Star Wars Journal - Captive to Evil by Princess Leia Organa Read online

  Antilles and I were on a mission to Ralltir when we first heard the words “Death Star.” We were in a tight spot at the time.

  We claimed to be on a mercy mission, carrying medical supplies. But actually, we were there to strengthen the Rebellion. We’d heard that many people on Ralltir were against the Empire, and their High Council was secretly sympathetic to the Alliance.

  This was good news for us. Ralltir could become a powerful Rebel stronghold, but they needed our help. If we could bring field medical supplies and military hardware, they could hold out against the Imperial forces. The Ralltireans are known for their fierceness and integrity. Just what the Rebel Alliance needed.

  So we landed on the planet, our hold full of turbo laser processors and field operations equipment. Unfortunately, the Imperial starfleet had reached the planet ahead of us. They declared a state of emergency, which meant we had to leave immediately. But first, Lord Tion, the Imperial task force commander, threatened to search our ship.

  It was time to bluff, I told Antilles. I’d pull out my Princess bag of tricks and throw around words like “diplomatic mission” and “senatorial privilege.” We’d be on our way in no time.

  Antilles wasn’t so sure. Tion wasn’t the most clever official, but we shouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. And Antilles had heard that Darth Vader was arriving to smash any resistance on Ralltir.

  All the more reason to hurry, I argued. I could handle Lord Tion. At least I’d had dealings with him before. He’d briefly served on a committee in the Imperial Senate before he’d been given a position by the Emperor himself. Now he was one of the Imperial’s rising young commanders—or should I say reptiles?

  In the Empire, the scum always floats to the top. Just like in a toxic pond.

  Antilles finally agreed to my plan. But he insisted on going with me to meet Lord Tion. Talk about a flesh-crawler. Tion oozed with politeness while he threatened us with search and seizure. I wished I could seize him—right around his scrawny neck!

  But it became clear that Tion had an ulterior motive for his threats. In his warped mind, he thought that marrying a princess could help him gain power in the Imperial government.

  Unfortunately, the princess he had in mind was me. If I agreed to meet him alone for dinner, he wouldn’t search the ship.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to face such a sacrifice for the cause. A firefight broke out nearby, and we were ordered to leave the administration center. We were on our way to our landspeeder when we came across a wounded Rebel. He told us that the firefight was a diversion so that he could get to me. Hypnotically imprinted on his brain was information vital to the Alliance.

  I didn’t know it then, but that vital information was the existence of the Death Star battle station. All I knew at the time was that we had to get him away from Ralltir.

  It wasn’t easy. Especially when Darth Vader appeared. He suspected the firefight was a diversion, and was prepared to search not only the Tantive IV, but my landspeeder, which was where the wounded Rebel was hiding.

  The Imperials were more concerned with the law then. Or should I say, concerned with the appearance of following the law. They were still trying to conquer parts of the universe with bribes and false promises. So they had to keep up their image.

  I reminded Vader that Tion was in charge on Ralltir, knowing that Vader would have to get Tion’s permission to search. Everything must be done legally, so that there would be no questions in the Senate. He ordered us to wait.

  Even I couldn’t risk defying Darth Vader. Antilles and I were trapped.

  It was the wounded Rebel who gave us the way out. He told us that the Imperials were about to enforce a full-scale surveillance of all communication in the administration center. Which meant that every word we spoke would be monitored and recorded.

  You might say that was bad news. But I knew we could turn it to our advantage. If the Imperials wanted to snoop on our conversation, why not tell them what they wanted to hear?

  I figured I couldn’t go wrong counting on Tion’s vanity. As soon as we knew we would be overheard, I told Antilles that if Tion searched my ship, my father would be furious, and forbid Tion to visit Alderaan.

  Then again, if he didn’t search the ship, I would know he was a true gentleman. I made sure to say this in a soft, gentle voice. Yes, I can manufacture a ladylike tone, if I have to. Even for an Imperial worm.

  Antilles and I exchanged a wordless glance. Would Tion fall for the ruse? Would he be stupid enough to let us go?

