Chapter 14

Padmé took note of her surroundings over the next few days.

She was moved from the medical ward to a small, private room with its own 'fresher and bed. There amenities were bare, but it was secluded and no one bothered her. As far as prisons went, it could have been a lot worse. Her door, no longer an open doorway, was guarded on the outside by mark 1 droid federation assault droids with orders to keep her from leaving the room.

Over the last day, Padmé noted that her captors treated her with an almost reverent attitude, as if they were holding her only because of their Master's command and not out of any desire to do her harm. She'd been given a thorough medical examination in the areas she'd been wounded, but much to her relief, had stopped short of checking her complete physical.

Apprehensive and on edge, she didn't know who might have seen her hanging suspended in her skivvies while in the bacta. Had the cloaked figure come to visit? She shuddered with the thought. Pacing restlessly, she moved through the small space allocated to her with large strides that took her from one end to the other. Fifteen steps lengthwise and about seven width wise made her prison relatively small.

She was grateful for one thing, though she doubted her captors realized it at the time they'd chosen to put her here. Her room showed all the signs of a hastily constructed cell, including the one wall that was a view port. They'd had little time to cover it so she guessed her capture had been completely unexpected. But, for that little measure of sanity, she would have gone stir crazy by now.

As it was, pacing back and forth as the days progressed, eating what was brought to her - which she admitted was far richer than she normally ate - and worrying about Anakin was starting to drive her to distraction. Was that their plan? Get her so wound up she spilled some information on their whereabouts?

She laughed harshly, the sound distorted by her room. Rubbing her hand absently over her belly, she stared out into space as the star lines of hyperspace continued to flash by. They were in for a nasty surprise if they thought there was something she could tell them. She didn't know where Anakin and Obi-Wan were, though she hoped they were far enough away they couldn't feel her turmoil. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the durasteel viewport, the coldness of space having transferred to the metal, leaving it very cool to the touch. It soothed her forehead.

Anakin.

Closing her eyes, she could picture him there with her, his hands around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. She could see his eyes, those vivid blues she loved so much, soft with love for both her and their children. If she tried hard enough, she could almost see his determination, hear his ardent promise.

He would find her.

It was more than two weeks before Padmé saw another human being.

Fed and catered to by droids, she was constantly monitored and left to her own devices. She requested, and was given access to, a datapad for writing a daily log. Daringly, she asked for more. Warmer clothing - her quarters were chilly. They provided two extra blankets and a loose long pant and sweater set. Her meals were initially accompanied by caf - she'd made a protest at the outset - and now came with water or tea. Lately they'd begun arriving with juice and fruits, a treat for any prisoner

Padmé suspected they knew of her condition, but it wasn't mentioned and she saw neither Grievous nor the malevolent shadow for the next few weeks. The droids, by nature, answered only the questions they were programmed to answer. Or, contrarily, asked what she wanted them to ask. She wasn't given permission to leave her quarters and took to doing sit ups and other assorted exercises to keep her spirits up.

Through it all, her concern grew about the twins.

Her belly was swelling to the point where she would be hard pressed to hide her condition. She saw the changes, sometimes nightly, critiquing herself in the small mirror provided in her 'fresher. Stretch marks had formed on her abdomen where the skin was continuously being pushed and pulled to accommodate the ever increasing size of the babies. She'd received no news and no updates for the General's Master's plan to lure Anakin and Obi-Wan using her as bait. As a consequence she was constantly on edge and fighting to relax.

Continual stresses weren't good for the twins.

When Padmé's door opened on the final morning of week three of her captivity, she didn't even glance up. The droids were punctual with her morning meal and she barely acknowledged them anymore with more than a nod. Her favorite position was against the viewport, wrapped in one of the two comfortable blankets. Ignoring the presence standing in her doorway, Padmé continued to stare into the night sky beyond. They'd dropped from hyperspace the day before and were orbiting a world she didn't recognize.

"Are they treating you well, my dear?"

Padmé's head whipped around in surprise. "Chancellor?"

Or, more correctly, Palpatine's image. It smiled, but she could see the worry lines around his mouth and the strain on his face. His transmission, or at least the head and shoulders of his transmission, was floating above a half-droid similar to the one that she'd seen the first day she'd regained consciousness. "Are you well, Doctor?"

Padmé tucked the blanket more tightly about her shoulders, grateful she wasn't without it, and wondering where this sudden transmission had come from. "As well as one can be as a captive, your Excellency. They've not harmed me."

