Thirst

Chapter Fourteen: "Rescue and Reputation"

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"It's awfully tight," Obi-Wan complained, tugging on the leather vest Padmé had just finished securing. "And what's with the gloves? It's the middle of summer!"

"Oh, hush," she playfully scolded. "This is proper attire for a man of your station. You are the Queen's Guard, you know. It's time you dressed for the part."

"I can barely breathe," he continued to complain, pulling on the high blue collar of the undertunic.

"One last thing."

Obi-Wan caught the hat that she had tossed to him and immediately frowned. "I'm not wearing that."

"Why not? You may look handsome in it. Not that you don't already," Padmé teased him. "Try it on and see."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan placed the security cap on top of his head and adjusted the neck flap. He turned to view his reflection in the mirror and Padmé laughed.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled. "It's not the hat. It's your expression! Do you really hate it that much?"

"Like I said. I'm not wearing this." The item was resolutely cast onto her bed.

"Captain Panaka may have something to say about that, but I'll see what I can do. I want you to be happy here, Obi-Wan," she told him, turning more serious.

"I am," he assured her, reaching to pull her into an embrace. "As long as I'm with you, how can I not be?" He punctuated his statement with a thorough kiss.

The romantic interlude was interrupted by a knock on her door. Sabé was quick to poke her head in. "Mi'Lady, Obi-Wan has a comm coming through the station."

The transmission had originated from the Unknown Regions and was unfocused, the voices garbled. With some fine tweaking on their end, a friendly face with large ears appeared on the viewscreen.

"Obi-Wan, good to see you, it is."

"Master Yoda. Is something wrong? Why are you contacting me?"

"On our….ship damaged….. Sith…."

"Work on that connection," Padmé demanded while the communications tech frantically worked to comply.

"You're breaking up. Confirm your last message." Obi-Wan suggested, although the image was now flickering as well.

"…soon….destroyed. ….with you."

And then the relay was lost. Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and toyed with his new growth of beard while contemplating the message.

"We can't reach him," Padmé informed him. "What do you think he was trying to say?"

"Ship damaged. The Sith. Destroyed. With you." Obi-Wan repeated the key phrases he'd managed to make out. "I don't want to make any assumptions, but it seems the Temple has been attacked and that was a transport Yoda was speaking from." The young man eyed her nervously. "We may be getting some company."

Within two days, indeed a large transport with smoke emitting from its hyperdrive engines landed in Theed Port. Padmé, Obi-Wan, and a small security detail were present to welcome whomever was on board.

When the loading ramp lowered upon the stone deck with a loud clang and the smoke from the damaged engines had cleared, the first being to appear was the one from the communiqué. He was an impish looking creature, no taller than half a meter with green skin and wisps of white hair protruding from wide, pointed ears.

Obi-Wan immediately bent a knee as the being made his way slowly down the ramp, using a wooden cane to guide his steps. After receiving a touch on his shoulder with a tridactyl claw, Obi-Wan stood. "Master Yoda. What news have you from Ahch-To?"

The creature called Yoda looked saddened, his ears drooping along with the expression. "Many Sith, attacked it did they. Mostly destroyed, it is. A new place, we seek. All who survived, aboard they are."

The strange creature who spoke with reversed syntax then turned his attention toward Padmé. "Queen Amidala, I presume? A pleasure to meet you, it is."

"Master Yoda, the pleasure's all mine. Obi-Wan always speaks highly of you. I'm sorry you've encountered such trouble. How may we help?"

"If allowed we are, best it would be if inside we could go. Many wounded, some badly thre are."

"Yes, of course," she told him, nodding to her security detail who proceeded to help those aboard the ship.

There were too many Jedi to house in the palace, and some were lining the hallways on makeshift pallets. Padmé had sent for her own private physician, although she had been informed the Jedi had healers of their own.

As she walked the hallways, helping where she could, she was amazed at the diversity of species and ages before her eyes. There were younglings from the ages of two or three up to someone the age of Master Yoda, who actually didn't know how old he was. 'Eight-hundred something,' he'd told her.

Although there was no one with a life-threatening injury, there were a variety of head wounds, broken bones, and burns on most of the victims, most likely caused by lightsaber strikes or falling debris, and she busied herself by applying Bacta to them, focusing mainly on the very young. She was busy wrapping the foot of one particular youngling when Sabé tapped on her shoulder.

"Mi'Lady, the council requests an audience with you."

"Now?" Padmé pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear while she continued to work.

"Governor Bibble was most insistent. I'm afraid he's not very happy."

"When is he ever happy?" she asked before rising to her feet. She was exhausted and this was not a good time for a council meeting. She was going to have to be careful or else she may lose her temper woth them.

The council was waiting on her when Padmé arrived, free of her royal makeup, and wearing a blood-stained gown.

"What is it?" she asked promptly, refusing to take a seat. She didn't have time for this!

"We are aware," the Minister of Finance began, "of the troubles the Jedi are having, but see no reason why they should be housed here in the palace."

"It is indeed highly irregular," the Minister of History argued. "It sets a precedent I'm not comfortable with. Are we going to take in every group of beings who come across some trouble no matter how nefarious they are?"

"Only when they ask," Padmé countered defensively.

"Your Highness, have you not thought about what they will need in order to recuperate fully? Are you willing to provide for that need?"

The voice of reason came from the Minister of Sciences, an older woman whom Padmé had always admired.

"I've thought about that already and have spoken with my protectors, and their answer was a resounding yes, as a matter of fact. Don't worry, I won't ask any of you to help, if that's what you're worried about. Meeting adjourned."

Breaking protocol, she stomped out of the council room to return to her patients. Obi-Wan was soon by her side, wiping his hands clean on a towel. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," she replied, although that wasn't true she realized, which forced her stop and look into worried face. "No. They're worried about feeding your friends and the damage I'm causing the reputation of Naboo by harboring a group of criminals."

"Is that what they said?"

Obi-Wan looked stunned. Perhaps she had exaggerated. "Pretty much. If you read between the lines."

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'll have Master Yoda gather everyone up right away and ask them to leave as soon as they can."

"No you're not! The Jedi…your friends are our honored guests. We will do everything we can to help them and make sure they are completely healed before I allow a single one of them to leave!"

"But what about the council?"

"Hang the council!" She was tired and was quickly losing control. Padmé paused to take a breath. "Am I not Queen of Naboo?" she announced more quietly. "I say they stay, and therefore, so shall it be."