"The Naboo Chronicles Part 10"
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Not mine
the Star Wars characters are. Belong to George Lucas they do. Not mine is Dunkin' Donuts. Belongs to itself Dunkin' Donuts does. For more information, to http://www.DunkinDonuts.com
you must go. Making no money from this
am I. Money would lead to
lawsuits. Lawsuits lead to
lawyers. Lawyers lead to suffering.
"I do NOT believe, this," Anakin moaned, pacing the floor
of the reception area of the Supreme Chancellor's offices. He brandished a data card. "This HAS to be a mistake." Sara, who had grown visibly pregnant since
the last time Anakin had seen her, walked into the room.
"Let me see," she said, taking the data card and plugging
it into a datapad on her desk. She
scanned the small screen briefly, unplugged the card, and handed it back to
him, smiling. "Nope. No mistake."
"Arrrgh! This is
his sick, twisted revenge for all those Mind Tricks, I know it!" Anakin
exclaimed, jamming the card into the pocket of his Jedi robes. He sank into one of the chairs in the
reception area and put his head in his hands. Sara laughed.
"There are worse things, Jedi Skywalker," she consoled
him. He snorted.
"Worse things? Name one," he challenged. She
thought about it for a moment.
"Well…"
"See?" he asked accusingly. "You can't think of any either!"
"Good morning!" Palpatine exclaimed cheerfully as he
walked into the reception area. Gordo
followed behind, carrying a cardboard tray bearing four large, steaming cups of
coffee from Dunkin' Donuts. Palpatine
gave Anakin a brilliant smile. "It's
simply WONDERFUL to see you this morning, Jedi Skywalker. Is there anything in particular that brings
you to my office today?" he asked innocently.
"You rotten son of a – " Anakin began, standing and
jabbing a finger at Palpatine for emphasis.
"Yes, well, I'm sure that's very interesting," Palpatine
said breezily, hurrying past Anakin and unlocking his office. "Do join me in my office, would you? As you see, Gordo here was kind enough to
pick up coffee for all of us." Glaring
murderously, Anakin stalked into Palpatine's office. Suppressing smiles, Sara and Gordo followed. "Now Anakin," Palpatine was saying mildly. "I can assure you I've never done THAT; no
Gungan would stand for it." Gordo shook
his head.
"You guys are weird," he told them, setting the coffees
on Palpatine's desk.
"You noticed," Sara murmured, taking one of the coffees
out of the tray and adding cream and sweetener. Giving it a quick stir, she sipped it cautiously. "Mmm, that's really good!"
"Yeah," Gordo agreed. "Dunkin' Donuts makes good coffee." Sara and Gordo walked out together, shutting the door behind them. Palpatine took a coffee and sat down at his
desk, motioning for Anakin to take a seat.
"I
see you've received my subpoena," Palpatine said, smiling kindly as Anakin
glowered at him. "I DO hope you don't
mind testifying before the Special Committee I've appointed to look into the
Neimoidians' possible involvement in a slaving ring."
"Why
me?" Anakin demanded, leaning forward and taking the remaining coffee. "I'm just a lowly Knight. You could get a Jedi Master… Master Windu,
Master Jade…" Palpatine thought for a moment.
"Hmm, how shall I put this? I trust that you would not be uncomfortable omitting certain
unpleasant facts that are not really relevant to the situation at hand."
"Ahhhh…" Anakin said, understanding. "But how do you know that the Neimoidians
don't know about those unpleasant facts?"
"I don't," Palpatine admitted. Anakin sighed.
"Well, I'd better take another look at that journal,
don't you think?" he asked, standing.
"That probably wouldn't be a bad idea," Palpatine
agreed.
"Looks like I have hours of entertaining reading ahead of
me," Anakin said, sucking down the rest of his coffee and tossing the cup in
the trash.
"Lucky you," Palpatine murmured. Anakin snorted.
"Yeah, there's nothing like the ravings of a Sith Lord to
get your day started right," Anakin agreed. "So, uh, you're sure you don't want to read your late brother's
masterpiece?"
"Quite
sure, thank you." Palpatine said. "I'll wait for the Cliff's Notes
version."
"Man,
you don't know what you're missing out on, Palpster," Anakin told him.
"I can imagine."
"No you can't," Anakin assured him. "Your imagination isn't that good."
The coup had happened quickly and quietly; the Queen had
never seen it coming. She stood in her
throne room, gazing down at the city of Theed, wondering what would happen
next. The door slid open.
