Author's Note: Not a very brisk chapter, but there is one new appearance I think several of you will like…hope you enjoy!
…
"Out of the question."
Padmé stiffened, glared. "I beg your pardon?" she hissed under her breath. "Do you realize what this could do for the rebel movements?"
"Do you realize what this could do to your son?" Obi-Wan returned. Beneath his veneer of Jedi serenity, Padmé could see sparks of something that was close to anger. "Venturing uninvited into an area under heavy Imperial surveillance is not a wise thing for anyone to do, but it is especially ill-advised for single parents."
Her eyes sparked angrily. "I hope you're not implying I don't take my responsibility to my son seriously."
Obi-Wan was not so easily deterred. "I am implying exactly that."
Her mouth fell open, as much in shock as in anger. She was so furious that she had to wait a good minute before she could respond with anything like calm. "That's absurd. My entire life has been defined by my responsibilities towards others. If there is anything I understand, it is responsibility—"
"Civic responsibility," he cut in sharply. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but I do not think your sense of responsibility towards your family equals your sense of civic responsibility, Padmé."
She jerked as if he'd slapped her across the face. He kept going.
"You have spent your entire life devoted to the service of others, Padmé, for which I certainly commend you, but there are drawbacks to such devotion. You think in terms of what is best for the whole, not the individual. A parent cannot think that way."
"And what would you know about parenting?" she snapped, too furious to reel the comment in. She immediately felt guilty for it, but Obi-Wan took it in stride.
"Training a Padawan is not so very different from raising a child," he returned steadily. "If I had constantly gone around thinking how I could best serve all of the Padawans in the Temple, my own would have suffered greatly."
Padmé set her jaw—this time not in anger, but against the pain that welled with every mention of Anakin. "This is ridiculous," she finally said, when she could speak without her voice quavering. "Luke is the entire reason I'm working against the Empire. His future is at stake. This operation could be a deciding factor in weakening the power that threatens his life, and I am the best choice to spearhead it. I am doing this for him, not myself."
"I'm sure Luke will find that knowledge a great reassurance in the event of your death," Obi-Wan said evenly.
She leaned back in her chair with a cold glare. "So I'm supposed to let fear dictate my actions henceforth?"
"You are supposed to use your good sense and make Luke's welfare your first priority," Obi-Wan countered. "If you go to Fresia, you are risking your life and his safety! Padmé, all it could take is one lucky hologram snapshot, and the Sith might know of both you and Luke."
"That is the case no matter where I go," she retorted. "And all it takes for them to win is for people like me to sit around doing nothing. This is no more dangerous than anything else I have done in the past six years. I am going to Fresia, and then I will step back."
Obi-Wan settled back in his own chair, looking at her with evident disappointment. "I will not condone that decision," he told her firmly.
She sighed in exasperation. "Obi-Wan, you don't have to agree. You don't have to come. This is my decision. I'm just asking you to take Luke for a couple of days. I'll take one of Bail's ships, and I think it would be best if you and Luke took this one to—"
"Padmé, I don't think you take my meaning," Obi-Wan cut in. "I will not condone this. And if I decide not to condone something, I am not going to enable it either."
She stared at him in disbelief as he continued, "I will not be a convenient babysitter for you to shunt Luke off to whenever the greater good calls. If you insist on going to Fresia, you will do it without my assistance."
It took a moment to process that Obi-Wan Kenobi had actually refused to assist her for the first time in living memory. "Obi-Wan—I don't have anywhere else to send him," she tried to reason.
"Then you won't be sending him anywhere," the Jedi Master returned unsympathetically.
Padmé stared, anger starting to surge all over again. "That's coercion."
"If I have to engage in a bit of coercion for the sake of Luke's wellbeing, so be it," Obi-Wan said sharply.
She leaned back again in her chair, eyes closed, hands steepled and pressed against her mouth, thinking and calming herself. Finally she spoke again. "Do you respect my ability to assess situations?"
"Of course I do."
"And do you respect my authority as a mother to take whatever actions I think are in Luke's best interests?"
He nodded, defensively. It wasn't difficult to see where she was taking this, she knew, but subtlety wasn't really the point.
"Then you'll trust my judgment and support my decisions."
