Chapter 28. And Who Will Light Our Way?

Esh-Col had no moon.

Despite the substantial population that nestled in the small planet's mid-plain settlements, the nights on Esh-Col were as dark as any V'ar had experienced in wilder places. Even the tiny lights that winked through doors and windows in the evening quickly blinked out when the inhabitants shuttered them tightly against the night winds and the blackness outside.

Wearily she climbed her way up the last few meters of uncertain hand and foot-holds to the open cave on the plateau near the hidden hangar. Her cave – that was way she thought of it now. No one but Anakin had ever disturbed her there. Her days with Anakin and the pilots of Esh-Col were so long that, despite the arduous climb in the inky dark, she found it more convenient to spend her nights on the plateau near the sky than to return to the settlement.

It was a good thing she didn't need her eyes to see where she was going.

With a last burst of energy she reached the top and rummaged in the thermal shelter she had erected at the back of the rocky overhang for rations. The thin tent provided shelter from the ever-present gusty winds and it was comfortable enough to think of as home. For the time being, anyway. It wouldn't be long now before she would move on with a flotilla of rag-tag refugee vessels, heading out into unknown space on nothing more than a promise.

Anakin's promise.

Her meager evening meal in hand, V'ar settled herself by the edge of the cave where the pale starlight outlined the shapes of the rocks nearby. Her vista over the plains had vanished. The Esh-Col night swallowed up its own.

It was quiet, too. Whatever nocturnal creatures there might have been on this desolate little planet didn't make any noise. Unless the wind whipped into sudden gusts the silence was huge – almost like a weight on the auditory nerves. Even for a Jedi accustomed to stillness it had taken some getting used to. Tonight the winds were becalmed and it was especially silent, so the sudden faint whine of a lone engine far below brought all V'ar's focused senses onto instant alert.

She settled back again. It was Anakin, heading home. He was traveling without a light, and from the sound of it, he was pushing the speeder to its limit. He would be the only one heading back to the settlement; the exhausted pilots had taken to making camp in the hangar next to the ships that, for the time being, had taken the place of their families. Their rough tutelage in flying the way nobody ought to be able to fly had left no time or energy for traveling back and forth to the settlement.

Anakin, though, went back to Amidala every night.

V'ar suspected she was the only one who knew that Amidala was planning to vanish from the Galaxy at Anakin's side. Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo – nemesis of the Trade Federation, lead figure in the Loyalist Committee, champion of democracy, tireless worker on behalf of the oppressed – was about to leave all of those roles, all of those responsibilities behind to sink into the obscurity of refugee life.

V'ar had pieced the initial part of their scheme together bit by bit after Anakin had announced his intention to disappear. They were clever, those two. While Anakin worked like a demon to get the pilots ready for their new role, Amidala had agreed to take on the brunt of the administrative wrap-up of the Outreach Alliance Delegation's visit, freeing up the bored and restless Delegates one by one to leave Esh-Col and to hasten back to Coruscant, the Holonet, and the civilized realms. Only Bail Organa's group remained behind, since their ship had been lost and transport had yet to be arranged.

V'ar had noticed that arranging for that transport was takinga long time.

With most of the delegates gone, Amidala had then begun to distribute Outreach Alliance resources among the settlers who had decided amongst themselves to try their luck on Nowhere and beyond. A surprising number had joined in; all of the pilots and their families, and even a good number of others who no longer trusted the Sitters and their Corellian minders to take care of their needs. It seemed that in the face of chaos – universal war certainly broke down the last vestiges of law, sovereignty and security – people found ways to govern themselves. Despite the administrative structures set up by the Corellians, it was the guild of pilots that laid down the law. When the pilots had agreed to go with Anakin, most of the population had agreed to follow.

By the time V'ar finished her meal, the distant sound of Anakin's speeder had long since been swallowed up by the the night. She stood up to stretch, troubled by the image of Anakin disappearing into Esh-Col's dark horizon. He might think he was alone on that speeder, setting his own course. But he already had a small army of people ready to follow him whatever he decided to do. Wherever he went, the world around Anakin seemed to bend according to his desires; sooner or later he drew everything and everyone around him into his sphere. Didn't he know that? What made him think he could just disappear?

