Chapter 19 : Fidelitas

"We all knew at the time that presenting the petition of two thousand to Palpatine was risky, Padmé," Bail said, turning away from her at the desk to look out over the darkened city. "Only... none of us were truly prepared for the reality of just how dangerous it actually was."

Padmé tried to steady the datapad in her hands. They wouldn't stop shaking. So many names. So many senators. Good senators —some even friends with whom she had personally interacted and worked with for years. She let out a long breath, lowered the datapad to Organa's desk and leaned forward, bracing her trembling hands to either side. "What happened to them?"

"Most withdrew support; had their names removed from the petition..."

"And the others?" Padmé asked, re-reading over each and every name itemised on the list. "Those who chose not to withdraw?"

"The Imperial Security Bureau accused them of treason. Had them arrested... or worse," Bail said with a huff, his weight audibly shifting behind her. "The lucky ones managed to escape Coruscant. Fled the Empire with their families and went into hiding."

Or worse, Padmé mentally repeated, shaking her head. She guessed he'd meant that Palpatine and his followers had had them executed. "Senator Ivor Drake?" she asked.

"Arrested."

She studied the list again, found the names of the Senators that had accompanied her to that dreaded presentation meeting. "Meena Tills and Malé-Dee?"

"Both in hiding."

"What about Nee Alavar... and Fang Zar?" she asked, turning from the datapad to see him still staring out the transparisteel wall at the twinkling city lights.

The Alderaanian Viceroy's shoulders visibly sagged. "Senator Alavar was the first to be publicly executed by the ISB. A blatant demonstration of the Empire's power. It was her death that prompted some of the others to withdraw."

"She was publicly executed?" she repeated in an exacting tone, the thought instantly repulsing her. As if on cue, her stomach churned and she had to swallow hard to keep it under control. "And Fang Zar? What happened to him. Was he "publicly executed" as well?"

Bail turned from the window to face her. "No. Not publicly, at least. Shortly after Nee's death, he fled Coruscant, came seeking refuge with me on Alderaan. Since the chaos had finally settled down on Sern Prime, he had hoped to use Aldera as a means of covertly returning home without drawing the unwanted attention of the Empire."

Pacing back and forth by the window, Bail shook his head. "I had no idea he had been ordered by the ISB to remain on Coruscant for further questioning... not that that would have swayed my decision in granting him refugee status. Many displaced beings came to Alderaan from all over the galaxy seeking asylum after the war. And, as always, we welcomed them."

Padmé caressed her stomach, tried to ease her growing discomfort. "So... what happened?"

He continued to pace ahead of her, his long blue-grey tunic coat rippling. "The emperor dispatched his ... emissary ... to retrieve him."

"Who? Sate Pestage?"

Bail shook his head again and stopped pacing. When he turned to look back at her, there was a sudden and unyielding intensity burning within his dark brown eyes —one that was wholly fixed on her own— as if closely watching for her reaction. "No, Padmé. Pestage was just his escort," he said, folding his arms. "The emissary he sent ... was Darth Vader."

Padmé's stomach tightened, and she prayed to Shiraya that Bail hadn't noticed. After her many years spent in public service —both as Queen of Naboo, and later on as their senator— she'd mastered the art of remaining stoic in trying situations. Ignoring the violent protestations of her surging insides however, was proving to be somewhat more challenging. "He sent ... Darth Vader ... after someone like Fang Zar?" she clarified, almost choking over her husband's Sith name.

His eyes searched hers a moment longer.

He broke their gaze, looked to the floor and stroked his trimmed beard. "Yes. It was a power-play to be certain," he said. "But what I hadn't realised at the time —and what I soon discovered— was that the ship Senator Zar had organised to ferry him to Sern Prime, was not only a smuggler's ship the Empire had been tracking from Murkhana, but one whose crew had also included a Jedi."

Of course it had, she thought dryly. It was now completely unnecessary for him to continue, Padmé could quite easily imagine how the rest of the story had played out. She'd already witnessed her Sith husband chase down, lure out, and attack Ferus and Caleb back in Theed, and that was before she'd even known it was him in that dreaded life-support suit that he wore.

"Upon seeing the Jedi in the holo-projector, Vader surmised he was trying to help Zar escape and immediately gave chase," Bail said, his brown eyes going distant. "I waited as long as I could before locking down the palace..." He took one slow and steady breath and turned back to the window. "But it wasn't enough. Vader hurled his lightsaber through the shield opening at the last second."

Bail whirled to face her head on. His expression was fierce as if trying to ram home his point. "Darth Vader murdered Fang Zar."

