Chapter Text
Leia flies awake with a strangled gasp, the air hot and sharp in her lungs. The light burns her eyes, painfully bright, flaring red behind her lids when she closes them. Her chest aches like she’s been kicked, the rest of her muscles not much better, and she rolls onto her side with a wounded groan. She inhales the acrid smell of burnt metal and smoke, when she finally opens her eyes again she sees that she’s lying in an escape pod, sunlight streaming through the opening amidst a haze of smoke and dust. Her eyes focus further to see that an Artoo unit stands beside her, a merry chirp escaping him, but she has little memory of what it’s doing here, or where she even is.
“At last!” A golden head appears in the escape pod opening. “Princess Leia, thank goodness you’re all right.”
“That’s a stretch.” Leia groans again. Slowly, carefully she crawls out of the escape pod, her head still spinning. The sand is hot against her palms, too hot, an unwelcome addition to the pain that throbs through every bit of her. “I feel like I’m dying.”
Artoo beeps cheerfully.
“What?”
“Yes. For fourteen minutes and twenty-eight seconds,” Threepio supplies. “The Imperial sensors can detect life-forms, you see. Fortunately, Artoo is capable of delivering up to 3000 volts of electricity in one nanosecond. He revived you the moment we landed.”
Well, that explained the pointed ache in her chest. Leia ran her hands over her face, bits and pieces of memory starting to come back to her. Smoke and blaster fire echoing through the Tantive IV, terror at prospect of losing the Death Star plans they’d sacrificed so much for. Arguing with Captain Antilles, point-blank refusal to leave the ship, and then a needle in her arm without warning.
She growls low in her throat.
“I am going to kill…” a horrible jolt of realization runs through her before she can finish the sentence. She glances up at the sky, unable to see anything but the twin suns beating down, but she knows enough of Darth Vader’s fury. Raymus Antilles is likely dead by now, along with the rest of the crew of the Tantive IV. They’d sacrificed themselves so she could escape, custodian of the plans now nestled in Artoo’s memory banks, just as Erso, Andor, and the others of Rogue One had sacrificed themselves. Now it all came down to her, alone on a strange planet, with nothing but a pair of droids and her own stubborn nature.
A lump rises in her throat, but she pushes down the grief along with the fear. She crawls back into the escape pod to search for supplies, but her heart sinks at the meager offerings. Enough water and rations for one day, maybe two, with a comlink that got crushed in the landing and a quarter-charged blaster rifle half her size. Worse, she hasn’t the faintest idea how long it will take her to stumble upon civilization on this desolate planet, or even which way to head. She’d had little time to research Tatooine after her father gave her the mission, absorbing only a brief overview before they reached Scarif and the galaxy came crashing down around her. Controlled by the Hutts and other crime families, desert that stretched across the entire planet, home to one exiled Jedi she had to somehow coax out of retirement..
She pokes her head back out of the pod to stare at the endless stretch of sand, some mountains behind them in the distance. The Imperials would likely send a unit after the escape pod, regardless of any life readings, and she’d be hard-pressed to hide their tracks, at least not until they reached the mountains. Odds are she’d die of exposure before then, already weakened by her little brush with death. You absolute idiot, Antilles. How exactly did you think this would work?
But she had to try. At least the droids would survive.
Artoo trundles up to her and gives a series of trilling whistles. She understands little binary, but she’s learned enough to guess at what he says.
“You know the way, then?”
Artoo beeps an affirmative. Relief washes over Leia, and she pats him affectionately on his domed head. It’s almost enough to make her forgive the fact that he’d likely abetted her incapacitation only an hour before. Almost.
She hauls herself back out of the escape pod, blaster rifle slung over her shoulder, and loops the pack with the rations over Threepio’s shoulder. Covered in oil and dust, he somehow managed to convey his misery as only a droid could, head bowed and joints creaking.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but…what do we do now?”
Leia takes one last look up at the sky, where scores of her people had just given their lives for the Alliance—for her. Her heart tightens in fear, overwhelming in its intensity, but then she looks back at Artoo, already rolling along towards the mountains. She squares her shoulders and follows him.
“We’re going to find General Kenobi.”