  We were on our way in minutes.

  Later, back on Alderaan, Father and I discussed what to do next. Thanks to the Rebel, who recovered from his wounds, we now knew about the Death Star. What we needed was more information.

  And someone stupid enough to give it to us. Someone who would be puffed up by flattery. Someone who would want to impress us.

  Lord Tion reappeared just in time.

  At first, I was irritated that I was forced to entertain him. But perhaps an intimate family dinner was just the thing. We served all of Alderaan’s delicacies. And I promised my father I would be polite. That was the way to get information out of the womp rat.

  A little flattery did the trick. Right after he proposed marriage to me—and my food made a somersault in my stomach—Tion began to boast about a secret ultimate weapon.

  Foolishly, he let a crucial piece of information slip. The detailed plans of the Death Star would be on the next transport, heading for the Imperial vaults.

  Okay, I admit it—right here, I made a stupid mistake. My excuse is that Tion drove me over the edge. He was so arrogant! So sure of the Empire’s power. It made me furious.

  I slipped and called the project the “Death Star.” Tion knew I had to be a Rebel, that there was no other way for me to know the code name. He drew his blaster. But he didn’t expect resistance from a princess.

  Sometimes, it’s helpful to be underestimated.

  I threw myself at Tion. We struggled for his blaster. It went off, and he died.

  I have no remorse. In his role as task force commander, Tion had been responsible for the death and suffering of whole populations. He would have gone on to inflict more misery on the innocent. I think of those people when I remember that moment.

  Father and I got word to the Rebel base, and a great battle was launched. Many of our men died. But the plans were captured. They were broadcast to me on the Tantive IV.

  The rest you know.

  Now, I wait for Vader to send for me. This is the first time he’s called me an out-and-out traitor. And my killing a stormtrooper hasn’t exactly helped my claim that I’m only a Senator.

  But I think my best bet is to bluff my way out. No matter how hard Vader will try to intimidate me. I’ll continue to act as though the authority of the Senate is behind me. Vader has no real proof. And there’s a big difference between having Rebel sympathies and being an active Rebel agent. If he can prove that I’m an agent, he’ll claim that he has the right to imprison me.

  Besides, if I keep insisting that I’m merely a Senator despite all the evidence to the contrary, it just might infuriate Vader. Now that’s a pleasant thought.

  I’ve coiled my hair into the style of the royal house of Alderaan. I’ve arranged my garments and tried to clean up as much as possible. Now I sit in my most chillingly regal of poses.

  I’m ready to face the Dark Lord.

  FOURTH ENTRY

  LOCATION: CREW QUARTERS/

  DEVASTATOR/ORBITING THE

  DEATH STAR STATION

  I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the Death Star. Tion, for once, did not exaggerate. It is huge, as big as a class-four moon. Evil emanates from it like an icy wave.

  Darth Vader brought me to the viewport. He stood close by, watching my face as I caught my first glimpse. I could tell that he wanted me to be frightened by the sight of it.

  So I told him that I was sorry to disappoint him. If he wanted me to faint at the sight of Imperial mag
nificence, I just wasn’t the type.

  Besides, the bigger the Imperial weapons grow, the more pathetic they seem.

  His breathing wheezed behind me. The sound froze my blood. I’d heard that when they hear it, even the cruelest Imperial warriors scurry for cover.

  “Brave words for a princess without a throne to hide behind,” Vader told me. He added that my days of protection were over. I was a traitor and a spy, and that’s how I’d be treated.

  I suggested that he check with the Emperor before he made any more decisions. After all, rumor had it that he was incapable of making a move without his boss’s approval.

  He didn’t answer. His breath was audible behind the mask. I stared back into the eyes of the helmet, eyes like a giant insect. Blank. Black. Emotionless.

  My battle of wills with Vader is also a battle of nerves. He is more powerful than I am—for now. But I’ll never let him know that I know it. Bravado can substitute for bravery at times.

  He has me at a disadvantage. I am his prisoner. I think my best tactic will be to show contempt for his authority with every word, every breath. I’ll match him, taunt for taunt. I consider keeping Darth Vader off balance a personal challenge!