I'm included in that, V'ar thought with unerring honesty as she curled up in her shelter to sleep. I, too, am caught up in his aura, his and Amidala's. I couldn't leave them now if I tried…

x

Suddenly Padmé was wide awake in her empty bed.

She didn't know what had woken her. Was it a dream? She felt her way backwards into the dark realms of sleep, but couldn't remember what she might have dreamt.

Was it a noise? She held her breath and listened into the surrounding darkness, but the silence was profound. There was no nighttime traffic in the settlement. No one was out on the streets. The winds were still. She could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears.

Had there been some movement, then? Her room and those beyond seemed frozen in time. Even the flutters in her belly were at rest.

Padmé slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in the rough, heavy shawl that covered it. By memory, not needing a light, she picked her way out of her room, down a short, low-ceilinged hallway and into the small enclosed courtyard of the house that she and her staff had occupied since arriving on the refugee colony. It was a bit brighter under the open night sky, but only a little.

In the moonless night the starlight was as faint as the mere memory of light.

The courtyard was empty; the doors that faced it, closed. She could see that much. Padmé was alone under the sky, her bare feet cool on the paving stones, with her heart pounding for no reason that she could discern.

She closed her eyes, swaying a little, and breathed. Listen… listen… listen…

There was no sound to be heard. But when she opened her eyes again to the faint wash of light, Padmé knew that the moment she had been waiting for since she had said goodbye to Anakin on Coruscant – before that, even; long before – had come.

Her heartbeat seemed to slow; the moment of realization stretched out until it seemed to go on forever.

"Anakin?" she breathed; a whisper so soft that it was all but inaudible.

But he heard.

He moved toward her out of the shadows, tall and solid in his dark cloak, where the instant before there had been no one.

"Here." His whisper was as low as hers, but it reverberated all the way through her body. She opened her mouth to speak only to have him grasp her arm gently. He smelled of sweat and dust; of the world outside. She caught a whiff of engine oil and the acrid tang of fuel.

"Shhh."

The doors onto the courtyard may have been closed, but one didn't know who or what lurked behind them. She allowed herself to be pulled gently back into the house, through the hallway and into her blacked-out bedroom. He pushed her gently down on to the bed, knelt in front of her, and took her two hands in his.

It was too dark to see his face.

"It's time for us to go, isn't it?" she asked forlornly.

She hadn't known how desolate she would feel. She hadn't known.

"Yes. It is all arranged."

Padmé slumped. This was what she had been waiting for. This was what she had made up her mind to do. Then why did she feel the life slipping out of her body? Why, despite the heavy shawl, was she suddenly cold?

"How long?" She whispered.

"It's up to you, really. As soon as you can get your people organized and off the planet."

Her people.

The people whom she loved.

The people whom she relied on for everything; the people who had become her family.

My family. Padmé began to tremble uncontrollably. Anakin moved closer, encircling her until her nose was pressed against his scratchy cloak.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried. "What's wrong?"

He didn't know. He couldn't know, she supposed – not really. He had no one to leave behind. He was bringing his only family with him.

I am his family. I and our child.

"I'm all right," she mumbled into his cloak. "I'm all right." The trembling made her a liar. She knew it, and so did he.

"Are you… still willing to go, Padmé?" His voice grated on her heart. It sounded broken.

He shouldn't have to sound that way. Not ever. That was why they were going… to keep him whole.

She found her hands, found his body, and pulled him to her. Wrapped him up. Held him. Kept him close. He must not break. If he broke…

Images flashed: her life on Coruscant. The Senate. Her work. Her staff. The apartment that was meant to be her home. She saw herself there without him; empty. Hollow. Raising a child alone. Or… Anakin there too, at Palpatine's beck and call. Distant. Hard. Bowed down. Forever pulling against an invisible leash…

No. She hugged him harder, using all her strength.

She flashed back further to Naboo. Her family. Surrounded by love, but empty without him. She would wither. It would not be enough. She was no longer theirs; she was no longer a separate being. He was inside her skin. He filled her. He… and his child.

He is my family..

"Of course I want to go," she whispered, breathless with the fierceness of her hug. "I just need a moment…" A moment to reconcile herself to the future. A moment to let go of the past. A single moment to change her life forever.

