THE CHRONICLER

Danielle Paige

I have never held a lightsaber or shot a blaster or ridden on a dewback—and I probably never will. I rarely ever leave Home One. But I am a part of the Rebellion. And everyone from the littlest astromech droid to Mon Mothma herself has to share their story with me—so that their experiences might live on—even if they do not. Because starting today, I am a chronicler, one of the Rebellion’s historians.

The briefing room was filled with rebel chroniclers from all around the galaxy. Tele introduced me to Garan from Coruscant and Lignu from Daiyu before Tele and I took our seats. But I was barely able to focus on shaking their hands, I was too nervous. Before today, I had spent years solely compiling and disseminating intel about the Rebel Alliance as a data collector, helping to create and preserve a history of the Alliance from its inception. I was uniquely suited for data collection, but then again so was Tele. And Tele had made the transition from stat collector to chronicler long before me. We both have eidetic memories, meaning whatever we saw and heard we could remember forever. Why Mon Mothma had chosen to finally make me a chronicler in addition to my archival duties I did not know.

When Mon Mothma took her place in front of us all, the briefing room went still. I wondered what it would be like to command a room like she did. I was always more comfortable in the back of them. Outside the room, the rest of the ship was abuzz with activity heightened by the most recent arrivals.

Mon Mothma began, “I’ll start by confirming the rumors that are already circulating. Han Solo has been rescued from Jabba the Hutt’s clutches on Tatooine. This was a personal mission, and thankfully successful. And its participants, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Lando Calrissian, and Chewbacca, were unharmed.”

I recalled everything I had heard swirling since their arrival. I received daily official and unofficial reports from all over Home One, including a tip about the Millennium Falcon’s return. No one had mentioned Luke Skywalker being part of the rescue mission. And I’d not seen any report of his arrival with the others. Where was Luke Skywalker?

Mon Mothma cleared her throat and cast a serious glance over all of us. Despite the happy rescue, Mon Mothma was even more stoic than usual.

“With that issue addressed, as you may have noticed we have a few extra faces today. You all carry on the history—the memories—of the Alliance forever. Never forget that. After the full briefing, you will conduct your interviews. And I cannot stress enough the continued importance of your work, especially today.”

Beside me, Tele dared to whisper, “Ten credits Mon Mothma will warn us about the end of the Rebellion…”

“I won’t take that bet. You know I don’t like losing.”

“The way I see it, you win either way—”

“How’s that—”

“If this is the end, you get to spend the end with me…”

An unconscious lick of the lips from him inspired a sharp intake of air from me as he shifted his chair closer to mine. I knew that this was how Tele handled the Rebel Alliance always being on the edge of extinction. His sense of humor covered any fear he felt.

His eyes twinkled. Was he flirting with me? Lately I was aware of Tele in a different way than I had been after so many years working together—his movements affected me, when he ran a finger through his hair, the way he smiled. The way he looked at me. Tele filled the space now where before he had once just been part of it. He had grown tall along the way. And muscular. And somehow he now filled up the whole room so that there was nothing but him. And a single gesture of his was now somehow seismic. He could run his fingers through his hair across the room and I would feel a quickening in my heart as I sat before the monitors meters away.

I looked down at my datapad—

It couldn’t be.

Chronicler Dora Mar

Interview Subjects, Location: Home One

Home One

Han Solo

Lando Calrissian

Leia Organa

On my first day, I was going to interview Leia Organa. What would I ask her first? What would she say? What would she be wearing? Leia was a fable come to life. A hero to me and countless other beings across the galaxy. One who had risked her life for the Rebellion in a series of death-defying acts.

I’d heard from Tele about moments in his time as a chronicler when the subject had been less than their stellar reputation. I was sure that couldn’t be the case with Leia.

Before I could show Tele, Mon Mothma pressed on.

“Everyone involved in this mission from the top generals to the support staff will be interviewed. No one is exempt. I want you to capture everyone’s story. Not just in regard to today’s briefing but every detail from the moment they joined the fight against the Empire.”

Tele’s eyes widened. And he showed me his own datapad.

Both Mon Mothma and Admiral Ackbar were on it along with a list of X-wing pilots. Tele’s memory was like mine but he also had a real penchant for battle plans, so his assignment to talk with our pilots was no surprise. He had General Calrissian, too, for a tactical briefing. But Mon and Ackbar taking time to be interviewed when they were apparently planning a mission wasn’t protocol.

I raised my hand.

“Yes, Dora Mar?”

“A full briefing? There’s nothing on our datapads about a mission today.”

“Representatives from our sector will be meeting back here in about an hour. I will expect you all to be in attendance.”

“Which sectors?” I asked, an alarm bell going off inside me.

“All of our sectors. We are committing all of our forces for this mission. To attack and destroy the second Death Star.”

Silence blanketed us for the briefest of moments. My eyes met Tele’s for a second, finding him serious for once. He must have felt it, too—the opportunity, the excitement, and the danger sinking in all at once.


Mon Mothma dismissed us. Tele leaned over and looked at my tablet. “Sometimes dreams do come true,” he whistled breaking the tension. Tele knew how much I admired Leia—

“Promise me something, Dora,” he said earnestly.

“Anything,” I said, sounding more breathless than I liked.

“That you’ll still talk to me after hanging out with the princess.”

Tele gave a little bow and I found myself smiling at him. Again, a little too wide. We had come from different planets. We had different histories, but now he was the closest person to me on any planet. And I think I wanted to be closer still. But I didn’t know what he thought.

Mon Mothma stopped me at the door.

“A moment please, Dora Mar.”

