Chapter 3

"Ani! Where have you been?!"

Minister Amidala's face wore a look that combined exasperation, resentment, anger and relief. A living illustration of why Jedi were supposed to stay away from attachments, much less formal marriage. For Anakin's turmoil was worsened by his beloved's concern, in a cyclical chain reaction liable to engulf them both.

"You're nearly an hour late," she resumed, her cheeks flushing red. "And you didn't answer your comlink. I was afraid you'd forgotten about our date!"

He reached into the Force and sought its reassurance to calm himself. He was a powerful, experienced Jedi Master, and a conflict between emotion and peace was merely another chance to prove his greatness. After all, Uncle Sheev said the polls confirmed he was the best: four hundred trillion Republic citizens could not be wrong, could they?

"I'm sorry, my dearest love," said Skywalker with exaggerated emphasis, slipping into the empty chair at their table. "I'm here now. And let me say, what a magnificent here you've chosen for us this day. A reflection of your impeccable good taste."

If not for the mayhem he had encountered on the journey, Anakin would have liked to meditate on the splendour of the location. They were seated on one of a series of transparisteel platforms jutting from the cliffs on either side of the Diamond Waterfall. It felt like floating in the air, surrounded by an oasis of Naboo's unspoilt natural beauty. When the breeze blew, flecks of foam from the waterfall landed on their clothes and soon dissolved in the warmth of the air. Food and drinks were brought to each dining party by spherical serving droids on repulsors, to avoid the need for sentient beings to perform the task in those precarious condition. It was a unique, perfect spot for some quality time together.

"She's having a liter of green wine," he mused aloud to their mechanical server as it hovered in wait. "Tell you what, mix me a Malachite Cocktail. I need a few minutes to peruse the 'menu before we order, okay?"

"Yes, Master Jedi," its rudimentary vocabulator intoned. "I will be back."

Skywalker draped an arm over the back of his chair, pretending to let his gaze wander away from the holographic projection of the food options and toward the view. Not unexpectedly, he was pulled up on his behaviour by his companion.

"You're acting, Ani. I can tell." Amidala hesitated, as if wary of asking the obvious. "What's wrong? Why were you late?"

"Late, schmate," he joked. "I'm not late. I'm just running on Tatooine time."

Padmé gave a wan smile. "Sure. You can get the boy out of Tatooine, but…" She allowed the nonsensical proverb to fade out with her voice. "I can see what you're doing. You're keeping watch, as if you're afraid something's going to happen."

"Am I?" asked Skywalker lamely. He realised with a sigh that she had caught him out. It was another way Padmé was amazing in his eyes, why he loved her beyond reason. She was so smart, observant, and highly attuned to the nuances of sentient behaviour, including his. She completed him, in a way the Jedi who eschewed the idea of attachments could never comprehend.

"I guess I am," he conceded at last. "How could you tell?"

"I was sure when you started planning an escape route with your eyes." She accompanied her reconstruction with a pointed finger. "Force-leap to that platform, then to that one, then to that rocky outcrop, and up to the top of the cliffs. Am I right?"

"You're always right, my sweet." Anakin forced a grin. "Don't worry, though. I'm not planning to dive down into the water now. I'm just hanging my head."

Amidala ended the banter with a serious face. "What's going on? Why are you nervous?"

"I want to say it's nothing, because I don't want to scare you. But something happened." He shrugged his shoulders for a good two seconds. "A strange black 'speeder tailed me on the way here," he finally spat out. "It kept up with the Executor's engines, and tried to ram me several times from behind. Luckily, the stanged thing ended up losing control and going off-road, so I got away." The Jedi hoped the small omission of his use of telekinesis would not seem out of place amongst the larger truth of his story.

"Are you sure-" She stopped herself mid-sentence. "You're sure that's what happened, otherwise you wouldn't be saying it. Who was in the 'speeder? Could you see them?"

"That's the problem. It was all blacked out, like a military vehicle or something. And after it spun out, I stopped to check if anyone was hurt. But-"

Skywalker stopped with a frown. "You won't believe me, Paddy."

"Of course I'll believe you. Well, unless what you're about to say is complete madness, I suppose. Short of that extreme, I'm always on your side."

"The speedervan was empty. Not even a droid or a remote-guidance system. It makes no sense."

Padmé scoffed. "That is madness. There has to be a rational explanation. Surely the driver got out before you arrived to check up on him? Since he was up to no good, he ran away rather than let you confront him."

"Um, you know what? Maybe." His wife's explanation did not satisfy him, yet it offered a certain amount of reassurance – that he was not crazy, or paranoid, or both. "It doesn't seem all that likely, but I suppose an empty speeder would be a hell of a lot crazier. A load of suitcases shouldn't be capable of hurting me."

She nodded, not quite understanding the reference. The arrival of the droid with her husband's cocktail gave her a few moments to consider what to suggest next, as part of their joint attempt to figure things out.

