"Senator?"
"Yes?" Bail didn't look up from his work.
"There's a young girl who wants to see you, sir. She won't give her name; she says she's been sent by her mother."
Now Bail did look up, frowning at the servant in the doorway. "She won't give her name?"
"No, sir."
Bail knew of quite a few people who would be unwilling to disclose their name to a servant–and almost everybody else, for that matter–but nowhere in the list could he remember a little girl. He got up with a nod. "Very well. Lead the way; we'll see what this little girl wants."
"She's in here." The servant waved at the door.
Bail nodded. "Thank you. You may leave." The man pivoted smartly and strode off.
Bail looked at his retreating figure for a while, then opened the door and stepped in, closing it shut behind him. The room, built for the sole purpose of entertaining guests, was pleasantly, if a bit luxuriously furnished. Chairs lined one side of the wall; the guest, ignoring these, had elected to stand. He stared at her, at first with some confusion. The face seemed very familiar, but he couldn't quiet place it. the girl stared right back, offering no explanation as to who she was.
Then understanding dawned on him, and he couldn't help smiling. "Lu-Jean. What a pleasant surprise!"
The girl frowned suspiciously at him. "You know me?"
"I knew your mother, yes. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby." Lu-Jean winced slightly at the mention of her mother, and Bail grew concerned. "Your mother is all right, isn't she? And why isn't she here with you?"
She pushed a tuft of hair away from her face and tucked it behind an ear. This gave Bail a closer look at her black eyes, right now exuding hostility. "Look, Senator Organa–that's who you are, isn't it?" Bail nodded dumbly. "Well, not to seem rude, but I don't know who you are, and I see no reason why I should answer your questions. For all I know you could be asking me that just so you could find and hurt her."
"Sorry? Why did you come to Alderaan, to my place, if you didn't trust me?"
She held his gaze for a second, then blinked and looked away, sinking into a chair and crossing her arms. "She asked me to."
"Ah." Bail couldn't think of anything else to say, and so decided to wait for her to resume. And she did, after a long pause and with obvious reluctance. "Look, my mother told me before she left that I could trust anyone who told me the password."
Bail waited for her to say more, but she didn't. she simply sat there, staring at him. finally he asked, "Password?" She nodded, and he sighed as he took a seat. "I don't think I know of any passwords. We last met a long while ago, about ten years now I think, and though I did force her to promise that she'd come to me if she was in danger, she never mentioned anything about passcodes or anything of the sort."
"You are Senator Organa, aren't you?" she asked again, and he nodded. "Yes, I'm Bail Organa."
She regarded him in silence, and Bail suddenly realized what she was doing–reaching out with the Force to see if he was saying the truth, or something like that. he'd heard Obi-Wan mention it before. And since Lu-Jean was the daughter of a powerful Force-sensitive, it made sense that she'd have Force sensitivity. So he sat in silence, waiting for her to speak.
"I'll give you a hint," she said at last. "The password is two sentences that only someone she trusted explicitly would know."
"Ah," he said again, biting his lower lip. Only someone she trusted… "You're Palpatine's daughter."
A second later, he wondered if it had been a stupid thing to say–if his room had been bugged…
"Well, those weren't the exact same words she used, but basically, yes."
"What words did she use?"
"Palpatine's your father. And I do hope your room isn't bugged."
"I hope so too. Don't worry," he said hurriedly on seeing the worry in her face, "I'm pretty sure it's not. I have it checked every day, and hardly anyone comes here anyway."
She didn't look very convinced. "And the second sentence?"
"Well, I would say, 'you're a Force-sensitive', but–"
"Obvious, senator."
"Exactly." Bail found himself in a fix. He knew plenty of important things that Ladine knew as well–Palpatine was a Sith Lord, Darth Vader was Anakin, a Jedi Master and Grand Master were still alive, Anakin and Padmé had twins–but none of them seemed like the sort of thing Ladine would reveal to her daughter.
Ladine! Of course! "Your mother's real name is Ladine."
She half-sagged in her chair, and Bail felt a wave of pity wash over him at the relief in her face. "So. Have I passed the test, or not?"
"Not with flying colours, no. but you've earned my trust–partially."
"I see." Actually, Bail didn't see at all–Lu-Jean was a little girl, not some grownup with big secrets to hide; neither could she have powerful enemies. What was she being so cautious about? "And to earn your full trust, what must I do?"
"Resign from the Senate," she said simply.
He looked with some surprise at her serious face. "You can't be serious."
"I hardly ever kid, Senator. In my experience, politicians and senators and almost everyone who has power is megalomaniacal, cruel and crazy. Witness Palpatine."
"I agree," he said, and Lu-Jean looked suspiciously at him. "Really, I do. But I can think of far worse people to take my place should I resign. Besides, by holding a powerful position in the Senate I can help those who need help. Being powerful does have its advantages."