His counter surprised her. "And in your judgment, have you taken into account what your departure might do to your son at this point?"
"Of course—"
"I don't think so. Padmé, Luke is just beginning to come to terms with the changes his life has undergone. How do you think it will look to him when his mother leaves again after only a few days?"
She closed her eyes. The thought had certainly crossed her mind many times. "The timing is very unfortunate. I don't think either of us disputes that. But I will not be gone for more than a few days, and there is no way to put this opportunity on hold. I realize it will be very difficult for him. But I am coming back, and when I do, it will reaffirm to him that he can trust me." She looked him intently in the eye. "Don't think I made a decision like this lightly, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan held her gaze for several long, silent seconds.
"Even if you won't do this for me, do it for Luke," she urged. "Obi-Wan, he's more at ease around you anyway. A short break from my company might even be good for him. And when I come back, I will find another leader for my resistance cell, and Luke and I will find somewhere quiet and safe. It's just this once."
He finally sighed and dropped his head. "I am officially on record as objecting to this," he reminded her.
"But you'll take Luke."
"I will. This one time."
She smiled. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."
The Bal'alen system…
Firmus Piett, Second Lieutenant, Junior Communications Officer of His Majesty's Starship Tyranny for the past five months, had long since learned that intense job stress around the clock and every day of the week was all part and parcel of working under the forbidding glare of Captain Kale. He liked to think that he had adjusted rather well, especially considering this was his first tour of duty since his graduation from the Imperial Naval Academy. In fact, the Senior Communications Officer—Tbron, his name was—had commented a couple of times that Firmus' relative calm was a valued addition to his division. It was why he'd shifted Firmus out of the standard shipboard rotation, where all the rest of the junior officers were paying their dues, and put him on the bridge crew, where frequent interaction with the tyrannical captain had driven more than one com officer to the brink of breakdown.
It was a nerve-racking assignment, to say the least, but he'd kept himself going with the thought that such advanced work so early in his career was going to look very good to the promotion boards—with any luck he'd make First Lieutenant by the end of the year and they'd reassign him. The promise of an improved future in mind, he'd been able to manage working on the bridge…
…Until tonight, anyway.
He stared once again at the schematics display for the ship that had just come in system and answered his challenge. The code clearance had checked out.
Blue.
He swallowed, and began pressing buttons on his console. He did not envy the poor fellow who'd have to take this message to Kale.
Especially not considering it was the middle of the captain's night cycle.
But, decisively, he pressed the button to summon one of the communications ensigns. "Inform the captain that Lord Vader has arrived," he said.
The ensign paled, and gave him a long, pleading look before trudging off in fearful resignation. Underling though he might be, even he had heard of the legendary hatred between their captain and the dreaded Sith Lord.
It was really no wonder they hated each other. They were too much alike for it to be otherwise. Firmus transmitted the standard boarding instructions to the incoming shuttle, tales of the clashes between the two Imperial commanders running through his mind. From what he'd heard, Vader was basically Kale—on a much bigger scale. He was even more cruel, even more capricious, even more demanding, even more fatal in his rage. In the six years since he'd appeared on the scene from the Force knew where, the man had bypassed even the most experienced of the Clone Wars veterans, despite the fact that he had no official rank whatsoever. Resentful sentiments ran with venom through the ranks of those slighted veterans, though it was grudgingly conceded that Vader was truly a brilliant commander. Rumor had it the Emperor might even grant him command of the entire Navy in the near future, such was his talent.
The idea of a super-Kale in command of the Navy was enough to make Firmus quake in his regulation-polished boots. Hopefully the rumor was just that. Kale had been a trying enough experience; the lieutenant fervently prayed that he would never have to deal with Vader. Thank the Force he was too junior for his presence to be required at the greeting party.
…
His efforts at bringing his crew to heel had not gone to waste; everything was perfectly in order according to all regulations by the time the lambda shuttle bearing their guest settled down in the Tyranny's vast hangar bay. Kale's spine stiffened automatically as the landing ramp set down with a hiss, as did those of the rest of the hastily assembled greeting party.