***
After an hour or so of debating the idea in her mind, Leia orders Threepio to split from them and travel in the opposite direction. She feels like an ass for doing it, as cruel as those she battles against, but it will confuse any Imperials who manage to track them, maybe even divert them away from her and Artoo. Her little companion beeps mournfully as they watch the protocol droid vanish into the sand, sad and alone, and she hurries back toward the mountains before she can change her mind.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters. “He’s still got a better chance of surviving than I do.”
Leia prides herself on her endurance, hard-won through years in the Pathfinding Corps, but Tatooine threatens to defeat her with every step. The sand shifts and slides beneath her boots, her lips quickly chapped against the blistering heat and wind. Her hood provides marginal relief from the sun, but she’s already light-headed from the crash, and she has to stop herself from consuming her precious water all in one go. She’s grateful for the thin material of her senatorial gown, sleeves wide and billowing, but she fears what will happen when the sun goes down and the temperature drops.
They reach the mountain range at sunset, faster than Leia expected, and for a brief moment hope stabs through her. Here, at least, they can hide their tracks more easily, with more cover to hide from any predators. But uneasiness creeps up around her the farther they go into the range, shadows slowly lengthening around them. Over time, she starts to get the sense that they’re being watched. At first she attributes it to paranoia and her own exhaustion, but when a stone crumbles down a ridge she draws her blaster, gripping it so tightly her fingers start to ache.
She scouts a little ahead of Artoo to see if she can find whoever is stalking them, her eyes scanning the crevices of the ravine. Too late, she hears a chittering exclamation behind her, and turns just in time to see a short, hooded figure shoot an ion blaster at Artoo. The droid squeals, electricity running through him, beeps and whistles going haywire until he topples to the ground.
“HEY!” Leia shouts and sprints back toward the droid, leg muscles burning from the exertion. By now half a dozen of the hooded figures have emerged, their furry little hands extended toward Artoo eagerly. She shoots at the ground between two of the creatures, and they all turn toward her with indignant squeals.
“Back off!” she warns, keeping her rifle trained on the one with the ion blaster. “Now!”
She doubts she looks very threatening, only half a meter taller than them, and she’s not entirely sure she can take all of them at once, combat training or no. But when she fires another warning shot they scatter, with seemingly little interest in taking on a crazed-looking human. They’re gone nearly as quickly as they came, and Leia realizes with dismay that, thieves or no thieves, she’s likely squandered her one chance for help.
“Wait!” she cries, but it’s too late. She runs a tired hand over her face, cursing softly, before she rushes toward Artoo lying prone on the rock. She flips frantically at his switch and prays that the ion damage isn’t long lasting—she can’t extricate the data pad if he’s deactivated, and she’s already failed one droid on this mission. After an agonizing minute his indicator lights beep on, and he lets out a feeble warble as she helps him upright.
“Probably wanted you for parts,” she says to Artoo, who chirps indignantly. Panting, she sits down beside him, the confrontation draining what little energy she has left. The lingering adrenaline makes her tremble, and she fumbles at the wrapper of the emergency rations, practically dropping them in the dust before she shoves them unceremoniously into her mouth. By now they’re enveloped in the darkness of twilight, a chill wind making her shiver. She measures out how much water she’s got left; if she can afford to stop and rest or if she needs to push on.
“How much farther?” she asks, and Artoo lets out a single beep. She sighs. Another five days, if they continue on foot. The food has done little to ease the pain in her head or the dryness of her throat—she’s got thirty-six hours or so, maybe a full two days, before her body gives out on her. They can’t keep going like this, not if she’s going to live. And selfishly, shamefully, she wants that very much.
In the end it’s a distant howling noise that sets her back on her feet. One step at a time, just like when she’d climbed Appenza Peak three years before. Her mother had been at her side then, providing steady guidance and comfort, but she’d just have to imagine Breha’s presence here now, her good-natured smile and the glowing pulmonodes beneath her chest. The Queen of Alderaan had survived so much in her life—Leia had to, as well.
In the distance, she spies a massive, trapezoidal vehicle at the ravine opening. She keeps to the shadows as they approach, shushing Artoo, and once they get closer she makes out dozens of the hooded figures milling about, dragging aboard spare parts or droids salvaged from who knows where.
Scavengers, she thinks with some satisfaction. She keeps still as they loaded up their wares and watches until the massive vehicle started crawling over the sand. She does not trust them far enough to seek shelter, but she could follow them as they trundled along into the night, looking for folk to trade with. Sooner or later they’d reach a settlement. She just had to somehow last until then.