Chapter 6. Smoke and Mirrors
It may be a bit too much, but, in Leia's defense, Mon and Thrawn did give her a free reign over the show, and she has never been one to do things halfway, so the Coruscant Spaceport is brimming with curious onlookers, Imperial and Republican officials, press corps and flashes of holocams. After all her years in the Senate, Leia has learned a thing or two about smoke and mirrors. Her little impromptu show is poised to take over the entire day, with public clamouring to hear from the New Republic hero and his "saviors".
Leia manages to warn Luke in advance, so he has enough common sense to play along, once he and the flagship of the Eleventh fleet land in the capital. Interactions between him and the Phantom squadron, on one side, and Commodore Faro and her team, on the other side, seem respectful, even if distant. At least, no pointed blasters or lightsabers can be seen anywhere on the vicinity, and, knowing the Phantom squadron as well as she does, Leia counts it as a win.
There is a special pleasure in making your opponent squirm, in backing him or her in the corner with a serene smile on your face, all the while everyone knows you are telling a lie, but no one can call you out in it. Leia can personally attest to it, as she thanks Grand Admiral Sloane for her dedication to peace and goodwill. Her vis-à-vis is struggling to hide her annoyance, yet voicing an objection would mean admitting that her fleet went behind her back, blindsiding the Imperial Grand Admiral, no less, and that she is not happy about a "rescue" of the New Republic Hero – none of the options is viable, at least, not in a full view of the HoloNet News. So, Grand Admiral Sloane just grinds her teeth, as Leia ends the press conference with a flourish, making a point to thank her again for sending her best people, and… commending her decision to promote Commodore Faro for the successful operation.
Well, it may have been a step to far, almost like a final nail in a coffin, and honestly, Leia couldn't care less about promotions and ranks in the Imperial military – she has no skin the game, but the look of Grand Admiral Sloanne face is worth it.
"Don't get too carried away, Leia," her father's voice warns somewhere deep inside, and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop a smirk that is threatening to touch her lips.
"But she started first, dad," an urge to mentally justify herself is almost as strong as when she was a kid. If only things were that simple again.
If only…
Leia has to swallow a sudden limp in her throat, once she steps off the makeshift podium. Away from cameras, she finally snatches a few minutes to hug Luke, letting tension, anxiety and worry slowly leave her body. She hides her face in the crook of his neck, blinking away a burning sensation in the corners of her eyes. It's neither time, nor place for tears.
"Let's talk later," she whispers, enjoying this brief moment of peace and comfort. They will figure something out, as long as they are together. If she repeats it often enough, she may believe it.
"Of course we will figure it out," Luke replies, sensing her thoughts.
Then, all too soon, reality takes over, and Leia has to return to the New Republic delegation at the palace.
The reality where, barely a few days in, the talks are already at an impasse, where tempers run high, egos reign supreme, all the while innocent lives are at stake. As much as she enjoyed her little show this morning, Leia knows that she won a battle, not a war - the New Republic and the Empire are no closer to peaceful coexistence than two rankors in a cage.
There is no way around it, the act of dividing territories is ugly – yet another side of politics she wishes she never knew. It's cynical, it burns, erodes her conscience and her ideals like acid, for she believes humans and sentients should have the right to decide for themselves. It's also… reasonable, and it's the lesser evil, at least when you have to negotiate form the position of weakness as the New Republic does. So, the cabinet has to secretly regroup before tomorrow's round of talks to decide which systems they will fight for.
Once she reads a proposed list of systems on her datapad, Leia cannot suppress the cry of indignation:
"You can't be serious! We can't just stand by and watch what they do to Kashyyk."
"It is not a new Republic territory in the first place."