That there even was a complete greeting party at this time of the shipboard cycle, let alone a prompt one, was quite the achievement. For a few minutes—when the news broke that Major Tbron had been rushed to the med bay after a sudden affliction of the Devaronian flu—it had looked as though protocol might hit the fan. Although Kale did enjoy every opportunity he had to improve the discipline of his crew, this was not the time for anything to go awry.
Fortunately, the com officer on bridge duty had made it in time to fill his superior's position and put the party in order before Vader actually emerged. Normally, Kale despised the efficient, unflappable lieutenant, who was thus far an utter failure when it came to failure—but the man's composure was a commodity in this case.
Besides, he was too distracted by Vader's presence to care about anything as petty as a junior com officer.
With a dramatic explosion of steam and a spine-chilling hiss of his respirator, the Dark Lord emerged from his shuttle.
Kale and all the rest of the party promptly saluted. "Welcome to the Tyranny, my lord," the captain said briskly.
…
So. A full greeting party, despite the inconvenient hour of his arrival. Typical of Kale. But the captain's efforts to impress him were, as usual, unsuccessful. Vader swept a dispassionate gaze over the assemblage of officers. They were all of them quaking in their boots, with the given exception of Kale and the mildly surprising one of the communications officer. Vader eyed the anonymous officer for the briefest instant more before dismissing him from mind.
"Dismiss them, I have no use for your courtesies," he boomed, sweeping onward. The much shorter officer was forced into the awkward position of waving the members of the greeting party off while simultaneously twisting about to keep pace with his doubtless undesirable guest. Vader savored the man's flash of suppressed resentment. He had encountered Kale on several occasions over the past few years; toying with the man was always refreshing entertainment. His master might have said such games were beneath him. But it was nonetheless pleasurable, in much the same morbid way as placing a focusing lens over some irritating insect and watching it squirm and smoke.
Childish, yes, but—
…a convenient distraction from your regrets…
—Amusing.
"Your arrival is an unexpected honor," the pestering insect-man was now blabbering.
"You will shortly find it less so," he informed Kale acidly. "I am here to supervise the matter of the Incom Corporation project."
They entered a turbolift bound for the bridge. Vader noted vaguely that the com officer had come in behind them.
"The situation is well in hand, my lord," Kale said tightly. Again that delicious flash of resentment.
"I will be the judge of that, Captain," Vader rumbled.
Kale persisted, to his black delight. "Supervision is hardly necessary. I am sure your talents are more urgently needed elsewhere. It is a simple security operation. My team is more than equal to the task."
"It is not the skills of your officers that the Emperor finds questionable."
The captain's subconscious roiled furiously, yet so inculcated was the man into the naval hierarchy that he never consciously realized his own fury. Earnestly he continued attempting to prove himself to Vader, who listened with disdain. "I assure you, my lord, I am fully qualified…" Impotent little man. He would never be more than an insect-tyrant, incapable of seeing beyond the prow of his sole Star Destroyer. All primitive ambition and unthinking zeal. There should be no place for such small-minded men in the new order.
Unfortunately, Kale had served the Empire well these past six years, and given Vader no grounds for eliminating him.
The lift arrived at the bridge; the com officer emerged first, Vader looming on his heels. He sensed Kale begin to step out behind him.
He had no intention of suffering the captain's inferior company any longer. "You may retire, captain," he said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "I do not require your services. I am sure the demands of your duty have left you in need of your rest."
Again that searing repressed fury. But Kale nodded, exemplary, obedient to the point of ridiculous earnestness. "My lord."
The turbolift departed, and Kale with it. Vader turned and surveyed the bridge. There were a few less personnel on duty, but they worked with exemplary efficiency under the supervision of one of the Kale's executive officers, who saluted him stiffly and wisely kept his distance. Vader prowled the length of the bridge catwalk once or twice, taking in the view of Bal'alen from the panoramic viewport and observing the efforts of the officers. His gaze rested idly on the com officer. There was a certain quality about that young lieutenant which struck him as promising. The rest of the bridge crew performed well as a result of Kale's tactics of intimidation, but this one seemed to genuinely be a cut above average.
Well. Time and experience would tell. In the meantime, a mere lieutenant was hardly deserving of his attention. Besides that, he must focus on the matter of Fresia and the Incom project. Vader had reviewed the designs of the proposed T-65 starfighter personally throughout its development, at the insistence of the Emperor, among whose pet projects the T-65 was numbered. Palpatine would be most displeased should something go wrong at the last moment. So would Vader, for that matter—the new ships were most promising.
