a centimeter.
"They?"
"They're not animals, you know," the man called Slick added with disgust.
"Well, not exactly," she recoiled, "but close enough," she added with disdain.
The sensitive ears of the Wookiee caught then some voices coming from afar but nearing fast. If he was not mistaken, one of them was the female's lawful mate. Watch out, cub, he growled under his breath as he turned around as if in deep sleep, not really caring for the drama about to develop.
Slick Solo released a cleansing breath. It had been a close call, with Tipsy Klem making a surprise inspection and almost walking in on Mrs. Klemdocc and him. At least his shift was almost over and he could be alone for a while. And he would make sure the lock was in place this time.
He gave a last look to the giant russet-colored Wookiee sleeping in a corner of his cell. Thanks, pal, he thought, and almost said aloud. Biting his tongue he left the slaves alone to enjoy what little privacy they had.
An hour later he had gotten a well deserved shower and dinner and flipped his comm system on to check for messages. One sent by someone called 'Krala' made a shiver run down his spine. Krala was ancient Corellian for pilgrim. His pet name for Bria in the beginning of their marriage.
With shaking fingers he opened the file. It was text only.
Han, honey...How are you doing? You may laugh at me but I finally lost that coat you hated so much. I hope it doesn't get really cold before I can get a new one but I guess that if I want to get something of the same quality I'll have to go to Grondar's. Is it cold already where you are? Well, I'm on the run, but I wanted to let you know that my friend Tressai is maybe going your way in a few days but he said the odds were 9 to 1. He'll drop you a call if he gets there. I'd like the two of you to meet. Take care! Love, Krala
The colorful expletive that left his lips after reading the message was something his manners teacher back at the Academy would have certainly not approved of.