Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Vector Prime by R. A. Salvatore

Coruscant?” she asked.
    “Two hours,” Jaina replied. “Mara told me to come out of lightspeed early because of the heavy traffic in the region. She wants me to wake her up before the final approach.”
    Leia nodded and sat back. She, too, was tired—tired of it all. Over the last years, she kept resigning her posts, and then allowing herself to be dragged back in, often poignantly reminded, or reminding herself, that a million lives could hang in the balance. Leia was considered among the finest diplomats in the New Republic hierarchy, the one person whose heroic reputation, negotiating skills, and true empathy would allow her to intervene in pending crises.
    She closed her eyes and gave a self-deprecating chuckle,reminding herself that all those skills and reputation had done absolutely nothing to help the Osarian-Rhommamool situation. The Rhommamoolians had many legitimate complaints against Osarian. The Osarians lived much better than their Rhommamoolian counterparts, relaxing in luxury off the labors of the miners, and it was no secret that the Rhommamoolians were greatly underrepresented in the Osarian government. Now, though, those complaints had been compounded and exploited, turned into something zealous and religious in nature, and what should have been a workers’ arbitration was in danger of becoming a holy war.
    In great danger, Leia now understood, for in all her years, she had rarely dealt with anyone as intractable as Nom Anor, or at least, as intractable as Nom Anor given the fact that the man and the people he was supposedly representing were likely going to get annihilated in a war they could not win. After the disastrous meeting, Leia had made many calls to him from her post on the
Mediator
, and he had answered every one.
    Usually just to tell her that he had no time to speak with her.
    With those annoying thoughts in mind, Leia drifted off to sleep.
    “Wow,” Jaina breathed, and Leia popped open her eyes, thinking there might be trouble.
    “What is it?” she asked with obvious alarm.
    “Mon Calamari Star Defender,” Jaina answered, pointing toward the upper left quadrant of the screen. With a flick of her other hand, she angled the viewer to bring the beautiful ship into complete view.
    And it was spectacular. Like all the Mon Calamari ships, this one was unique, an artwork, sleek and flowing, and ultimately deadly. It was the largest ship ever produced on that watery world, nearly twice the size of the battle cruiser they had left behind between Osarian and Rhommamool, and thefirst Mon Calamari Star Defender produced for the New Republic fleet.
    “The
Viscount,”
Leia remarked. “Just commissioned two weeks ago. It must be making a flyby for the approval of the council.”
    “Wow,” Jaina breathed again, those brown eyes sparkling.
    Leia silently laughed at herself. When she had heard Jaina’s gasp, she had immediately assumed there was trouble, and she had worried that Jaina couldn’t handle it. She examined her apparent lack of confidence in her daughter then, and for a moment believed she must be a terrible mother to think so little of the proven girl.
    No, not girl, Leia reminded herself. Young woman.
    When she had first come in, after finishing the report of the brewing disaster on Rhommamool, and seen Jaina alone, her heart had skipped a beat. Yet Mara, as competent a pilot and responsible an adult as Leia had ever known, had seen fit to leave Jaina on her own.
    Why couldn’t Leia hold that same confidence in her own child?
    She studied Jaina carefully, the sureness of her movements, the calm expression on her face.
    “How close now?” she asked.
    Jaina shrugged. “You were asleep for over an hour,” she explained. “We’ve got another half hour, maybe, depending on the course they tell us to follow.”
    “I’ll go get Mara,” Leia offered, climbing out of her chair and stretching away the last remnants of sleep.
    “You could let her rest,” Jaina suggested. “I can