20

The Caridan ambassador arrived with his entourage on the recently repaired west landing platform, far from the Imperial Palace. His diplomatic shuttle looked like a glossy black beetle, bristling with weapons that had been remotely neutralized before the ship was allowed to approach Coruscant.

On the landing platform Leia waited to greet Ambassador Furgan with a full contingent of New Republic honor guard. The wind picked up, blowing around the tall buildings, as if trying to push the Caridan delegation back in the direction it had come. She wore her formal government robes as well as rank insignia for the Alliance forces.

Carida, with its powerful military training center, was one of the most important strongholds still loyal to the Empire. If she could crack open negotiations with them, her coup would not be soon forgotten. But the Caridan system was going to be a tough jewel-fruit to crack, especially with a rude and icy ambassador like Furgan.

The shuttle’s hatch hissed open as the denser air of Carida rushed out. Two stormtroopers marched down the ramp, shouldering ceremonial blaster rifles equipped with bayonets. Their white armor gleamed from meticulous polishing. They moved like droids, walking off the ramp and stepping to either side, then freezing in position as a second pair of stormtroopers followed them down and waited at the end of the ramp.

Ambassador Furgan strode down, stubby-legged and self-important, as if to ceremonial music. His uniform was spattered with more badges, insignia, and ribbons than any person could possibly have earned in a lifetime.

After two more stormtrooper officers followed the ambassador down, Furgan drew a deep breath, looking into the distance and ignoring Leia. “Ah, the air of Imperial Center.” He turned toward the waiting reception committee, beetling his thick brows. “Smells a bit sour now, though. The taint of rebellion.”

Leia disregarded the comment. “Welcome to Coruscant, Ambassador Furgan. I am Minister of State Leia Organa Solo.”

“Yes, yes,” Furgan said impatiently. “After Mon Mothma’s words about the extreme importance of Carida, I expected her to send more than a minor official to greet me. A slap in the face.”

Leia had to fall back on some of Luke’s tempercontrolling exercises, a Jedi mind-blanking technique that allowed her to quell the surge of anger. “I see you have not taken the time to familiarize yourself with the structure of our government, Ambassador. Though Mon Mothma is the New Republic’s Chief of State, the Cabinet is the actual governing body, of which the Minister of State and my subordinate diplomatic corps comprise perhaps the most important arm.”

Leia stopped herself, angry with Furgan for goading her, and angry with herself for letting him manipulate her into petty games. Mon Mothma had instructed her to extend every diplomatic courtesy to the ambassador. She wished Han or Luke were there beside her.

“Mon Mothma has a great many other duties, but she has arranged for a brief face-to-face meeting with you later in the day,” Leia said. “Until then, would you like me to show you to your quarters? Some refreshment, perhaps, after your journey?”

Furgan’s eyes looked like small, overripe berries as he directed his gaze at her. “My bodyguards will go to my quarters first. They will sweep every inch of the rooms, every appliance, every wall and floor to remove hidden listening devices or assassination tools. The remaining guards will be with me at every moment. They will provide my food and drink from our own supplies to ensure against any possibility of poisoning.”

Leia was appalled at his insinuation. She stopped herself from insisting that Furgan’s actions were not necessary, since that would no doubt play directly into his hands. Instead, she showed him a small indulgent smile. “Of course, if such things make you feel more comfortable.…”

“In the meantime,” Furgan said, “I would like an immediate tour of the Imperial Palace. Arrange one. I came on a pilgrimage to see my Emperor’s home and to pay my respects.”

Leia hesitated. “We hadn’t planned on—”

Furgan held up a hand. Beside him the stormtroopers snapped even more stiffly to attention. The ambassador took one step closer to Leia, as if trying to look intimidating. “Nevertheless, you will arrange it.”

That afternoon Mon Mothma stood in the dimmed audience chamber, waiting at the base of the holoprojector’s controls. Though she had a thousand other duties to attend to, Carida seemed the likeliest flash point of resistance to New Republic stability. She had made it clear to Leia that she considered her sacrifice of time an investment to avert a possible war.

Without moving Mon Mothma seemed to fill the room with her quiet, commanding presence. Leia never ceased admiring her subtle but undeniable power, which Mon Mothma managed to exhibit even without Jedi training.

Leia followed Ambassador Furgan as he strode down the ramp to the base of the holoprojector. Grumpy, he looked behind him to where his stormtrooper bodyguards waited at the entrance to the chamber. Furgan had refused to leave them behind, and Mon Mothma had refused to let even disarmed Imperial stormtroopers near her. The power play had been brief and sharp, but in the end Mon Mothma allowed the stormtroopers to wait within sight of the ambassador, though outside the chamber.

But she had also won a seemingly minor concession. Mon Mothma required the stormtroopers to remove their helmets while they remained in her presence. The soldiers stood unmasked, holding the skull-like helmets under their arms, revealed to be humans, young cadets dressed in armor but with their anonymity taken away.