"The question remains of who would be stupid enough to try to intimidate a Jedi Master, and why. Of course you made enemies during the Wars, but-"

"But what?"

"The galaxy's at peace. Our enemies were defeated, their leaders imprisoned for Crimes Against The Republic. Everything returned to how it should be. Unless-"

The silence she left was so thick he could have sliced it with a lightsaber. "Unless?"

"I shouldn't tell you, it's a confidential Ministry report." Amidala clicked her tongue several times, pondering the conundrum. "Of course, you are a veteran Jedi with vast experience of military operations and intelligence," she resumed with enthusiasm. "So intel-sharing on this matter is a virtue. The Naboo Security Agency has received warnings of rogue Neimoidian cells operating in the Mid Rim, including the Chommell sector."

"Rebels!" snarled Jedi Skywalker. "Rebel scum!"

"That's not a term we use, Ani," said Padmé with a shake of her head. "There's no such thing as 'rebels' in the galaxy."

"Separatists, Rebels, same difference. Terrorists who hide their agenda behind slimy words like 'freedom'." He slammed a fist into his palm with loathing. "Those blasted Neimoidians have hated us since… before the start of the Wars, actually, since their illegal invasion of Naboo. When you were Queen, and I was a little boy under Qui-Gon's wing."

"True, and it only got worse with time as the conflict raged. So after what you did last year… They could be planning to get revenge."

Anakin snapped his head back in confusion. "Last year? What did-" He stopped short, disinclined to confront his recent memory troubles. "I'm not sure I follow, my sweet. What's the connection you're drawing?"

"The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, of course," snorted she. "Remember? As a gesture of unity, Organa and Mothma proposed commuting the life sentences of the Seppie leaders who surrendered on Mustafar, after General Grievous' death. Including that sleemo Nute Gunray."

"I should've killed him!" exclaimed Anakin, throwing up his hands. "Him, and all the others. They all should have died on that disgusting lava planet unfit for living beings."

"I appreciate your anger, after what you went through on the front lines. But that's not how we do things in the Republic, in a democracy: we respect the rule of law and the principles of beings' rights. They weren't combatants, they were there to offer their side's unconditional surrender and end the War."

"Stupid laws and democracy," moaned the Jedi. "Lofty ideals that ensure nothing gets done."

"Don't be silly. They all got life sentences, which isn't nothing. And with regard to the Commission, your testimony as a war hero is cited by everyone as the key reason why Gunray and pals remain behind bars at Camp Enkner, and will probably never leave."

"If you say so," he acceded grumpily. "I defer to the esteemed Minister of Offworld Affairs, with her vast experience of galactopolitics. I'm just a naïve boy who doesn't understand the complex realities of government."

"Please don't look at me like that. It makes me feel uncomfortable." Amidala scrutinised her husband's features, as if reading his feelings upon them. "You seem like you're not joking – what don't you understand, Ani?"

He reached across the table and took Padmé's hand in his, gently squeezing her fingers. After eight years of marriage, they still sought each other's touch like freshfaced newlyweds. Love was as omnipresent within their partnership as the Force itself. Their love was the Force.

"It's just… I hit my head while training this morning, and I've had weird thoughts rattling around my skull since. I'm not sure what I remember, or what I'm imagining."

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "What do I always tell you, silly boy? Drag out the padded mats for your training sessions, because-"

"-the one time you don't, will be the time you hurt yourself," completed Skywalker with a roll of his eyes. "I know, I said you're always right. You're right, I messed up. Though you sound like Obi-Wan when you lecture me."

Padmé chuckled at the comparison. "He critiques you because he cares. He always has. And he's still stanged proud of the naïve former slave he trained into a great warrior."

She was interrupted by a pinging noise, and her brow furrowed as she realised it was her work comlink. After meeting her husband's gaze, she connected it to the mini-holoprojector that was displaying the restaurant menu they had completely ignored.

"Sincerest greetings, Minister Amidala," intoned an amphibious voice while its possessor's upper body took shape. "Apologies for disturbing you. And Master Skywalker."

It was the Nautolan Jedi Master, Kit Fisto. His placid greenish face and glassy black eyes gave away nothing of his reason for comming, not even reflecting the urgency implied by his apology.

"Master Fisto!" Anakin burst out. "You're alive?!"

"You heard otherwise?" retorted the Nautolan with a glimmer of a smile. "Coruscant is a most tranquil locale to inhabit, so I am pleased to say the reports of my demise are premature."

Strange electrical impulses flickered across Skywalker's synapses. His brain was trying to tell him something, but came up against an immovable blast door. In his impotence, he could only shake his head and laugh at the fellow's amusing turn of phrase.

"What is it, Master?" intervened Padmé, keen to get to the point. "We were sort of… in the middle of ordering lunch."

