CHAPTER 1: PADMÉ AMIDALA

Tyrena, Corellia

16:01:06 GrS (19.9 BBY)

156 days before the formation of the Galactic Empire...

With the Separatist advances in the Mid Rim and Core defeated, the battlefields of the Clone Wars were now shifting to the Outer Rim. Even with the Republic now having the clear advantage, the end of the war seemed nowhere in sight. While nominally neutral, Corellia had been attacked on numerous occasions. Their stubborn insistence of Contemplanys Hermi denied the Republic access to two fleets of Dreadnaughts and thousands of the best fighter pilots in the Galaxy.

Outside the windows of the Summit Lodge, Corellia's highest elevation restaurant, snow blanketed the otherwise peaceful ski slopes in near white-out conditions. On Corellia, it was as if the Clone Wars were not even happening.

Senator Padmé Amidala and Junior Representative Shidar Zhol'skar were here to change that.

A few meters away, at the front of the room, Diktat Thomree stooped over a giant musical instrument's keyboard. He let off a hearty laugh and mashed down on the keys, sending a piercing series of off-key notes through the restaurant.

Seated at a table across from her fellow senator, Padmé took a sip of Hoth Chocolate, waiting for the drunken leader of the Corellian people to stop playing. When he did, Padmé let off a fake laugh, then frowned. Padmé was a senator, a pretty good one at that. Faking laughter was a part of her job, yet even she couldn't help but notice that it sounded a bit too robotic.

Say something… Just give a compliment... "I never knew the Diktat of Corellia had enough free time to learn to play the Marcan Pipes!" she exclaimed.

Thomree began playing, once again the air with the sounds of tone-deaf button presses.

Shidar Zhol'skar scowled. The Bothan Junior Representative's pointed ears folded flat defensively, pressing into her head at the noise.

"I don't really know how to play!" Thomree yelled in his thick Corellian accent, knocking over the glass of Corellian Brandy he had perched precariously atop the pipes.

Shidar narrowed her violet eyes as her jet-black fur twitched.

A fake smile of bright red lipstick continued to cross Padmé's face.

As the middle-aged Diktat tried to stand, he tripped over the stool, crashing to the floor. Two CorSec officers wearing brown shirts and black pants ran forward in a panic.

"Sir! SIR ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!"

"Sawhorse has left the barn!" gasped a third CorSec officer, stammering fearfully into his wrist-comm. "Say again, Sawhorse has left the barn!"

Padmé let off a genuine snort of laughter she could not control. However, as the CorSec officers helped Thomree to his feet, a worrying thought crossed her mind. What if they rush Diktat Thomree home right now? We will have to return to Coruscant and…

"Diktat, are you all right?" Shidar growled, putting her arm under the Diktat's. She authoritatively guided him back to the table. Two of the CorSec officers exchanged sheepish looks, but did not intervene. The third continued giving situational updates, speaking into his wrist-comm, though in a calmer voice.

Before Padmé knew it, the Diktat was seated back at their table. "Good thinking," she whispered to Shidar conspiratorially.

"Thanks." Shidar smiled proudly.

Thomree's Corellian accent now sounded extremely drawled. "All right, well, ladies, I think it's about time I have a lie down on some balm grass."

"Very well sir," said one of the CorSec officers stiffly. "We will—"

"—We still have business to discuss," Padmé interrupted, putting a hand on Thomree's wrist as she continued smiling.

"Oh, I see," Thomree chuckled, blushing beet red.

"It's about Contemplanys Hermi," Padmé explained, referring to the provision which allows planets to unilaterally close their borders and proclaim non-participation in conflict. "Your people…" Her voice died as Thomree's eyes hardened.

Shidar looked at Padmé, scowling for a moment, then at Thomree. "We believe the war will quickly end with the aid of Corellia's fleets. This is in all our best interests."

"How hypocritical!" Thomree scoffed, his drawl suddenly sounding much more lucid. "Bothawui itself invoked Contemplanys Hermi. You would have Corellia join the effort, while you stay neutral in the war yourselves!"

"I—I am not from Bothawui," Shidar stammered. "I represent the Spacer Coalition. Despite my best efforts… Well my people don't listen to me, but—"

"—The Spacer Coalition is practically in bed with the Separatists, according to our intelligence. Why—I never! And if your own people don't listen to you, Senator, why do you think I should?"

