Her words would have taken my breath away, if the damned respirator had allowed that. I had heard those words before, at…at a reception for…whom? It was some diplomatic function, during the Clone Wars. I looked down at myself, still whole, still in the brown robe of a Jedi. Glasses clinked together, wine flowed, and politicians exchanged meaningless small talk. I kept an expression of professional Jedi detachment on my face, but my eyes tracked Padmé, my love, my talisman. She was dressed in rich green velvet with her chestnut hair braided elaborately. She had that bland pleasant look that she wore when she was feigning interest in stuck-up people. I just wanted to get her alone somewhere, to see her smile at me, to unbraid that hair and feel her body alight with desire….

Stop. Stop thinking about this.

But that sentence, who had said that?

Chancellor Palpatine's aide, Mas Amedda, approached Padmé and bowed, tilting his lethorns towards her. The gesture looked vaguely threatening. I tried to listen without looking like I was listening, and I noticed that Bail Organa, standing nearby, was suddenly very attentive to the conversation as well. Amedda was warning Padmé not to challenge the Chancellor's newly expanded powers. "Undermining our leadership in times of war could be perceived by some as sedition, Senator Amidala. So you will rethink your position."

She lifted her chin and stared right into his blue face. "Mister Amedda," she told him haughtily, loud enough for her voice to carry, "I don't take orders."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

How dare this princess speak like Padmé? How dare she have Padmé's brown eyes or her regal bearing? How dare she remind him?

Vader drew back his leg, this time aiming at that impudent, arrogant, beautiful face. But before he could pummel her the way he wanted to, Captain Solo jumped between them, embraced Organa and pulled her to a standing position behind him. Vader overheard Solo frantically whisper in her ear. "Stubborn girl!"

Stubborn girl indeed.

Vader whirled around. "Calrissian!" he called. "I requested an interrogation chamber to be set up. Is it ready?"

Calrissian's face was the color of ash. "Yes, milord," he murmured guiltily.

"Good," Vader gestured to the waiting stormtrooper squadron. "Take him there." He pulled Solo backwards by his black jacket and tossed him at the troopers.

At that, Organa actually looked alarmed. "He doesn't know anything, Vader," she snarled.

"Well, perhaps you can save us all some trouble by telling us what you know, Your Highness," Vader replied smoothly. "Lieutenant Sheckil," he greeted the officer who had just arrived in the dining hall, "perhaps you could see to that?"

"Yes, Lord Vader." The officer looked down at her appraisingly before taking hold of her red sleeve. Solo exchanged a look with her, then shook his head at the Wookiee, as the stormtroopers pulled him down the corridor. Vader followed.

Now, Vader thought. To work.