“You were—you were scared—in trouble—” Kier’s expression remained blank. He’d recognized her, but he didn’t seem to have registered anything she said. “Followed you.”
Remorse pierced Leia through so sharply she wanted to cry out, but she forced herself back into focus. Made herself crystalline. “I’m all right. It’s all right now. You came for me and I’m safe. Can you hang on to me? Brace yourself against me?”
Kier coughed, and the only thing worse than the sound of it was the terrible spasm of pain on his face. Hoarsely he said, “—memory rod—”
Consternation dissolved swiftly into her understanding that the memory rod had to be vitally important. Leia peered through the darkness until she saw it, a specialized scanner/mass-memory storage device, cylindrical and gold. Cradling Kier against her with one hand, she snagged the rod with another. “It’s right here. I’ve got it. You don’t have to worry.”
“Promise—turn it in.” He coughed again, more weakly. “Protect them if you—but—Alderaan, for Alderaan—”
He’d heard the planning in the banquet hall. Knew about what had happened on Onoam, about the medical frigate, about the entire alliance of leaders ready to stand against Palpatine. As soon as he arrived in this system and saw the ships massed here for repair, Kier had known exactly what it meant. Once the fleet had begun to flee, he’d brought his cruiser near the stations to collect more data.
He’d recorded it all so he could turn the rebels in.
Kier loved Alderaan more than he hated the Empire. If he had to choose between the rest of the galaxy and his home, he chose his home. It was a choice Leia would never make—but she understood it.
“Leia,” he whispered, struggling for breath. “Promise.”
She smiled at him tenderly, caressed the side of his face, and lied. “I promise.”
With a sigh, he relaxed into her embrace. His muscles went slack. Leia kept holding him next to her as his breaths became shallower and his heartbeat slowed. It was so slow, so gradual, that she couldn’t tell the exact moment when he died. For what felt like many minutes afterward, she hung on to him, wanting to stay as long as she could in the last place they had ever been together.
But the Empire was coming, and Leia had other lives to save.
She let the memory rod float from her hand, then pushed off with Kier’s body in her arms. Light grew brighter around them until they drifted back into the hopper; a few pieces of debris from the damaged cutter had made their way into the air too, but nothing they’d have to clear. Amilyn had used the belt from her coverall to tie herself to her seat, and she’d flipped the collar up so she could hold it against her eyes. For an instant Leia thought it was just more oddness—but then she realized Amilyn was crying, and trying to absorb her tears with the collar so the droplets wouldn’t float away.
Hitting the airlock closed the link between the ship; Amilyn turned the gravity back on. Although Leia had been holding Kier as best she could, the sudden return of weight toppled her, and his body crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.
That sound was so final—so dead—
The crystal shattered. All the grief Leia felt, all the fear and anger and everything else she’d kept bottled up or used for fuel—she couldn’t hold on to any of it any longer. She burst into sobs, crumpling on the floor by Kier’s side.
Leia had spent the past few months trying to prove she was an adult. But she wasn’t this grown-up yet. She wasn’t this hard or this tough. When she broke down, she fell apart, completely, as she hadn’t since she was a child and rarely would again. Bending low, she let her forehead rest against Kier’s chest, trying to remember the sound of his heartbeat, as though that would bring it back.
Amilyn said nothing, only took the controls, fired the engines, and took them farther from the wreckage to ensure their space was clear. Leia imagined the stations’ wreckage tumbling into the atmosphere of Paucris Major, glowing with heat as it burned on reentry.
Kier’s ship would be caught in the planet’s gravity too, and the evidence he’d given his life for would disintegrate into atoms, lost forever.
Leia cried through their entire hyperspace journey, terrible wracking sobs that made it feel as though the tears were being wrung out of her. When the hopper dropped out of hyperspace, she tried to pull herself together, only to fall apart when she heard the familiar chime of Alderaan’s welcome beacons. Amilyn had known that both Leia and Kier needed to come home.
I’ll have to lie to his parents. Leia shut her eyes tightly, as though she could block out this part of her certain future. We’ll come up with some story that explains his death. At least I can tell them that he died trying to save me. I can give them that much truth.
Someday that would be a comfort. For now it shattered her all over again.
The comm sounded, startling Leia into looking up. From her place on the floor, she could see the face of an Imperial captain, mustachioed and stern.
The intensity of her fear, combined with her grief, was enough to nauseate her. They were waiting for us here the whole time.
Apparently the captain could only see Amilyn, who sat directly opposite the screen. “Unidentified vessel, please report your—”
“This is hopper four-zero-two-four-one-one-LN, and you can call me Lyn.” The widest, daffiest grin Leia had ever seen on Amilyn’s face appeared, as though nothing was wrong or ever could be. “Hey-ey.”
Understandably nonplussed, the captain needed a moment to answer. “Your vessel ionization levels suggest travel to a system under investigation.”
Amilyn nodded, slow and easy, twirling a lock of her vibrant hair around one finger. “I just got back from the Shili system. Are you guys investigating that planet too? Because I thought it was a-ma-zing.”
Shili was a planet not so different from Paucris Major. Its star had very nearly the same size, the same properties. The ionization levels would therefore be almost identical. Leia didn’t think she could’ve called such a similar system to mind if she’d been given an hour to think about it. Amilyn had done it instantly.
The captain exchanged glances with a junior officer standing a step beside and behind him. “You were investigating?”
“Yeah, because I’m into comparing the different astrological systems around the galaxy.” Amilyn kept her voice even more monotone than usual, and tilted her head at an almost silly angle. “Like, whether the same stars give some of the same characteristics to people on entirely different worlds. Are you from Coruscant?”
His accent had already revealed that much. “My origin isn’t relevant. Now, young lady—”
“See, I thought you were from Coruscant. What’s your sign?”
“I’ve no idea. Such superstitions—”