The relief was clear on his face immediately. "Thank heavens. The Jedi council had launched a massive search effort for you at Master Windu's directive. They were not promising vengeance - at least most are not - but they were speaking of a heavy punishment for the culprit."

Padmé smiled, buoyed by the image, and not really caring how it had come to be transmitted into her cell. "That would be Jedi Skywalker, I presume."

"He's very attached to you. Some are saying too attached." Palpatine's look was pointed, but held no fire. "I simply can't understand what's taken the young man so long."

Padmé laughed despite her situation. "Chancellor, I doubt you've been permitted to speak with me to discuss Anakin's feelings or lack thereof, for me."

"True." Palpatine's visage became somber once more. "I was contacted by General Grievous with the demands for your release. Since your disappearance over a month-"

"Month!" Padmé sat bolt upright, shocked. "It hasn't been a month yet!"

Palpatine's expression became sympathetic. "I understand you were hurt somewhat badly, my dear; I'm told you were in bacta for over a week."

Padmé sank back against the viewport, her brain mentally adding that calculation into her pregnancy. That put her a week shy of six months. Six months. She felt the blood draining from her face. If her captors knew about the twins and who their father was, or even if they suspected his identity, and could keep her here until she gave birth...

A chill swept through her and she tightened her grip on the blanket.

"Are you alight, my dear?"

Padmé brought her thoughts back to the present. "I'm fine Chancellor; it's just been longer than I'd thought."

"I understand." He told her emphatically. "But ever since your disappearance the Jedi have been searching for you. They were contacted by your parents when you didn't arrive on the day you were supposed to. As you can no doubt imagine, they were quite upset when they were told that you had not only been escorted to Naboo without incident but landed safely."

Pamdé imagined her parent's faces and her heart ached. They would be almost as worried as Anakin and she hadn't spared them a second thought. "I can imagine, your Excellency. Do you know the terms for my release?"

"Anakin and Obi-Wan are to surrender themselves to Grievous on Korriban in two days' time."

"No!"

"I'm afraid so, Doctor. The message also noted that two lives for three was a more than fair trade. However, we've received no other ransom demands and are unaware of anyone else who has been taken captive. Are there others of your status with you? Do you know of who they reference?"

Padmé's throat had closed and she knew her color had drained away.

They knew.

Not only did her captors know, but they'd sent a ransom demand with it to the very people she was trying to hide it from. She couldn't make her voice work, a squeak emerging when she attempted to speak. "I..." Dizziness assailed her, the world spinning, starting to blacken around the edged, and the Chancellor's image starting to waver before her gaze.

The Chancellor's look became alarmed. "Doctor?"

Padmé managed a small, apologetic smile before her eyes rolled back and she slumped, unconscious, against the view port.

"She will recover, my lord."

Padmé felt consciousness returning slowly, the reality of the situation being brought forward abruptly as Grievous' hissing words penetrated her subconscious. The malevolent voice was back, and she heard it speaking, but didn't understand the words. Couldn't comprehend them in the face of the news the Chancellor had brought. Someone else had exposed her secret.

The malevolent voice that had taken to haunting her dreams spoke again, this time the words penetrating her brain. "Her and her children are no use to me dead."

Padmé did her best to continue to feign unconsciousness. She could hear the sound of the monitors they'd hooked up, the whirring of repulsors from the droids moving around her conducted their checks.

Grievous spoke again, reiterating his assurances. "She is unharmed; a simple fainting spell."

"I have much to lose if you are wrong."

"The scan was conclusive; she is carrying twins. Jedi Twins, if the midicholrian count is correct."

Padmé somehow managed to keep still, slitting her eyes as she tried to see what was happening and who was behind that awful, chilling voice. Grievous stood with his back to her, blocking her view, and she waited, biding her time, as the General confirmed what she already knew. She was carrying twins and both were in good health despite the strain she'd been under.

The voice spoke again. "I want Skywalker alive, General. Kill Kenobi, but bring me Skywalker."

Anakin! Her breath caught, and she felt herself tensing. The man didn't want her, he was after her husband!

"Skywalker will be difficult to capture."

Grievous shifted and Padmé's heart stopped. She didn't hear what the voice said because that voice belonged to a very familiar face. One that she knew almost as well as her own name; one she had helped bring to power. Standing before Grievous, his hood thrown back, his face twisted in a malevolent mask, was the image of Chancellor Palpatine.