She needed an eternal moment, one that would go on forever; but this whisper, this hug in the dark, cool room was all the time she would have.

He was all she had, now.

"Thank you," the Anakin of Esh-Col – the one who once again dared to dream – sighed into her hair. "Thank you."

I won't let him break…

x

Feeling a little chilled from her long vigil by the slatted window across the courtyard from Padmé's room, Dormé finally slipped back into her bed, only to find that it too had cooled off on her absence. She curled up in a ball, trying to warm herself.

"What is it?" Sabé's voice whispered from the other bed.

"You're awake?"

"I can't sleep. Did you see anything?"

"She was outside for a while. I guess she can't sleep, either. Then he showed up, quiet as a shadow. I couldn't hear a thing." Dormé pulled the covers around her more tightly. "They went back inside."

Sabé moved restlessly. "I've been lying here trying to figure out why she has insisted on staying in this desolate place until the very last. The other Delegation members are long gone. Any work that's left to be done could be finished en route."

Dormé yawned. "I thought she is waiting until Bail's transport arrives, so we can leave together?"

"Yes, but why? Why couldn't we leave separately, as the others did? This junket is pretty well over. It was agreed a week ago that Esh-Col would be the last stop."

There was a long silence.

"And have you noticed that the local market seems to be shutting down?" Sabé went on. "I went to buy food yesterday and there were only a few stalls left."

Dormé sat up in bed and hugged her knees. "When is Captain Typho getting back?"

"The last supply ship was supposed to get in yesterday, but it's late again. That's the second time. The last one that was late was flown in by Corellian security. The local pilots are nowhere to be found." She paused for consideration. "Good thing the weather has held."

"You know what bothers me the most?" Dormé burst out. "She didn't even notice that Typho sneaked off to Talus with the last supply ship. He's been gone three days and she hasn't once asked about him."

"I know. She believed our story that he was helping the Alderaan Delegation with their new transport. She spends all of her time with the local community groups. It's as though she has forgotten about the rest of the Galaxy. You know, I think she doesn't even miss knowing what is going on in the Senate!"

"Well, I do," Dormé said firmly. "I can't wait until the Captain gets back with the war news. I hope the transport arrives tomorrow, with him on it. In fact, I can't wait to leave this place. We have been here too long as it is. It will be very difficult for her to justify this long absence from her duties."

There was another thoughtful silence before Sabé said decidedly, "Something is going on. Something that doesn't involve us. And I'm going to find out what it is first thing in the morning."

"Sabé?"

"What?"

"I've never seen her like this. So… distant. It feels like… like we're losing her."

"Don't worry." Sabé's rustic bed creaked a little as she turned and settled into it. "She won't get away from me."

Somewhat comforted, Dormé snuggled down into her own pillows, wondering what news Captain Typho would bring from the Galaxy beyond.

x

"Listen to that!" The pilot of the Corellian cargo ship said suddenly into what had been a long, boring silence. "A distress call!"

His sleepy co-pilot woke up instantly at the welcome diversion from the routine. "I haven't heard one of those for ages! Is that for real?"

Captain Typho, too, snapped out of his reverie and heaved himself out of the rumble seat at the back of the freighter's bridge to look over the pilot's shoulder. In the long hours of the routine journey to Talus and back he had become quite friendly with his hosts. He figured they wouldn't mind the intrusion.

"It looks real," he commented after studying the signal's cycle for a moment. "Standard bandwidth. Regulation message."

"The signal isn't very strong, though." The pilot fiddled with the controls. "It's a matter of luck that we even caught it. I wonder how long they've been out there?"

"Are you planning to check it out?" The co-pilot asked dubiously. "We're a day and half behind schedule as it is."

"We don't have much choice, do we? It's a distress call." The pilot began to readjust the nav. controls.

Typho bit back a surge of acute impatience. He was desperate to get back to Esh-Col with his news. "Try hailing them," he suggested, although it wasn't his place. Hitchhikers didn't generally have much say over their rides. But another delay was the last thing he needed.

The pilot didn't take it too badly. "Hailing," he said calmly. All three men leaned forward eagerly to listen for a reply.

