Chapter 8. Strange Alliances
There was something about the women of Naboo, Bail reflected, when he finally had been permitted to enter the lift of the apartment building where Senator Amidala lived. Padmé was, and had been, as along as he had known her, an extraordinary creature – as beautiful as she was intelligent, as refined and charming as she was principled. But even her Handmaidens were so exquisite, so amusing, and so astute, that to spend an hour being held at bay in their company was more delightful than most social occasions of his recent memory.
He was alone in the lift, which Padmé's Captain of Security had programmed to stop only when it reached the roof garden. To get even this far he'd had to sit there with yet another cup of that interesting beverage until his security team had consulted with Padmé's, and general agreement about their joint deployment had been reached.
By the vast cliffs of Aldera, how he wanted to get off this planet! Everywhere, it reeked of corruption.
Except here. The lift finally opened, and Bail stepped out into a surprising space – a gracious, lush green, living garden so high above the hustle and bustle of the city below that it seemed to touch the undersides of the clouds. How extraordinary. How lovely.
But not as lovely as the vision coming toward him with her hands outstretched in greeting. Once again Bail re-lived the helpless flood of relief and gratitude he had experienced when Kenobi had told him that Amidala of Naboo was alive.
"Padmé." He took her proffered hands. "Words cannot express…"
"I know, Bail. I know."
"Zahra …Xezos…"
"I heard. I'm so terribly sorry…"
"And you, Padmé. You. What happened on Naboo?"
His hostess shook her head and closed her eyes briefly, revealing better than any words how painful the memories must be for her. "Palpatine found me out, Bail. He found all of us out. I wish I knew how. I wish I hadn't come to you with my information. I wish…"
"Hush," he soothed her, all the while feeling as helpless as she. "There's no point in berating yourself. We all know the risks, and we all know why they are worth taking." Bail continued to hold her hands warmly in his. "How did you get a pardon? My information was that you were to be put on trial for treason."
"My husband…" Padmé began, and involuntarily Bail released her hands. Her husband. She was married. In the midst of the pleasure of seeing her again, he'd momentarily forgotten.
"That is a quite a stunning piece of news in itself," he said as lightly as he could. "What happy man has the honor of having Amidala's hand in marriage?" Not knowing what to do with his own hands, now that they were noticeably empty, he clasped them in front of him.
Padmé smiled almost girlishly for a brief, unguarded moment before her expression became serious again. "You will meet him, Bail."
"I look forward to it," he replied graciously, belying a sinking heart. She had looked so happy for that unwary little moment when she thought about him – whoever he was – that Bail found it almost impossible to bring up the subject of the mysterious husband's connections. But bring it up, he must.
It's not just his connections that bother you, is it, boy? his grandmother's voice said slyly in his head. With the skill that comes from long practice he managed to push away the thought.
"Padmé," he began as gently as possible, "I have heard that your husband has connections to Chancellor Palpatine. That he works for him directly. Is this true?"
Any lingering softness in Padmé's expression quickly disappeared. It was replaced by cheerlessness, and something more. Something that seemed pained.
"Yes. It's true."
Bail looked down. He simply couldn't hold her gaze right now. How could he ask her what he needed to? How could he ask her whether she trusted her… husband? Whether she was certain that somehow, by some means, he hadn't been the instrument of their discovery? Whether her private decisions, her private life, weren't directly or indirectly endangering them all? How could he find the words?
"I trust him, Bail. He is the one who saved my life on Naboo."
Bail still couldn't look up, this time because he didn't know whether he would be able to look at her steadily. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. She made it so easy. She made everything so easy. Her perceptiveness. Her sensitivity. Her consideration for others.
Until now… the old woman's voice pointed out. Try not to let her twist your wits into a knot, too.
"There is so much at stake, Padmé," Bail finally managed. "It's not just me, it's the others. I feel responsible for the others…"
"I know." She put her hand on his arm. "Look, Bail, I'll withdraw from our group voluntarily. Keep me out of everything. Don't confide in me. Just carry on without me."
Just carry on without me. Yes, it seemed that he would have to do just that. In so many ways.
"There are so few of us remaining," he said sadly. "I don't know what we will be able to accomplish."
"There is growing resentment everywhere, Bail. Resentment and dissatisfaction. You may be able to attract others to your cause, and soon."
"It's your cause, too," Bail said sharply. "I know it is. It doesn't seem right for you to hang back. You're a fighter, Padmé."
"Perhaps. But I have others to consider too. Things are… different."
For the very first time, Bail considered that Padmé, too, might be protecting someone. The husband. It was an unsettling thought. Who could he be, this husband of hers? He racked his brains, trying to think of all the Jedi he ever had encountered.
"So, when do I get to meet the fortunate man who stole you away?"
