Fame and Fortitude

Chapter One

Part Three of my Fame Trilogy

Fame and Fortitude

Three years after Han and Leia's marriage

Coruscant

General Airen Cracken, head of the New Republic Intelligence, sat in the small conference room, his eyes narrowed in distrust at the skinny human sitting in binders across the table. Back when the man informed the galaxy of celebrity gossip, he wore bright clothing and dyed his hair a shocking orange. Now he wore gray overalls and his short hair was nearly white.

"My time is valuable," Cracken stated at the nervous ex-reporter. "I don't appreciate beings wasting it."

"No, no," Nexx Turner twittered, shaking his head. "I understand. I tried to get President Fey'lya or Councilor Mothma to see me, or return my communications. But they never replied."

Cracken snorted. "I can't imagine the President or Councilor having the desire to meet with a convicted double-murderer."

"There were mitigating circumstances," Turner mumbled, looking at the floor.

"Mitigating circumstances?" Cracken repeated. "Really? Killing two unarmed, elderly humans has mitigating circumstances now?"

The prisoner leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Prince Isolder was behind my actions. He should be the one serving two life terms, not me."

"Isolder wasn't the one actually pulling the trigger, was he?" Cracken said, getting bored already with this man's attempt at deflecting blame. "And I doubt Isolder is in any position to defend himself anymore."

Turner nodded, knowing the Prince Isolder was no longer kept in the general prison population, since his mind had completely snapped out of reality. Isolder was confined to a ward for the criminally insane, and word in the prison was that he now considered himself King Isolder of the entire galaxy and spent his days 'ordering' around the guards and declaring new laws on a daily basis.

"I have information," Turner whispered. "This information could potentially save the New Republic from disaster."

"So, what is this information?"

"Oh, no," Turner said, shaking his head. "Not without some guarantees from you. A trade for a trade."

"What do you want?" Cracken asked, trying not to roll his eyes. This wasn't the first time a prisoner had come forward with 'valuable information' in lieu of getting a deal. Most of the time, the information wasn't worth the risk-powder to blow it up.

"A reduced sentence. Something along the lines of ten years instead of the life sentences I have now."

"Ten years? For taking two lives?"

"Queen Filamina has killed countless of her subjects, and she only got twenty to forty years! This isn't fair!"

Cracken laughed. "Fair, huh? You're breaking my heart, Turner. I believe I've had enough of my time wasted." He started to rise, but Turner was desperate.

"Twenty, then. Promise me to ask the judge to reduce my sentence to twenty! My information is well worth it!"

With a heavy sigh, the Head of Intelligence sat back down. "If your information is really worth it, I can promise only to try to help reduce your sentence. I can make no guarantees."

Turner nodded eagerly. "It's worth it, General."

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A week later, Coruscant