Tele nodded at me as if to indicate he’d see me back in our shared work chamber and moved on down the corridor alongside the other chroniclers.

“I know that the first day of being a chronicler is daunting. And it has likely been made doubly so given the timing.”

“Mon Mothma, I would totally understand if you need to change my assignments…I can’t believe you gave me the princess?” I said, filling with pride and also hoping that there hadn’t been any mistake.

“You have the most complete archive about her of any chronicler. No one knows Leia like you do.”

“But another chronicler already interviewed her—?”

“You know that I like to rotate chroniclers so that more of you carry the stories firsthand.”

Mon Mothma always put weight on what we did, but her tone was decidedly more grave than usual.

“But…” I began, and I stopped myself looking at Mon’s somber expression.

“Dora, most of the tasks I have accomplished for the Alliance, seemed impossible at first.”

“So how did you accomplish them?”

“Sometimes it’s in the doing that we find our way and our strength. I have no doubt you will do the same.”

Again, I couldn’t help but notice the dire look behind her smile.

“Mon Mothma…keeping records and interviewing subjects are so very different. Any advice?”

“Dora Mar, you do so much more than that.”

She nodded and then added, “Lando will be charming. Han will be gruff. Princess Leia is capable of responding to every question without actually answering a single one. Be direct but respectful. Remember what I said in the meeting; it is the totality of their experience we need to preserve. The reasons for their service, however varied, are meaningful to the Rebellion and for posterity and inspiration.”

To my surprise, Mon Mothma didn’t rush off to prepare for the briefing. Instead, she paused again. “I don’t envy you, Dora Mar—everything’s on the surface for you, all the time.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t known any other way.”

“But I added to your burden by giving you so many memories about the Rebellion.”

I shook my head, an unexpected rush of emotion welling in me. The first memory I had of Mon Mothma’s face coming to the surface. The shame I’d felt when I’d learned from her the Empire I grew up trusting wasn’t what it seemed.

“You gave me a gift. You saved me from being part of a regime that builds planet killers. I will never have any memories of serving the wrong side. Besides, whatever happens, I get to interview Leia Organa.”


I was sixteen when the course of my life changed forever. I was a student at the top of my class at the Imperial Academy, and once I matriculated, I would find my place somewhere in the upper echelons of the Empire, most likely as an intelligence officer, where my particular set of skills could prove essential.

In my village on my planet, my gift rivaled that of the droids. So much so that my teachers would test my memory’s capacity against theirs. To their surprise and mine, it seemed that even their outdated droids could not keep up with my recall. I could remember every face, every date, and everything that I could see or feel or touch. When I first realized that no one else in my village could do what I could, I had mistakenly thought my gift was the Force. But I soon learned that my mind’s gift was limited to memory. I was disappointed, but my memory still gave me an incredible edge that would lead me to success in the Empire.

I had thought I was going to serve the Empire. Not help dismantle it. But everything changed when I met Mon Mothma, and she helped me see the truth of what the Empire really was.

When we first met, I was on a junior Senate tour of the Galactic Senate Chamber, exploring a potential career in politics. Mon Mothma was the senator I got to follow for the day. She was everything I wanted to be—poised and gracious and commanding. I’d gushed over the Empire and how lucky she was to serve and be a senator.

“I came to the Senate the same as you did—full of gratitude and optimism,” she said. The senator complimented my accomplishments but then added, “You are happy to be chosen by the Empire, but you forget—you get to choose the Empire as well.”

At the time I thought she was trying to inspire me to be more inquisitive—to think deeper about the Empire and its mission. Much later, after the destruction of Alderaan, I was called home via an urgent message to visit my family. When I arrived I once again found myself face to face with Mon Mothma, then a fugitive. It was then that she showed me a holo-map of a debris field, where Alderaan should have been.

“They saw the seeds of dissent in Alderaan and they had to crush it. They want minds they can bend to their will, not minds who will never forget their sins. You have a power that is of little use to the Empire but of great use to us. The Empire does not want anyone to remember the truth of their deeds—we seek the opposite.”

“Who are ‘we’?” I had asked, Still reeling from the revelation that the Empire had destroyed Alderaan. I had been a loyal, ambitious student of the Empire and in an instant Mon Mothma had wiped away all my plans and hopes for the future and replaced them with the chilling reality.

“The Rebellion. And we need you, Dora Mar.”

“What do you think I can do?” I asked, still reeling from what I had seen.

Mon Mothma said, “Someone once said that the victors get to write history. We do not know if we will be the victors, but our story will be written—by you, if you choose.”

I had once been destined for the Empire’s darkness but now we were destined for the Rebellion’s light.


I raced back to the work chamber I shared with Tele and began to prepare.

I looked at the wall of screens in front of me and ordered my temperamental but reliable CZ series droid to help.

“Seezee, pull up all Leia Organa materials. Include notes, interviews, cams, everything.” I remembered everything, but physically looking at the files somehow made me feel more ready.

Images and recordings of Leia filled every screen around me.

I had watched the princess wave on the cam from when she was small and I was smaller. Now I watched her brandish a blaster in footage from one of the cams; somehow she seemed equally at home with both gestures.

The blaster footage had been lifted from a visit to Alderaan’s consular security forces. Leia had only held the blaster for a moment, but a journalist had captured it for the rest of us to see. Leia couldn’t have known then she was going to be part of the Rebellion. Now it seemed almost prophetic.

Most of the elite class had chosen another way than Leia and Mon had—their privilege had allowed them to hide and wait to take the side of the Rebellion or the Empire, whoever emerged victorious. Leia didn’t have to be here. She chose to be here.

