A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
Star Wars
Episode II: The Splintered Republic
Four years after the Battle
of Alderaan, the Republic remains
locked in a war of attrition
against the Separatists, each side
supported by an army of clones.
As support for the war dwindles,
tensions rise between the Jedi Order
and the Republic, whose leaders
are now desperate to bring
the conflict to an end.
In the midst of this turmoil,
General Palpatine launches an
offensive on Ryloth that may
finally crush the Separatists
once and for all...
War on All Fronts
In the hangar bay of the Republic attack cruiser, Anakin Skywalker leaned against a gunship, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his Jedi cloak. He watched the mottled-orange orb of the planet Ryloth as the cruiser drew ever closer. Outside he could see squadron after squadron of starfighters forming up, preparing to provide cover for the landing of the ground assault forces. Anakin sighed wistfully as he watched the fighters. He would much rather have been landing on Ryloth in his Delta-7 than stuck on a clunky gunship.
"Come on, time to go," Obi-Wan said, emerging from the gunship and putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder. The forcefield around the hangar bay was rimmed in a pale yellow glow as the cruiser descended into the atmosphere. Anakin took one last look at Ryloth, then stepped up into the gunship behind Obi-Wan and took his position among the clone troopers already on board.
He held onto the dangling metal handle above him as the gunships doors locked into the closed position and the engines fired up. The gunship swayed as the repulsorlifts came online and the craft lifted from the floor of the hangar, headed for the landing zone on the planet's surface.
"Just think," Obi-Wan shouted to Anakin over the roar of the engines, "if you were any good at diplomacy they might have left you on Scipio with Senator Naberrie." Anakin glanced sideways at his master, caught off guard for a moment by the reference to his last mission. Padme. Scipio. Corellian whiskey. A cold night by a warm fire. "You could be drinking wine and schmoozing bankers right now."
"What, and miss the chance to get blown apart over some desolate world with you?" Anakin asked sarcastically, hoping his recovery was quick enough. He didn't want to raise his master's suspicions. "Never." Obi-Wan laughed lightly, and Anakin relaxed, turning his mind back to the task at hand. One battle at a time, he told himself. Stay focused.
The mirthful atmosphere died out as soon as the firing started. They hadn't been airborne for long when the gunship began to buck as laser cannon fire grazed its armor. There was nothing like mortal danger to focus the mind. Anakin gripped the overhead handle a little more tightly. There were no viewports in this part of the gunship, but the percussive sound of laser cannon and the intermittent booms of the larger guns were enough to tell him they were taking heavy fire.
There was a bright light and a deafening blast above them. Anakin ducked away, raising his arm to try and shield his face from any debris. When he looked up again he saw smoke drifting toward them from the cockpit. The gunship was beginning to veer wildly.
"Anakin, with me!" Obi-Wan shouted through the din of blaster fire and explosions that now seemed louder than ever. Anakin squinted through the smoke and dust, coughing to try and clear his lungs. He saw Obi-Wan heading for the cockpit and followed him, stumbling forward as the gunship lurched from side to side.
Wind howled through the hole above him where the co-pilot's position had been blasted away. He could see laser bolts zinging above him through the opening. In front of him, Obi-Wan was already at the cockpit, pulling at the body of the clone trooper pilot. Anakin grabbed hold of the body as well and together they dragged the dead pilot out of the seat.
"Your turn," Obi-Wan said, pointing to the cockpit. Anakin pulled of his cloak and climbed up into the pilot's seat, strapping in and cinching the restraints tight around his torso. The canopy above him was half-shattered, allowing wind and dust to whip around him. What he wouldn't have given for a good pair of podracing goggles. But that was the least of his problems. The fuel cells were damaged and they were losing power, fast.
"Tell them to hold on!" he shouted back to Obi-Wan as he grabbed the controls, trying to wrestle the gunship back under control. Now that Anakin had a proper view of what was happening outside, he was beginning to wish he was back in the windowless hold again. The air was thick with blaster fire and explosions.
"You can land this thing, can't you?" Obi-Wan shouted through the noise.
"We're about to find out." Anakin swung the gunship wide of incoming fire from a Separatist artillery gun. The control wheel vibrated in his hands as the engines, choked for power, began to whine in protest. They didn't have enough fuel to stay up here much longer.