"Who cares! That's how it starts, that's how it always starts, you close your eyes once, and oppression spreads, it grows like a tumour, and if we do nothing…"
"Senator Organa!" There is steel in Mon's voice, a warning, for the first time in the long while directed at her. The emphasis on her official title leaves no doubt – Mon is not taking to her friends' daughter, her protégée or friend, rather she implores a Senator and a member of her cabinet to listen to the voice of reason. "Whatever our personal feelings on the matter are, as well as personal allegiances…" there is compassion in Mon's eyes, she is not heartless, she knows that Leia worries over Han and Chewbacca who are there. "Passion and idealism have to be tempered by reality. This is a government. It has a lot of moving pieces. Hundreds of words we will need to fight for, the worlds, which, may I remind you, are members of this Republic… Kashyyk is not one of them."
Leia wants to storm off, to bang the door in frustration, she almost does, but Mon's hand on her shoulder stops her in her tracks. The Chancellor's voice softens, and as if they are alone, they may as well be, for her next phrase cuts deeper than Leia ever thought possible:
"Sometimes, Leia, the Republic needs to come first. We take what's left."
Mon sounds… weary and so endlessly tired, that Leia's anger evaporates. Oh, make no mistake, she is mad, but not at Mon. Curse the starts, the Force, the Empire and destiny for driving them all into a corner where they have to make choices like this in the first place. The woman in front of her knows full well the acid, sickening taste of disillusionment and the burden of personal sacrifice - her sister, her daughter, her family, friends, safety, love – all these ghosts are going to haunt her forever… Leia briefly wonders if she is looking at her own future reflection, and whether that's what Luke felt when, for one fleeting, surreal moment, he saw himself under Darth Vaders mask in that cave at Dagobah.
Just like getting ready in the morning, unbraiding her hair in the evening has long since became a ritual. Usually it helps to reflect and let go, one strand at a time, one brush stroke after another, yet the ritual fails to work its magic today. By the time her hair is free, her mind is anything but. A sudden incoming call breaks her musings. Encrypted personal frequency, known only to a handful of people – Luke, Han, Winter, Mon - it has to be important, so she hurries to answer.
"Turns out, you have a flair for theatrics, Senator. Artistically done this morning."
How, for kriffs sake? How did he manage to break into her personal encrypted comlink, past three layers of security and her own codes?
"I believe you are looking for this?"
Thrawn is holding her comlink in his outstretched hand, leaving Leia no choice but step towards him to take it back.
He is completely, utterly, absolutely impossible!
A wise thing to do would be to end the call this very second, and then alert Madine that her security has been compromised, yet, before her rational mind has a chance to kick in, possibly because she needs a distraction, Leia responds:
"When the inspiration strikes, Grand Admiral. Oratory and basic theatrics are essential for a politician."
She should stop there, really, she should, yet again, against her better judgement, she adds, possibly more for herself than for him, voice barely a whisper. "While clean conscience and regrets are no more than an optional extra."
He hears, though, damn the high-speed, high-quality transmission that captures every breath and every sigh, leaving her no chance to cover this slip of the tongue, no excuse to brush it aside and pretend it never happened.
"It may not be my place, Senator, I do not presume to know what's bothering you," Thrawn is hesitant, honest to stars, the ever-lecturing, omniscient Grand Admiral seems to be out of his depth, confused by her sudden honesty and bluntness. "But be careful with regrets, they are bad advisors, tend to leave scars and cloud judgement. To move on, sometimes one needs to set regrets aside the best one can. Knowing full well that they will never be far away."
It should sound insensitive and pragmatic, but somehow doesn't. His voice, usually so measured and confident, sounds voice pensive, as if he is taking to himself as much as to her. Well, that makes the two of them.
"You are a philosopher, Grand Admiral." She hides behind the non-committal response, yet his words linger, settle somewhere deep inside, and Leia can't tell if they serve as a warning or a consolation. One thing for sure, they taste of personal experience, and that makes her wonder, just who is the man behind the title.
"No, merely a warrior and a tactician." There is a short pause on the other end, then he continues, masterfully navigating them both away from dangerous waters. "If it's of any interest to you, challenging Grand Moff's Randd control over Queluhan Nebula Sector may have a similar effect on him as your press conference had on Grand Admiral Sloane earlier today."