"Come along, Your Majesty," the black-clad invader said
menacingly. He grabbed her arm to drag
her away, but he had underestimated his quarry. The Queen lashed out, giving him a vicious kick to the
groin. He doubled over, groaning. She brought her fist down on the back of his
neck, and he fell to the floor, unconscious. She motioned to her handmaidens, who were cowering together behind the
throne.
"Hurry! We must
leave before…" Another man appeared in the doorway. He wore a black mask that
obscured his features, and he carried an evil looking laser rifle. The Queen's eyes widened in surprise. "GO!" she yelled to her handmaidens. The young women darted out from behind the throne. The man in the doorway raised his blaster,
taking aim at the Queen.
"No!" one of the handmaidens said, stopping.
"Come on!" Rabé said, dragging her along. "We must leave this place, Padmé!" The man in the doorway suddenly swung his
laser rifle around, took aim at Padmé, and pulled the trigger. The blue bolt hit her directly in the center
of her chest. She crumpled to the floor
without a sound. The Queen ran over to
her fallen handmaiden.
"Oh my gods!" the Queen sobbed, falling to her knees
beside the motionless body. "Oh my
gods, oh my gods…"
"What a fiasco," Captain Panaka said, pulling off his
black mask and throwing the laser rifle on the floor. "I wouldn't trust you ladies to get a goldfish out of this Palace
without injury." Padmé groaned and
rubbed her head, trying to sit up.
"Is that what you call a light stun, Captain?" she asked
faintly, her head still spinning.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he apologized, bowing. "Next time I will use a lower setting."
"Please see that you do," she murmured, allowing Yané and
Rabé to help her to her feet. Eirtaé
was still sitting on the floor, crying.
"I failed," she sobbed, her tears making flesh-colored
trails in her elaborate white make-up. "I failed, and you died because of it."
"You only need more practice, Eirtaé," the real Queen
assured her. The handmaiden shook her
head.
"No,"
she said. "I'm not cut out for this,
Your Majesty. All the emergency drills
in the world will not change the fact that I am not Sabé." Padmé and Panaka exchanged a look.
"Think you that Sabé never failed in a drill?" Padmé
asked. Eirtaé shook her head.
"She did not fail when it was important," the handmaiden
said.
"And neither will you, I am sure of it," Padmé told
her. Eirtaé gave her a watery
smile. Padmé looked down at her chief
handmaiden, who sat on the cold marble floor in her elaborate gown, wiping away
her tears with the back of her hand and smearing her make-up all over the
place. "Your main problem is that you
lack confidence." Panaka gave Eirtaé an
appraising look, and then shook his head, pulling the Queen aside.
"I do not believe she has what it takes to be the Royal
Bodyguard," he told her quietly. "I
wish to begin training Rabé to take over her role." Padmé sighed.
"You must do what you think is best, Captain," she told
him. "But I beg of you, break it to her
gently. Don't make her feel any worse
than you must."
"Of
course, Your Majesty," he agreed, bowing. She glanced over at Eirtaé, who was still sitting in a heap on the
floor, surrounded by the other handmaidens, who were murmuring quiet
reassurances. Sighing, Padmé walked out
of the throne room and headed to her private apartments, wishing for the
millionth time that Sabé had not left her service. Ah, how selfish I am, she thought, entering her bedroom
and beginning to pull her hair out of its elaborate style. I am glad she has found so much
happiness, even if her new life does take her far away from my court.
"You
should have told me you have the Force, old boy. Would have made this conversation a damn sight easier, I can tell
you," Valorum said. Palpatine shrugged. "Anyway," Valorum continued, setting his
teacup on the coffee table and settling himself more comfortably on the red
sofa in Palpatine's living room. "I wanted to warn you to be careful of the
Neimoidians. They're up to no
good." Palpatine snorted.
"That's not exactly news, Valorum," he replied.
"Look, they're plotting to have you assassinated!"
"What??"
"They're going to punch your ticket, old bean. Snuff your candle. Clean your clock. Pull
your – "
"Yes, yes," Palpatine said impatiently, waving his
hand. "I've got the idea."
"Well,
I thought you'd like to know," Valorum told him.
"How?" Palpatine asked, thoroughly rattled. Valorum shrugged.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"I've
got a Special Committee investigating them," Palpatine said, as though
reminding himself.
"They don't care about your Committee, Palpatine. They have bigger fish to fry, and when
they're done, they will not have to answer to any Committee. At least, that is what they are counting
on."
"What are you talking about, Valorum?" Palpatine asked,
frowning. Valorum waved a finger at
him.
"They're plotting something big. I can't tell you any more than that, old
fellow."
"Why not?" Palpatine asked.
"Sorry, not allowed," Valorum said briskly.