Some of the information I’d gathered was from cams, some from interviews Leia had given when she was debriefed, some from others around her: friends, servants, fellow politicians, and other royals. My job was to capture the most accurate portrait of Leia’s life, filtering out all the gossip and rumors that swirled around her.

I got up and straightened up the table before me. The objective of a chronicler was to make their subject comfortable so that they would share as much of their tale as possible. I had raced around the ship and scavenged and bartered for some supplies—foods from their home planets and things that might make them more comfortable. I set out a spread with something for every one of my expected guests. Alderaanian biscuits, colo claw fish, and blue milk from Tatooine. The table was ready. But was I?


My datapad beeped. The hour had flown by. I raced back to the briefing room. Tele and I took our place in the back as Mon Mothma made her speech to the assembled rebels. I watched as Leia sat next to Han who sat next to Chewbacca who sat next to Lando. Leia lit up when Luke unexpectedly joined them, and she rose and put her arms around him.

When the briefing ended, Mon Mothma held the chroniclers back for another word. Now that we knew the full scope of the mission, there were no jokes about this being the possible end of the Rebellion from Tele. I could see from the serious faces around me we all acutely felt the weight of what was about to happen and our small but supporting roles in memorializing it.

“As always. You are expected to honor your code of secrecy and to follow evacuation protocols. No heroics.”

Evacuation protocols for chroniclers meant we were to stay until the last possible viable moment for Home One and then go directly to the escape pods in which we would be transported to safe locations. We were not to engage with the Empire in any fashion. Even if our fellow Alliance members were in danger. Until this moment, the idea of abandoning ship had seemed distant and theoretical. Now it seemed far too close.

“I want to be clear: What you carry for the Alliance is where your heroism lies. And the Alliance, myself included, are grateful for your efforts,” Mon added.

I was right, and Tele was wrong. This was different. Mon Mothma wasn’t sure if anyone was coming home after this.


First was Han Solo. He was somehow even handsomer than I expected. But handsomer still when he smiled his crooked smile. I must have stared too long because he began looking quizzically at me.

“Don’t tell me, I missed some sand,” he said, taking a drag of his hand through his hair. When I looked at his face, I imagined it frozen in carbonite as a trophy of Jabba the Hutt.

His eyes fell on the table covered with food.

“There are two ways to get someone to talk. Feed them or starve them.”

“What about torture?” I asked reflexively.

His eyes clouded over for a moment. I wondered if my words had brought to mind his carbon freezing on Bespin and his time at Jabba’s palace. Both traumatic experiences must have affected him and, I assumed, were with him still. After all, his time in carbonite must have felt as if it had just happened over the course of mere days not a year. But when he finally answered, his words did not belie any trauma.

“That works, too. I definitely prefer the food.” With that, he took a scoop of colo claw fish eggs with his hand and deposited it in his mouth. “That’s the stuff.”

“You are easier to bribe than I thought…”

“I’m a huge fan of bribery if I’m on the right side of it,” he said, grabbing a bicuit from the tray then taking a seat and leaning back and making himself comfortable. “I’ve been told this isn’t a normal debrief. This is the soul-baring one—right? What if I told you I didn’t have one.”

“Your actions tell another story,” I countered.

“You haven’t seen all my actions,” he deadpanned.

“Droids record more than you think,” I retorted.

He laughed then. And I was again grateful for my memory because it was definitely a sound that I would play back.

“Well, lucky for me, I’ve spent most of my time in the company of a Wookiee.”

“Then let’s talk about what brought you into the Rebellion’s fold in the first place…everyone has different reasons for joining up. And only you can tell me your true motivation.”

“I’d have to say that coin or lack of it has informed most of my decisions.”

“Can you elaborate?” I prodded.

“No,” he deadpanned and then laughed again.

But then he grew serious. “I’ve flown all over this galaxy. Walked through a lot of doors before I ended up here. Usually, I found a reason to walk back out of most of them.”

“Sounds like you’ve found something of a home in the Rebellion.”

“Is that what your datapad tells you about me?” he asked, eyes sparkling, as he leaned in and picked up one of the Alderaanian biscuits.

I paused. I knew I wasn’t supposed to share my conclusions with my subjects during an interview. But Han had asked. And Mon had never explicitly forbidden it.

I thought about him and Leia. Their coming together from such different beginnings felt like something more than chance.

“It tells me that you went from a thief to a man who helped destroy the first Death Star. That you are a man in flux. Once a rogue, now a trusted member of the Alliance,” I offered.

“Flux, huh? And what do you think caused my flux?” he asked as his lip curled around the words. Was he trying out my assessment of him or preparing to launch a defense?

“All of the data suggests to me that meeting Leia Organa is the inflection point of your life thus far. Before Leia—your decisions were morally questionable. And after her, still, but you stayed with the Rebellion. You deviated from your usual pattern, which was putting yourself and sometimes Chewbacca first, and continued to widen your circle of friendships. From the moment you met Leia on, the people you were willing to risk your life for has grown.”

My next question fell out of my mouth before I could second-guess it. “Is that why you volunteered to lead the mission on Endor? For Leia?”

“For Leia yeah. But I’m doing it for all of us. Look, the Empire has to fall or none of this matters. We have to make a stand. It’s the Death Star or us. And if we lose, there’s nothing on the other side. No more questions, or flux, or growth…no more inflection points…”

Han stood up abruptly and began backing toward the door.

“Where are you going—the interview isn’t over—” I said, getting to my feet.

“Like you said—I’m growing. I think I just outgrew this interview, kid.”


