Марта Уэллс - From a Certain Point of View

Willrow watched as it flipped through the air and came down with a loud clang.

And in that moment, his heart twisted in his chest. He ran to the cylinder before anyone else could, picked it up, and gave it a shake. Where once there’d been solid silence, something inside rattled.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe something inside just came loose…

But Faron heard it, too. His bug-eyes went wide and he shook his head. “You’re on your own with that one.”

And the Rodian got up and disappeared into a crowd of evacuating residents.

Willrow gave the camtono another shake. Heard another rattle.

Let’s just say Tropos has ways of making people disappear. But not until she makes every person you ever loved disappear first.

No matter what, Willrow still needed to get off Cloud City. So he ran hard for the shuttle bay. After pushing through crowds of people seeking some sort of safe passage, he found Bexley in the far corner, circling a battered gunship, which Willrow recognized from its patrols through the city’s skies. It was a security vessel, and as he came up alongside the hull he asked, “This thing going to hold up?”

“Let’s hope so,” Bexley said. “Batuu, right?”

Willrow held up the camtono. Gave it another shake. Felt the rattle inside.

“Hey,” Bexley said, punching a code into the panel next to the door. “We’re going to get overrun with people trying to get out of here in a second. Where we headed?”

Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a smuggler.

But that didn’t mean he was going back to his job in gas mining. So as the ramp lowered Willrow clutched the camtono, wondering if the contents were salvageable. Maybe it was still worth enough to start a new life somewhere.

Far, far away from Tropos.

“Anyplace but Batuu,” he said, climbing aboard the ship.

INTO THE CLOUDSKaren Strong

“The Alderaanian princess is here.”

Jailyn stopped twirling in front of the mirror, and the cloak swished around her ankles. “Princess Leia Organa?” she whispered.

There was no one else in the boutique, so she didn’t need to be discreet. The Lioness catered to the most exclusive clientele, only opening its doors by appointment.

“The baron administrator sent me to a suite at the Grand Bespin Hotel,” the stylist said. “He told me to bring my finest work, fit for royalty. I thought he was only being dramatic.”

Jailyn turned from the gilded mirror and walked toward the boutique’s gallery window. The Lioness was on the Plaza Concourse level in the shopping district. Emissaries seeking business opportunities often visited Cloud City, the Outer Rim’s crown jewel. Jailyn watched as they meandered the streets in awe. The sky was full of pastel colors, and the plaza’s dome-shaped buildings glinted gold in the sun. A cloud car zipped past in an orange blur.

Of course, Jailyn had heard rumors of a conflict between the rebels and the Empire on Hoth. No one knew the princess’s whereabouts or even if she had made it offworld. The most speculated rumor was that she had been captured, a prisoner on some Star Destroyer. But if the stylist was telling the truth, and Neshee had no reason to lie, then the princess had found refuge on Cloud City.

Jailyn turned away from her beloved skyline. “Tell me about the princess. What was she like?”

“She was very beautiful. Demure and gracious,” Neshee answered. “Although I was most disappointed with her companions. A Wookiee and another man, less refined. But the baron administrator seemed familiar with them both, which given his history isn’t a surprise.”

Neshee huffed at the scandal of it all. Everyone knew how Lando Calrissian had been able to obtain his current position through the opportunities of luck and chance.

But Jailyn frowned at the stylist’s disapproval. The princess was a part of the Rebellion, and the Empire had destroyed Alderaan. A rogue and a Wookiee probably made better allies than stodgy Bespin merchants.

Neshee moved closer, smoothing and adjusting the cloak over Jailyn’s tunic. “I gave Her Royal Highness something similar to this. As you can see, it’s immaculately made with the finest aeien silk. The design is exquisite, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jailyn smirked. Neshee was now back in seller mode, eager for an extravagant commission. The stylist wanted her to buy this cloak. If anything, the price had probably tripled in the last few seconds.

Thanks to her father’s Tibanna gas exports and other less publicized shipments, she had the credits. More than enough to spare. The Cirri family even had a swimming pool at their Level 53 living quarters, a rare luxury on Cloud City. Despite her father’s gambling habits and his constant need for opulence, the family still had immense wealth. At least for now. As long as Jailyn kept cleaning up her father’s messes. This afternoon, she had mediated a grueling meeting to quell a labor dispute. Her father hadn’t even bothered to attend. His expectation that she would take care of the family business was wearing thin. No one had asked what Jailyn wanted.

Bespin had been spared the Empire’s gaze, too small to scrutinize and too far away from the Core Worlds. But now, as the civil war continued to rage, the Outer Rim had come under notice and trouble loomed like clouds covering the sun.

Jailyn let the stylist escort her across the thick white carpet back to the mirror so she could admire the cloak again in all its glory.

“The princess’s cloak had different shades. Radiant tones of red and orange. But I think these colors fit better with your lovely brown skin.” Neshee pulled out the cloak to further reveal the fine embroidery of dark greens and deep blues.

Jailyn stared at her reflection. Her hair was done up in the Bespin style, looped braids draping her shoulders. She was a lady of means, daughter of a Tibanna gas tycoon, a Cloud City socialite. This frivolous clothing should have made her happy. In the past, glamorous garments had been her soothing balm, a second skin and gauzy disguise. A reprieve to shed the understated attire required of her position.

She twirled again as Neshee smiled. But it didn’t make her feel any better. Jailyn was still the heiress to the Cirri business empire. More than anything, she yearned to be someone else. Maybe today she could pretend to be a rebel princess.

After paying the stylist too many credits, Jailyn left the boutique wearing the cloak.

—

Jailyn traveled the vaulted halls of the upper levels, which featured chiseled white walls showcasing eclectic designs and moldings. It was a different world from the gritty lower levels where the Ugnaughts processed and encased Tibanna gas in carbonite. Cloud City’s top levels catered to visitors by giving them captivating views of sunsets and life-changing luck at the sabacc table.

Bespin Guards monitored the crossways and atriums, standing stiff in their uniforms, hands close to their blaster sidearms. There seemed to be a heavier presence than usual, but maybe the recent news of the civil war had brought a surge of uneasiness.

Jailyn knew pretending to be the princess of Alderaan was ludicrous, but she still envisioned the sole survivor of House of Organa gracefully walking through the white archways of the Grand Bespin Hotel. Jailyn lifted her head and did her best imitation.

Soon she found herself in front of the Royal Casino, one of the places she came to disappear as well as take a few spins on the jubilee wheel. Gambling wasn’t a weakness for her as it was for her father. The casinos were a tool, a way she found scraps of information beyond the Outer Rim. Based on the information she had just learned from Neshee, she hoped to do some reconnaissance about the Empire and confirm the rumors regarding the princess.