"Hey there!" A cheerful voice crackled back at them. "Glad you could stop by! Got a little problem with the Nav. system…"

"Doesn't sound too distressed, does he?" the co-pilot commented.

Typho's jaw tightened. "Can't you note their position and send for help?"

"It's a distress call," the pilot said implacably. "We're duty-bound to respond. Regulations." He adjusted the comm. controls once more to improve the signal. "Distressed ship, give us your details."

Turdshine! Typho just managed not to say it out loud.

"Personnel transport Tomlin out of Esh-Col. Destination Talus. Eight passengers. Nav. computer conked out a few days back… been kinda flyin' around in circles ever since…"

Typho's jaw unclenched. He perked up. Esh-Col? Eight passengers?

The pilot leaned back in his seat. "Hold fast, Tomlin. We're coming to you." He switched off the comm. and looked over at his co-pilot. "You're right. He doesn't sound too distressed."

"Would you like me to go over and check it out? Typho offered. "It's not as though I'm doing anything else. At least I could make myself useful."

"The pilot shrugged. "Why not?"

A short time later Typho eased the Corellian ship's shuttle alongside the distressed transport and was helped aboard by two men who would have looked very much at home among the refugees of Esh-Col. They introduced themselves as the pilots. That was as he had expected. What he didn't expect was the gaggle of worn-out looking people who crowded the small hatch bay behind the pilots – fashionably dressed urbanites, their faces pinched with distress. They began to clutch at Typho as though he was some kind of savior. He knew them. He knew every one of them.

They werethe holonet crew that had accompanied the Outreach Alliance delegation all the way to Esh-Col.

It had been Skywalker who had arranged to ship them back to Talus. And they had been out here, adrift, ever since?

"Everybody all right?" Typho demanded gruffly. "Do you have enough provisions?" Their planned journey had been a short one. They must be starving…

"No problem there," the shorter of the Tomlin's pilot assured him laconically. Plenty of food and water aboard. "These folks are just pretty anxious to get back home. Seems they're all really busy and important."

Was that the ghost of a grin on the man's leathery face? There was nothing to be read in his pale, pale eyes.

"Can you help us?" The anxious director of the holonet crew asked, desperation in his voice. "We're more than a week late getting back to headquarters. These men don't seem to understand that we're in a hurry…"

The Esh-Col pilot shrugged. "Can't do much if the Nav. system is out, can I? Don't want ter fly ya' into a rock or end up in the Outer Rim…"

Typho cut him off. "Let me have a look at the problem. If we can't help you, we'll provide you with transport ourselves." Flaming turdshine! That would mean taking them all the way back to Talus; there wasn't a suitable drop-off point anywhere in between. Grimly he reviewed everything he had ever learned about Nav. systems. There had to be a way of getting their ship moving again…

Typho was shown to the bridge, which was littered with the remains of several meals and the evidence that the Esh-Col pilots had spent a lot of time playing Sabaac. They stood peacefully by, arms crossed, while Typho familiarized himself with their systems and tested them for problems. They answered all of his questions with good humor, and when it turned out that the problem was a relatively minor one, easily solved using a couple of spare parts from the Corellian cargo ship (odd that the Tomlin hadn't had the regulation spares aboard) and by re-loading the standard Nav. programs, they didn't seem embarrassed at all.

Typho was too angry to be relieved.

There was no doubt in his mind – none at all – that the Esh-Col pilots had deliberately delayed their passengers' journey. They had been flying around in circles, all right. But they had known exactly what they were doing. There was also no doubt in his mind who had instigated this little jaunt of theirs.

Skywalker. The man who dominated Senator Amidala's life and more and more, it seemed, her decisions.

Captain Typho ignored the sly glances that passed between the Esh-Col pilots, brushed off the almost tearful thanks of their passengers, and made haste back to the Corellian cargo ship to make his report.

"It seems everybody's late," he growled. "We'd better get going."

x

Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, Dormé checked her chrono again.

Good. Almost morning.

Mindful of Sabé sleeping peacefully nearby, she crept out of bed and dressed quickly in local clothing, wrapping her head and shoulders in a heavy rough shawl. She slipped out of the house and headed toward the marketplace where she thought a few intrepid stallholders might already be setting out their meager wares, even though the sun had barely begun to show itself.