A threatening visit by a Sith Lord should be enough to keep Kale fully alert. He would remain a few days, ensure that the crew properly understood the import of its responsibility and the implications of failure, and then return to the skirmishes with the rebel factions near Ansion. Hopefully his brief departure from the fighting would not spell disaster for Imperial forces; but he trusted those men more than he did Kale. Their thinking was not so confined.
The executive officer slunk up and informed him that his quarters were ready at his convenience. Vader stalked off to meditate. The Force had been…unsettled as of recent. He should ensure that there were no threatening developments in store for the new order he had sacrificed so much to inaugurate.
…
Padmé was busy packing Luke's jumpsuits and other necessary items into a duffle bag. They didn't go very far towards filling it. She stared ruefully at her son's meager possessions, feeling guilty that she hadn't done much about it yet. Well—she would take care of that as soon as she got back from Fresia. Perhaps she'd even make a brief shopping trip on her way back; it might help placate her son's emotions.
Luke was sitting on his bunk in his pajamas, watching her somewhat forlornly. She cinched the duffle bag shut and sighed, glancing at him.
She didn't need to feel any more guilty than she already did.
"I'll be back soon, Luke," she told him, as much to assuage her own guilt as to reassure him. "You'll hardly even know I'm gone. Besides, you'll have fun with Obi-Wan."
"What if you don't come back?" he muttered unhappily.
She smiled at him, a big, soothing smile. "Of course I'm coming back. This is just something I need to do for work."
"Why can't I come?"
She shook her head gently. "Oh, Luke, you would only be bored," she told him. "It's just going to be a lot of talking."
"What if you get hurt?"
"I won't," she said firmly.
"But how do you know?"
"I can't let anything hurt me," she told him lightly. "I have to take care of you, sweetheart."
Luke was not so easily convinced. "But what if you die?"
"I'm not going to die, Luke."
"You don' know," he mumbled, staring down at his ship.
She brushed his hair fondly out of his eyes. "Luke, I love you very much, and I will not leave you alone."
"But what if you can't stop it? What would happen a' me?"
"If something happens, then Obi-Wan will take care of you," she said. "But nothing is going to happen. I will come back in a few days."
"Promise?"
"I promise." She handed him the duffle bag. "Will you be okay for just a few days?"
"I guess," he mumbled.
She smiled at him again. "Come on. It's time for bed. You get to go on a new ship this time."
It had been decided, after much deliberation, that Obi-Wan and Luke would take the anonymous ship provided by Bail, while Padmé would take her own freighter to Fresia. The two ships were now docked together, far away from the main traffic of Obroa-Skai. Obi-Wan was already aboard, running some system checks. Padmé took Luke to the cabin he and Obi-Wan would share, got him settled in the bunk, said a last goodbye, and switched out the lights before going to the cockpit to talk to Obi-Wan.
"He's aboard?" the Jedi Master asked.
"Yes, he's going to sleep now." Luke had been getting much better about going to sleep over the past few days. The new experiences seemed to be helping him forget the old painful ones. She was glad he was young enough for that.
"Well, all my systems seem to be functioning properly," Obi-Wan said. He stood and they walked to the docking tube at a leisurely pace.
"Thank you for everything, Obi-Wan," she told him as they reached the junction.
"Be careful," he returned somberly.
"As careful as I can be," she promised.
He nodded, and they both stepped out on their respective sides of the tube with a final wave. The doors sealed their multiple layers, and Padmé disconnected her end of the tube. She stared at the sealed portal for a few seconds, missing her son already, but shook herself out of it quickly.
She would see him very soon. And she had important work to do.
She walked briskly to the cockpit of her ship, and watched the scanners for a few moments as Obi-Wan's ship pulled swiftly away towards the opposite end of the system from her departure point. He and Luke were headed to Desmen; she would meet them there when her business in Fresia was finished. Once she was satisfied that his craft was sufficiently clear, she plugged in the coordinates for her first jump.
The freighter launched itself smoothly into hyperspace, bound for the Fre'ji system.