A/N: Thanks to those of you who favorited, followed, or reviewed! I would appreciate more though, since oftentimes it feels like I'm writing this story and no one is reading it. That I am shouting directly into the void lol

This chapter isn't meant to advance the plot so much as to be introspective for all of our characters since it does take time for them to travel, and that's why it's shorter. Shit will go down in the next chapter. What can I say? Palpatine's got plans!

This chapter's song is: Venus by Gustav Holst (aka the calm before the storm). Listen here.

"Let me rage before I die."

Virgil, The Aeneid

Chapter 4:


"What is our estimated time of arrival?" Padmé said. She turned her head to look at Vader. He had no outward reaction to her words. His gaze was fixed forward.

Dead silence. Was he legitimately not listening to her, or was he just being rude? Ordinarily, she would have said something. She couldn't stand being ignored, it was one of the quickest ways to get on her nerves. But something was telling her that it simply wasn't worth it, so she didn't bother. She then took a seat in the co-pilot's chair, though she doubted that Vader wanted her to touch any of the controls, which was ultimately his loss, because she wasn't such a bad pilot herself. Padmé wasn't even sure how he would respond to it, but she assumed from his past behavior that it would probably not turn out very well.

"30 hours," came his delayed reply.

Padmé paused. She wanted to go hide away in her cabin and say she was going to sleep until they reached their destination. It would spare her the awkwardness of sitting by his side for hours on end in total silence. But at the same time, she was nervous. She wanted to have Vader where she could see him, so that if he were to try anything, she would see it coming. Her fear took over, so there she stayed.

Not to mention that Obi-wan had told her to take advantage of the situation and look for clues as to Vader's identity. It was worth feeling the situation out and seeing what he was comfortable with revealing, but she had to make it seem subtle. It couldn't seem like she was interrogating him, only that she was trying to have a friendly conversation.

The day that she had a friendly conversation with Vader would be the day the galaxy imploded.

Padmé didn't know if he was even capable of polite conversation, let alone anything that could be considered pleasant. And if he was, he certainly hadn't shown it. In fact, she didn't think that he had said more than ten consecutive words to her. There was no chance that this could work, that she could charm the likes of him. There was a good chance that he was a droid, anyway. But still, she wondered.

She had forced many obstinate individuals to bend to her will over the course of her political career, and it seemed to come more and more easily to her each time she did it. The task had been made simple when she grew into her features just a few short years ago, and with physical adulthood came greater mental maturity. Though she had always been remarkably mature for her age, there had been times during her term as queen when her age had been an obstacle.

But the question remained, could she do it? It was a lofty goal, but aiming high was so natural to her that she hardly knew anything else. It was drilled into her from the time she was very young. She had been the queen of her planet at 14, for Force's sake! And who was he? A nobody, a nobody who came out of thin air. No records, no family, nothing. Nobody knew who he was, but at the very least, Padmé knew that he didn't have what she had. Vader didn't have her titles, her reputation, her accomplishments. These were the things that made her strong, that distinguished her as a force to be reckoned with. But he worked in the shadows, that is, until recently. She was a seasoned professional, and he was no match for her. It was no mystery that his people skills were seriously lacking, and hers grew more potent with each coming day.

But doubt took over nonetheless. Vader didn't seem like the kind of man to tolerate anyone in a social capacity, let alone come to like or trust them. But didn't she have to at least try? Padmé remembered the bold claim she had made earlier, that she had never met anyone whom she hadn't been able to bend to her will. It was the truth, at least it was.

"So I assume you've never been on any sort of diplomatic mission before, my lord?" she asked.

"Considering how much of a colossal waste of time it is, no, I haven't."

"You can hardly speak to something you know nothing of," Padmé said, feeling herself beginning to get frustrated. She paused to calm down. She reminded herself that she would make no progress this way.

"It is you who has no idea of what you speak," Vader said. There was nothing in his voice. No enthusiasm, no anger, no nothing. It was beyond unsettling. She elected to disregard what he had said in favor of steering the conversation elsewhere.

"I remember my first time dealing with such matters as interplanetary relations. I was significantly younger than you are now, but I was nervous all the same. Inexperience and age are, more often than not, linked. However, there are exceptions," Padmé said.

No response. Perhaps by making an assumption as to his age, she could get something out of him? It was unlikely, but worth a shot. She had offended him, made him uncomfortable. Good. If she was correct, the quickest way to earn his respect was to challenge him. But she could not lose her temper again, it needed to be controlled. Kriff, she hoped she was right about this.