“Stand right there, Ambassador Furgan,” she said without formally greeting him. “I would like to show you something.”

The holoprojector shimmered, and the known galaxy filled the room, billions of star-specks flung in swirling arms throughout the enclosed chamber. The lights automatically dimmed as the sea-spray of stars came into focus. At the doorway the stormtroopers craned their necks to stare up at the huge image. On the chamber floor both Mon Mothma and Ambassador Furgan seemed insignificant.

“This is our galaxy,” Mon Mothma said. “We have meticulously plotted every recorded system. These stars”—she waved her hand, and a wash of blue spangled across the arms of the galaxy—“have already sworn their allegiance to the New Republic. Others have remained neutral, though not unfriendly to our cause.” A sprinkling of green appeared among the stars.

“The darkened area is what remains of the Ssi Ruuk Imperium.” She indicated a splotch covering a portion of one spiral arm. “We have not yet fully explored their worlds, though it has been seven years since Imperial and Alliance forces joined hands at Bakura to drive out the invaders.

“Finally,” Mon Mothma said, “we know of these systems that still remain loyal to the fallen Empire.” A much smaller splash of red dusted the image, concentrated primarily toward the galactic core, from which the resurrected Emperor had launched his forces. “As you can see, your support is dwindling rapidly.”

Furgan did not seem impressed. “Anyone can paint dots on a map.”

Inwardly outraged, Leia marveled at the quiet way Mon Mothma handled the situation. Her voice did not grow louder; she merely looked at him with her calm, deep eyes. “You are welcome to speak to any of the ambassadors from these worlds to confirm their allegiances.”

“Ambassadors can be bribed as easily as colors can be changed on a projection map.”

This time Mon Mothma’s voice grew just a bit brittle. “There are no bribes that can change the facts, Ambassador Furgan.”

“If that is the case, then sometimes the facts themselves must be changed.”

Leia could not keep herself from rolling her eyes. In a way this was amusing, but it seemed like a waste of time. Furgan was as unchangable as a man frozen in carbonite.

The entire planetary surface of Coruscant had been covered with layer upon layer of buildings, rebuilt, demolished, and rebuilt again. Galactic governments changed over the millennia, but Coruscant had always been the center of politics.

The complex construction patterns and towering metal and transparisteel pinnacles made weather difficult to predict. Occasionally, unexpected storms coalesced out of water evaporating from millions of exhaust vents, condensing and rising from the skyscraper forests, making small squalls that dumped rain down upon the hard surfaces of the buildings.

As the various diplomats gathered in the Skydome Botanical Gardens for Ambassador Furgan’s reception, a sudden flurry of raindrops pattered down on the transparent panes, masking the bright curtains of Coruscant’s aurora.

In the distance, near the horizon, the rebuilt Imperial Palace stood like a cobbled-together cathedral and pyramid, showing signs of many different eras. Leia had not wanted Furgan’s reception to be held in any place that recalled the fallen Emperor’s opulence and grandeur.

The Skydome Botanical Gardens rested on the level roof of an isolated skyscraper. Constructed by an Old Republic philanthropist who had grown rich by establishing the Galactic News Service, the giant terrarium was a carefully tended place with compartmentalized environments to house and display otherwise extinct or exotic flora from various systems in the galaxy.

Leia arrived with Threepio and her two children in tow just as the rain began to fall against the transparent ceiling. As Leia stepped through the door, she held herself defensively, her justifications on the tip of her tongue. She knew the presence of the twins might cause a stir at a stuffy diplomatic reception, but she did not care.

Throughout the day Furgan had pushed her around, complaining, demanding, acting generally rude. Leia had given up all of her time with the twins to be with the ambassador, and she decided that it was no longer worth the misery. She might be an important Cabinet member in the New Republic, but she was also a mother, still trying to adapt to the new demands on her time. In her quarters while changing clothes for the reception, Leia had felt her simmering resentment come to a boil. If she was going to be gone all the time anyway, she might as well have left Jacen and Jaina with Winter!

Besides, Threepio accompanied them, and he was a protocol droid. He could watch the twins and also help out with the fine points of the reception and translation if need be.

Since Han had disappeared, she was worried to the point of nausea much of the time. Luke and Lando had sent no word yet. She needed to have some stable point in her life. Leia almost hoped someone would challenge her about bringing the twins, so she could lash out.

When she passed through the door, Furgan’s stormtrooper goons stopped her. The still-helmetless stormtroopers looked uncomfortable at meeting her eye to eye, but they stood firmly in her path. Behind them an equal number of New Republic guards stood at attention, watching the stormtroopers.

“What is the problem”—she glanced at the stormtrooper’s insignia and deliberately misread it—“Lieutenant?”