"Now allowed?" Palpatine echoed, incredulous. "According to whom?" Valorum smiled faintly.
"Not quite sure, old thing. Not quite sure."
"You're not making any sense!" Palpatine exclaimed. "And how do you know all these things,
anyway?" Valorum shrugged.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid I can't tell you
any more."
"Wait a minute," Palpatine said, suddenly truly focusing
on his friend. "Why are you sitting in
my living room wearing nothing but your underwear?"
"It's what I'm wearing," Valorum replied cryptically.
"Well of course it's what you're wearing!" Palpatine said
crossly. "But why are you wearing it in
my living room?"
"Because that's what I've got on, old thing," Valorum
replied tranquilly.
"Yes,
I realize that. But why on Naboo
haven't you got proper clothes on?"
"Oh for heaven's sake, Palpatine, don't be so
dense!" Palpatine was beginning to feel
like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole.
"I promise you that I am not being deliberately dense,
Valorum. I simply don't
understand." Valorum sighed.
"Look, it's like this – "
"Palpatine!" Sabé said. "Palpatine, wake up!" Palpatine opened
his eyes and blinked. He was sitting in
his favorite chair in his living room. The sun was just beginning to rise over the city of Coruscant, casting a
rosy glow over the buildings and traffic of the capital. Sabé stood before him, a robe pulled over
her nightgown and concern written all over her face. A thought entered Palpatine's mind, and he jumped to his feet,
suddenly fully awake.
"Are
you having the babies?" he asked, a note of panic in his voice. Sabé smiled and patted her hugely pregnant
belly.
"No sweetheart, I'm not having the babies," she assured
him. "The alarm woke me up and I was
alone in bed. I wondered where you'd
gotten to."
"I must have been sleepwalking," he said offhandedly, as
though it were an everyday occurrence. She frowned. "Don't worry,
darling," he said quickly. "I'm
perfectly fine." He took her in his
arms and kissed her.
"Are you sure?" she asked suspiciously. The Naboo considered sleepwalking an ill
omen at best. Palpatine sighed.
"Yes darling, I'm sure. You mustn't worry so much." He
thought for a moment. "If you must
know, I was having a rather strange dream about Valorum. He was sitting right there on the sofa,
having a cup of tea in his underwear." Sabé laughed.
"I'm not sure what worries me more, the sleepwalking or
that you're dreaming about Valorum in his underwear!"
"Well," Palpatine said, laughing with her, "the sight of
Valorum in his underwear was more like a nightmare than a dream, I can assure
you!"
"Belated congratulations on your election, Chancellor," a
familiar male voice said.
"Thank you," Palpatine said distractedly, trying
unsuccessfully to juggle his attaché case, a brimming cup of Dunkin' Donuts
coffee and the key card to his office.
"You must be careful of the Neimoidians," the voice
continued.
"Yes, yes, I've already had that warning today," he
replied distantly as he finally managed to slide the key card into the
lock. The door slid open and he stepped
into reception area of his office.
"They are not finished with you yet, Chancellor," the
voice said. Irritated, Palpatine turned
to see who was speaking to him, and nearly dropped his coffee and attaché case
in astonishment.
"My gods," Palpatine said faintly. "It's you."
"Yes, it's me," the shimmering, translucent apparition of
Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn said, smiling. "Are you really all that surprised?" After a moment, Palpatine found his voice.
"Well, yes, I am a bit. You ARE dead, after all." The
apparition shrugged.
"Death is not an end, Chancellor. It is merely a transformation," Qui-Gon
replied in the tone of a teacher instructing a student.
"All right," Palpatine said heavily. "Tell me what the Neimoidians are up
to." Suddenly, he jumped in surprise at
the sound of a new voice.
"Who are you talking to, sir?" Sara asked, walking into the reception area from her office and looking around, puzzled.
"I was just talking to – " He turned back to where
Qui-Gon's ghost had been standing, but there was only empty air. He blinked. "Myself," he finished lamely.
"Oh," she said. Her tone changed. "I need to
speak with you, Chancellor," she said quietly.
"Hmm," he replied, fumbling with his key card again.
"I'm
afraid it's bad news, sir," she told him. Palpatine sighed.
"You'd
better come in and sit down, then." He
unlocked his office and she followed him inside. He went to sit at his desk and switched on the computer. As he waited for it to boot up, he sipped
his hot coffee appreciatively.
"It's
about your friend Valorum," Sara began, sitting in her usual chair across from
his desk. He looked up, giving her his
undivided attention.
"Yes?" he asked. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what she was going to say.
"I'm afraid he's passed away," she told him quietly. "It was sometime last night - a heart
attack, they think. They said he didn't
suffer."