He knew well enough how to glide an engineless vessel and land it deadstick, but that kind of maneuver required space and time, and he had neither. Gliding in would require them to deviate from the flight path and be airborne longer, but Anakin knew each second in the air only increased the odds they would be shot down. He had to get lower before the ship lost power, or they would be a prime target for the Separatist guns.
There was a massive boom to his right as another gunship took a direct hit and exploded. Anakin watched as its remains plummeted to the ground in fiery chunks of debris. He had to land the gunship, and quickly, or they were likely to meet the same fate.
Thinking fast, Anakin pushed the gunship into a dive and cut the power. The vessel began to hurtle toward the ground, building speed. He heard shouts from the hold behind him, but Anakin kept his concentration, one eye on the altitude meter. He only had enough fuel for a quick burst of power, and he had to time it just right.
"Anakin, what do you think you're doing?" Obi-Wan yelled up to him. He heard the edge of panic in his master's voice, but he didn't answer. He had to stay focused. The readout on the altitude meter continued to drop, but Anakin held steady, waiting.
As the gunship's altitude dipped below two hundred meters, Anakin cut the power back on and pulled up sharply on the control wheel. The burst of power required to bring the ship out of its dive depleted all but the last of the fuel, and within seconds of righting the ship the engines began to sputter.
He released the throttle, relying on the ship's momentum to carry them the last few hundred meters to the landing zone. His gambit had worked, they were now flying well below the line of fire. But he still had to get them on the ground in one piece, and he would need the last bit of their power reserve to do it.
He nosed the gunship down, decreasing his altitude as gradually as possible as they approached the landing zone. He shifted the position of the wings to create drag and help slow them down, but they still hit the ground hard, skidding along the landing zone.
Anakin punched the reverse thrusters and for just a moment the engines roared back to life. Twisting the control wheel around, Anakin forced the ship to turn before the engines fully cut out. He was jostled against his restraints as the gunship slid clumsily along the ground for another fifty meters, but at last the vessel ground to a halt.
A Twi'lek grounds crew was running toward them from one of the bunkers. Behind him he could hear Obi-Wan's voice as his master checked on the status of the men. Anakin unstrapped and climbed down out of the cockpit. At the back of the ship, Obi-Wan was helping the troops to their feet. The men in the hold looked shaken up, but they were alive. The grounds crew swarmed in with med kits at the ready.
"That was one hell of a landing, sir," a member from the grounds crew said in a heavy Rylothian accent, offering Anakin his hand. Anakin stared at the Twi'lek's extended hand for a moment, still feeling dazed. Haltingly, he began to reach out his own hand, which the crewman grabbed in a hearty handshake, beaming. "Welcome to Ryloth."
In a tiny flat, deep in the slums of Makria Station, Darth Maul stared at his reflection. The visage looking back at him in the dirty mirror was but a ruin of the man he had been. His once muscular torso was now thin, his chest sunken from lack of food. He ran his fingers over a short line of scar tissue on his chest, just above his heart. It was an ever present remainder of his failure on Alderaan, of his humiliation at the hands of the Skywalkers. Maul burned with anger at the thought.
He limped over to the shabby cot he slept on and pulled on his tunic, retrieving his crutch from where it leaned against the wall. How many years had it been since that fateful day? He couldn't be sure. Days blurred into weeks blurred into months until time seemed but a memory.
After the disaster on Alderaan, he'd tried to find his retreating Separatist comrades, but his fighter had run out of fuel and crashed-landed on the junk world of Lotho Minor, deep in the Outer Rim. He was half-dead when the Junkers found him. They'd encased his legs in crude metal braces and wired cybernetics through his spine, but the refurbished power cells they had were not enough to make him fully mobile.
Weak and crippled as he was, and with Republic forces moving further and further into the Outer Rim each day, he'd had to barter, beg, and threaten his way off Lotho Minor and across the systems of the Outer Rim, desperately trying to find a way back to the Separatists while evading the advancing Republic and the Jedi who led them.
It had taken him years of carefully judged system hops and extended periods of hiding to reach Makria Station, a seedy trading post at the edge of Wild Space. But there were reports that the Separatists came here to resupply, as Makria was one of the few trading posts around not occupied by Republic troops. If the rumors were true, Maul knew he might finally have a way out.