She didn't flinch at the remark. If Bail was angling for a reaction, he wasn't going to get one —not if she could help it. "Is that why the rest of the delegation members suddenly withdrew their support?"

"Yes. They have been terrified into silence," he said. "Our numbers are dwindling. As it stands now, only a handful of systems remain willing to stand with us. Even Garm Bel Iblis of Correllia is struggling to maintain his allegiance. Thanks to his wife being an avid Imperial empathiser, his marriage is on the verge of collapse."

Padmé folded her arms. "And now what, Bail? You're approaching me in the hopes of getting Naboo to openly declare their endorsement of your rebellion?"

"A rebellion?" The Alderaanian Viceroy threw his hands up placatingly. "I never said anything about this movement being a rebellion, Padmé. It's more of a ... resistance. A resistance to Palpatine's ruling over the galaxy through fear and oppression."

"That's the same thing, Bail. And you know it." Exasperated; she turned away and moved to stand by the window. She rubbed her small bump again, stared blindly at the millions of lights criss-crossing the skylanes.

"Padmé..." He walked up beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "We need your support. Since your miraculous return, you are quite the celebrity in the Senate. The people will listen to you. Others will join us; I am certain of it."

She pressed her fingers to her brow and shook her head. "I seem to recall us having one such similar conversation a year ago, Bail," she said, suddenly exhausted. "In my apartment, when you and Mon Mothma asked me to betray one of my oldest advisors and head the presentation of that petition."

Bail sighed. "Yes, I realise that was difficult for you ... it was difficult for all of us. But I have stayed true to my word since then. I have supported Palpatine in the Senate, as you requested. I have even voted for him when it went against everything that I stand for. But Vader and Palpatine must be held to account before it's too late. For the good of our people, including Naboo."

Difficult for her? He had no idea of the inner turmoil it had created. Not to mention the obvious rift it had caused between her and Anakin, especially during the meeting when he'd been so diligently standing right by Palpatine's side. Padmé shook her head. "But we're not in the Republic anymore," she said wearily. "I can't just go out into the caucus and call for a vote of no confidence."

Bail turned her by the shoulders to look him square in the eyes. His softened expression was apologetic but still searching. "And no‐one is asking you to..."

She stared up at him, her stomach twisting into knots. "Then what are you asking, Bail?"

"Only this..." he said. "Senator Mothma and I have organised a meeting for tomorrow in my office, during the Senate mid-session break. I only ask that you join us, Padmé. That you come and speak to the others. See if ... together ... we can rally some more support."

Pulling out of his touch, Padmé walked back over to the desk. She picked up the datapad, weighed it heavily in her hands. Bail was playing right into Palpatine's trap, and now it was down to her —and her alone— to decide on whose side she was truly on. Betraying Palpatine meant that she was also betraying Anakin ... and she had done that once already, and regretted it. There was so much more at stake now; she would be placing the lives of their children, of Obi-wan, and even Anakin at risk. She sighed and laid the datapad back down to rest.

"You are asking me to commit treason, Bail," Padmé said finally, turning to glare at him. "Knowing all too well how much is at stake. If I do agree to this... who's to say that Palpatine won't send his "emissary" as you put it, after me too? Orders him to kill me like he did Fang Zar?" Thoroughly frustrated, she clenched her jaw and stabbed the air with her finger. "Have you even thought about Luke and Leia? About what might happen to them?"

His eyes were searching hers again. She didn't shy away.

"Your signature was already on that petition when you were being held prisoner in the palace," Bail said finally. "Don't you think, that if Vader had any intention of killing you, he would have done so back then?"

Padmé's stomach leapt into her throat. She frowned and planted her hands on her hips. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Easy, Padmé! I'm... I'm not implying anything," Bail said, raising his hands. "All I'm saying, is that for some reason ... he didn't. That puts you in a rather interesting position. Either he or the emperor, or the both of them actually want to keep you alive. Which is more than I can say for any of the rest of us."

The room started to spin. It seemed her fatigue and constant nausea had finally caught up with her. Swaying just a bit, Padmé dropped her head into her hands and massaged her temples. She knew she'd have to be careful not to overreact like that again. Not if she was going to be successful at keeping her and Anakin's relationship a secret.

"I'm sorry, Bail," she said, struggling to keep the waver from her voice. "It has just been one long trying day after another lately, and it's starting to take its toll."

"Is everything alright? You look pale," Bail asked, moving to steady her. He pulled her under his arm and guided her across the room. "Please, come and sit down."