“Captain,” he corrected. “We’re checking everyone. A precaution against assassins.”

“Assassins?” she said, deciding to be amused rather than upset. “I see.”

One of the stormtroopers removed a handheld scanner and played it over Leia’s body, testing for hidden weapons. Leia icily submitted to the scan. “This is for the ambassador’s safety,” he said. He looked disapprovingly at Jacen and Jaina. “We weren’t informed there would be children attending.”

“Are you afraid one of them is going to murder Ambassador Furgan?” Leia stared at the man’s naked, pale face, scowling until he flinched. “That doesn’t say much for your skills as a bodyguard, does it, Captain?” His flustered fidgeting was worth any amount of inconvenience he might cause her, Leia thought.

“Just routine precautions.” The captain scanned Jacen and Jaina, showing visible discomfort at having to do so. When his task was complete, he still refused to move aside.

Leia crossed her arms over her chest. “Now what?”

“Your droid, Minister,” the captain said. “We need to run a complete systems check. He could have assassin droid programming.”

“Me, sir?” Threepio said. “Oh, my! You can’t be serious.”

Leia rolled her eyes at the mere thought of the prissy protocol droid being an assassin. “And how long will this complete systems check take?”

“Not long.” The captain took a different scanner that trailed disconnected leads.

“Mistress Leia, I object!” Threepio’s voice carried an edge of panic. “If you will recall, I have been maliciously reprogrammed in the past! I never want to trust a strange probe again.”

Leia spoke to the droid but let her gaze bore into the stormtrooper captain’s eyes. “Let him do it Threepio. And if your programming is altered in the slightest, this man will be responsible for a galactic incident that could well lead to war—a war in which his own home system of Carida would be the prime target for the combined forces of the New Republic.”

“I will be very careful, Minister,” the stormtrooper said.

“Indeed, sir, you will!” Threepio insisted.

When they finally managed to get through to the reception area, the rainfall dwindled to a trickle. People wandered along the tour-paths to observe the brilliant and bizarre shapes of alien plant life. As the guests stepped through forcefield environmental barriers, the humidity and temperature changed drastically to provide proper growing conditions for various types of plants. Tiny placards displayed scientific names written in a dozen different alphabets.

Holding their mother’s hands, Jacen and Jaina stared with amazement at the people garbed in diplomatic finery, the exotic plants from distant worlds.

In a bright desert scenario at the center of the chamber, a monstrously large tentacle-cactus served hors d’oeuvres, waving its thick stalks back and forth and displaying tiny sandwiches, fruit slices, sausages, and pastries stuck on its long spines. Guests snatched snacks from the spines whenever the tentacle-cactus waved in their direction.

Stocky Ambassador Furgan seemed the center of attention, but everyone looked at him from the corners of their eyes rather than speaking to him directly. Feeling her political obligations, Leia sighed and walked toward him, the children trotting beside her.

Furgan fixed his gaze on the twins and drained the drink he was holding. She watched as he held the empty glass to a pump flask at his right hip. Furgan depressed the button and squirted himself a new drink of honey-greenish liquid. Of course, she thought, anyone paranoid about poisons would bring his own supply. He wore an identical flask on his left hip.

“So, Minister Organa Solo, these are the famous Jedi twins? Jacen and Jaina, I believe you named them? Don’t you have a third child as well, named Anakin?”

Leia blinked, unnerved that Furgan knew so much about her family. “Yes, the baby is elsewhere—safe and protected.” She knew he could not possibly have uncovered the location of the sheltered planet, but a mother’s instinct magnified her fear.

Furgan patted Jaina on the head. “I hope you protect these two as well. It would be a shame for such sweet children to become political pawns.”

“They are very safe,” Leia said, suddenly feeling helpless. Keeping an eye on the ambassador, she turned the twins around. “You two take Threepio and go play now.”

“It will be a very educational experience for them, Mistress Leia,” Threepio said, bustling the children off to look at the plant exhibits.

Furgan continued his conversation with Leia. “If you want my opinion, it’s too bad the Emperor didn’t manage to wipe out all of the Jedi. Incomplete tasks always end up causing trouble.”

“And why are you so afraid of the Jedi Knights?” Leia said. Though she disliked this line of conversation, she might glean some information from Furgan.

The ambassador took a long sip from his drink. “My feeling is that with our sophisticated technology, we should not cringe in fear of sorcery and bizarre mental powers that belong only to a few random individuals. It seems elitist. Jedi Knights? They were like strongmen for a weak old government.”

Leia took up the debate. “The Emperor whom you revere so much was very powerful in the Force, as was Darth Vader. How are they so different?”

“The Emperor is entitled to special powers,” Furgan said, as if stating the obvious. “After all, he’s the Emperor. And Vader turned out to be a traitor in the end. As I understand it, he was the one who actually killed the Emperor. All the more reason to outlaw such powers.”

