Chapter 37

Tatooine

Night had finally fallen upon the desert planet, and it could not have come soon enough for Leia. Having endured the unwanted company of the various freaks that counted themselves among Jabba's friends, she then was treated to a delightful musical show featuring Max Reebo and his band of mutants. The grand finale of the show occurred when the hapless dancing girl was dropped into the Rancor pit and devoured, while the gruesome crowd cheered it on. The thought that Han had endured this place for weeks was one that Leia did not want to consider.

The sounds of snoring and the occasional burst of flatus was all that could be heard as Leia made her way through the throne room towards the lower levels. With heart beating hard, she tiptoed down the worn stone stairs, the mask making it difficult to see in the obscurity. Lando met her at the bottom of the stairs.

"This way," he told her.

Leia followed him, trying hard not to break into a run at the thought of seeing her beloved space pirate. Finally Lando stopped and used a large key to open the cell where she assumed Han was being held. As soon as the door was opened, Leia rushed inside, pulling her mask off as she did so.

"Han!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. Han had only half believed that Lando was telling the truth, and so when he saw the girl he loved he was too speechless to say anything, and simply hugged her back.

"Let's move," Leia said. "We haven't got much time," she said, taking Han by the hand.

"Lead the way sweetheart," Han replied. "Come on Chewie, let's get the hell outta this stink hole."

The five friends raced up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible, and made it as far as the throne room when they stopped in their tracks. Jabba and his entire court were awake, watching them and laughing uproariously. Clearly the Hutt was cleverer than Leia had given him credit for.

"Well, well, well," Jabba said, his voice full of sarcasm. "What have we here?" He looked at Leia with a smile, seeing her face for the first time. "Bring her here," he said to one of his guards.

Leia tried to resist, but her weapon had been taken. She tried to use the Force to push the guard away, but her arms were pinned behind her back, and she was unable to free herself. All she could so was endure the humiliation as the guard escorted her roughly to Jabba's rather malodorous presence.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one," Jabba said, giving Leia the once over. "Lock the others up," he bellowed to the guards who had Han, Chewie and Lando held under blasters.

Leia frowned. "We have powerful friends," she stated, doing her best to sound regal. "You're going to regret this."

Jabba merely laughed, and said something in huttese to one of the guards nearby. Leia didn't understand what he meant, until the guards started to remove her clothing. Humiliation and fear filled her as the assorted mutants cheered louder as each article of clothing was removed, only to be replaced with a rather skimpy two piece outfit that one of the female denizens produced. To complete her humiliation, a large manacle attached to a chain was affixed around her neck. Luke – we need you! Hurry! She thought desperately as the end of her chain was attached to Jabba's dais. Hurry Luke!

Bespin

Padmé paced up and down in the suite, her anxiety growing with each step. It had only been a few hours since the departure of the transport carrying one hundred storm troopers to Tatooine, and yet it seemed like days to her. Commander Jir had vowed to keep her posted, to inform her the moment he heard anything from them. Clearly there was nothing to report yet; it had only been a short time, after all. Waiting...waiting...waiting...it's all I do lately, Padmé reflected with a frown as she continued pacing. Waiting for Ani, waiting for the twins, waiting for word from Jir...

Padmé's ruminations were interrupted by the sound of the door chime. Figuring it to be Threepio, she went over at once to open the door. But it was not her trusty protocol droid; it was Commander Jir.

"Commander!" she said, surprised to see him. "Come in! You've heard word from them already?" she asked.

Jir said nothing, but simply stepped into the room. His normally impassive face bore an uneasy expression, and Padmé grew worried. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Jir turned to her. "I...I was just talking to Captain Dix," he told her.

"The man in charge of the expedition to Tatooine?" Padmé asked.

Jir nodded. "Yeah," he said, his dark eyebrows lowering. "And while we were talking, the transmission just went...dead."
"What do you mean?" Padmé asked. "It was cut off? There was a problem with the comm.?"

"No Milady," he replied. "They hadn't made the jump into hyperspace yet, when they came under attack."

Padmé's eyes widened in shock. "What? Were there Rebel Alliance ships nearby that were undetected?"

"No, ...they were fired upon by one of ours, Milady," Jir informed her solemnly. "It was the Executor that attacked them."