"Now," said a new voice behind him. Bail flinched, and he saw Padmé's eyes go wide in surprise before he turned around only to come face to face with…
… the young Commander of the Galactic Army Battle Group who had saved his life on the way to Coruscant. The one with the hard eyes and the merciless tactics. For a moment, a very long moment, the two men merely stared at one another. It was the Commander (the husband? Was this the husband?) who finally broke the silence. By giving orders.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid you were followed here, Prince Organa. Your presence is compromising your safety, and Padmé's. You have to leave. Now."
'Your safety, and Padmé's.' He speaks of her so familiarly. He must be…
Padmé recovered quickly. "Bail Organa, I would like you to met Anakin Skywalker," she said politely. "My husband."
The young man bowed with just the right amount of deference, and Bail returned the greeting, but it was clear that the interloper was not willing to waste much time on pleasantries.
Bail tried hard not to scowl at him, and said only, "My security team assured me that there was no danger."
"They weren't looking in the right places." A glance passed between Skywalker and Padmé that Bail couldn't quite interpret, but it was enough to make him feel like a thorough outsider.
"How do you know?" Padmé asked her …husband …over Bail's shoulder.
"I went down to have a look for myself. I don't like leaving things to chance."
"What happened?" Padmé asked, a little breathlessly. Bail began to feel invisible.
"It has been taken care of for now," Skywalker reassured her. "But to be safe, the Viceroy should go."
Bail experienced an involuntary flash of memory in which six spaceships exploded in fiery succession and wondered, with a chill, just how the problem had been taken care of. If there was actually a problem. Suddenly he wasn't inclined to dispute the wisdom of Padmé's withdrawal from their small band of conspirators. This young man's presence in Padmé's life – whoever he was, whatever his hold over her – was not reassuring in the least.
"I will do as you say," Bail said, bowing graciously to Padmé, but taking his time over it. He wasn't about to be pushed. "We will leave things as we have agreed. For now." He regarded her affectionately. "It is a great joy to see you safe and well."
"And you, Bail," Padmé replied with gratifying warmth. Behind Bail's shoulder, Skywalker remained silent. Bail slowly turned around and again bowed to him in farewell. The bow was returned, and Skywalker courteously called the lift for him, but nothing more was said.
Bail stepped inside the lift and held up his hand to Padmé one more time before the doors closed. On his way down, the old woman's voice in his head whispered, you're getting stubborn again, my boy. Very stubborn…
x
"Kenobi. On a break from overseeing the destruction of innocent star systems?"
The large man didn't even get up from his chair on the far side of the spacious room when his visitors were shown in. He just bellowed out his rough greeting and waited for the two Jedi Knights to approach him.
Obi-Wan Kenobi didn't react – not even with the tiniest ripple in the Force – but merely walked toward his host with firm, measured steps. V'ar followed along beside him, slightly awestruck at Kenobi's seamless control. The man in the chair might just as well have struck him, but Kenobi was maintaining perfect harmony.
"Senator Bel Iblis," Obi-Wan said smoothly upon arriving in front of the large, distinguished-looking Correllian with a high forehead, a short, shapely beard and a thick wave of dark hair that was beginning to streak with silver. He offered a perfectly correct bow, no more, no less. "I would like to introduce V'ar Taanil, Jedi Knight."
The man in the chair stared up at his guests, one after the other, taking his time about studying them. V'ar took heart from Kenobi's perfect handling of the situation and allowed the Senator's scrutiny to flow over her like water. In fact, she smiled at him as she took it in her turn to bow in formal greeting.
Her smile must have caught his attention. V'ar noticed a distinct change in their host's expression. It was just a flicker, but suddenly Bel Iblis stood and offered his guests a correct greeting in return. The atmosphere in the room smoothed out noticeably.
"The two of you are to accompany me, then?" Bel Iblis asked without preamble. "The feted Jedi General and … this young one? The smiling Jedi?"
"We are the escort you requested." Obi-Wan was serene, although V'ar thought she caught the equivalent in the Force of a raised eyebrow, aimed in her direction. "But I'm not quite sure why you feel you need one. You're not exactly known for being intimidated in your dealings with the Senate and the Supreme Chancellor."
Bel Iblis snorted and waved his hand toward a pair of chairs, indicating that his guests should sit down while stood up and began to pace the room.
"I'm not intimated, Kenobi. I stand by my actions on behalf of Corellia, past and present. "What I need from you is an impartial witness to the conversation I'm about to have with Palpatine. What could be better for my purpose than a Jedi?"
"Two Jedi," Obi-Wan suggested calmly. V'ar shot him an amused glance.