  He told me that the Death Star was our destination. But I’d already guessed as much.

  “And if you don’t cooperate, it could be your last resting place,” he said.

  I told myself to keep cool. Losing my temper or shouting would please him too much. So I turned my back on him. I told him that he had just threatened a member of the Imperial Senate. It was a punishable offense.

  Of course, I was bluffing. The Emperor would never punish Darth Vader, and we both knew it.

  He sighed, as if I bored him. He told me I was wasting my breath, and his time. He signaled to his men, and they took me below.

  So I’m back in a crew cubicle, waiting. Vader thinks that a prison term on the Death Star is a frightening punishment. But he’s wrong.

  Bringing me to the Imperial’s best-kept secret could turn out to be a fatal mistake. I’m about to get a closeup view of their most formidable weapon. I just might be able to help the Rebellion more on the Death Star than anywhere else.

  And now my diary will become even more important. My eyes and ears will be open. I’ll record every observation. I’ll count troops and transports and weapons. And if I can’t leave the station, I’ll make sure the diary survives and finds a way into the hands of the Rebellion.

  There are no spaceports in this cube, but I can hear the noise of docking activity.

  We have landed on the Death Star.

  FIFTH ENTRY

  LOCATION: DETENTION

  BLOCK AA23/

  DEATH STAR

  I’m now being held in a detention block, in a locked cell. I wasn’t given a chance to protest. I was shoved inside, and the door hissed behind me.

  We landed in a huge docking bay, the biggest I’ve ever seen on a space station. I counted at least fifty TIE fighters lined in take-off formation. There must be more. I think there are additional hangars all around the docking bay. Guards hurried me past three large transport ships being unloaded.

  We traveled down a long corridor that snaked off the docking bay at a right angle. After approximately a hundred yards, we took a right turn. The airlift was another hundred yards or so down a well-used corridor.

  The space station may not be fully operational yet, but it’s loaded with staff. I saw squads of Imperial stormtroopers as well as ranking officers. There were also technicians and other personnel. Everyone seemed very busy.

  My impression is that the Death Star is a multileveled station that’s built around a central core. There could even be air passages in that core, so that ships can move from one quad to another.

  The airlift opened directly into the prisoners’ dock. A command center sat immediately in front of the doors. I believe it’s the only exit from the dock, so escape would have to take that into account. The center was manned by four stormtroopers and one main guard at the central post. The locking devices are located there. Next time I’m led out from the cell, I’ll count again, to see if the number of guards is standard or unusual.

  Now I have to wait and watch for my chance to escape. Already I’ve discovered that it’s exactly five paces from one end of my cell to another. My bunk is adequate, but I can get no rest. Inactivity has always been difficult for me, despite my aunts’ attempt to drill patience into my nature. Back on Alderaan, Tia, Rouge, and Celly would say, “All action is foolish without reflection. Wait and learn, Leia—and learn how to wait.”

  “I don’t have time to wait!” I would cry. “I can learn while I go.”

  But now here I am, waiting. All I can think about is the success of that little droid. How can he find his way to General Kenobi in the vast Jundland Wastes?

  I had to pause. My breath just left me. My heart suddenly seemed to expand, and a powerful feeling came over me. It came from deep within me. It spoke, but it had no voice.

  It told me that Artoo will succeed. That Obi-Wan Kenobi will be reached.

  I don’t know where the feeling came from. I’ve never felt anything like it. It reminds me of tales my father told me of the Jedi Knights, of the element they call the Force. Something that surrounds us and binds us to everything in the universe.

  I feel a new strength in my body, a new defiance in my mind. It is almost as though Obi-Wan himself has told me to hang on.

  It doesn’t matter if it came from Obi-Wan, or from something in me. I can use it. I can—

  SIXTH ENTRY

  LOCATION: PRISONERS’

  DOCK/DEATH STAR

  I’ve rewound the data tape here so I can indicate that as Darth Vader entered my cell, I hid my recorder and kept it running:

  Vader: Ah, Princess Leia. Sorry to disturb your rest. You’ll need it here. Your interrogation sessions won’t be pleasant, I’m afraid.