"In his sleep," Palpatine murmured. Sara gave him an odd look.
"Yes, they think so," she agreed.
"Ah gods," he said as the concept finally sunk in: One of
his oldest friends was dead. He closed
his eyes. Throwing protocol and the
fear of overstepping to the wind, Sara reached across the desk and took his
hand.
"Hey," she said quietly. "Are you going to be OK?" Eyes still closed, he nodded. "Is there anything you want me to do?" He thought for a moment, opened his eyes and pulled his hand out of hers.
"Send my official condolences to his family and to the
people of Chandrila. I suppose you'd better send flowers or something, I don't
know what their customs are. I'm sure
you can find out. Also, please make
whatever apologies are necessary for my missing his funeral. My wife shouldn't travel now, and I don't
want to leave her alone when her time is so close." Sara nodded.
"Every time I start feeling sorry for myself, I think
about how big your wife must be by now," Sara told Palpatine. "I am only having one child, and look how
huge I am!" she exclaimed, patting her belly.
"I'm sure you'll both be happier when it's over," he
agreed, smiling slightly.
"Whazzzup!" Palpatine looked up to see Anakin standing in
the doorway. Their informal moment
broken, Sara took Anakin's arrival as her cue to leave.
"I'll see to everything, sir," she assured Palpatine,
standing to leave as Anakin walked into the office.
"Yes, thank you Sara," Palpatine replied as she left, the
door sliding shut behind her. Anakin
sat in the chair she had just vacated and gave Palpatine an appraising look.
"How're you doing there, Palpster?" Anakin asked,
frowning. "You don't look too good."
"I have had a rather trying morning," Palpatine told
him.
"Oh yeah? What's
been going on?" Anakin asked, leaning forward in his seat and looking
concerned.
"I…" Palpatine began, not knowing
how to continue. I see dead people,
he thought suddenly, biting his lip to suppress an inappropriate burst of
laughter. "Valorum has died," he
finally said.
"Aw, man… how?"
"I
don't know, heart attack they think," Palpatine replied.
"That sucks," Anakin said. Palpatine nodded slowly.
"Yes. Yes it
does," he agreed. They were silent for
a moment.
"Padmé is on her way here," Anakin said after a
while. "She left the other night. She said she wanted to be here for Sabé when
she has the twins."
"She's cutting it awfully close, isn't she?" Palpatine
asked.
"Yeah, well, Panaka had her tied up with some security
drills, and she couldn't get away until then. But she'll be here by tonight, hopefully."
"You know, Anakin, I've been thinking," Palpatine said
slowly.
"Uh oh," Anakin joked. Palpatine smiled thinly.
"I think the Republic should have an army of some sort."
"An army?" Anakin repeated, sounding dubious. "What for?"
"Well, not every planet has a standing army," Palpatine
replied, thinking of Naboo in particular. "When a crisis arises, such planets have no protection. A handful of security volunteers cannot
fight a full scale war in protection of a planet, you know."
"Yeah, but how many planets don't have standing armies?"
Anakin asked reasonably.
"Naboo for one," Palpatine replied. "And Alderaan."
"Well, that's two," Anakin said sardonically. Palpatine made a face.
"Yes, well I am sure there are more, but I cannot think
of them off the top of my head."
"Republic planets don't need armies," Anakin said with a
shrug. "Ever since your election as
Chancellor, things have been pretty quiet. I think people saw how you dealt with the Neimoidians and the general
corruption in the Senate and decided that they'd better cool it with the
shenanigans while you're in charge."
"I am only one man, Anakin. I cannot be everywhere at once." Palpatine said, only
half-joking.
"Right," Anakin said, nodding. "That's why the gods created Jedi Knights."
"Be serious, Anakin. Certainly, the Jedi are powerful and respected, but they cannot fight a
war… or perhaps I should say that they WOULD not fight a war. I don't think I need to remind you of what
happened on Tatooine." Anakin made a
face.
"You sure don't," he agreed, feeling a surge of anger at
the Jedi Council for ignoring the gang wars on Tatooine until it was too late;
too late for his mother and too late for thousands of other innocents. "So, uh, what prompted this army fixation of
yours?" Palpatine shrugged.
"I have been warned by a couple of people that the
Neimoidians are plotting something big," he confided.
"Big? Like what?"
"I don't know, Anakin. My sources wouldn't – or couldn't – tell me. I…. well, I have a feeling."
"It's probably the Force," Anakin told him sagely. "It speaks to you, Palpatine. But you were never trained to listen."