"Thank you..." She walked forward, leaning into him until they reached the sofa. Slumping down into the chair, she tried to relax, feeling the dangerously comfortable cushions cradle in around her.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

She carefully shook her head. "No, thank you. I will be alright."

Her unsettled insides surged again, and she continued to swallow, hoping it would ease. After several attempts to delay the inevitable, a cold chill had her skin prickling and every hair standing on its end. She looked up; her attention suddenly drawn to the apartment entrance. Not thinking about how or why she knew, she stared at the door and waited for it to open. Someone was coming.

• • •

Caleb slumped back against the railing, numbly watching the numbers on the turbo-lift level indicator as they ticked past. Over the last fifteen minutes, he and his Master had come to the conclusion that returning to Coruscant had been a big mistake. First it had been Vader and the Emperor they were running from, and now it was these Inquisitors. It seemed everywhere they went, there was somebody there waiting for them. How long were they going to be stuck here? How long were they going to have to keep looking over their shoulder, expecting to be caught?

Ferus cleared his throat beside him. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay... I guess," Caleb said, giving a tired shrug. "I could really do with something to eat. How about you?"

"Same. But, I think I've had enough of Coruscant."

Caleb snorted, turned his gaze back to the level indicator. "Yeah, you're not the only one. How long do you think Senator Organa intends on staying here for anyway?"

This time it was Ferus's turn to shrug. "For a few more days, I suspect. He has that special meeting of congress tomorrow ... Force only knows how long they go for."

Caleb glanced sidelong at him. "Surely he's not expecting us to be there for that as well?"

"I don't care if he is ... we won't be." Ferus grunted and folded his arms. "There's no way in Sith's hell I'm letting us anywhere near that place again. Not while the Emperor is still there." He turned around to face him and cocked his brow. "Actually, speaking of Sith... your Inquisitor friend ... she seemed rather chatty. What was she saying to you?"

"Friend? Come on, Master... really?" Caleb rolled his eyes and groaned. As worn out as they were; his Master was still able to find energy enough to tease him. Unbelievable.

Ferus chuckled. "You know for a moment there, I thought she was trying to court you or something."

"Or something..." Caleb muttered, shaking his head. He thought about it a moment. "I suppose in a way, she kind of was. Well, sort of."

That got Ferus's attention. Whereas before, he was only joking; now he was deadly serious. "What do you mean 'sort of'?"

Caleb shrugged again and sighed. "She kept asking me to join her; wanted me to become an Inquisitor like them. She said I could serve a 'real master, one who doesn't have to pretend'." He turned to meet his Master's stare. "I could be wrong, but the way she said it ... I'm pretty sure she was referring to Vader."

"Great... Now he has little Sith minions out chasing us. The galaxy just got a whole lot smaller, Caleb."

The turbo-lift thumped to a stop, and Ferus hit the control panel to open the doors. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Well... there's no point in worrying about it now. Let's go inside, and see what the Viceroy has in the way of food. I'm starving."

The doors opened and Caleb pushed away from the railing. "I think that might be the best idea you've had all day."

No sooner had Ferus stepped foot inside the Senator's apartment, than he'd stopped; frozen in place and staring straight ahead. Caleb paused beside him. Followed his line of sight to the sitting room; to the familiar brown-haired woman sat perched opposite the Senator on the sofa. She stared back at them, sharing the same apparent look of shock.

Organa practically jumped from his seat, giving them his most welcoming smile. "Ferus, Caleb," he said opening his arms. "You're back just in time. Please, come and join us ... I'm sure the two of you remember Senator Padmé Amidala."

KASHYYYK: KACHIRHO: FIRST OUTPOST

Vader gazed across the marsh, to the two battalions of clone troopers steadily piling into the twenty-odd gunships idling on the mud. Through the spotlights, orange and white armoured bodies marched side-by-side with blue and white. The scene strangely reminiscent of the Clone Wars. Yet, he couldn't help but notice the constant intermingling of the two legions. What were the odds that of all of his missions, of all of the various legions; it would be his and his former master's that were continuously joining forces?

Coincidence? The will of the Force?

Or another test...?

Whatever the reason; for the moment it was irrelevant. The sooner they were boarded, the sooner this mission would be over, and the sooner he would be back on Coruscant with his Master —and he would be answering a few of Vader's questions this time. More specifically about this mission, and his most recent objective. Clenching his teeth, he whirled on his heel and charged back into the outpost bunker.

Commander Vill was waiting by the central holo-table when he returned, his attention firmly planted on the outpost holo-map display. Vader strode up beside him and folded his arms below his chest plate.

"How long before the destroyers commence orbital assault, my lord?" Commander Vill asked him.