While waiting for Lando Calrissian, I was surprised when Luke Skywalker entered the room. His face was somber. He seemed older than he had in the few images I’d seen of him. And more stoic.

“Dora? Mon Mothma said you have some questions for me.”

The first stories I had heard of the Jedi had been of their betrayal of the Empire. But my time with the Rebellion’s files had shown me the incredible true history of those who wore the Jedi robes or wielded lightsabers. Now, Luke Skywalker stood in front of me. The first Jedi I had ever met.

I gathered myself and looked down at my datapad for any notes I had on Luke, and asked the first question that came to mind.

“You didn’t grow up expecting you would become a Jedi. What has that been like?”

“The war has accelerated time for us all. Without the luxury of time to study and prepare, we must take leaps and trust we are ready,” he said simply.

He forced up a smile, which I presumed was for my benefit.

“Where shall we begin…” he asked.

We began on Tatooine. With Luke detailing his childhood with Beru and Owen Lars and ending with his daring rescue of Han with Leia and Luke and Chewbacca and the droids.

“I wanted adventure. But my aunt Beru and uncle Owen wanted to protect me. They also gave me a strong sense of right and wrong. Back when my old friend Biggs told me he planned to leave the flight academy to join the Alliance because he wanted to be on the side he believed in…it was such a surprise to me. It was the furthest thing that I could conceive of for myself. But after Ben was gone, and I saw Leia and the other rebels so willing to fight and sacrifice for what they believe in, I finally understood. And now here I am.”

“So do you think you would have ever joined the Rebellion if it were not for Leia?”

“I’d like to think I would have found my way to the Rebellion no matter what. I guess the Rebellion found me first. Ben Kenobi was undoubtedly the catalyst. Leia is something else.”

“What is she?”

“A beacon, a guiding light maybe…”

He smiled at the thought; then the smile faded again.

“Luke? Pardon me, but you look as if the weight of the galaxy is upon you…”

I knew we were all worried about what came next but I wondered if it was something else. Something related to Leia.

“Recently, I lost a friend, saved a friend, and found something I never knew I had.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“Not until I tell someone else,” he said with a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be indelicate.”

“You have a duty to do. And I understand that it is indelicate by its very nature. I’m sure you’ve found as I have that answering questions is almost always more uncomfortable than asking them.”

“General Solo…um…left before I could get down all the details about Tatooine.”

“That sounds like Han all right. He can be slippery with new people. What do you need to know?”

Luke filled me in on the rest of the rescue. It was even more harrowing than I’d imagined. Jabba had attempted to execute Han and Lando in the Sarlaac pit. They had narrowly escaped, and Leia had dispensed with Jabba using the chain that had once held her.

When he was done, I realized I had been holding my breath even though I knew that they had all escaped.

“Thank goodness you all made it.”

Luke nodded appreciatively.

“Before we conclude, I am supposed to review the important moments of your journey with the Alliance without judgment, for posterity. But…”

“But there’s something else that you want to ask? Something that isn’t on your tablet?” He cocked his head, curious.

“Are you in love with her?” I blurted. Even though I knew I should have followed up with something more along the lines of how it had felt for him to be back on Tatooine.

“That’s your question for me?” Luke laughed. “Your questions say more about you than about us.”

“But what is the answer?” I asked. I had not imagined these interviews having such an impact on me—I had not imagined myself to suddenly be the subject. I had broken our rules again.

“I’ll tell you this. From the second I saw Leia in that shaft of light—in the message she sent through Artoo-Detoo to Obi-Wan—I think I knew that she would be a part of my destiny,” Luke said with a faraway look in his eyes.

“That’s so romantic…” I began, then added, “Are Jedi allowed to be romantic?”

He laughed again. “Jedi are allowed to be a lot of things. But that is your word, not mine.”

It still wasn’t the answer I wanted about Luke and Leia and Han, but I couldn’t help it—he’d piqued my interest. I had to ask. What he meant about me.

“And what does my question say about me—” I asked, unable to resist.

He just gave a knowing smile.

I sighed and glanced down at my screen. My notes were sparse because Luke, at turns, had been inscrutable. When I looked up he was gone.


While Luke had exited without a sound, Lando Calrissian entered with a laugh.

If Han was the sun, and Luke a calm but confusing moon, then Lando was a magnetic field. He entered and kissed my hand.

“Just like Mon Mothma, to keep me away from meeting you until now. My last interviewer wasn’t half as pretty as you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, knowing that Tele had also interviewed him about the logistics of the upcoming mission. I offered Lando a seat.

“So you’re charged with writing our obituaries. Which Lando Calrissian will you memorialize…smuggler, sportsman, or hero…?”

The term “obituaries” caught me up short, but Lando’s tone was light.

“No obituaries. Living memories, if you will…and if you permit me, I’d like hear about all of them.”

“Mon Mothma and her contingencies…” he said, relenting.

“I’d like to know what sparked your conversion. What brought you fully into the Rebellion?” I began.

Lando considered his answer, his flirtatious smile never leaving his lips.

“I like to play, I like to win. And when all is said and done, I like to sleep without any bad dreams of my own making waking me.”

So Lando, unlike Han, was willing to admit to having a conscience. Lando told me of his youth with zeal. He was good at being a smuggler, better at being a gambler, and he used the skills he had learned as both to be the hero he was becoming today in the Rebellion.

“Do you sleep well these days?” I asked, impressed by his honesty.

“Better than I have in a long time.”

“Both you and Han have changed so much through your experience with the Rebellion. How do you think Han sleeps?”

“How or with whom?”

“I didn’t mean…I mean…” I stammered.

“Ah, you’re curious, too, who isn’t?” he said with a flirty glint in his eyes.