Maul opened the drawer of his rickety bedside table and withdrew the two objects inside it: his long-hilted lightsaber and a beat-up old vibroblade. The lightsaber he placed carefully inside his pack. It was far too ostentatious to wear on his belt. The knife he tucked into his belt. It was the same weapon that his master had given to his rival apprentice all those years ago, and that her son had buried in Maul's chest during the Battle of Alderaan. He wore it for protection, but also as a reminder to himself that his revenge upon the Skywalkers was not yet complete. But vengeance would have to wait. First, he had to get home.
Pulling on his ragged cloak, Maul left his apartment and hobbled out into the streets of Makria Station. He leaned heavily on his crutch as he walked, the metal braces around his legs creaking as he moved. He kept his hood pulled low, keeping his face hidden from passerby. It was imperative that he not draw any unnecessary attention to himself, and a Zabrak man was an unusual sight on any planet that wasn't Dathomir.
The bustling streets of Makria Station swarmed with traders, smugglers, beggars, and criminals. Steam rose from the durasteel walkway and fog blanketed the roads, making it hard to see. Despite the early hour the temperature at the trading post was already unbearably warm. Maul made his way toward the market, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on his skin.
Just outside the market, Maul positioned himself in an alleyway, keeping his ears and eyes open. He drew on the Force, attuning his senses to the people around him, probing, searching for someone he could use. A group of three Quarren approached from the other side of the market. They wore no insignia, but Maul knew many Quarren continued to serve the Separatists despite the defection of the their homeworld of Mon Cala back to the side of the Republic.
Maul sat quietly as they approached. When they were only a few meters away, the Quarren at the center of the group received a message on his comlink. He checked it, then gestured to his companions. "We'd better go. Grievous wants us to report back."
As the small group moved on Maul left the alleyway and followed them, keeping a safe distance. He felt certain they must be a reconnaissance team, scoping for supplies. They approached a dock and Maul saw their small freighter, re-purposed as a military craft like so many of the Separatist ships. Quickening his pace as much as he could, he called out to the three Quarren. They turned, each with a hand on a blaster, wary of the interference of a stranger.
"What do you want?" the leader among them asked contemptuously, taking a step forward. Maul assessed the Quarren's mind. This was not an individual he could persuade with a mind trick. He would have to try a different approach.
"I require passage to the Separatist line," Maul said, keeping his voice low. The Quarren stared at him for a moment, then barked out a short laugh.
"We're not taking you anywhere. Get out of here, street filth!" He aimed a sharp kick at Maul's leg, sending the Sith Lord to his knees. Maul's anger rose swiftly. He thought of crushing the Quarren's windpipe with the Force, but he had to be careful about how he used his powers. Republic spies were everywhere. He had avoided a confrontation with the Jedi for this long, he couldn't afford to make a mistake now.
Drawing on the Force, Maul leapt toward the Quarren as he turned to walk back to his companions, pinning him against the hangar wall. Maul tilted his head back just enough to let the Quarren see his face, and he watched with satisfaction as the man's eyes went wide, first with recognition and then with fear. He drew his knife and held it at the side of Quarren's neck. He heard the sound of blasters being drawn and knew the other two Quarren were aiming at his back, but their leader waved them off.
"Take me to General Grievous," Maul snarled, the knife glinting dangerously in his hand as he pressed it to the Quarren's throat. "Now."
Obi-Wan took a seat next to Anakin near the front of the briefing room, deep inside one of the ray shielded bunkers on the heavily fortified Republic line. A large and diverse group was assembled. In one corner were a gaggle of Twi'lek resistance fighters, chattering animatedly amongst themselves in their native language, while the center of the room was dominated by the white-armored clone troopers of the 501st, and on the far side a group of two-dozen elite Republic naval commandos, known as Strikers.
Among the Strikers Obi-Wan saw KeAnn Lyosar, the ex-Jedi and former Rogue commander who had aided him on Alderaan. She caught his eye from across the room and gave him a small nod, which he returned. Obi-Wan knew that the presence of a Striker team meant their assignment must be even more difficult and dangerous than usual.