"Just so." Bel Iblis paused in his circumnavigation of the room to look out the window over the jumbled panorama of the city. "I'm not approaching this meeting with Palpatine as a conversation, Kenobi. I'm not a fool, and I know what awaits me. In this so-called meeting I shall be placed on trial. Of course the trial, and possibly the sentencing, will be all wrapped up in diplomatic language and meaningless promises and compliments."
Obi-Wan settled back in his chair slightly. "You are speaking openly."
"It is safe to speak here in my residence," Bel Iblis said shortly, still staring out the window.
"Of what crime are you being accused? Your choice of personal and social connections?" Despite Bel Iblis' reassurances about the security of the room, Obi-Wan clearly was being careful not to mention specifics of the small opposition coalition out loud.
"Indirectly. That is always a threat. But it seems that our Supreme Chancellor has obtained information about certain independent activities that have been taking place in the Corellian sector, in and around the Outlier systems."
"What kind of activities?"
"Something the Jedi might appreciate, if they weren't so busy waging war." Bel Iblis turned around to glare at Obi-Wan, who returned his gaze in kind. The Senator held their mutual stare for a few moments, and then turned back to the window. "We have been providing shelter to refugees since the beginning of the war."
"Refugees?" Obi-Wan sounded genuinely puzzled. "There are refugee camps throughout the Republic. Why are yours hidden?"
"Because of the refugees' origins."
"And where is that?"
"They come from everywhere, actually. Everywhere in the Galaxy."
"From everywhere in the Galaxy," Obi-Wan repeated carefully. "From the Republic, and from the Confederacy of Independent States?"
"Yes."
"And they bring with them…"
"Gratitude, for one thing." Bel Iblis said gruffly. "And a certain idealistic mind-set. A common belief system, if you will. A belief in unity. A hatred for the war, of course."
"And through your generosity they find shelter in one of the most prosperous sectors of the Galaxy. Financial support, surely. Jobs. They must make for a very loyal labor force. I wonder… would these people from everywhere in the Galaxy be willing to fight for their belief system, as you put it?"
Bel Iblis scowled.
"You're building a power base, Bel Iblis! In the middle of a war between two antagonists, you are effectively building a third front…."
"Get off your pulpit, Kenobi! I'm providing shelter to those who would not otherwise find it. Opening a path for those who would be persecuted elsewhere in the Galaxy. If they in their turn show loyalty, and gratitude, and the willingness to support the cause of peace, then so be it."
Obi-Wan kept a thoughtful silence for a long time. V'ar attentively observed her partner, whose presence in the Force seemed to be alight with suppressed energy. Curious, she turned the same level of attentive discernment to the Corellian Senator, who still stood by the window with his hand clasped behind his back. His energies, too, pulsed with expectation. Bel Iblis wasn't looking outside any longer. He was gazing at Kenobi.
If ever there had been at tipping point, this was it. V'ar felt nearly dizzy in the vortex of energies that began to circle the room.
"How accurate is the Supreme Chancellor's information?" Obi-Wan asked finally.
"That depends on exactly what he knows – or thinks he knows. But it could be quite accurate." He began to pace up and down in front of the wide window again. "I would very much like to know how he came upon this information."
"Can the truth about these… activities… be demonstrated or proven?"
"Only by direct investigation," Bel Iblis growled. "And that means Republic investigators entering the Corellian neutral territories. I assume he is going to press me for permission."
"But you will decline."
"Of course I will. And then the pressure will begin – direct and indirect."
Obi-Wan thought for a few moments. "What help do you think we can give you, V'ar and I?"
To V'ar's perception, Bel Iblis' energies surged. Evidently he hadn't been certain until this moment that Obi-Wan would support him. His outward manner, on the other hand, remained as gruff and demanding as ever.
"You can witness the conversation, so that the outcome does not become somehow twisted later, my word against his. You can testify to the agreements made and the actions that are agreed to, or not agreed to, as the case may be. Your presence as Jedi peacekeepers will place these dealings at the proper level of diplomatic priority. He'll have to deal with me openly, at least for now."
"I'm flattered," Obi-Wan said dryly, "to have been removed in your eyes, if only temporarily, from the category of Republican killer-General, and placed back into the role of peacekeeper."
"Don't be," Bel Iblis said without a trace of humor. "This is as good a time as any to see just what has become of the Jedi Order. Who are you, and what do you stand for?" He stepped forward, close to the seated Obi-Wan. "What do you believe in, ultimately, you who fight on behalf of the corruption that is the Republic?"
V'ar looked quickly from one to the other. Obi-Wan abruptly stood up from his chair, causing Bel Iblis to take an involuntary step back. Although the Jedi Knight was shorter than Bel Iblis by nearly a head, the two men did seem to be standing eye to eye.