Was I that obvious? How did he even know what I’d been asking Luke? Had Han told him?

“If you’d asked me a couple of years ago, I would have said the only one my old buddy would end up with is Chewie.”

“And what do you say now…”

“Han and a princess shouldn’t make any sense. Royalty’s different from people like us. Hell, a whole other species. But then, Leia’s different from any royal I’ve ever met.”

“So you think they’re a match?”

“Depends on how the cards fall. You can have the best hand in the galaxy, and still lose. You ever been in love, Dora Mar?”

“I…um…am not supposed to share personal…” I began, but my mind went directly to Tele.

“Ah, you have…I can see it. Then you know what war can do to it. It strips away all the excuses. But it might make you more vulnerable. It might just save you from a prison of carbonite…but what do I know. I haven’t been dealt that hand…yet.”

Blushing again, I looked back down at my tablet. “I just have a few more questions regarding Tatooine. What about the rumor that you served Han up to Jabba as payment of your gambling debts?”

“Look at the time. I just realized I have another briefing with Ackbar.” Lando rose from his seat and began to move to the door.

“This is just as necessary as any briefing,” I countered.

“That’s the beauty of the Alliance. Everything we do here is voluntary. And I have to volunteer out there.”

“If this were an obituary, would you really want your life summed up by a game of sabacc?” I offered, trying to get him to stay.

He paused and looked back at me.

“You want to know my truth…”

I nodded.

“I got old,” he said in a quieter tone.

“You’re not old,” I said, surprised.

“War makes you old. Makes you choose. There’s a point when you’re too old to have the excuse that you are too young to know better. This war is so stark that children already know better. Look at you, at what you do, taking in all our stories…they’re written all over you…you’ve seen and heard too much already. I hope on the other side of this thing, you get your chance to play some sabacc, too. Hell, if we make it through this, I’ll teach you myself.”

With that, Lando was gone.


I looked down at my interview notes. Remembering was sometimes easier than interviewing. The door beeped and slid open again.

It was Leia.

She wore a sand-covered jumpsuit, her sleeves rolled up. Her hair was wrapped twice around her head to create a double crown and tiny buns on either side of the nape of her neck. Yet even in the rebel jumpsuit she was every bit a princess. She smiled wider for my benefit and extended her hand. I stood up from my seat and took her hand. I bowed my head the slightest bit, and she stopped me with a laugh. How many times had I stood in front of any screen at home and pretended to wave to an invisible crowd of onlookers? How many times had I wrapped my own hair around my head—to match hers?

“Your Highness, what do I call you, Princess,…Senator…?” I began.

“Try Leia,” she said with an easy smile that I had seen a million times—but it was different seeing it up close.

We stood like that for the briefest of moments.

“Where are my manners—please, have a seat and anything you like.”

Leia’s face lit up as she picked up one of the Alderaanian biscuits.

“Where did you get these? I haven’t had them since before—mmm…” she concluded, taking a bite. “A single bite and I’m six again…You really do have everything about me in that file of yours, don’t you?”

She smiled and her eyes twinkled as if she was recalling a specific memory.

She leaned in and whispered, “If you have more where that came from—it could be useful in securing future allies.”

I wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. She was known for her sharp wit. But I did know that Leia’s mind was always on saving the Rebellion.

“Is everything fodder for the cause?”

“Almost everything…” she said with a smile, taking another bite. I looked down at my tablet where I’d written my questions.

“The jumpsuit is very different from your old wardrobe on Alderaan—the absolute finest of fabrics. Was it an adjustment to wear the uniform of a rebel?”

“It wasn’t an adjustment at all. It’s an honor to wear this uniform…just as it was an honor to wear my Alderaanian gowns. Everything I wore back then was a representation of my home, my family, and now what I wear represents my new family…and the home we hope to create for all of us.”

“In some ways your journey is the farthest of any of the rebels—from princess of Alderaan rubbing shoulders with the upper echelons of society to rubbing elbows with the rogues and the common folk.”

“I think that the people I rub shoulders with now are the finest people in all the galaxy,” she said without missing a beat. “And for what it’s worth, I may have grown up in grand halls, but I have always preferred to be in the trenches with my fellow rebels.”

Leia’s gaze was unblinking, and I was sure that her disapproval was evident. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and reoriented myself with a new topic, hopefully one that would not further offend.

“Let’s talk about Jabba—the Tatooine ordeal,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“I can still hear the band that was playing endlessly,” she began, her brow furrowing as she remembered.

“Some find that sharing their tale helps them put it behind them,” I offered.

“Really? I find moving on to the next mission helps.”

“You disapprove of the chronicler mission?”

A line formed in Leia’s unblemished forehead.

“I believe in it in theory. But keeping our operations in the shadows has served us this far. Keeping a record…”

“I assure you that I can be trusted.”

“Mon trusts you. So I will trust you. But even the trusted can be forced to share their secrets.”

“You managed to mitigate that situation when you were questioned by Darth Vader. I hope if I ever find myself in such dire straits I will follow your example,” I said, hoping that referencing perhaps the most tragic moment of her life illustrated how gravely I took my mission.

“I hope for your sake that you never have to,” she said quietly.

“Where were we…ah, yes, Tatooine—Jabba’s palace. You posed as Boushh—a male Ubese bounty hunter,” I began again.

Leia’s face relaxed, and she seemed more comfortable telling this part of the tale.

“We had intel about Boushh that I used to my advantage. Along with the fact that he and I were roughly the same size and height.”