The doors to the briefing room opened and Bail Organa, Director of Republic Intelligence in the Outer Rim, strode in, with his staff not far behind. The room went quiet as he entered and began to manipulate the controls of the holographic projector at the room's center. An image of the Separatist fortifications across the valley blossomed into existence before them. Bail gave a quick greeting to those gathered, then launched into the briefing.
"Our objective is the Separatist cloning facility here on Ryloth," Organa said. Obi-Wan sensed the surprise in the room. Command had apparently played this one close to the chest, and Obi-Wan understood why. Taking out the enemy cloning facility would cripple the Separatists, maybe even be enough to win the war. "The Separatists have occupied large sections of the Twi'lek cave systems to keep their work hidden," Bail continued as he flipped a switch and the projection zoomed in to give them a closer view of the area under discussion.
"This sounds like a mission for our bombers, director," one of the Strikers said from the back corner. Bail shook his head.
"It's deep enough below the ground that bombers and missiles won't be enough to take the facility out," he explained. "The caves will have to infiltrated and destroyed from within."
"I guess that explains why they wanted Jedi and Strikers," Anakin whispered. Obi-Wan nodded. This mission was not going to be easy.
"The area around the caves is heavily fortified. We're going in with three battalions, the 501st will spearhead the assault." Obi-Wan sighed. It was always his battalion being tasked to lead assaults.
"Once we've breached the line, General Kenobi and Commander Lyosar will lead their strike teams into the facility itself, accompanied by Commander Syndulla and his fighters," Bail said. "They will gather whatever intel they can and set charges to destroy the facility." Obi-Wan expected a schematic of the cave system appear on the holo, but none did. Instead, Bail switched it off. "I don't need to remind you all that this mission is vital to our operations here on Ryloth. A lot of lives have already been lost to bring us this far," he said somberly.
"We will honor their sacrifice with victory," Commander Syndulla said confidently, stepping forward. Behind him his troops banged the butts of their blaster rifles on the floor in agreement. Obi-Wan wished he shared their confidence.
"The ground assault will begin at oh-five-hundred," Bail announced. "May the Force be with you."
"That's it?" Anakin asked Obi-Wan as the briefing concluded. "They hardly told us anything!" Obi-Wan agreed, but it seemed clear the briefing was over. Those gathered began to move out of the room, speaking in low tones about the mission as they left, though Obi-Wan could see KeAnn in animated discussion with a few members of her team. Obi-Wan rose and headed toward her, Anakin in tow, but before he reached her Bail called out to them.
"General Kenobi, Commander Lyosar, a moment." Seeing Anakin hesitate, he gestured for him to come over as well. "Yes, Skywalker, you stay too." When he spoke again, his voice was low, and the three of them came in close to hear him. Obi-Wan could see Bail's eyes on the backs of the last few stragglers as they left. He clearly didn't want to be overheard. "I didn't want to bring it up in the larger briefing, but I'm afraid there have been complications regarding our intelligence of the cloning facility."
"Complications?" KeAnn asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We had hoped to have a complete map of the caves, but our agent inside has disappeared."
"Then we're going in blind?" Obi-Was asked.
"Cham Syndulla and his resistance fighters know the caves, we can rely on them to navigate," Bail explained, but Obi-Wan was not reassured.
"Regardless, if your contact was discovered, they may already know we're coming," he pointed out.
"It's a risk we'll have to take," Bail said, holding his hands up. "General Palpatine is aware of the situation, but he has ordered us to proceed." Obi-Wan saw KeAnn clench her jaw at the mention of Palpatine, but she kept quiet.
"I'm sure the general has his reasons," Anakin said confidently.
"Yes, he always does," Obi-Wan muttered. Palpatine had earned a reputation as a military leader who put victory above the lives of those he commanded.
"I appreciate the warning Bail, but I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle," KeAnn said. There was nothing else to say, really. If Palpatine wanted them to go in, they were going in. Bail nodded, though Obi-Wan could see that he was troubled by the situation.
"Keep your comms on tomorrow, if we run into anything too rough, we'll abort. I'll take the heat from Command, if it comes to that," Bail said. He checked his chronometer, "I have to report back," he said, heading for the exit. "Stay safe out there tomorrow." Obi-Wan and the others followed him out the door, but turned in the opposite direction back toward the barracks.