"When I was a child," Palpatine said slowly, "the other
children called me Freak. I saw things
they couldn't. I often knew what others
were thinking. Sometimes I knew a thing
would happen before it did. It took me
a long time to learn how to make those things stop happening, how to close off
that secret world that no one else could see and be 'normal'." Anakin nodded, all joking and teasing
forgotten.
"You knew how to listen to the Force when you were a
child," he said. "It's almost
instinctive for Force-gifted children, and you are extraordinarily gifted. What really surprises me is that you
succeeded in shutting it off like that." Palpatine shrugged.
"It was either that or go mad," he said quietly. "But, as I've gotten older, I've found that
it often sneaks up on me. And since my
brother's death, it's gotten more and more difficult to, as you said, 'shut it
off'."
"OK," Anakin said, nodding. "So you have a feeling that the Neimoidians are plotting
something. Well, I'd say you're
probably right. I hope we can discover
what it is before they get a chance to put their plan into action."
"So do I hope it," Palpatine agreed fervently. Suddenly, Anakin stiffened in his
chair. "What is it?" Palpatine
asked. Anakin motioned for silence, his
head cocked as though listening to a voice only he could hear.
"Uh oh," Anakin whispered. He leaped out of his chair, clearing the desk and landing
virtually in Palpatine's lap.
"What
the – " Palpatine exclaimed in surprise. Anakin grabbed him and shoved him under the desk, ignoring the sound of
Palpatine's head cracking against the desk and the muffled Nubian curses that
followed.
"Stay
down," Anakin hissed, drawing and igniting his lightsaber at nearly the same
moment an energy bolt shattered the transparasteel window behind Palpatine's
desk. Anakin deflected a second bolt
with his lightsaber, frantically searching the skies for their source. He spotted a small landing pad attached to
an adjacent building; hovering underneath was a small, unmarked air car. The unknown assailant continued to fire on
him as he flung off his brown outer cloak and moved closer to the ruined
window, his boots crunching on melted transparasteel fragments. He deflected the energy bolts easily, all
the while calculating the approximate distance between the office and the
landing platform. "Stay under that desk
until I get back," Anakin ordered Palpatine, who remained silent. "Did you hear me?" Anakin asked. Receiving no acknowledgement, he could only
hope for the best. He took a deep
breath, deactivated his lightsaber, and leaped out the window, somersaulting
through the air to land on his feet on the hood of the air car. He ignited his lightsaber and sliced through
the tinted windscreen. As he did so, he
got a sense of the air car's occupants. They don't feel like people, Anakin thought. They feel… unreal. Anakin caught a glimpse of a man's face
through the ruined windscreen, and with it a glimpse of the mind behind it. Oh my gods, he's insane, Anakin
thought wildly. Grinning maliciously,
the driver put the car's throttle down. Anakin had only seconds to leap up and grab the bottom of the landing
platform above before the car executed a rolling dive into the morning rush
hour traffic of Coruscant. Flipping his
body up so that he stood on the landing platform, Anakin tried in vain to
follow the car's progress, but the small vehicle was soon lost in the bustle of
commuters that clogged the airways of Coruscant. Sighing, Anakin walked across the platform to look for a way into
the building to which it was attached.
When Anakin reached the Supreme Chancellor's office, he
found Palpatine sitting on the edge of his desk, a bloody handkerchief pressed
to the top of his head and a slightly dazed look on his face.
"Oh geeze, Palpatine," he said, hurrying over. "Are you OK?"
"You nearly killed him while saving his life," Sara said,
walking in from the reception area.
"Hey, I had to improvise," Anakin said defensively. Sara walked over to Palpatine and took the
handkerchief out of his hand, parting his hair to stare critically at his
injured head.
"I'll be fine, Sara," he murmured. "It's only a small bump on the head. Luckily, I have very little in there to
begin with."
"You should go to the hospital," she told him, her
concern not at all lessened by his self-depreciating humor.
"There's no time, Sara," he said quietly. He ran a hand through his hair, a small
patch now stiffening with a maroon stain. "The Neimoidians will be landing their army of clones on Corellia soon,
and we must be ready," he said distantly. He suddenly became aware that Anakin and Sara were staring at him in
shock. "What?" he asked, somewhat
defensively.
"What did you just say, sir?" Sara asked.
"I said – " Palpatine began. Realizing what he'd been about to repeat, his eyes widened in
surprise. "My gods," he whispered.
"The Force is with you," Anakin said quietly, suddenly
understanding why the would-be assassins in the air car had felt 'unreal'. "We should go to the Jedi Council. Maybe this time they will do something
before it's too late."
FINIS.
(For now… stay tuned for Part 11, coming at some time in the future, hopefully soon!)