Leia described her ordeal and I peppered her with questions. She told of Jabba and his endless party; of her subsequent capture and the indignity that followed, literally chained to the beastly Jabba as if she were another of his pets.

“Do you speak Huttese? Could you understand him?”

“A little, but even if he hadn’t spoken a word his body language was clear. And Threepio was there to translate. Jabba lived in excess in every respect. He collected things, people, droids, and fear itself. I am glad I never gave him the satisfaction of showing him mine.”

“You were literally chained to your captor. For anyone that situation would be harrowing and demeaning, but for you—a princess who has proven herself to be fiercely independent, to have your freedom restricted like that—” I pressed.

Leia shook her head, “There is no ‘but for me,’ Dora. You were right at the start, it would be an indignity for anyone. Period.”

“Of course, I meant no disrespect.”

“I just don’t want there to be any ambiguity in the record. Now, where was I? You asked how I felt being at Jabba’s mercy? Emotionally, I was…determined…to find a way out of the palace,” she deadpanned.

Leia stirred in her chair. I had overstepped. How soon until she bolted from her seat and back out into the corridor just like Han, Luke, and Lando before her?

“What did you say to Han when you unfroze him from the carbonite?” I blurted out.

Leia paused as if remembering.

“At first I was just making sure his airway was clear and that he could speak. I explained to him that he had carbonite sickness.”

“And what did he say to you?”

“It was unintelligible.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. If there was ever a moment to profess one’s feelings…wouldn’t the moment of rescue be it?

“Leia, I don’t mean to pry…As a chronicler I am charged with trying to preserve the Rebellion’s history for all beings, especially those who will come after us. Not just the facts, but to create a record that is as vivid and tangible and accessible and real, so those who might read it can imagine themselves in your place. So that they might one day relate to what you and General Solo and the others went through. To know your struggle and ultimately your triumph…so that they might one day triumph, too,” I pressed.

Leia paused, considering.

“Beautifully put, but like I said, his answers were unintelligible.”

I sighed, realizing that we had reached an impasse.

“Mon Mothma said the mission was personal. I just want to get down why it was personal.”

“I’m sure if you search your memory you’ll see that there are a lot of other personal missions. Not a first for the Rebellion—or for me.”

“But Han isn’t just any rebel to you, right…?”

The princess laughed. The kind of laugh that was practiced to sound effortless. But I was sure it was the opposite.

Leia got to her feet.

“Princess, er, Leia, I have a few more…”

“I’d like to revisit one of your earlier ones.”

I felt my heart beat against the walls of my chest.

“You asked me about my time with Jabba—I’d like to amend my answer.”

“Yes?” I asked, leaning in.

“I was mad. No, I was infuriated. Not just for myself but for the other women caught in Jabba’s orbit. When I was first taken prisoner, another woman there, Jess, helped me get dressed. She thought I was in denial about getting free, but even still she used our time together to try to help me survive.”

“How?” I said, genuinely surprised by this turn.

“She told me to keep my head down. And she told me about Oola.”

“Who’s Oola?” I asked, mentally sifting through what I had so far in my Tatooine file.

“Another of Jabba’s dancers…That chain that was around my neck tethering me to Jabba had been Oola’s only a few hours before.

“Oola had kept him entertained by dancing until he grew bored with her. Jess had done the same with her music—I did not have those skills and Jess knew that. She was grieving her dead friend…but she took the time to warn me. I only spent a few hours with her, and we argued briefly, but her instinct was to help me. I don’t know if Jess survived. I know Oola was dead before I could meet her.”

“Oh, your Highness…” I whispered.

“What’s not in your story…what’s not in your memory…what’s not in your datapad are moments that the cams miss, and the interviews miss. I want them on the record.”

Leia was right. I did not know the whole of their stories, and I had not sought them out.

“The Empire has its eyes on us. And we have our eyes on the Empire. But everything in between, everyone in between—they were smugglers—thieves—mercenaries. And then there were the performers, dancing for their lives. Just caught in the net…”

“The women you named…”

“Jess and Oola,” she repeated firmly.

“Jess and Oola…are…were not part of the Alliance,” I offered weakly.

“But they are part of the story…From what I gathered from Jess, Oola was a Twi’lek. She had been tricked into coming there. And her very last moment, her very last dance, was one of defiance. She pulled away from Jabba, and he punished her by feeding her to his rancor. I want to make sure that they have as much space in our record as someone like me does. Because Oola will never get to love—or grow old, or decide if she is going to be a wife next…If Jess survived somehow, I hope she gets that chance.”

“I’m…” I began, an apology on my lips.

“Don’t be sorry…be prolific. From what Mon tells me, your mind is so expansive you can hold an unlimited number of stories. Make room for theirs,” she said, getting to her feet. She smiled a knowing smile.

“The Rebellion is bigger than the list of names we have that have joined us. Anyone out there can join us or betray us. Anyone can become a rebel anytime. It’s never too late. It’s the smallest action that gets us from being a group of rebels making tiny holes in the Empire to a free and glorious union capable of wiping the Empire out. Every tiny decision, every moment of resistance, is how we cross that threshold. And we take no one and nothing for granted.”

Leia began walking toward the door, but suddenly she paused and turned back. Before I could protest, she scooped up the rest of the biscuits and left.


Leia’s words rocked me to my core. From the first day I had joined the Rebellion, I had been proud of my work—but now I only felt shame. I felt as if the galaxy were pushing in on me. The Death Star itself had put a shadow over all of us…but I had an additional shadow of my own making now.


“Mon, do you have a minute?” I asked, as I caught up with her in the hall of Home One. She had a screen in her hand and was glancing down at it as she walked toward the assembly room. She was clearly going over her speech for the rebels, assembling momentarily. She looked up from her screen with a barely perceptible sigh.