"I understand," acknowledged Fisto. "Unfortunately, now is the only time available for your specially-authorized communication. Tomorrow, as originally scheduled, will not be possible because the younglings are departing on a science trip."

Kit's brown-robed silhouette was replaced by another in similar garb. That of a child. A small, beautiful child, who strongly resembled Padmé in her face and voice.

"Greetings, Mother and Father."

"Hi sweetie," replied Amidala. "Happy birthday for tomorrow. Where are you going on this trip Master Fisto mentioned?"

"We are going to Borleias, Mother, to study the meteor shower. Master Nu says it is an interesting astronomical phenomenon to observe, and we will learn much to expand our knowledge."

Skywalker was thunderstruck. This was his daughter, Shmila. She was one standard day short of her fifth birthday; yet she spoke even complicated words without much difficulty, besides the normal childish lisp one might find in even the precocious.

However, what horrified him was her delivery, including when directing the sterile descriptors 'Mother' and 'Father' at those who loved her so deeply. For the girl displayed no emotion whatsoever, and spoke with a formality and stiffness that only the Jedi Order could have instilled in one so young.

"Shmila?" he said tentatively. "Do you recognize me?"

"Yes, Father. It is pleasing to see you again, as every year at this time. You look well."

The girl's holographic eyes looked into his. And, he fancied, they looked bored. As if making a courtesy call out of obligation to the woman and man who had given her life, and then given her up to a life as a Jedi Knight… which, from a certain point of view, meant taking it away.

"What have you done to her?!" he roared. "Answer me, Kit!"

Shmila Skywalker's features remained in focus for several moments, unaffected by the sight and sound of her father's fury. A big green hand gently levered her out of the way, before its owner took her place again.

"What do you mean, Anakin?" rejoindered Master Fisto. "Calm yourself. We have 'done' nothing. Your daughter is undergoing training at the Temple, as you agreed with the Council three years ago. There is no reason for alarm, everything is fine."

"This isn't fine!" growled the angry father. "You're turning her into a machine! Taking away her humanity! She has no emotions."

"There is no emotion, there is peace. You would do well to remember the Code, young Skywalker, despite your special status. Major exceptions have been made to accommodate you, and it behoves you to be grateful."

The Nautolan bowed his tendrilled head toward Padmé. "The Council sends its regards, Minister. I am sorry for this little… unpleasantness."

"It's not your fault, Master. I apologize to you and the Council. Goodbye."

The holoproj image fizzled out, and reverted back to the hovering menu. The moment plunged into bathos, as the amphibious man was replaced by the restaurant's fish dishes.

"That was mean of you, Ani," said Amidala at last in a low voice. "You were rude to Master Kit. They've made allowances for us, and it's not right to repay them like that."

"Can't you see what they've done to her? She thinks like… like them. She sounds like that old bag Jocasta Nu. She has no emotions, even when talking to us, the only time we get to see her each year. We don't have a daughter, Paddy, we have a brainwashed automaton in a robe!"

"They let us see her, and talk to her – once a year's better than never. It was always forbidden for parents to meet their Jedi offspring, and it still is with the other children who live at the Temple. That means something, doesn't it?"

"It means nothing! Very little, anyway. It was like… a formality, lasting sixty seconds. I didn't even get to say I love you," he groaned. "Oh, Fisto would've reprimanded me for trying to stir up 'forbidden' feelings in a Jedi youngling. There is no emotion, only peace… my kriffing foot!"

Padmé put her face in her hands, sobbing. "What's happened to you? Why do you keep doing this? Can't you be happy with the arrangements we've been allowed to make?"

He hardly heard her unanswerable questions. It was better not to hear them.

"I know Obi-Wan took her from us! He's always been jealous of me. He lost Satine, so he doesn't want me to be happy with you. He's sabotaged our marriage."

"Ani, that's not true. He's always been our friend! He trained you for a decade, the two of you were like brothers – he loved you."

"It's Obi-Wan's fault!" he screamed, unheeding. "I hate him!"

Skywalker's soul overflowed with rage. He was losing control, and the table trembled with the residual power his Force aura spilled forth. The cocktail glass before him cracked, and then exploded upwards, spraying bright green alcohol into the air along with a handful of shards.

"Anakin, stop!" pleaded Padmé. "It's dangerous. We're a hundred meters above a waterfall!"

This time, his wife's voice acted as a beacon that reached through the nova of his emotions. Skywalker knew she was right, and endangering her would be the ultimate self-harm for him. He was dismayed at the sensation of having lost a daughter; he must not do something reckless that could lead to losing his wife too.

The Jedi Master redirected the energy flowing through him into a Force-leap. He somersaulted through the air effortlessly, landing on another dining platform. Ignoring the indignant babbling of the Gungan couple he was disturbing, he repeated the manoeuvre to land on an unoccupied table, then leapt onto a rocky outcrop bathed by the waterfall, and up to the top of the cliff.

And then he was gone.