  Leia: Vader, I demand to know on what authority I am being held in a prison cell. What crime have I committed? Or rather, what charge have you manufactured to keep me here? Once the Imperial Senate hears of this—

  Vader: There is no one to protest, Princess Leia. The Emperor has abolished the Imperial Senate.

  Leia: This is outrageous! Not to mention against the Council Rules of Order. The Emperor has shown contempt for our laws, it’s true, but this is going too far, even for him.

  Vader: I am not interested in your opinions, Princess Leia. I’m interested in the Death Star plans. What have you done with them?

  Leia: I don’t know what you mean. And I’m tired of being asked the same question repeatedly. Now, if you don’t mind—

  Vader: We’re tracking those droids on Tatooine. It’s only a matter of time before we find them. You look dismayed, Princess Leia.

  Leia: Hardly. If you want to chase a couple of droids across the galaxy, be my guest. But I have to say, I’m confused. I find it puzzling that you’re so intent on finding these plans. You yourself told me that the Death Star station is invincible. So why should you care about the plans?

  Vader: Don’t trifle with me, Princess—

  Leia: Wait, I’m really trying to understand this. It’s such a lapse in logic. And don’t you pride yourself on your logic, Vader? Could Darth Vader be growing irrational? You are under pressure… Licking the Emperor’s boots can be so tiring.

  Vader: It is you who are irrational if you expect to continue to bluff. Talk all you wish, if it amuses you. We will find out everything you know in time. Including the location of the hidden Rebel base.

  Leia: Do you need a new hearing device in that helmet, Vader? I’ve already told you—I was engaged on a mission of diplomacy. Perhaps you’ve heard the term?

  I can see that I need to explain the concept. It’s when life-forms use intelligence and reason to solve their differences. Unfamiliar concepts for the Imperials, I admit—but the rest of the universe depends on them. Which is why the Empire will fall, in the end.

  Va
der: You disappoint me, Princess Leia. Taunts and threats are the weapons of a child.

  Leia: I am a Senator of the Imperial Court! I demand my freedom. When my father, Viceroy Bail Organa of Alderaan, hears of this—

  Vader: I’m afraid your father cannot help you, Princess. The Tantive IV has been blown to space dust. I have made sure that word has gone out that none aboard survived. Your father thinks you are dead.

  That scream and the scuffling noise you just heard? That was when I lost my temper.

  I couldn’t help myself. The thought of my father’s grief sent me over the edge. Hot rage pumped through my body, and I threw myself at Vader.

  I wanted to rip that breath-mask from his head. I wanted to see his eyes, see the real man—the animal—underneath the helmet. I wanted to expose him. I wanted to kill him.

  I caught him by surprise, and my fingers found the ridge under the collar of his helmet.

  I almost succeeded in yanking it off. But he pushed me away. His strength is extraordinary. Some extra force seemed to propel me, and I flew backward across the cell and slammed into the wall.

  That loud noise at the end of the scuffling was the sound of me hitting the wall. My recorder shut off with the impact. I’m lucky it didn’t break.

  What am I saying? I’m lucky my head didn’t break.

  My ears rang as I watched Vader raise a gloved fist. I stared at him, daring him to strike me.

  But his fist fell to his side. Vader stood over me, just breathing for a moment. Usually, it’s hard to tell when someone wearing a helmet is angry at you. But I got the distinct feeling that the Dark Lord was fuming.

  Good. Let him be mad.

  He sounded completely calm when he told me that I would regret what I’d done. Perhaps a session with an Imperial interrogator droid would teach me the importance of respect.

  Then he left, the door hissing closed behind him.

  I’ve heard whispers about these droids—torture devices invented by twisted Imperial minds. It is said that they can deliver unimaginable pain. Pain so intense that it has never been experienced before—worse than pain from any disease or wound known in the universe. That is why the Imperials use droids—there’s no danger of human mercy entering the picture.