"You would know a thing or two about that, Senator."

"Forgive me if I was out of line," she said, "It was not my intention to offend you."

"I do not get offended," he said.

"Of course you do, everyone does," Padmé said.

"Not me."

"Well I-"

"Get out," Vader said, and he sounded like he meant it. For someone who was trying to prove that he wasn't offended, he wasn't doing it well. But Padmé knew when she wasn't wanted, and in all honesty, she was growing tired of speaking to him. So she obliged him and left the cockpit, deciding to take a step back and reassess the situation before making her next move.

She opened the door to her cabin and stepped inside, locking it behind her. Padmé sat on the bed and pondered what it was she should do next. She could take a short nap, as she was particularly tired. It would be a waste of time, but she decided to do it anyway. It wasn't as if she could comm Obi-wan and discuss battle plans, and she hadn't taken much of her work with her, so sleep seemed to be the best option. After all, it was already night back on Coruscant.

Padmé changed into her nightgown, set her alarm for 7 hours, and curled up underneath the blankets. Her eyes were heavy from the sleep she hadn't gotten last night, but so much was still on her mind. She was frightened to be lowering her guard like this considering who she was with, but it didn't matter whether she was asleep or not. If Vader wanted her dead, he would do it either way. Nonetheless, she fell asleep quickly.


Emperor Palpatine was used to waiting. He didn't mind it, and it had proven to be the most reliable way to get whatever it was that he wanted. He waited to become a senator, he waited to become Chancellor, and he waited to become Emperor. Patience had always been the key to his success, that much was certain.

And he would have to wait a little while longer before he could be rid of Senator Amidala, and with her, the rest of the rebels that were still left in the senate. Even if she wasn't their designated leader, she had more or less become their symbol, and that made her more dangerous. He doubted that they would be much without her. Amidala was adored throughout the galaxy, and her influence continued to spread.

But how best to dispose of her? It would have been so easy to give Vader the orders to kill her while he had her all alone and blame it on the rebels. There was merit in that idea, and it could sway public opinion to their favor, that is, if anyone was stupid enough to believe it. No, no one would believe that the rebels would so much as touch Amidala.

Palpatine knew better.

The physical act of getting rid of her would have been so simple, and he was sure that he could do it at any time, but it was the ramifications that stopped him. He had foreseen them, and they could cost him everything he had worked to achieve. The Empire was still new, and its hold over the galaxy was not yet stable. The Alliance was already enough to deal with, and to kill Amidala would be to make her into a martyr. What he really needed was a way to control her while she was still alive.

He could imprison her, use torture to scare her into submission and get the information he so badly needed. He could order Vader to look after her even more closely. He could marry her off. The possibilities were endless. Palpatine would need to think on it and arrive at a decision before she returned from her mission.


Operations on the Dantooine base ran smoothly, just as they always had. It was one of the rebels' larger facilities, and it housed a couple thousand of their finest troops. Promising and ambitious recruits were sent there as well to complete their training. To be stationed there was both a blessing and a curse. Even though it was among the nicest bases, it was in the middle of nowhere all the same.

It was Padmé's idea to scatter the Alliance's most important leaders throughout the galaxy on remote, backwater planets. A string of losses has left them vulnerable, and they could not afford to lose any more men.

"How many troops will the King be giving us?"

"Millions," Obi-wan said, "But it is imperative that we do not kill any more of the Emperor's men than is absolutely necessary. It will give them all the more reason to send reinforcements and take back the planet. We need to convince him that the planet is not worth the trouble of keeping."

"And then we can establish a stronghold in the mid-rim."

"Exactly. Being confined to the outer-rim has hindered our progress. I propose that we station squadrons of the King's men throughout the city, and we send our men to guard the palace."

"And what of Senator Amidala? Will she be off world by then?"

"We can't count on it. If she is unable to leave, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do. To help her would be to reveal her involvement in the Alliance, which as you know is a death sentence," Obi-wan said.

"And will you be going, Master Kenobi?"

Obi-wan laughed. "If it had been up to me, I would go with you to Shu-torun and challenge Vader. But, it often pays to be patient. That, and the senator has ordered me to stay put, and it is best to do as she says."