The sector will be controlled by Rudd, fully, the New Republic has no say over it, yet Leia's mind starts looking for an angle, surely, she has pulled off even more daring claims while trying to oppose the Imperials in the Senate, the real question is… Why does Thrawn care?
"I will need more than that, Grand Admiral, see you in the Alderaan Memorial hall. 9 pm."
One hour would be enough to read everything she can find about the sector. Leia feels a rush of adrenaline and a thrill of chase. If he needs her assistance, he will have to give her a damn good reason, and no, simply annoying his fellow Imperials is not good enough, not for a request like this. For all his strategic genius, Grand Admiral seems to be a bit naïve when it comes to politics. Somehow, Leia finds it strangely refreshing, and, while it's a bit of a contradiction in terms, it makes him… human.
It doesn't become easier, the second time around. The painting still beacons her, still traps her eyes in the illusion of reality, even if now she can clearly see the ugly imprint of the Imperial crest hidden in the clouds.
"Once is an accident, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern. Would you prefer to book all of my evenings in advance, Senator?"
She turns around to face him, the impeccable Grand Admiral - once again in his pristine white uniform, not a hair out of place, imposing stature, those penetrating red eyes, perfect posture and hands crossed behind his back. Such a striking contrast to the previous evening in the gym. She will not admit it, even under a truth serum, but seeing him yesterday was a bit… disorienting. Causing blood to rush to her cheeks for no apparent reason. Must have been a shock after those droids collapsed in front of her, certainly, the shock and nothing more.
"You know, Grand Admiral, my father taught me that all political power is primarily an illusion. The art of smoke and mirrors. Almost like…ionized gases in Queluhan Nebula that can easily hide a fleet from sensors and radars, wouldn't you say?"
There is a momentary, fleeting expression in his eyes – an uncharacteristic mix of surprise, respect and wonder. The moment passes, and he is once again the imperturbable Chiss Grand Admiral, but the moment is enough. It feels good to have an upper hand for once.
"If you don't want to let Grand Moff Randd to gain control over the Expansion region, why not challenge him yourself?"
"I find that a timely diversion usually helps the matters. As I said, you do have a flair for theatrics, Senator, while I have never mastered the art. I'm a warrior, not a politician, I know when to seek assistance, and have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own. My position and ego are not at stake here."
"You do have a low opinion of politicians, don't you?"
"Present company excluded, of course." He nods in her direction, the very picture of gallantry, and she once again cannot tell if he is serious or sarcastic. "Should you help me, you have my word of honor, that unlike Grand Moff Ranff, I will not use the cover of ionised gases to amass and hide a fleet against the New Republic."
"You are not denying that you may hide a fleet there, though."
"Your perceptiveness is admirable, Senator. Again, I can only repeat. No ship located in Queluhan Nebula will ever attack the New Republic."
"Why would I trust an emeny?"
"I thought we've moved on to adversaries?"
"I am sure I will regret asking it, but what's the difference?"
"An enemy will almost never be anything except an enemy. All one can do with an enemy is defeat him. But and adversary can sometimes become an ally. There is a cost, of course. In all things in life there is a cost…"
Leia can tell a clear opening when she sees one, whether Thrawn intended or not, but she is a politician, so she will snatch any chance she can get.
"Possibly a goodwill gesture?"
He is smirking, honest to stars, he is smirking! Her deliberate choice or words is definitely not lost on him.
"I want your help to convince Grand Moff Tolruck to cede the control of Kashyyk. Nothing makes people see reason like a fleet of star destroyers in the orbit, wouldn't you say?"
"I think it can be arranged, Senator."
Just like that, a heavy burden is lifted from her soul and conscience… thanks to her new adversary, or possibly an ally, she hasn't decided yet.
Author's note.
Mixing Legends and Canon lores and not feeling even a little bit guilty about it ;) not feeling guilty about that Thrawn training reference either….
as always, pls dm if you see mistakes.