If there was any news to be had on Esh-Col, it could be learned in the marketplace.

"You're up early!" A woman smiled at Dormé as she wandered by, looking at the scanty provisions on the woman's stall.

"I couldn't sleep," Dormé admitted, surveying the few vegetables and fruits that had seen better days.

"Transport is due today," the woman said. "If you can wait that long. We've been promised fresh produce."

"It is? Today? How do you know for sure? I'm waiting for someone…" She glanced up to see the woman studying her sympathetically.

"Word passes, dearie. You haven't been here long, have you?"

"No," Dormé admitted. "When… when do you think it will arrive?"

"Hey, Sol," the woman called to a man in the next stall. "When're the loaders leaving for the spaceport?"

Her neighbor emerged from the crate he'd been half-buried in, pulling out of it a pile of folded cloth. "Should be heading out shortly. Dorri ran by here not five minutes ago. He's one of the drivers."

Dormé plucked up her courage. "Is there any way … do you suppose I could catch a ride to the spaceport? I'd really like to meet the transport." She smiled wanly. "If I wouldn't be in the way."

The woman grinned. "Someone special, eh? Well, dearie, here's what you do. Run down there to the bottom of that road – just past the meeting house, see? Down there you'll see a convoy of loaders. Just tell them you want to go along to the spaceport. It won't be a problem!"

"Thank you," Dormé said sincerely. Just before she turned to go, the market woman tossed her a piece of fruit from the stand, which Dormé caught neatly.

"Take that with you, dearie!" The woman called out, with the unerring generosity of those who have nothing. "You look hungry!"

Waving her thanks, Dormé sprinted down the dusty thoroughfare. The colonists' generosity didn't stop at the market, and soon Dormé found herself perched on the back of a huge cargo carrier, wrapped up against the wind and dust in her rough shawl, on her way to the spaceport in the convoy of vehicles that would transport the fresh supplies back to the town.

x

Dormé was nearly the first person Captain Typho saw upon emerging from the huge Corellian cargo ship. She looked just like all the other refugee women who waited in the small crowd at the foot of the ship's gangplank. He might not have recognized her at all if she hadn't waved and called out to him.

"I'm so glad you're back!" she burst out. Typho tried to smile, but he just couldn't. Not even for her.

"Did the Senator ask about my whereabouts?" he asked immediately.

Dormé's face sobered. "She didn't notice you were gone. In fact, as far as I can tell, she still hasn't begun preparations to leave."

"She needs to return to Coruscant." Typho said grimly. "As soon as possible."

Dormé took his arm so she could lower her voice. "What's the news?"

Typho looked around at the crowds in the busy spaceport and drew Dormé into a relatively quiet corner.

"The Supreme Chancellor held a special session of the Senate yesterday. All the Senators were summoned to it personally a few days prior, to give them time to travel."

"Padmé?" Dormé asked anxiously.

"I spoke to Dellia. Padmé received the summons. All the other members of the Outreach Alliance who left earlier made it to the session. Senator Amidala, Senator Organa and senator Bel Iblis are the only ones who didn't show up for roll call."

"There isn't any way she could have received the summons on Esh-Col!"

"Do you think Palpatine cares?" Typho looked around the hangar for any possibility of immediate transport back to the settlement. "She has to go back. Now." His eye fell on a familiar figure on the far side of the Cargo transport that was being rapidly emptied by teams of people along with a few loader droids.

Skywalker. He stared, and suddenly Skywalker looked up and stared straight back at him across the wide space. Typho made up his mind and abruptly began to walk towards him.

"Wait! What was the session about?" Dormé held his arm, stopping him.

"The war." Typho was still staring at Skywalker. "The Outer Rim sieges have failed. The war is coming our way – a massive Separatist incursion seems to be heading straight for Corellian space. The Colonies are falling one by one." He looked down into Dormé's stricken face and added gently, "I'm going to find transport. I'll be right back."

Gently he removed Dormé's hand and walked rapidly toward Skywalker, who was now talking animatedly with several people who looked like pilots. Again, Skywalker looked up to acknowledge him just as he approached.