"I never expected to see you serving under the Republic flag," Obi-Wan said to KeAnn as they headed back to their quarters, Anakin walking just behind. She shrugged at his question.
"After the Rogues were disbanded it was the only way to really stay in the fight."
"We'll see plenty of action tomorrow, I imagine," Obi-Wan said.
"Yes, another one of Palpatine's gambits," KeAnn said, her voice edged with anger. Like many Alderaanians, she blamed Palpatine for the brutal three year occupation her planet had endured. "They often come with a steep price."
"I'm afraid tomorrow will be no different," Obi-Wan said, keeping his voice down. There was no need to stir up fear amongst the troops. "We're rushing in on weak intelligence. Things could go very badly."
"Perhaps General Palpatine believes it's more important to send a strong signal now, with a bold and decisive action," Anakin offered. "If we wait for the perfect moment, it may never come." Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at his apprentice and frowned, but didn't say anything. To Obi-Wan's displeasure, his apprentice had developed an admiration for Palpatine's command tactics. It was one worry among many Obi-Wan had regarding his young apprentice.
"Well, we'll find out soon enough," KeAnn said as they came to a split in the corridor. "I'm this way." She gave them a salute as she headed down one side of the fork. "See you on the other side."
The tension in the conference room was palpable. The Defense Committee of the Galactic Senate was gathered and Ainlee Teem, the representative from Malastare, was just coming to the end of a lengthy speech regarding his proposition to grant General Palpatine yet more unilateral control over the Republic forces. Padme knew that as soon as it was over, all hell would break loose.
"Before the Separatists began to use clones it was a different matter, but now things have changed. Our deliberations here in the Senate are costing us precious time," the Gran said in thickly accented Basic, about to conclude his remarks. "General Palpatine's powers must be strengthened if we mean to win this war." As Teem sat down the room erupted into a cacophony of sound as the other committee members reacted to the proposal.
"I agree with Senator Teem," said the senator from Corellia, straining to make her voice heard above the din, but when the others realized who was speaking, they quieted. Corellia wielded a lot of power within the Republic, and Senator Rendar was the chair of the Defense Committee. "We must have absolute unity if we are to destroy these secessionists once and for all."
"Absolute unity or absolute power, Senator?" The representative from Dantooine asked. "Are we not still a Republic?"
"We will be nothing at all if they are allowed to win this war!" Senator Zarel exclaimed, slamming one of his four fists against the long table around which they were gathered. Padme watched as several senators nodded in response.
"Darth Maul may have been defeated, but his army was not," a Twi'lek senator said. "However short his reign over the Separatists, he was able to deliver a devastating blow to our forces in that time. If another like him should rise, another leader who knows the ways of the Force…"
"Maul is dead," another senator pointed out, shrugging at his colleagues concerns. "Besides, we have what the Separatists never will. We have the Jedi."
"Senator Balahish makes an excellent point. Why should we fear one being's power when there are thousands who share it fighting for us?" As her colleagues discussed the Jedi, Padme's mind flashed to Anakin, somewhere in the Outer Rim, probably locked in battle at this very moment. She pushed the thought from her mind. It would do her no good to worry.
"But we can't control them! The Jedi are accountable to no one! They have been stalling the war for years with their unwillingness to cooperate with our strategies," the senator from Harloff Minor said, joining the fray.
"The Jedi have stood by their Code," Padme said, coming to the Jedi's defense. "There is no fault in that."
"And yet you, Senator, broke with hundreds of years of pacifist tradition on Alderaan when you joined the Rogues, did you not?" the Togruta senator from Shili asked, bowing her montrals in Padme's direction. Before Padme could respond another woman's voice echoed from the opposite side of the room.
"We must all make difficult choices in a time of war, but to force someone to abandon a code of ethics is another thing entirely," Senator Mothma's voice was quiet, but somehow managed to be both calming and authoritative. "Senator Naberrie is right," Mon Mothma continued, "We should not condemn the Jedi for retaining their principles, whether we agree with them or not." There were murmurs of agreement as the senator from Chandrila finished speaking, but the fight wasn't over.
"Their principles are costing us this war!" Senator Zarel shouted, his voice booming around the room. His anger and frustration were palpable, and Padme knew many shared his views.