Leia knew he must have seen Luke’s widely broadcast speech to the Council. “Nevertheless, the Jedi have managed to survive, and the entire order of Jedi Knights will be restored. My brother will see to that. Within a few years the new Jedi Knights will fill the same role as the old, as protectors of the Republic.”

“Too bad,” Furgan said, turning away to seek other conversation, but no one seemed to want to talk to him.

Threepio lost track of the twins almost immediately, when they decided to play hide-and-seek among the flora exhibits, crawling under guardrails too low for Threepio to manage, then chasing each other around areas marked DO NOT ENTER. When the droid called for them to come back, Jacen and Jaina developed a selective hearing difficulty and continued to dash away.

He chased them through a grove of mucus trees that dripped yellow pollinated ooze all over his polished body shell; but at least the slime left a trail of footprints for him to follow. Threepio wailed in dismay when he saw the small footprints leading directly into the “Carnivorous Plants” area.

“Oh, my!” he said, imagining bloodthirsty shrubs already digesting pieces of the small children. Before he could sound an all-out alarm, though, Threepio heard Jacen’s high-pitched giggles, joined by his sister’s laughter. Using directional locators, Threepio bustled back to the center of the exhibit.

Sitting in the middle of the giant tentacle-cactus, the twins played with the waving fronds, oblivious to the thorns. Somehow they had blithely eased their way past the daggerlike points and made a pillow out of the central mass of fine new bristles.

“Master Jacen and Mistress Jaina, come out of there this instant!” Threepio said in a stern voice. “I must insist!” Instead, Jaina giggled and waved to him.

In a tizzy Threepio wondered how he could rescue the children from the great plant without dislodging any of the hors d’oeuvres.

A lull fell in the conversation, the type of pause that often occurs in forced social situations. During the quiet Ambassador Furgan made his move. “I require your attention!” he called.

Leia watched him suddenly step away from her. Not knowing what he might do, she tensed, ready for anything.

The few conversations stuttered to a halt. All eyes turned to the Caridan ambassador. Mon Mothma had been chatting with General Jan Dodonna, the aged tactician who had planned the strike on the first Death Star. Mon Mothma raised her eyebrows, curious at Furgan’s call for silence. Jan Dodonna stopped telling his tale and held his hands in midgesture as he stared.

Furgan took his empty glass and dropped it to his hip, filling it from the left hip flask this time. Leia wondered if he had already emptied the right flask.

Raising his glass high, he took one step toward Mon Mothma, grinning. Leia watched in disbelief. Was the rude ambassador going to propose a toast?

Furgan looked around the enclosed Skydome, making certain he had everyone’s attention. Even the patchy rain had ceased. “To all gathered here, I wish to be heard. As ambassador of Carida, I have been empowered to speak for the Imperial military training center, my planet, and my entire system. Therefore, I must deliver a message to you all.”

He raised his voice and raised his glass. “To Mon Mothma, who calls herself leader of the New Republic—” With a vicious sneer he hurled his drink into her face. The honey-green liquid splashed on her cheeks, her hair, her chest. She staggered back, appalled. Jan Dodonna caught her shoulders, steadying her; his mouth gaped open in astonishment.

The New Republic guards at the door immediately drew their weapons but somehow refrained from firing.

“—we denounce your foul rebellion of lawbreakers and murderers. You have tried to impress me with the number of other weak-minded systems that have joined your Alliance, but no amount of rabble can erase your crimes against the Empire.”

He smashed his empty glass on the floor and ground the shards under his boot heel. “Carida will never surrender to your so-called New Republic.”

With a flourish Furgan took his entourage and stormed off. At the doorway the gathered stormtroopers triumphantly placed the white helmets back on their heads, hiding their faces, and followed the ambassador out. The New Republic guards stared after them, weapons ready but not knowing what to do.

After a shocked silence the crowd erupted into a babble of outraged conversations. Leia ran to the Chief of State. Dodonna was already swabbing at Mon Mothma’s damp robes.

The sticky drink drying on her face, Mon Mothma forced a smile for Leia. Into the rising hubbub of indignation she said, “Well, we didn’t lose anything by trying, did we?”

In her disappointment Leia could not answer.

The tinny voice of Threepio burst over the background noise. “Excuse me, Mistress Leia?”

Leia frantically looked around for the twins, afraid Furgan had somehow kidnapped them during his diversion, but was relieved when she saw Jacen and Jaina standing with their faces pressed against the curved window looking out at the skyline of Imperial City.

Finally, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a golden arm flailing about in alarm. Somehow Threepio had gotten tangled in the tentacle-cactus exhibit; even from across the room Leia could see how badly scratched his plating had become. Hors d’oeuvres lay scattered about the floor.

“Could anyone assist me in getting free from this plant?” Threepio cried. “Please?”