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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2nXZ0Q9:
notbecauseofvictories:
Leia attended a lecture at the University of Coruscant once, in those early days when the New Republic was still fighting over the shape it would take, and Ben refused to sleep for more than a few hours a night. (He’d been such a colicky baby,and Han had been the only one who could settle him. Leia remembered too many nights spent sagging against the doorway as Han rocked Ben in his arms, humming some tuneless song.
She’d never decided whether her eyes burned with exhaustion or—)
That day the afternoon smog lay over Coruscant, and he had a few hours before her next meeting. She’d been restless, and wanted something—different, different voices, different bodies. Different lives, with different choices than the ones she had made. She’d wanted—
It was strange to walk through the halls of the High Imperial Academy; to step over rubble left from the riots, see the Emperor’s sigil papered over with flimsi posters advertising spare rooms and holo screenings. The last time Leia had been in these halls, it had been with the old War Committee, and a cadet with slicked-back hair and terrible breath spent the entire time trying to impress her.
(She’d gotten good intel out of him, but she still remembered the bile in her throat, the way he spat xenos like a curse.)
But Mon Mothma had told her about the Republican universities—in fact, Leia was fairly certain the Academy had been the university, before the Imperial military took it over. Every building on Coruscant was like that. The Imperial Palace was the old Jedi Temple, was the old Sith Temple—things lived many lives, in Coruscant. Mothma had attended the university on Chandrila, and studied poetry and linguistics. Poetry? Leia had asked incredulously, because the holomap for the assault on Datas was still open on the table.
Mothma had smiled, faintly. A battle plan different than a villanelle, Commander Organa, not more difficult.
Leia had followed the sound of voices to a large amphitheater—they’d held battle simulations here, but now the tech was dark and silent. Instead there were a few dozen sentients gathered in the center of the room, some sitting and others standing, some clutching datapads and others looking as though they had stopped in on their lunch breaks. They were listening to a Togruta, who flashed Leia a smile when he saw her lingering in the doorway.
“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing for her to come closer.
“About what?” she asked, bringing her chin up and remaining steadfastly where she was. (She was tired, she was—too tired for another fight, but she’d been doing nothing but for years. It was habit by now.)
“The hover-rail problem!” At her look of incomprehension, he smiled. “There is a runaway hover-rail car barreling down the track, with five unwitting sentients in its path. However—you are standing next to a safety switch, and can save them by transferring the car to another route. Yet, as you’re about to throw the switch, you notice that there is one person on that path. So who do you save? The five or the one?”
She—
Father had asked her this. They’d been at dinner—one of the rare and precious occasions when it was just them, mother and father and Leia, and—he’d asked her. And Breha had asked ‘well, are the five good people, or criminals?’ and Leia had frowned and said, ‘what does that matter!’ and they’d gone around and around until everyone was laughing, proposing more and more outrageous ways of getting out of the decision at all.
Leia exhaled. Force, she was tired.
“Well,” she said, and she was proud when her voice did not shake. The Togruta was still staring levelly back at her. “Historically, I refuse to tell Tarkin the location of the Rebellion, and the Death Star obliterates Alderaan.”
The Togruta startled, and the silence in the amphitheater was profound. (Leia could feel the others staring, but she was used to that by now. Everyone stared.) “Princess,” he finally said, in a tone that was hard to read.
“General, actually. Or—Senator, now.”
“Then…Senator. May I ask why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you—chose not to reveal the location of Rebellion?”
Leia stared, a curious mix of confused and outraged. “Should I have?”
“No, I’m—I think every sentient in the free galaxy is grateful you didn’t. But Alderaan was your home, your family was there and your people. To save them would be no less understable. So…why?”
“The Rebellion would—save the galaxy,” Leia said, and outrage was—definitely winning.
“You chose the five.”
“I—” It had happened so fast, it hadn’t felt like a choice. She was standing on the deck of the star destroyer with Tarkin leering at her and Darth Vader behind her, and all she’d been sure of was that she couldn’t give up the Rebellion. She couldn’t—father would never be able to look at her again.
As though he could sense her hesitation, the Togruta bowed his head. “Thank you for sharing, Senator. As I was saying before, when we consider what’s right, what’s ethical, we have to really understand—”
Leia didn’t take a seat, but she didn’t leave either. The Togruta lectured, and occasionally one of the students would interrupt—they argued, back and forth, but it was so removed. It was about Right and Wrong and Justice and Why, and nothing about subsidies or voting rights or xeno recognition or dismantling the Imperial war machine. Leia knew where she stood, with Light and Dark. (She didn’t always like it, but she knew.)
“I didn’t catch your name,” Leia said to the Togruta after the lecture had concluded, feeling suddenly much younger, like she was facing one of her old tutors. But the Togruta only ducked his head.
“Tiss, Senator. I was a—student at this university, before the war. There are a few of us who managed to avoid being shipped off to prison planets, once the ISB cracked down.”
“Why return here?” Leia asked, thinking of the papered-over walls, the rubble.
Tiss blinked. “Where else would I go? We’ve been guarding all the wisdom and memory of the Republic for this, Senator. For someone to hear it.”
Leia thought about that, as she flagged down a grav-cab, and told the driver to take her to the new (old) Senate building. “You’re late,” Mothma murmured as Leia slipped into the meeting hall, passing her the datapad as the Senator from Naboo continued to drone on.
“I know,” Leia said breathlessly, pulling up the meeting agenda. “I just…stopped by the university.”
Leia was startled when Mon Mothma actually turned to stare at her. In the light of the Senate building, her eyes were very pale. “Do we have a university?”
