Chapter Twelve

Her finger hovered over the "send" icon on her HoloReader as she bit her bottom lip. Her stomach was turning and gurgling, and it had nothing to do with food or lack thereof. Written before her was her glowing appraisal of what the Empire had done for those slaves. She carefully avoided any mentions of the physicality of the dormitories or factories… and worst of all, she had made it sound like the separation of the children was one hundred percent consented by both parents and children. She closed her eyes and forced a breath out of her nose.

She hit "send." Now, Kinlie would read it over, get the right people's approval—which wouldn't be hard. It was positively full of happy things. She tossed her HoloReader to the foot of her bed, leaning her head against the backboard. Was this really her destiny? Being a sycophant to a psychopath's ego, all so she could get her husband to see what she—and most other people—already saw? That this Empire was evil, pure and simple.

Her mind was chaos, and it wasn't going to get any better by sitting here sulking. She glanced toward the singular slit in the wall that served as a thin window out into the hellish landscape of the planet. Going outdoors to clear her head was completely out of the question. She heaved her soul-weary body off the bed and exited her room. She stalked the halls of the castle in silent contemplation.

Padme had seen nothing of Vader since seeing him exit the shuttle when they had returned to Dark Monolith. She had pretty much figured out that seeing him within the castle was a slim chance, and thus she walked the obsidian halls without fear. She bit her lip, climbing a couple of flights of stairs, stopping a level or two before the beginning of Vader's personal quarters. She leaned on the wall just short of stepping foot out onto a rounded balcony that overlooked a charred hillside. She averted her eyes from the lava flow, instead resting them on the wall opposite her. It made her feel a tad ridiculous, that she couldn't even look out on the landscape—at least, not for long. The memories would simply wreck her, assault her right to her knees. It was at times like this that she found herself remembering—and envying—Anakin's ability to deeply meditate.

She truly needed to meditate on some things now. In so far as she was concerned, her lot was thrown in with the growing rebels who she had agreed to keep abreast of any developing situations. Padme was sure that what she had witnessed on that remote jungle planet counted. She had yet to send any messages, despite taking every precaution to make sure her messages to the rebels would be secure. That troubled her, this hesitation. What was holding her back? But it wasn't the only hesitation.

Her thoughts were constantly at war, thinking of Anakin and Vader. She had come to realize that she was thinking of them as two completely separate beings. The things she had seen Vader do, had read about him doing, were things that Anakin would never do… or, if he did, would torture him. Slaves. Anakin used to tell her of his dreams of ending all slavery, everywhere. It was one of the things she had loved most about him. He had believed, with all his being, that all peoples should be free. But then, the situation of the workers on that planet… all he had done was watched. And when she had pressed him on the matter. Her hand raised to her throat, her memories mixing and melding until she was thinking of both her very last day and that one in the cockpit. She sighed. She lifted her eyes to the high ceiling, and she put voice to a thought that was plaguing her more and more with each passing day. And she spoke it to the only being she felt it safe enough to do so.

"Oh, Qui-Gon… I might have been wrong. This is impossible. Ani is… I feel like Ani might be gone forever," she whispered.

Her eyes slid shut, and she could feel tears stinging them just under the lids. Then, to her surprise, she heard the old Jedi's voice.

"I don't believe that, Padme. And neither do you, for that matter."

Her eyes flashed open, coming down to rest of the shimmery image of Qui-Gon's Force Ghost. She blinked. He looked as if he had simply walked up to the balcony from the other side of the hall, instead of spontaneously appearing from beyond the grave. She shook her head.

"I became queen of my planet when I was but a child. I saved it from an all-out war during that time. I represented it in the Senate. But this, Qui-Gon, this is the hardest thing I believe I have ever done. That man, the one at the top of this tower… he feels nothing like Anakin to me."

Qui-Gon said nothing as Padme drew a ragged breath, battling her tears. Once she was confident she could keep the waver out of her voice, she continued.

"He basically relocated slaves. Slaves! He just watched as a mother and child were forcibly separated. The Anakin I knew would have never done that. He would have cut down that solider before he would've let that happen. But not Vader. He's completely foreign to me."

The ghost nodded. "I understand your distress. Truly, I do. You must remember, however, that while it feels as if you took a long sleep and simply awoke, your husband has had to deal with your loss. It's only been months, just barely short of a year. That wound is still open, and it is one he believes he caused. I would venture a guess that Vader is doing everything in his power to forget Anakin Skywalker. This is exactly what we must prevent."

The Jedi stood serenely still as he made his point, his hands clasped in front of impeccably clean robes. His long, brown-gray hair hanging over either shoulder as his gentle eyes rested on Padme. It made her stomach feel like someone had tied a rope around it. She shook her head.

"It would be easier if I could just tell him who I really was."

At this, Qui-Gon laughed, startling her just a bit. He sighed. "No, it wouldn't be, and you are well aware of that fact. You know it would be dangerous to go around trying to be your old self in Miss Sarbarn's borrowed body. But I know that you have been searching for loopholes in this little arrangement the Force has willed for you."

Padme felt her cheeks color, ever so slightly, abashed at his words. She felt like a child that got caught sneaking dessert before supper was done. Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head.

"Don't misunderstand me. That is good. You should look for these things. Anything you can use to accomplish your goal. After all, who am I to judge? I've been known to break a few rules now and again. In fact, I'm in the middle of breaking one now."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "It's just overwhelming. Being so close, yet…"

He nodded once more. "I know. But the Will of the Force is rarely wrong. You were brought back for more reasons than simply being Anakin's wife, I'm sure of it. What those reasons are, however, are unclear to me. You are smart, resourceful. I'd wager that you'll figure it out before I will."

A whirring noise, like robotic wheels on the polished flooring, drew her attention towards the inside of the castle. A small silver and red domed droid rolled toward her. She turned back to Qui-Gon, only to find the Jedi Knight vanished. For the best, she supposed. She faced the droid once it stopped before her. It spoke in a voice that was so obviously artificially programmed. It sounded like the auto-read on her HoloReader.

"Lord Vader demands an update on your progress," it said.

She blew a breath out through tight lips. "I have written the article and sent it to Kinlie. It is a glowing tribute to the Empire."

The droid bobbed in what must have been a nod. "I will deliver this message."

It rolled past, heading toward Vader's private quarters. As soon as it was out of sight, she knew what she had to do. She left the balcony, making a direct line toward her room. She had a message of her own to deliver.