"Yes," she said with some distaste. "You get to stay in shiny buildings like these." She looked pointedly at the furnishings of the room–a plush carpet, framed paintings and the like.
"I'm sorry you have such a poor opinion of senators. I hope to change your opinion of one, at least."
He expected her to reply with something cutting, but she didn't. She simply sat there, staring at the carpet, her face blank. "I'm afraid we've strayed from the topic. What happened to your mother?" he asked finally.
She stirred as if waking from sleep. "I don't know. She simply put me on the first transport ship leaving for Alderaan, and kissed me and told me we couldn't stay together any longer. Then the ship took off."
The words were spoken with apparent indifference, but Bail could sense the turmoil beneath. "She stayed behind?" She nodded. "On Naboo?" Another nod. "That makes sense."
She stopped her survey of the carpet to face him with puzzlement, not to mention anger. "No it doesn't! Why would she send me here and stay behind?"
"Because she wanted to give me as little trouble as possible. A pity, really," he said with true regret. "I would have opened my planet to her with no qualms whatsoever."
"Really?"
"Yes. You do know, don't you, that Ladine was a senator?"
"I remember her mentioning it in passing," she said drily.
"We were close friends for a long while, before she left the Senate and retired to live a quiet life in Naboo." Lu-Jean looked up for a brief instant before dropping her eyes again; Bail suspected he'd said something else that corroborated with what Ladine had told her. "What I don't understand is why? Ladine would never have even dreamt of sending you here, alone, unless something had happened."
"Something did happen," she said heavily. "Stormtroopers came to our house looking for a Force-sensitive. They hurt my mother, so I sort of used the Force to defeat them."
"Sort of?"
She exhaled. "I threw a settee at them."
Bail wondered for a moment if she was being sarcastic. From what he knew of the Jedi, the younger trainees could barely lift a stone. Teleporting a whole settee would have been possible only at Padawan age, and that after loads of practice. Still, the grim set to Lu-Jean's mouth and her somber eyes didn't make him doubt for a second that Lu-Jean was telling the truth.
Of course, it made sense now. Ladine would've known that sort of attack would instantly make stormtroopers flock to their home, and cause trouble for the Queen as well–especially if they told their bosses that the attacker was a 9 year old girl. If–or, rather, when–Palpatine found out, he'd have a fleet of troopers sent to Naboo. The logical thing would have been to leave. He cast another glance at Lu-Jean, sitting calmly next to him and observing him closely. The jet black eyes, so similar to Ladine's, made him feel rather unnerved. Ladine had the exact same way of staring at someone quietly, and she could do it for hours on end, if necessary. Clearly Lu-Jean had inherited the trait.
And a few other traits besides, from her father's side as well, he reminded himself. With Force-sensitivity, it would be hard to stay alive for very long without being found out. And with stormtroopers hounding nearly every planet, hiding was next to impossible–unless it was on a deserted world like Dagoba or an out-of-the-way place like Tatooine. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have any money–at least, not any worth speaking of–so I can't pay for any accommodation or food; in fact, I can pay for practically nothing–"
"You needn't worry about that," he said. "I'll take care of everything. As the daughter of a senator and close friend, you deserve the best that Alderaan has to offer."
"Thanks, but I'm not really fond of getting free service," she said, suddenly tart. "I prefer standing on my own two feet. And I certainly don't trust strangers who offer to help me out. I've had my fill of them."
"Ah, one of Ladine's 'old friends' let you down, I see."
"Something like that."
"Well, although I'm not sure I'm older than Ladine's old friends–"
She winced. "I wish you'd stop calling her that."
"Calling her what? Ladine?"
Lu-Jean nodded. "She hated that name. It was a reminder of her time in the Senate, of the time she spent on Coruscant, and of pretty much everything that she wanted to forget. She's Juliet now."
"And changing a name made her feel better about whatever she's feeling gloomy about?" Lu-Jean didn't reply. "Okay, so you won't accept any help from me. What do you plan on doing, then?"
"I just told you. I don't know." Lu-Jean glared at him, then sighed as she stood up. "I'm feeling too tired to think. And I need to get the smell of that stinking transport ship off my head. I hope you won't mind if I take a stroll in your splendid gardens?" she asked with a tinge of scorn.
Bail shook his head. "Not at all. Stroll away, m'lady."
He watched as she glided across the floor–there was no other word for her near-silent, smooth way of walking–and disappeared from sight. With a little sigh, he stood up. It was going to be difficult to protect a girl who spurned any sort of help.
And even if she did accept the safety he could offer, it would be hard to hide her Force-sensitivity. Either way, he could sense Lu-Jean was going to be a bit of a problem.