“I…” Leia breathed, thinking of Tiss, of the gathered students—workers on their lunch breaks, drifters and bored street merchants. Poetry, she thought, and smiled. “I think we will.”
notbecauseofvictories:
Leia attended a lecture at the University of Coruscant once, in those early days when the New Republic was still fighting over the shape it would take, and Ben refused to sleep for more than a few hours a night. (He’d been such a colicky baby,and Han had been the only one who could settle him. Leia remembered too many nights spent sagging against the doorway as Han rocked Ben in his arms, humming some tuneless song.
She’d never decided whether her eyes burned with exhaustion or—)
That day the afternoon smog lay over Coruscant, and he had a few hours before her next meeting. She’d been restless, and wanted something—different, different voices, different bodies. Different lives, with different choices than the ones she had made. She’d wanted—
It was strange to walk through the halls of the High Imperial Academy; to step over rubble left from the riots, see the Emperor’s sigil papered over with flimsi posters advertising spare rooms and holo screenings. The last time Leia had been in these halls, it had been with the old War Committee, and a cadet with slicked-back hair and terrible breath spent the entire time trying to impress her.
(She’d gotten good intel out of him, but she still remembered the bile in her throat, the way he spat xenos like a curse.)
But Mon Mothma had told her about the Republican universities—in fact, Leia was fairly certain the Academy had been the university, before the Imperial military took it over. Every building on Coruscant was like that. The Imperial Palace was the old Jedi Temple, was the old Sith Temple—things lived many lives, in Coruscant. Mothma had attended the university on Chandrila, and studied poetry and linguistics. Poetry? Leia had asked incredulously, because the holomap for the assault on Datas was still open on the table.
Mothma had smiled, faintly. A battle plan different than a villanelle, Commander Organa, not more difficult.
Leia had followed the sound of voices to a large amphitheater—they’d held battle simulations here, but now the tech was dark and silent. Instead there were a few dozen sentients gathered in the center of the room, some sitting and others standing, some clutching datapads and others looking as though they had stopped in on their lunch breaks. They were listening to a Togruta, who flashed Leia a smile when he saw her lingering in the doorway.
“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing for her to come closer.
“About what?” she asked, bringing her chin up and remaining steadfastly where she was. (She was tired, she was—too tired for another fight, but she’d been doing nothing but for years. It was habit by now.)
“The hover-rail problem!” At her look of incomprehension, he smiled. “There is a runaway hover-rail car barreling down the track, with five unwitting sentients in its path. However—you are standing next to a safety switch, and can save them by transferring the car to another route. Yet, as you’re about to throw the switch, you notice that there is one person on that path. So who do you save? The five or the one?”
She—
Father had asked her this. They’d been at dinner—one of the rare and precious occasions when it was just them, mother and father and Leia, and—he’d asked her. And Breha had asked ‘well, are the five good people, or criminals?’ and Leia had frowned and said, ‘what does that matter!’ and they’d gone around and around until everyone was laughing, proposing more and more outrageous ways of getting out of the decision at all.
Leia exhaled. Force, she was tired.
“Well,” she said, and she was proud when her voice did not shake. The Togruta was still staring levelly back at her. “Historically, I refuse to tell Tarkin the location of the Rebellion, and the Death Star obliterates Alderaan.”
The Togruta startled, and the silence in the amphitheater was profound. (Leia could feel the others staring, but she was used to that by now. Everyone stared.) “Princess,” he finally said, in a tone that was hard to read.
“General, actually. Or—Senator, now.”
“Then…Senator. May I ask why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you—chose not to reveal the location of Rebellion?”
Leia stared, a curious mix of confused and outraged. “Should I have?”
“No, I’m—I think every sentient in the free galaxy is grateful you didn’t. But Alderaan was your home, your family was there and your people. To save them would be no less understable. So…why?”
“The Rebellion would—save the galaxy,” Leia said, and outrage was—definitely winning.
“You chose the five.”
“I—” It had happened so fast, it hadn’t felt like a choice. She was standing on the deck of the star destroyer with Tarkin leering at her and Darth Vader behind her, and all she’d been sure of was that she couldn’t give up the Rebellion. She couldn’t—father would never be able to look at her again.
As though he could sense her hesitation, the Togruta bowed his head. “Thank you for sharing, Senator. As I was saying before, when we consider what’s right, what’s ethical, we have to really understand—”
Leia didn’t take a seat, but she didn’t leave either. The Togruta lectured, and occasionally one of the students would interrupt—they argued, back and forth, but it was so removed. It was about Right and Wrong and Justice and Why, and nothing about subsidies or voting rights or xeno recognition or dismantling the Imperial war machine. Leia knew where she stood, with Light and Dark. (She didn’t always like it, but she knew.)
“I didn’t catch your name,” Leia said to the Togruta after the lecture had concluded, feeling suddenly much younger, like she was facing one of her old tutors. But the Togruta only ducked his head.
“Tiss, Senator. I was a—student at this university, before the war. There are a few of us who managed to avoid being shipped off to prison planets, once the ISB cracked down.”
“Why return here?” Leia asked, thinking of the papered-over walls, the rubble.
Tiss blinked. “Where else would I go? We’ve been guarding all the wisdom and memory of the Republic for this, Senator. For someone to hear it.”
Leia thought about that, as she flagged down a grav-cab, and told the driver to take her to the new (old) Senate building. “You’re late,” Mothma murmured as Leia slipped into the meeting hall, passing her the datapad as the Senator from Naboo continued to drone on.
“I know,” Leia said breathlessly, pulling up the meeting agenda. “I just…stopped by the university.”
Leia was startled when Mon Mothma actually turned to stare at her. In the light of the Senate building, her eyes were very pale. “Do we have a university?”
“I…” Leia breathed, thinking of Tiss, of the gathered students—workers on their lunch breaks, drifters and bored street merchants. Poetry, she thought, and smiled. “I think we will.”