"Captain Typho."

Typho debated fiercely with himself for a moment, then held his tongue. What he had to say was best said in private. There was no telling just where Skywalker stood with the colonists, the pilots… or with Senator Amidala.

"I'm looking for transport back to the settlement. I need a speeder."

Skywalker studied him for a long moment. Typho glared back. He didn't care what this former Jedi could gather about what he was thinking and feeling. In fact, he hoped the man picked up the brunt of it.

Finally Skywalker turned to the man standing next to him and said, as though it was his decision alone, "Give him a speeder, Bram."

"Ok, Boss."

Boss? Typho seethed. But he accepted the proffered speeder, hoisted Dormé onto it, and headed back to the settlement with the throttle wide open.

x

"What do you mean; you're not going back to Coruscant with the rest of us? Where exactly do you think you're going?" Sabé's voice was tight and dangerous. It was a tone Padmé rarely ever heard her use, and it had never been turned against herself.

This was the conversation that Padmé had dreaded: the one in which she would be asked to explain something that was essentially inexplicable.How could one translate the language of the heart into words the mind could grasp? How could she make Sabé and Dormé and her family and everyone she loved understand that she had to go with Anakin, that it wasn't possible for her to make any other choice, but that she didn't love them less for leaving them? How could she justify, pregnant and vulnerable as she was, leaving her home, her duty and her friends for the dangers of the unknown?

She had spent too much precious time crying in the past. At last she was dry-eyed, because the enormity of her choice filled her up inside, leaving room for nothing else, not even tears. It formed a tight, hot bubble inside her that made it possible to keep her chin up and her back straight in the face of Sabé's fury.

"Sit down, please, Sabé. I'll explain everything."

"I will not sit down!" Sabé hissed, circling her like a predator. Underneath, the words sounded more like "I will not do as you ask."

Padmé took a breath.

"Fine. Then stand. But you must listen to me, Sabé. Do you hear me? You must listen."

White-faced, her fists clenched, Sabé stopped her circling and stood before Padmé in obdurate silence.

"I need you to return to Coruscant with the Delegation as me, accompanied by all my staff. You must all arrive in deepest mourning. Upon your arrival you will publicly announce Anakin's death. You can go into seclusion after that; no one would expect me to do otherwise. Bail and his staff will travel with you, and will back up your story. Bail is the only one who knows the truth, and he will never betray me."

"Viceroy Organa knew about this before I did?" Sabé snarled.

Padmé let the accusation pass. "Most important of all is that the Supreme Chancellor believes the ruse for as long as possible. Anakin says that Palpatine won't believe that he is dead – that he will investigate. The longer that investigation takes, the more time we have to… "Padmé tried to swallow, but couldn't dislodge the lump in her throat "… to disappear."

"Where to?" Sabé hissed.

"I don't know," Padmé conceded heavily. "Far away. As far away as we can get."

Sabé kept the rigid silence going for longer than Padmé thought possible. Then she said, quite matter-of-factly, "You weren't always insane. Until he walked into your life and took over you made more sense than anyone I knew." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What has he done to you?"

A column of heat rose up through Padmé, as if the floor beneath her feet suddenly had begun to glow with it; she felt it rise through her legs, up her spine, and into her flaming cheeks.

"He means everything to me!"

"So I see." The look on Sabé's face was unreadable. It was like looking at the face of a stranger.

"Sabé, please…" Padmé implored.

"Because of Anakin you're willing to let down everyone else; your family, your friends, your planet, the Galaxy…"

"I let him down for all those things on Naboo, Sabé, and look what happened! All of that could have been prevented if I had just listened to him. I won't make that mistake again!"

"And so you are willing to just throw your life away, and your child's life with you?"

"I'm doing this to save Anakin's life. And with it mine, and our child's. "

"Let him save his own life," Sabé spat bitterly. "Why must he take yours with it?"

Padmé's eyes burned. She could barely breathe. "He is my life…"

"Ah!" The syllable tore out of Sabé as she turned away from Padmé and buried her face in her hands. Although her shoulders were heaving, Padmé did not hear or sense tears. She sensed rage, a wild whorl of it that consumed the air between them. In the face of it Padmé felt herself grow calmer. She understood about helpless rage…

Anakin must not break…

… but she didn't accept the idea of helplessness. The heat in her body subsided, leaving her head clearer and her heart calmer.