“I have offended the princess.” I showed Mon my interview notes while she waited for the rest of the contingent to assemble.

“I passed Leia in the hall.”

“What did she say?”

“It wasn’t what she said; it was how she smiled. I know that smile. It can be a weapon or a salve that covers myriad emotional wounds. Leia’s been covering hers for longer than most…but we always knew that she would have reservations about this project. Let me see.”

Mon’s eyes traveled over the notes that I’d written. She reacted with a tiny smile of her own.

First she skimmed through the notes on Han, Luke, and Lando.

“You got a few actual sentences out of Han…that’s not nothing. Lando will never abandon the card game metaphor…that was to be expected…the Luke interview will fill in some blanks…let’s see…Leia…

Leia Organa—princess, junior senator, hero…she’s given us so much. But what of her heart?” Mon read aloud.

“It was as if every question I asked was more wrong than the next.”

“There are no wrong questions…but in this context, questions are meant to elicit answers confirming facts and ideally reveal truths. The questions are not designed to in any way affirm the questioners preconceived beliefs and tangential interests.”

“What do you mean?” I knew that Mon Mothma was disappointed in me, but this seemed even worse than I thought. Tangential interests? Was she saying that I had lost focus?

“As always your attention to detail is commendable—these notes are a departure from your other work…” she said. “Do you know why we don’t just have droids record our history?”

“Because they can be sliced into or destroyed?”

“While they get closer every day to true sentience, right now they will inevitably misinterpret context or misconstrue emotion. Because they cannot yet grip the full understanding and depth of our experience.”

“After Leia’s reaction, I am not sure if I do, either,” I admitted.

“You do realize that the most beautiful thing about Princess Leia is not the braids she winds around her head. It’s what’s underneath it.”

“Her dress?” I asked facetiously, even though my heart wasn’t in it.

“Her brain,” she corrected.

“I know how brilliant she is…I covered her many accomplishments.”

“And yet you devoted half your notes to musings on the status on Han and Leia’s relationship…and another few screens to the performers in Jabba’s palace on Tatooine. I know with your gift you remember ever detail. But not every detail belongs in the story.”

“That’s not what I was…” I began but Mon Mothma continued.

“I want you to focus on what’s important. Leia’s accomplishments, not a holodrama rooted in gossip and hearsay.”

“But aren’t our motivations part of the story? And Lando confirmed that there is some kind of connection there.”

“Lando Calrissian is your source—! I don’t mean to be indelicate, Dora. And I say this without judgment or interest. But there are those all over the Rebellion finding comfort in one another right now. Comfort is not necessarily love. Without some kind of formal declaration from any of the principals, those details do not belong in Leia’s record. But you know what does…She has led and inspired our Rebellion. Do not reduce her to just her emotions. Do you understand?”

That wasn’t what I was doing. Was it? I opened my mouth to protest, unable to articulate what it was that I was trying to say in Leia’s story. What I was trying to say now.

“The people need hope. Love is hope,” I said, digging in.

“And Leia has proven her love for the entire galaxy, not just one man in particular. None of us need to be distracted by specific entanglements, real or imaginary. There is only one engagement we should be focused on. The one with the Death Star,” Mon said, her voice cracking almost imperceptibly.

But before I could form the words, the tone sounded again—it was time.

“I have to get back to the assembly room to meet with Ackbar—I’ll see you there,” she said curtly, as if I had forgotten that chroniclers were required to attend all meetings and functions.

“What you write now may be a guide for the future—for whoever survives. Do you want to leave them a love story, however romantic, or the whole of a hero’s arc? There is a difference between the stories we tell through propaganda and those we tell here. This is a place for the truth unvarnished. Somehow you have made each of these stories less than heroic.

“We have to be worthy of their sacrifice. We have to make every moment—every action—count.”

She handed me back my datapad. It felt heavier than it ever had before.


My CZ droid looked up at me. “Would you like me to load the next scan?”

After a pause, the droid persisted, “Dora Mar? Is something the matter?”

“Give us a moment, Seezee,” a voice said as the door to my room slid open. Tele was in the doorway still typing on his datapad, not even looking up, a smile on his face. He’d interviewed Admiral Ackbar and a bunch of the pilots who were readying for the assault on the Death Star. “I’m pretty sure that Lando and I are going be friends. He even invited me to have a drink with some of the pilots,” he boasted. His face was lit up with pride.

“The princess hates me and Mon Mothma thinks I’m writing propaganda,” I blurted.

“Oh, Dora,” he began, and then suddenly he picked up the tray of eggs that sat on the table. I assumed he was going to offer me one to try to make me feel better. But instead, he dumped them over his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Bringing you back to the present,” is what he said. But what he meant was that he was giving me something else to remember. I felt myself smile and my tears dry up.

I thought of Oola again. How had I not done her story justice? How had I really failed Leia? And failed the Rebellion that had saved me from the Empire.

I closed my eyes momentarily and then tried to focus on Tele there with his sparkling eyes and those dimples. That image was chased with guilt that I felt even temporarily better.

“You know it’s not really possible for me to forget…anything…but I do appreciate the effort.”

As Tele wiped up the mess with a tea towel. I could see the musculature of his biceps pressing against the sleeve of his jacket.

“It’s not possible for me to forget anything, either,” he said looking up at me.

“So…how’d I do—is it working?” he pressed, stepping closer to me.

“Um…” I began, forcing myself to look up from his arms to his incredible hazel eyes—which proved to be equally distracting.