The Jedi was conflicted. On one hand, he had enough faith in his training and abilities that he could take on and defeat Vader, if he only received the order to do so. But would another, possibly more powerful apprentice take his place? That he could not be sure of, and though it was a risk Obi-wan was willing to take, Senator Amidala did not feel the same way.

In many ways, she was right. It wasn't the right time to eliminate Vader. The Alliance's army was too small and too weak as of late to attempt anything substantial, that was, until the king of Shu-torun offered his men to aid in the second attack. With their troops by their side, the rebels had a clear advantage. It all came down to how far the Emperor was willing to go to keep the planet.


Padmé woke with a start to the sharp beeping of her alarm, feeling well rested for the first time in, well, far too long. She pushed off the covers, got up, and stretched before making the bed. She then threw her robe over her nightgown, since it was awfully cold in the ship. She made a mental note to find the temperature controls later and rectify it.

She unlocked and opened the door before walking back to the cockpit. There she found Vader just as she had left him, and he looked to have not moved an inch in the 7 hours she was gone.

"I can take over from here. You've been flying for 7 hours straight now," Padmé said.

"That will not be necessary," he said.

"I think that it is in both of our best interest if I fly for a while. You haven't rested, so your abilities are sure to be impaired."

"Even if they were, I would not be so stupid as to entrust such a task to the likes of you."

"I beg your pardon, but I am more than capable of flying this ship," Padmé said defensively. Was he saying that she was a bad pilot or that she was untrustworthy? She concluded that he probably meant to say both, but she wasn't sure which was more offensive to her. Probably the former, because although she hardly strove for mutual trust as a goal, it was ingrained in the senator's mind that impressing and commanding respect from others was of the highest importance.

"A senator who is both a marksman and a pilot, how impressive," Vader said. At this point he was very obviously mocking her, which Padmé didn't take kindly too. Her eyes narrowed.

"You'll find that we are full of surprises."

"That is precisely the problem," he said, adopting a more serious tone.

"I can't argue with that, in fact, you don't know the half of it. But you hate the senate for all the wrong reasons," Padmé said.

"I never said I hated the senate. I said that I hated senators."

His words sent a chill down her spine. Once again, it felt as if he was threatening her. Well, two could play at that game.

"Oh, I understand completely. My hatred of military officers works the same way," Padmé said with a smile.

He didn't say anything, but she didn't expect him to. It seemed as if the only way she could trap him into having an actual conversation was to continually one-up him. That was the only thing he responded to, that is, until he lost. She concluded that he probably just wasn't used to it, since she was sure that nobody had made it this far with him and lived.

But for whatever reason, Palpatine didn't want her dead. At least not yet. Padmé couldn't fathom why, as she had been nothing but a thorn in his side from the very beginning. She didn't think that her popularity with the people could save her. Palpatine seemed to take and do what he wanted regardless of what the citizens of the empire wanted, because he now had the army he needed in order to do essentially whatever he pleased. If he had no use for her, he could have safely disposed of her by then.

"Let me fly the ship," Padmé said.

"No."

"With all due respect, you are being extremely childish. Go sleep."

"I don't need sleep," Vader said.

"Yes you do, everyone needs to rest," she said, "And you aren't convincing anyone by pretending that you don't."

"If I grant you this request, will you stop talking and leave me alone?"

"Yes," she said.

That seemed to be enough for him, because he got up from his seat and left the cockpit without another word. Padmé's gaze followed him for a moment, before she sat down and took hold of the controls.

Flying was probably one of her favorite things to do nowadays. It was so simple and calming, not to mention it gave her the time to clear her head. She would need a level head for the negotiations, even though she was sure that Obi-wan had taken care of most of it by now. Padmé knew she needed to put on a convincing show for Vader and make it all seem legitimate, but she wasn't sure how she would pull that off. Just looking at him made her blood boil.

He seemed like the type of person who could tell when he was being lied to anyway, even if all of that mind reading bantha fodder was actually true, and not just something the Emperor made up to make them think that he had a way to see into their thoughts. Padmé was no fool, she could see right through all of the Emperor's nonsense.

She could hardly wait to hear about the plans for the attack, as she hated being kept in the dark. If he weren't here, it wouldn't have been a problem. He was getting in the way again. Not to mention his presence was putting her on edge for obvious reasons. Surely it was intentional. Clearly he was making an effort to intimidate her.

But she refused to let it get to her, and Vader was stupid if he thought that he could frighten her. He was more of a mystery than anything else, one that she wanted to crack. That is, after he had been defeated.