"Forget the Jedi, we don't need them," another senator chimed in. "It is only a matter of time before we defeat the Separatists. Grievous may be an impressive military leader, but he has not been able to unite all the factions as Maul did. We will outlast them. The funding Senator Naberrie secured on Scipio ensures that."
As the debate continued, one of Senator Rendar's aides came forward and whispered something in her ear. As the aide withdrew, the senator stood and held up her hands for silence. "Senators, I'm afraid we will have to postpone further discussion. The ruling delegations have begun to arrive." Padme brightened at the announcement. Each year the ruling delegations from the various Republic planets came to Coruscant to meet for a joint session with the Senate, but for Padme it also meant a long awaited reunion with an old friend. "We will take up this matter after the joint session concludes next week."
Padme got up quickly and hurried to the exit, eager to get out before any of her fellow senators tried to stop her for a chat. Once in the hallway, she headed toward the lobby of the Senate Building. An aide followed her, trying to read her a message off a datapad, but Padme hushed him. "That can wait. I'll see you back in my office," she said, waving him off.
The lobby was already filled with arriving delegations when she got there. She stood on her tiptoes, internally lamenting her small stature as she tried to peer over the crowds. She wandered into the gaggle of people, peering under the hoods of robes, but she didn't see the person she was looking for. Realizing that the Alderaanian delegation might not have landed yet, she surrendered her search and started back in the direction of her office, when a voice called out to her from across the lobby.
"Padme!" She grinned and turned to see Breha hurrying towards her. Disregarding decorum, Padme ran towards her friend and grabbed the princess in a hug, as though they were once again Alderaanian school girls seeing one another for the first time after a long break.
"It's so wonderful to see you," Breha said as they broke apart, both of them beaming. "It's been too long, as always."
"I can't believe I haven't seen you since the wedding," Padme said. "How's married life?"
"I wish I could tell you," Breha said with a sigh. "Bail left for some far-flung mission six months ago. He couldn't even tell me where or for how long." Breha's voice was steady, but Padme heard the strain underneath the surface. Breha's husband, Bail Organa, had served with both of them in the Rogues, but was now back with Republic Intelligence. He'd recently been appointed director for the Outer Rim. It was a dangerous job, and they both knew it.
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Padme said, trying to be reassuring. She steered the conversation elsewhere. "I, for one, can't wait to get back to Alderaan when my term ends." Breha smiled at that.
"Salma is determined to talk you into staying, you know." Breha's older sister, Queen Salma, had appointed Padme to take her place in the Senate after the liberation of Alderaan, and Padme had accepted, albeit reluctantly.
"I've made up my mind," Padme said firmly. "No one is talking me out of leaving the Senate, not even the Queen. Not this time." Padme quickly stopped talking as the rest of the Alderaanian delegation approached. The queen was flanked by a cadre of assistants and Alderaanian nobility. As Salma came up to them, Padme and Breha both bowed at the waist.
"Your majesty," Padme said as she rose from her bow. "Welcome to Coruscant."
"Senator," Salma said, inclining her head slightly toward Padme. She looked remarkably like Breha, although the two sisters were separated in age by almost a decade. The queen, however, was aloof and reserved, and notoriously difficult to please. "Princess Ta'a Chume has invited us for dinner this evening. You will join us, of course?"
"Yes, of course," Padme said with a nod. She did not relish the idea of spending an evening among a gathering of royalty, especially if the conniving crown princess of Hapes was hosting, but she didn't dare refuse. Hobnobbing with the rulers was part of the job.
"Good," Salma said, giving a small smile of approval. "Bessett will send the details to your office," she said, gesturing to one of her assistants, who was already typing furiously into a data pad.
"Very good, your majesty. I'm looking forward to it," Padme lied, she hoped convincingly. Another dignitary called to Salma from across the room, and the delegation moved on.
"We'll catch up at dinner." Breha said as the others moved off. Padme nodded and waved farewell as Breha turned and followed her sister back into the crowded lobby. Padme headed for the lifts and made the short journey back to her apartment in 500 Republica, the towering skyscraper that dominated the Coruscant skyline and housed most of the Republic's senators, with most of the other apartments rented out to the galaxy's royalty and the super-rich.