"They await my signal, Commander," Vader said. "I want every Imperial ship clear of Kachirho before they incinerate it."

The trooper looked up from the map. "And the Wookies in the Shadowlands? Are we going in after them?"

"No. Once the turbolasers start firing, everything will burn, including their precious Shadowlands," Vader said darkly. "They will be flushed out of hiding ... or they will be destroyed."

"Right. Sir."

Seemingly satisfied with Vader's response, the trooper commander went quiet and turned back to the map. Vader remained silent, the steady rasp of his breathing marking the slow passage of time. Regardless of Tarkin's request of him to procure some free labour, he still had three Jedi to find. Reaching out to the Force, he felt for a clue or hint as to their current location. Nothing presented itself. Either the Jedi were seasoned masters efficient at shielding their signatures, or they were cloaking themselves in the Force itself. Hiding someplace strong in the dark side.

No matter. With a bit of luck, just his presence alone would be enough to draw them out from the shadows, especially when he started flashing his lightsaber about.

"That's the last of them, my lord," Commander Cody announced, making his way up the steps behind them. He moved to the holo-table and stood to attention on Vader's right. "All units are now ready and waiting in the transports."

Vader regarded him a moment. "Good. I will keep this briefing short," Vader said, turning back to the holo-projector. "The Emperor has declared the wookies enemies of the Empire. He now demands the threat of Kashyyyk be neutralised." He pointed to the map, to what looked to be a large assortment of huts clustered together. "Commander Vill, you and your men will head for this village. You may use whatever means necessary to subdue and detain the local residents ... Burn it if you have to. But minimise civilian casualties —I want them alive. Once the village is secured, you are to herd all prisoners into containment and await further orders."

Commander Vill nodded. "It will be done, my lord."

Gesturing to the map, Vader then zoomed in on a large fortified structure tucked deep within the confines of a narrow valley and continued. "As for you, Cody," he said, turning to the trooper on his right. "Your strike team will accompany me on infiltrating this transfer facility. According to field reports, it is not only overrun by Wookies, but by mercenaries who hold a keen interest in maintaining control of its operations. Once all resistance has been dealt with and the station secured, we will then send a message out to the fleet to arrange handover."

"What about the mercenaries, my lord?" Cody asked, leaning forward to get a closer view of their target. "Are they to be taken into custody also?"

"I hold no interest in preserving the lives of a few worthless smugglers and pirates, Commander," Vader growled, straightening to his full height. "If there are survivors, you will gather and detain them within the facility ... until I decide what is to be done with them."

"Understood, my lord."

Vader looked between the two men. "Now, if there are no further questions..." He let his words trail off to permit the commanders time enough to speak. When neither was forthcoming, he turned on his heel and charged for the door. "Good. Get to your ships. We depart at once."

Bare moments after he'd given the order, the destroyers had locked-on and opened fire on the city, pummelling Kachirho with the full destructive might of their turbo-lasers. Now it was ablaze. Standing behind the two pilots working hard to keep his personal Lambda steady throughout the ensuing shockwaves, Vader watched the flames rise high into the night sky. In seconds, thousand-year-old wroshyr trees had become nothing more than a blinding haze of orange and red light. The stars in the sky above; obscured by thick clouds of ashen smoke. He narrowed his gaze behind the mask and sneered. If anyone was still alive and hiding down there —Wookies, Jedi or otherwise— they would soon be dead.

He watched the raging inferno one minute longer then turned and headed for the shuttle cabin to take his seat. "Make for the facility at once, Captain."

"Yes, Lord Vader." The pilot quickly disengaged the hover controls, and ignited the main thrusters to propel them far away from the burning city.

Sitting down, Vader keyed his wrist-com to contact Commander Vill. By his calculations the trooper and his men should have already arrived at the village by now, and he was keen to learn how their mission was progressing. Wookies were formidable opponents, and he knew all too well, they wouldn't be taken into captivity without a fight.

The miniature holo-image of the trooper rezzed into view above his wrist. "Vill here. Come in, Lord Vader."

"What is your status, Commander?"

"So far, so good, my lord. If all goes to plan, we should have the village secured in a matter of moments."

Taking flight time into consideration, Vader estimated they'd been there for twenty minutes at most. That was quick. Even he hadn't expected the Wookies to surrender that easily. Sure, Commander Vill and his specialist team were good... That's why he'd kept them on in the first place. But so too were the Wookies. Had they somehow been forewarned of their attack and abandoned the village?