"I believe in peace, "Obi-Wan said. "I believe in freedom. I believe in them so much that I will stand by a man like you until the bitter end, because despite your arrogance and wrong-headedness and deplorable manners, you use your position and power to fight for them, too. That cannot be said of many."
"Well," Bel Iblis said after a fraught pause. "We'll see what kind of position I have left after this evening's encounter with our esteemed Supreme Chancellor."
"Irony, Senator?" Obi-Wan deadpanned. "How unexpected, coming from you."
Bel Iblis just growled.
x
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Padmé smiled.
"If you say so." The surface tension Anakin had worn like a cloak throughout Bail's visit still remained settled around his shoulders. He was pacing a slow circle around Padmé, who stood patiently in the center of the roof garden that Bail Organa had just left. Occasionally, and seemingly randomly, he picked leaves off of plants as he passed by them, and crumbled them between his fingers.
"And it was necessary. I had to see him."
"Yes." Anakin stopped in front of a thick, glossy, twining eliril vine that had been imported from Naboo especially for Padmé and her Handmaidens. "I know." The plant seemed to have some meaning for him, because his face brightened briefly as he resumed his restless tramp.
Padmé turned slowly in the center of the circle he was pacing, watching every move he made. Every pause. Every expression on his face. "Those are the vines that grow all over the Lake House."
Anakin stopped again and stared at the leaf in his hand. "Yes, I remember," he murmured absently. He looked up and gazed out over the city. The deepening sunset gave his face a warm glow that seemed somehow incongruous against the impressions he left on Padmé's innermost being. To her he seemed brittle, almost fragile.
"You're still worried," she suggested gently. "Even though I withdrew from the group. You heard me tell Bail, Anakin. It's over."
The eliril leaf, too, suffered the same fate as the others and fluttered to the ground in pieces.
"I wonder whether that will be enough. I wonder whether we're ever truly released from our past actions. Is anything ever really over?"
Fighting a wave of sadness and loss, Padmé hurried to Anakin and encircled his waist. "I don't know. But I hope so."
Anakin in turn pulled her close, so close that she could feel his heart beating; feel his chest rising and falling. But beyond that physical awareness, something else skirted around the edges of her mind. It was faint, but insistent. It felt like…. well, like something was little bit dissonant, a little bit off kilter.
"What is it, Anakin? What's wrong?"
"Can you feel it, too?" he whispered.
"Feel what?"
"Come on, Padmé. The Force is strong with you. You must sense it."
"Like…like something isn't right?"
"Yes." Abruptly Anakin released her, all but one hand, and said earnestly, "Try now. Relax your mind and focus."
As always when Anakin linked his abilities to perceive the Force with hers, Padmé felt her inner calm increase, and the often faint, jumbled images in her mind clarified. This time it wasn't a picture so much as an intensification of her earlier feeling of unease that dominated her perception.
"It's like… it's like a wave that it gathering. Something with potential, but it hasn't yet crashed."
"Yes," Anakin agreed, sounding almost relieved that she perceived it, too. "Exactly."
"What do you think it is?"
"It's hard to say. But it's the kind of feeling that always means, 'stay alert, something's coming.' You should make a habit of paying attention whenever you get that feeling. It's an early warning."
"A warning of what?"
"We don't know yet." Anakin pulled her closer again by their tightly clasped hands, pulling her around in a kind of dance until his arm lay over her shoulders. "But if we're alerted that things are changing, we're more likely to know what to do at the time."
"Aren't we always on alert anyway? Honestly, Anakin this isn't very helpful." Still holding Anakin's hand, Padmé began to pull him toward the lift. "I know what would be helpful. It's almost evening. Let's relax, for once. Neither one of us has any more obligations today. Let's just…"
Anakin's personal comm. sounded.
They stopped and stared at one another for a few long moments before he finally answered it. The message was brief, and Anakin's response even briefer, but Padmé knew from the look on his face that the evening's plans had changed. She squeezed his hand even more tightly.
"I've been called to a meeting," Anakin said warily. "I should leave now if I'm going to be on time."
"A meeting with him?" They both knew whom she meant. "Isn't this awfully short notice?"
Anakin took a deep breath. "It's about the information I uncovered about the neutral territories. You know, I told you about it… since I'm the one who turned it up, I have to be there."
Suddenly Padmé's sense of unease didn't seem vague at all. It seemed clear and specific, almost like a voice speaking to her. Beware.
"I'll wait up for you."
"I don't know how long I'll be."
"I'll wait."
They were silent all the way down in the lift, standing close together, hands clasped.Just before they parted, Anakin kissed her on the forehead. "See, Padmé? The Force really is strong with you. Trust your feelings."
"What if I don't like them?"
Anakin gave her a wan smile, and disappeared down the hallway.