She had never been quite comfortable with the ostentation of her accommodations on Coruscant, but as she entered her apartment and took in the view from almost seven-hundred floors up, she couldn't deny the place had its charms. She pulled off her senatorial robes and changed into an elegant evening gown one of her aides had already laid out for her. It fit slightly more snugly now than it had a few months ago, but she pulled a shimmersilk shawl around her shoulders and hoped nobody would notice.
At her desk, a message was scrolling through providing her with the evening's dinner invitation. She took the time she had to do some additional work, responding to the messages of colleagues and constituents, volunteering herself for yet another diplomatic mission, setting reminders for herself to read through proposed legislation before tomorrow's voting session. As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over the city-planet, she powered down her work station and took the lift up the additional seventy-odd floors to the apartment of Ta'a Chume.
If Padme believed her own apartment to be lavish, it was nothing compared to the one occupied by the crown princess of Hapes. A service droid led her through an exquisitely decorated entry into a large parlor, where the dinner guests were gathered for before dinner drinks. A quartet played in the corner, as waiter droids roved the floor with trays of cocktails and appetizers.
"Ah, Senator Naberrie!" Ta'a Chume swept towards her, dressed in a dazzling gown. "Please, come in, have a drink." She took the drink to be polite, but didn't sip from it. She scanned the room until she found Breha, then made a beeline for her friend. She stuck close to the princess, making polite small talk with royalty and nobility of various stripes, and always being careful not to stray too far into politics. Such discussions were a minefield. It all made her nostalgic for a simpler time, when she knew who her enemy was and the battles were fought with blasters.
At last the call came for dinner and Padme made her way into the dining room with the others. Mercifully, she'd been seated next to Breha, near Ta'a Chume's consort, with Ta'a Chume and Salma at the opposite end of the table. The food was excellent and Padme found that she was, to her surprise, enjoying herself. She began to relax a little.
But just as dessert was being cleared away, Padme suddenly felt very warm. A terrible wave of nausea swept over her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to picture the mountains of home, the cold, crisp air filling her lungs. After a few moments, the terrible feeling began to pass, but when she opened her eyes several of the dinner guests, including Breha, were staring at her.
"Are you alright?" the princess asked, her brow furrowed with worry.
"I'm fine," Padme said weakly. As she looked around at the others she realized no one believed her. She sat up a little straighter. "Really, I'm fine, just exhausted I think." It was a lie, but she felt compelled to tell it. "Everything has been so hectic," she added by way of explanation, but even as she said it she felt the feeling of illness return. She needed to get out of here. "If you'll excuse me, your majesty," she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. "I believe I should retire."
"Yes, of course," the queen said, looking at her with concern. "But someone should go with you."
"That really isn't necessary," Padme protested as she pushed her chair back in. "I'll be fine. Thank you, your highness, for a lovely evening," she said, bowing toward Ta'a Chume. "Your majesty," she gave Salma a quick bow and then walked quickly to the door, hoping she could make it back to her apartment before she was actually sick.
She hurried past a service droid, ignoring its offer of help, and made it into the hall and to the lift. Just as the doors of the lift were closing, a hand thrust between the doors and they reopened. It was Breha. She stepped into the lift beside Padme and it began to descend.
"What's going on?" Breha demanded, looking hard at Padme, who was leaning against the back wall of the lift.
"I'm fine Breha, really, I'm just tired," Padme said, hoping Breha would drop it. The lift reached her floor and she got out, but Breha came after her.
"I've seen you tired. This isn't tired, this is something else," Breha said as she followed Padme into her apartment. Padme slumped on a sofa as soon as she got in the door. She felt too terrible to try and make it to her bed.
"I'm calling a med droid." Breha said.
"I don't need a med droid," Padme protested.
"You've gone as pale as an Umbaran," Breha said. "You need medical attention." Breha started to walk toward the comm but Padme put up a hand to stop her.
"Breha, wait." Breha turned to look at her. "I'm not sick, exactly." Breha looked at her for a moment, then came and sat next to her on the sofa.
"Padme, what's going on?" Breha was looking at her very intently, and Padme felt herself shrink under her friend's gaze. The nauseous feeling began to subside, but it was replaced with a new, nervous energy. She didn't want to lie to Breha. She wanted to tell her the truth. She needed to tell her, to tell someone. Breha was the one person she could trust.