Despite his sweet stunt, our previous declarations remained in the air between us—I remembered every minute of him and me and he did the same. If this moment went south, whether we had hours or years left, the rejection would be forever on the surface.

It felt like he was going to say something. Or do something. Would he lean in and kiss me, or put a platonic hand on my shoulder?

“Dor…” he stammered and his face flushed. Did that mean he—

I took a step back. If Tele rejected me, I would remember it forever. And so would he. And that moment would be between us—never fading. I could not bear it.

An alarm sounded across the ship—it was time. There would be no more attempts by Tele to distract me from the indelible memory of my failure. We rushed to the bridge to watch.


I watched as the Rebel Alliance boarded their ships. I watched as we pulled back because the shields were still up. I watched as they came down just in time. And I watched as the Death Star was destroyed. I watched as we went from a ragtag Rebel Alliance to topplers of the Galactic Empire.

And as I watched I felt fear for my fellow rebels but also shame for myself.

As the cheers erupted around me, including Tele, I joined in the revelry. Finally, a victory—a definitive one. The Emperor and Darth Vader were dead and gone, and a new chapter for the Alliance had begun. We were no longer stuck in the shadows, constantly trying to claw our way into the light. We were the light.

I celebrated with the rest. But there was something gnawing at me that I couldn’t let go of as I sipped some Polanis red. I felt like I was watching the celebration from the outside in. I hadn’t done a thing to help create this victory—I was just an observer.

While everyone continued to celebrate, I slipped out and back into my chamber to begin Leia’s story.

Tele stuck his head in a few minutes on. “Everyone’s celebrating on the bridge. Don’t you want to come join us—?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be there soon. I just have a couple of more lines—”

Whatever happened next, I wanted to get this right.

The door slid further open, and Tele came and stood before me. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Don’t you want to be out there with everyone else?”

He shook his head and sat down next to me. If this was the end or the beginning, we did not know. But he somehow knew that this was where he wanted to be.

I smiled at him and he sat down next to me. I began to type again.


Later, as we descended in the transport toward the forest moon of Endor, Mon approached me and Tele. Understanding, Tele excused himself with a nod and moved away to some other rebels.

“Do you think I have pushed you too hard?” she said, looking out the window of our transport, her face glowing in the reflected light of the stars and the remnants of battle.

I shook my head. Realizing that she wasn’t looking at me, I said, “None of us would be alive if not for you.” My answer was automatic. This was new territory in more ways than one: Mon doubting herself. And us finally in a galaxy free of the Emperor.

“That wasn’t an answer,” she said without looking away from the view.

“The Rebellion itself is an act of faith. We have all had to change—to do things that we never imagined. Change is perhaps the only constant from the moment we stepped off the Empire’s path. I thought you were looking backward, being nostalgic about the days when clothes and social graces were all that seemed to matter. But I see now you were embracing something else, a new future, and a new hope. Their love—a rogue and a princess—represents our future. Just as much as the farmboy-turned-Jedi or any of the countless other unlikely stories out there that could not have existed before this moment, before the Rebellion.”

I shook my head and shook off her words, not allowing them to penetrate my guilt.

I handed Mon Mothma my datapad.

“I think I’ve written my first and last story as a chronicler. And as part of the Rebellion. Mon Mothma, you were right about what I should be doing. But I can’t do it here.”

Mon looked down at the tablet and began to read. When she was done, she looked up at me, her face full of surprise.

“That’s too bad, because I think you’ve written your best yet.”

In the end I had written three stories: one about Oola, one about Leia, and one about Jess.

“Those stories about the women at Jabba’s palace—I didn’t assign them. Neither of them are technically part of the Rebellion.”

“I know that, but after talking to Leia, I thought—”

“But you make a powerful argument to include their story—to include Oola. And Jess. And to include the countless others who have aided our cause even when they haven’t officially joined us.”

“And?” I asked—filling one of Mon’s famous pauses.

“Save them all to the record. Don’t change a word,” Mon said with a smile finally.

“I still think maybe my efforts could be better made elsewhere. Something more tangible.”

“Whatever you decide there is always a place for you here, Dora Mar. It’s been a pleasure.”

I gave Mon a small bow. She stopped me and gave me the briefest of hugs before wafting off to the celebration.

Over her shoulder she called, “I’ll make sure Leia reads your stories. I’ll think she’ll be pleased.”


Taking a deep breath, I crossed the tree house’s walkway to do something I hadn’t done—but had been waiting to do for a long, long time.

I didn’t have to be a princess to be brave. And perhaps the Force was not with me. But Tele always was. I found him standing among the crowd, having just accepted a drink from Lando Calrissian.

“What’s with the weird look? You didn’t really quit, did you? Everything is just beginning.”

I took his hand, and his face lit up. This moment was mine and Tele’s and no one else’s.

CHRONICLER LOG

Subject: Dora Mar

I grew up in the outer reaches of the galaxy, and when I was young I thought I had a power that would take me to the very highest levels of the Empire. And I grew up reading tales that turned out to be propaganda.

But when I grew up I learned that the Empire wasn’t what I thought. And that my definition of hero needed expanding.

I cannot lift even a single pebble with my mind. I cannot control another’s will. I cannot defy death itself and walk between the dead and the living. I cannot wield lightning or lightsabers.

No, I did not have the Force. And I didn’t belong in those stories I grew up loving. Because I had something else. A power that wasn’t in the stories and a place in the real battle that I could never have imagined. I was meant to write different stories. Ones that included all of us…Not just the princesses, or the Jedi, or the rogues, but everyone and anyone who chooses to be a hero at any moment. Maybe even this one.