Mon Mothma raised her hands as if to say, I need time to find the words. With a glance she dismissed the two Quarrens, who’d considered Leia and Amilyn their prisoners and didn’t look too thrilled about having them treated as guests instead. Leia figured they’d get over it as soon as they got another chance to be alone.
The outpost on Ocahont had apparently been built longer ago than the makeshift shelters on Crait. Although the crew of the cargo vessel had made sure she couldn’t get a good look at the total layout of the place, the differences revealed themselves. Substantial data centers ringed the room in which Mon Mothma stood, including a circular map display at the very center. The sheer length of the hallways she and Amilyn had been hustled through suggested a large compound. And anyplace that needed an enormous cargo shipment of quadanium…well, however big this outpost was, it would soon be even bigger.
Mon Mothma leaned against the map display for a few long seconds before saying, “Princess, you know that I’ve supported your playing a larger role in…our endeavors, but this is going too far.”
“This was an accident, and a lucky one,” Leia insisted. “What do you know about Winmey Lenz’s dealings with the Empire?”
There was every chance that Mon Mothma would say she knew all about it. It had occurred to Leia that Lenz might be setting up some sort of elaborate operation to sabotage Imperial works, maybe. When she saw the frown lines appear between the older woman’s eyebrows, though, she knew better. “What do you mean, Leia? Of course Lenz arranged for us to receive this quadanium—”
“He traded even more to the Empire,” Leia said. “We saw him conclude the deal with our own eyes. I didn’t recognize the official, but he certainly had a high rank, and Lenz called him ‘director.’”
Amilyn chimed in then: “The guy wore a white jacket. That’s how bad.”
Mon Mothma took a step backward. From most people it would’ve been a very small reaction, but from the calm, collected Mon Mothma, it might as well have been a scream. “Force around us. How did you discover this?”
“Our paths crossed on Pamarthe. Maybe it was a lucky accident—maybe it was the Force at work.” Although Leia believed in the Force, she rarely thought it directly guided actions. On this day, though, she was willing to consider the possibility. “Regardless, Lenz has connections high up in the Empire he hasn’t revealed to the rest of you, and that can’t be good news.”
“No, it can’t.” Mon Mothma’s long fingers tapped against the edge of the map display, as if she were working out a code. “We can’t let him know we’re on to him. We simply have to…phase him out. Make him believe we’re fighting among ourselves, less certain of our plans. If he believes the coalition is falling apart, getting nowhere, he’ll let it lie. Reporting us at that point would only expose himself.”
“Can you make him believe that?” Leia had thought politics involved more lying than any other activity. Apparently rebellions put politics to shame.
“He’s never been at the center of our plans. There are limits to what he knows. So yes, I think he can be persuaded.” Mon Mothma shook her head as though to clear it. “Besides, we don’t have to lie about the infighting. Only about our lack of resolve to overcome it.”
That sounded ominous, but also like something Leia should take up with her parents instead, at some other time, preferably far in the future. “So,” Leia began, “since this intel is highly confidential, you’ll keep this whole trip a secret from my parents, right?”
With a gentle smile, Mon Mothma stepped toward Leia, put her hands on her shoulders, and said, “Not a chance.”
Leia winced. From her chair, Amilyn murmured, “Ouch.”
“We’re still working out exactly who’s in charge of this great endeavor,” Mon Mothma continued. “Maybe it will be me, but maybe not. All I know for certain is that your parents are in charge of their own household, of which you are still a member. That means you’ll have to take this up with them.”
Before they’d parted ways for their separate transports home, Amilyn had tried to be encouraging. “You brought valuable intel!” she insisted. “That’s got to count for something.”
“Let’s hope so.”
It counted for nothing.
“We can’t keep having this conversation, Leia.” Bail Organa paced the length of the library, his hands clasped behind his back. “How many times do we have to beg you to let us handle this? To go enjoy your youth instead of rushing headlong into this?”
“I told you, I wasn’t investigating Winmey Lenz. I just happened to find out what he was up to. After that I had to do something, didn’t I?”
“Something, yes,” her father said. “Stowing away on a cargo vessel? No.”
“I was going after Amilyn!” Leia insisted. “And don’t give me that whole, if all of your friends were jumping out windows on Coruscant, would you do it, because this is different.”
“She’s right.” Breha spoke with unexpected calmness; her sorrowful dark eyes met her husband’s. “Leia responded to the situation she was confronted with as best she could. We can’t ask for more than that.”
“We can ask for her to stay out of harm’s way, and if she won’t, we can keep her out of it.” Bail stopped pacing and pointed downward, at the seldom-used lower areas of the palace. “There used to be dungeons down there, you know.”
This time her mother’s voice was sharp. “Bail!”
He held up one hand. “You know I wasn’t serious.”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Breha rose from her seat, the wide skirts of her green dress rustling around her. The constellation globes overhead caught the last rays of sunset light, which turned their stars red and gold. “There’s no hiding from what’s coming. Not for anyone in this galaxy. We were fools to think we could ever hide our daughter from it and keep her safe. Safety was the first sacrifice we made, when we decided to oppose Palpatine. It won’t be the last.”
“You can’t mean this.” Bail took a step back from his wife. Leia had rarely seen them argue in earnest; the melodrama performed for Tarkin’s benefit was the ugliest confrontation she’d ever witnessed between the two. The sick feeling in her stomach told her that might be about to change. “Our daughter is only sixteen! We’ve told her too much already—failed to discourage her—”
“What would discouraging her accomplish?”
“It would protect her a while longer.” Bail winced with a pain that must have been nearly physical. “I would do almost anything to keep her safe for even one more day. Why won’t you?”
“Secrecy isn’t keeping her safe!”
Leia tried to jump in. “I’ve brought good information to you already. Isn’t that worth something? Don’t you trust me?”
Her father turned to her with such pain in his eyes that she wished the words unsaid. “I trust you with my life. But I don’t trust the Empire with yours.”