"I'm not sick," she said, slowly, trying to calm the tremor in her voice. "I'm pregnant." In an instant Breha's expression shifted from one of concern to one of shock. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide as she stared at Padme in disbelief.
"Pregnant?" Breha echoed back.
"Pregnant," Padme repeated, more confidently this time. She might as well tell it all now. "With twins." Breha's eyes went still wider.
"Twins! But...who..."
"Who do you think?" Padme asked, raising an eyebrow at Breha's incomplete question. For a few moments her friend's face registered only confusion, but as realization dawned she looked aghast.
"It's not Skywalker. Tell me it isn't Skywalker," Breha beseeched her, but Padme remained silent. Breha groaned. "You told me that was over."
"It was," Padme said, a bit defensively."Until it wasn't," she added quietly, not meeting Breha's eyes.
"He's a Jedi!" Breha said, still flabbergasted.
"I'm well aware of that," Padme said sharply. Breha shot her a reproachful glance. "Don't give me that look, I know it was foolish. It's not like I planned on any of this," Padme said, throwing up her hands.
"So what happened?" Breha asked, unable to stop the question from sounding accusatory. Padme sighed deeply, leaning back against the arm of the sofa.
"I was sent on a diplomatic mission to Scipio a couple of months ago," she explained, twirling the fringes of her shawl and avoiding eye contact with Breha. "He was assigned to the same mission. We hadn't seen in each other in so long, I thought it would be fine, but we just…" she struggled to find the words to explain what had happened. "We fell back into old habits," she said, deciding no further elaboration was needed. The flush in her cheeks was no doubt telling volumes.
"What are you going to do?" the princess asked quietly. That question had been plaguing Padme since the moment she'd heard those two tiny, fast heartbeats emanating from the speakers on the med droid's scan pad. But the intense feeling of panic she'd felt in that instant had mostly subsided. She had made her choice.
"My time in the Senate is almost up," she said. "I'll finish out my term and return to Alderaan. They've rebuilt most of Elurra now," she said, referring to the mountain village where she'd been born and raised. It has been bombed into nothingness during the Separatist invasion, but after the planet's liberation people had begun to return and restart their lives. Padme wanted to be among them. "It's a good place to raise a family."
"It is," Breha said, nodding in understanding, but her expression was still clouded with worry. "What about Anakin?" Padme hesitated. All her fears about the future suddenly came rushing to the fore.
"I don't know," she said with a small shrug. It was the truth. She had no idea how Anakin was going to react and, what troubled her more, she wasn't sure how she wanted him to react. If he remained in the Order, her path forward was difficult, but clear. But if he didn't? Their relationship had always been tumultuous. What if they couldn't make a real partnership work? Her heart started pounding at the thought.
"You haven't told him." Breha said. It wasn't a question, but Padme shook her head anyway.
"He's at the front, somewhere in the Outer Rim, I don't even know where exactly. Even if I knew where he was, I couldn't risk a message." All of it was true, but deep down Padme knew that even when Anakin came home, it was going to be very hard to find the courage to tell him. She didn't confess her fears out loud, but she and Breha had known each other a long time. Breha knew when she was afraid.
"Whatever happens, you will always have a place to call home on Alderaan," Breha said sincerely, leaning forward and looking Padme square in the eye. "You don't have to do this alone."
Padme nodded. She didn't quite trust herself to speak as a flurry of emotions bubbled to the surface and she struggled to keep them in check. She hadn't realized it, but she needed her friend's reassurance, and she was grateful Breha had offered it.
"In the meantime, watch your back around here. You won't be able to hide this for long and you know how vicious Coruscant gossip is. The holonet would have field day with this if it ever got out."
"I know, I'll be careful." She'd already wiped her checkup records from the med droid's memory. The worst of the scandal mongers were not above going after that kind of data, even if it was illegal to release it. Her guard was up.
"I'll make some excuse to Ta'a Chume on your behalf...Guavian flu, maybe. You don't want to raise her suspicion. She would blackmail you without a second thought." The princess checked her chronometer. "I should go, I can't abandon Salma for too long. I'll let you get some rest," Breha stood to take her leave, but she paused at the doorway. She turned back, locking eyes with Padme. "You're sure this is what you want?"
"Yes," Padme said, and she meant it. "I'm sure."