Padmé thought she'd misheard him. "The Executor?" she asked slowly. "You can't mean..." she stopped as the implications of what Jir was telling her started to sink in. "How can that be?" she cried.

"I don't understand it either," Jir replied, shaking his head. "But Dix sent me a visual before they were destroyed, and there's no mistake, Milady. It was the Executor that destroyed them."

Padmé said nothing, her mind reeling by the news. The inescapable truth was that she had been betrayed by someone she'd trusted; someone her husband had trusted: Admiral Firmus Piett. And if he wasn't to be trusted...

"Piett is in command of the Executor," she told Jim. "He is in temporary command of the Empire," she added.

Jir nodded. "I know," he replied. "I think we need to be prepared for anything, Lady Vader," he added. "If he's willing to fire on an Imperial ship..."

"Then he's willing to do anything," Padmé finished with a frown. "Now I know why he wanted your entire squadron to go to Tatooine," she remarked. "He wanted you all dead."
Jir frowned. "Yeah, no doubt of it," he agreed. "But he doesn't know that most of us are still alive," he reminded her. "And willing to do whatever it takes to stop him before he goes any further."

Padmé was glad to hear it, but had no idea what five hundred clones could do against the entire fleet. "If only my husband was awake," she said quietly. "He'd know what to do."

"And how long until that happens?" Jir asked. "Time isn't exactly on our side, Milady."

"I know," Padmé replied with a frown. "I will talk to the doctors and find out."

"Good idea," Jir replied. "Let me know what you learn, please," he added.

"I will," Padmé replied as Jir turned to leave. He was met in the doorway by Urru.

"What's going on?" Urru asked. "What's got Jir so uptight?"

Padmé frowned. She had only spoken to Urru when absolutely necessary for days, but decided that in this instance she needed his help and advice.

"The transport taking the century to Tatooine was shot down by the Executor," she told him. "It seems we've been betrayed by Piett," she added.

Urru frowned. "Piett? Really?" he asked.

"What other explanation could there be?" she asked. "There's no doubt that it was shot down by the Executor," she went on.

"Maybe so," Urru replied. "But could it have been a mistake? Have you spoken to Piett?"

"No," Padmé admitted. "But why would he admit it?" she asked. "If he did it intentionally, then he's just as likely to deny it."

Urru considered this for a moment. He was having a hard time believing that the honourable admiral had turned against Padmé; and as much as Urru disliked Vader, he knew that the Dark Lord's instincts were never wrong. And Vader trusted Piett.

"Maybe," he said at last. "But what have you got to lose by talking to him?" he suggested.

Padmé sighed. "Nothing I suppose," she replied, and walked over to the computer. She hailed the Executor and was soon face to face with Piett's second in command.

"I need to speak with the admiral immediately," Padmé informed the young officer.

"Hold on," the man replied, with a marked lack of deference. Padmé frowned, her uneasiness growing.

"How can I help you, Milady?" Piett asked as he appeared on the screen.

"Are you aware that the clone transport was destroyed?" Padmé asked.

Piett nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I'm aware of that."

Padmé frowned. "You don't seem terribly concerned," she remarked.

"Why would I be?" he asked. "I gave the order to have it destroyed myself."
Padmé was too shocked to reply, and could only stare at the admiral for a moment.

"But...but why?" she cried at last. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Piett smiled. "Milady, you're an intelligent woman," he responded. "I'm sure you can piece it together if you really try."

Padmé felt numb for a moment as she tried to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. "How...how could you do this?" she asked finally, her voice incredulous. "Who are you that you could do this?"

Piett's smile didn't waver. "Lady Vader, you were in politics for many years," he reminded her. "Surely you know how important it is to seize an opportunity when it comes your way. That's all I'm doing. It's nothing personal, I promise you."

"My husband will kill you for this," Padmé warned him angrily. "He won't rest until he has revenge for this treachery!"

Piett nodded. "Yes, I'm sure he will try," he agreed. "But without the fleet, and with his elite troops dead, what will he do? You see, my dear Lady, I hold all the cards."

Padmé had no reply for this, and simply let the transmission end without saying another word. She looked up at Urru, who stood by, just as shocked as Padmé.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," he said simply.