"Palpatine never would have agreed to keep me alive without Anakin's intervention, Sabé. He wanted me dead. I think he still does. My life has been hanging on a thread ever since. It is Anakin he wants, and he will do anything to get him. Without Anakin, I don't have a chance."

"Why?" Sabé whirled around. Padmé had been right. Her face bore no trace of tears. "Why does he want Anakin so badly?"

It was the eternal question that had been bothering Padmé since the events on Naboo. Why was Anakin so important to Palpatine? It had to do with his Jedi powers, of course – powers that Padmé thought she would never fully understand. Every time she believed she knew what he was capable of, he turned her comprehension upside down again, as he had with his uncanny rescue of the Tantive IV.

"I don't honestly know. Not entirely. I suspect it has a lot to do with the Jedi Order – I believe that Palpatine intends to destroy it, and that somehow he needs Anakin for that."

"The Jedi!" Sabé snapped. "They're little better than Palpatine. They handed you over to the army on Naboo. They're evidently spying on you through your empty-headed little secretary. And then this V'ar person attached herself to you like a sticky burr to a cloak, intoning nonsense about darkness and light for her own obscure purposes… it's only because of Anakin that you're caught up between Palpatine and the Jedi in the first place! Let him get you out of it!"

"He is," Padmé said gently.

Sabé stepped closer to Padmé. Uncomfortably close. There was no escape. "Running away is not what I meant, and you know it," she growled into Padmé's face. "There has to be another way. If Anakin is so smart, let him find it."

Padmé stood her ground. "Don't you understand, Sabé? He has crossed Palpatine. If Palpatine doesn't know it already, he will shortly. What do you think that means for him? For any of us? Palpatine is without mercy. Without Anakin's protection we are as disposable as any bit of space garbage. There is no other way out."

Sabé searched Padmé's face in silence until Padmé couldn't stand it any longer. "I need you to help me, Sabé," she said humbly. "Please. If there was an alternative I would have taken it."

Sabé's eyes practically let off sparks. "And what is to become of the rest of us? The ones you are leaving behind?"

"You must take care of one another, and of the staff. Padmé Amidala must resign from the Senate and disappear into obscurity. Kill her off, if you have to…"

"Out of respect for her parents, maybe I should just have her declared insane," Sabé said coldly. "It's not such a leap."

The mention of her parents rocked Padmé, but she managed to remain on her feet. "Wait," she said quickly, and fetched a tiny data disc from the table by the door. Sabé's crushing silence followed her. Bravely Padmé returned to face her again, pressing the disc into her cold hand. "Please give this to my parents." It contained the message she had worked all night to compose while Anakin slept quietly beside her. She knew it wouldn't adequately convey her reasons for leaving. She only hoped it would convey her love.

Sabé looked dumbly down at her hand, and didn't speak.

"So you will do it?"

Sabé' didn't reply. Impulsively Padmé reached up to stroke her friend's face, letting her hand linger on her cheek. Sabé's eyes glittered dangerously, but she did not pull away.

"When Amidala is gone, you must help the Queen with the transition to a new Senator for Naboo," Padmé said resolutely. "This – all of this – is an enormous task, but if anyone can pull it off, you can. I'm glad I could speak with you first, before the others. You are the strongest of us all."

"You told Viceroy Organa before you told me."

Padmé gave a little shrug. "That piece, at least, is already in place. It is one small thing I could do for you, before burdening you with the rest."

Sabé pulled Padmé's hand away from her face, but she kept a tight hold on it.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to leave you, either."

"How can I find you?"

"You can't try. You know that. You might be followed."

Sabé threw down Padmé's hand abruptly.

"I wanted," she said, in a tight, dry voice, "to love your child as I love you."

Before Padmé could recover from the blow and answer, Sabé turned away from her and left, shutting the door behind her.

x

When Sabé stumbled out of Padmé's door into a future she couldn't comprehend, Dormé and Captain Typho were waiting for her, their faces tight with anxiety. She let herself fall into their arms, where at last she could safely weep.