[Thrawn Trilogy] - 01(8)

For a moment he held the partial contact, keeping it light enough to hopefully not wake her any further, marveling again at the strange feel of the unborn children within her. The Skywalker heritage was indeed with them; the fact that he could sense them at all implied they must be tremendously strong in the Force.

At least, he assumed that was what it meant. It had been something he’d hoped he would someday have a chance to ask Ben about.

And now that chance was gone.

Fighting back sudden tears, he broke the contact. His mug felt cold against his hand; swallowing the rest of the chocolate, he took one last look around. At the city, at the clouds … and, in his mind’s eye, at the stars that lay beyond them. Stars, around which revolved planets, upon which lived people. Billions of people. Many of them still waiting for the freedom and light the New Republic had promised them.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights and the equally bright hopes. There was, he thought wearily, no magic wand that could make everything better.

Not even for a Jedi.

Threepio shuffled his way out of the room, and with a tired sigh Leia Organa Solo settled back against the pillows. Half a victory is better than none, the old saying crossed her mind.

The old saying she’d never believed for a minute. Half a victory, to her way of thinking, was also half a defeat.

She sighed again, feeling the touch of Luke’s mind. His encounter with Threepio had lightened his dark mood, as she’d hoped it would; but with the droid gone, the depression was threatening to overtake him again.

Perhaps she should go to him herself. See if she could get him to talk through whatever it was that had been bothering him for the past few weeks.

Her stomach twisted, just noticeably. “It’s all right,” she soothed, rubbing her hand gently across her belly. “It’s all right. I’m just worried about your Uncle Luke, that’s all.”

Slowly, the twisting eased. Picking up the half-filled glass on the nightstand, Leia drank it down, trying not to make a face. Warm milk was pretty far down on her list of favorite drinks, but it had proved to be one of the fastest ways to soothe these periodic twinges from her digestive tract. The doctors had told her that the worst of her stomach troubles should begin disappearing any day now. She hoped rather fervently that they were right.

Faintly, from the next room, came the sound of footsteps. Quickly, Leia slapped the glass back on the nightstand with one hand as she hauled the blankets up to her chin with the other. The bedside light was still glowing, and she reached out with the Force to try and turn it off.

The lamp didn’t even flicker. Gritting her teeth, she tried again; again, it didn’t work. Still not enough fine control over the Force, obviously, for something as small as a light switch. Untangling herself from the blankets, she tried to make a lunge for it.

Across the room, the side door opened to reveal a tall woman in a dressing robe. “Your Highness?” she called softly, brushing her shimmering white hair back from her eyes. “Are you all right?”

Leia sighed and gave up. “Come on in, Winter. How long have you been listening at the door?”

“I haven’t been listening,” Winter said as she glided into the room, sounding almost offended that Leia would even suggest such a thing of her. “I saw the light coming from under your door and thought you might need something.”

“I’m fine,” Leia assured her, wondering if this woman would ever cease to amaze her. Awakened in the middle of the night, dressed in an old robe with her hair in total disarray, Winter still looked more regal than Leia herself could manage on her best days. She’d lost track of the number of times when, as children together on Alderaan, some visitor to the Viceroy’s court had automatically assumed Winter was, in fact, the Princess Leia.

Winter had probably not lost track, of course. Anyone who could remember whole conversations verbatim should certainly be able to reconstruct the number of times she’d been mistaken for a royal princess.

Leia had often wondered what the rest of the Provisional Council members would think if they knew that the silent assistant sitting beside her at official meetings or standing beside her at unofficial corridor conversations was effectively recording every word they said. Some of them, she suspected, wouldn’t like it at all.

“Can I get you some more milk, Your Highness?” Winter asked. “Or some crackers?”

“No, thank you,” Leia shook her head. “My stomach isn’t really bothering me at the moment. It’s … well, you know. It’s Luke.”

Winter nodded. “Same thing that’s been bothering him for the past nine weeks?”