Padmé jumped into the conversation again. "I am sure Senator Zhol'skar did not want to offend—"

"—Offend! No, I am merely amused." Thomree stood up and began to put on his winter coat. "To think, I was told I would be meeting with two Loyalist Committee Senators."

"We are on the Loyalist Committee," Shidar snarled, flashing her bright white teeth.

"It doesn't sound like that. Young lady, it sounds like I am talking to one of Sheev Palpatine's aides!"

Padmé winced as Thomree staggered, walking in a zig-zag line right into a neighboring table.

"Let me help you with that, sir!" gasped one of the CorSec officers, stooping down to Thomree's side.

Cupping her hands, Padmé yelled across the restaurant. "If you send a representative to the Loyalist Committee, it will help us oppose Palpatine when the Separatists finally sue for peace!"

The Diktat and the CorSec operatives disappeared through the double doors. A momentary gust of icy air blew in, ceasing once the doors slammed shut.

Turning to Padmé, Shidar growled angrily. "Next time, maybe try following through with the flirting."

Padmé blinked at the Bothan in surprise. "I—uh, pardon me?"

Shidar looked down at Padmé's feet, following the contours of her body all the way to her face. "You know what I mean," she grunted, rolling her eyes. Without another word, the Bothan grabbed her trench coat, put it on, and stormed angrily from the restaurant, following in the Diktat's footsteps.

For a moment, Padmé pondered Shidar's words. I know what she means… What could she possibly mean? Follow through—Oh.

"Gross," Padmé muttered under her breath, wrinkling her nose. "Disgusting. She can't have been serious!"

"Pardon me, ma'am," a waiter droid said in a monotonous tone. "Before you leave, might I trouble you with the bill?"

"Right," Padmé said through gritted teeth, fuming at Shidar for leaving without paying her part of the bill. She took the datapad from the droid and glared at an itemized receipt.

Corellian Brandy (x3) ₹38.20

Kothtri ₹16.30

Corellian sunrise ₹8.90

Hoth Chocolate ₹9.90

Aircake ₹9.90

High Tea ₹27.50

Tax: ₹29.98

Total: ₹140.59

"140.59 Republic Credits!" Padmé gasped. Ski resort areas were notorious for being expensive, but that price was outrageous for three beings, especially considering only one of them had actually dined.

"No ma'am," the droid droned. "It is 140.59 Corellian Credits."

Padmé whistled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Remind me to never trust a Bothan. Ever again."

o.o.o.o.o

Sighing in relief Padmé answered the holocall coming into her hotel room projector.

"Oh Ani, I am so glad you called," Padmé spoke breathlessly. "I thought—wait, I didn't realize you were back on Coruscant," she added in a surprised tone, noting the hyperspace code "000."

"Padmé," Anakin's holopresence said urgently. "We have a—"

"—I miss you so much," Padmé interrupted. "Ani—"

"Senator Amidala," Anakin muttered through gritted teeth, pointing his eyes towards someone offscreen. "We have a situation!"

"Greetings, Senator Amidala." Mace Windu's holopresence stepped up beside Anakin's.

Padmé gasped, blushing profusely as she switched to a formal tone. "Greetings, Master Windu. Greetings, Anakin Skywalker."

"Anakin has been recalled to Coruscant," Windu said gravely.

Padmé shuddered, a sensation of dread washing over her. "I can explain. Anakin and I—we—"

"—The Jedi Temple was bombed," Anakin interrupted, nostrils flaring.

"Oh, I oh—wait. Bombed?! With a bomb?"

"We are investigating the matter right now," Mace explained, clearly ignoring Padmé and Anakin's indiscretion. "But there is another situation, Senator."

Padmé tugged her sleeves down as she stood up. "Another situation?"

"It's the Bothans," Anakin said. "Remember that one Bothan Naval officer I told you about a few years ago? Got herself a dishonorable discharge?"

Padmé wracked her brains. There was something about a Bothan who inappropriately fraternized with one Jedi and got caught... Itoll Oc'skar… "Itoll Oc'skar?"

"No, the other one." Anakin leaned forward, pressing something out of sight. "I am sending you the file now. Lir Sey'les."

"Oh," Padmé said, remembering the name. "I recall. You extradited her for murder…" she paused for a moment, trying to remember more. "And suspected she was Force-sensitive?"

"Yes," Windu nodded. "But it turned out the extradition request was false. We shouldn't have—" The Jedi Master interrupted himself with a cough, clearing his throat.

Padmé folded her arms, frowning. I don't recall the Senate Judicial committee ever being informed that the Jedi extradited a Republic citizen on a false request…

"Lir Sey'les has surfaced again," Anakin said, standing up straight. "Naval Intelligence says the Bothan in the databurst I just sent you is a 99.8% match with Lir Sey'les."

Padmé's datapad buzzed as a packet of information was downloaded. Furrowing her eyebrows, she clicked on the download and opened a video.

The face of a shaggy, ashy, mostly grey and white, Bothan female appeared on her screen. She wore a brown tank-top and a violet bandana, pushing up her bushy mane.

"You might have heard about the SpyNet's little—little HAHAHAHA!" the Bothan cackled, laughing so hard her eyes began to water. Pausing for a moment, she sighed, then wiped the tears out of her eyes. "Phew, sorry guys. Let's start this shtak all over again… You might have heard about the SpyNet's little network outage. Well, it wasn't so little, and… What was I saying? Oh yes, the best time to buy is when the blood is running in the street!" The Bothan flashed her teeth in a terrifying feral grin. "I have all of it—all of it is for sale."

In the background of the video, another voice yelped. "Tell them what you are selling! Tell them what it is."

Lir Sey'les looked up at the sky thoughtfully for a moment, then looked down straight at the camera.

"Oh yeah. All of the SpyNet's data. I have all of it." As she growled, she beamed with pride. "Here's a sample of just the tiniest little fraction of this data can do for you!"

Video footage of a ship's bridge somewhere replaced Sey'les's snarling face. The bridge was long, filled with computer terminals and radar projections, with zig-zag polygon shaped windows. From the brown and black uniforms of the mostly human staff, Padmé deduced thatthis was the bridge of a CorSec vessel.

"Captain, we have—contacts… HUNDREDS OF CONTACTS ON SENSOR!" a young human male yelled in alarm, gesturing to his screen.

"Confirmed, they are Vulture droids! Sir, the Separatists are on a collision course."

"Scramble all fighters!" the Captain yelled. "All men, to your stations! This is not a drill."

"Captain, we don't have time…"

"Don't have time?" the Captain asked wearily.

"Impact in 3… 2…"

"I have no visual!"

"All hands, brace for impact!"

Panicked yells erupted all over the bridge. All the crewmembers grabbed onto the nearest surface. The Captain gripped the nearest railing, holding on for dear life.

Padmé closed her eyes, unable to watch, but heard nothing. She opened her eyes as nervous murmurs replaced the alarmed voices.

Sey'les's face appeared, this time obnoxiously opening her mouth in front of the camera lens, steaming it up with her hot breath. "Oh, we're live?"

"Yes…"

"Good," Sey'les said, smiling. "I have the data on how to get through almost any Kuat Drive Yards, Rendil, Sienar system. I have all the back entryways—"

"—Backdoors," the voice off screen corrected.

Sey'les frowned. "Fine, backdoors. I am selling you all of the backdoors that SpyNet infiltrators have put into every project in the Galaxy. Anyone interested, respond to this frequency within five hours. If I trust you, we get a meeting spot and terms and conditions—all boring legal stuff."

When Sey'les' obnoxious video finally ended, Padmé was slack-jawed.

"Somehow, she's gotten even more feral since we last saw her," Anakin's holopresence muttered.

"Perhaps prison was too much for her to handle," Mace suggested with a shrug. "In any case, we cannot allow the sum of all Bothan intelligence to fall into Separatist hands. You can be sure that they will be bidding on this."

"Where is the bid happening?" Padmé asked promptly.

"It's why we contacted you," Anakin answered, scratching his head. "Selonia."

"Selonia!" Padmé gasped. Right in the Corellia system. The audacity! "Does the CorSec know?"
"We hope not,"Windu said in a grave tone. "Their presence could… Complicate things."