Mentally, he shook his head. Impossible. All planetside communication systems were being jammed, and had been since the very instant he'd set down on the surface. And even if the Wookies had managed to find a way of covertly tapping into their frequencies, the details of this mission had only been discussed off-line. Meaning that only he, Commander Vill and Commander Cody had been aware of their plans prior to take-off.

"Do you have any prisoners?"

"Yeah... The boys are still bringing them in, sir. It's taking a while though; blasted furballs are heavy —even the small ones. We had thirty-six at last count. Females and younglings, mostly. We're transferring them into the communal hall structure, that should hold them for now. Not sure where the big males are, though, 'cos they aren't here."

"I expect the males are supporting their defences at the transfer facility, Commander. Not to worry, they will soon suffer the same fate as the rest. How soon before you can confirm that all natives have been properly secured?"

Vill turned away for a moment, leaving the sounds of blaster-fire, pained howls and yelling troopers to briefly dominate their channel. He returned a split-second later. "Well... providing the effect of the gas doesn't wear off, and they start trying to rip our arms from our sockets—" He paused as if to think on it further "—I estimate, about forty-five to an hour, sir ... give-or-take. As I said, these furballs are heavy. Takes two of my men just to lift one of the juveniles."

"Very well, Commander. Com me back when you have confirmation."

"Will do, my lord. Vill, out."

Vader keyed off his wrist-com and sat back. With the village subjection under control, he was now free to focus on ensuring the success of their other key battle. Originally, he had planned on arriving at the facility with Cody and the troopers in the gunships, but he'd soon thought better of it; ordering for his own personal Lambda to be sent down instead. This hostile take-over was now going to serve as a clear statement of power. One that would demonstrate to every system in the known galaxy, that there were severe consequences for all caught trying to resist the sheer might of their Empire. Plus, if the rogue Jedi were involved in the fight, his shuttle arriving at the centre of it should garner their attention and shift their focus onto him.

"Coming up on the transfer facility now, Lord Vader," the captain called out from the cockpit. "Scanners indicate the main valley corridor entrance is blocked off by our own parked LAATs, and they are taking heavy enemy fire. Did you want us to set down behind them?"

Vader toyed with the buckles on his right glove, loosening and tightening them again. Using the gunships to seal off the valley corridor had all been part of the plan. They now doubled as both defensive perimeter for the troopers, and armoured barricade to keep all potential insurgents from escaping.

"No, Captain," he said, giving the last buckle one final tug. "I want you to alter course. Have the ship approach from the eastern ridge and fly in straight over the top of the facility. On descent, redirect all external spotlights to ground and land in the centre clearing."

"But, sir..." the captain stammered in response. "Even with the lights blinding them, coming in that low and slow, we'll be sitting ducks, my lord. Surely, it would be better if we—"

"I know my ship, Captain," Vader snarled, cutting him off mid-sentence. "The shields will hold."

"Of... of course, sir," the pilot said, the angered tone of Vader's voice squashing any further objections he might've had. "As you command, Lord Vader. Altering course now."

The shuttle banked for the eastern ridge and began its descent. Keying his helmet-com again, Vader contacted Commander Cody at the battlefront.

"Receiving you, Lord Vader."

"Cody, I will be arriving in a matter of moments. When my shuttle lands, advance to my position and have your men form up on me."

"With all due respect, my lord... It's pretty hectic down here. Setting down in the main clearing will make you their primary target, sir."

"Yes, I know, Commander," Vader said darkly, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his lightsaber. "I am counting on it."

CORUSCANT: NEW SENATORIAL APARTMENTS

"So much for morning sickness," Padmé muttered to herself, stepping out from inside the lavatory cubicle, dabbing her mouth dry with a tissue. She washed her hands and braced them on the sink, stopping to stare at her reflection in the fresher mirror. Dark shadows lingered around her eyes, the light covering of make-up she wore doing little to disguise their appearance. Strands of hair that had once been intertwined within her tidy braid now hung free and loose around her face. She looked as exhausted as she felt.

Ever since arriving on Coruscant she'd noticed the nausea getting worse. At first, she'd put it down to stress and the after-effects of hyperspace travel; presuming it would settle down after a few hours. But it hadn't. And it's not like her stress levels had eased during that time either. In fact, if anything they'd close to doubled since she'd arrived at Bail's apartment, especially when Caleb had taken a seat beside her and started asking questions about Jaina and Obi-wan. Difficult questions too; ones that had required a lot of creative thinking on her part to answer without raising suspicion. It's not like she could've just come out and said that Jaina went by the name Syrennè now, or that she was apprenticed to her Sith husband Darth Vader, who had coincidentally also been the one trying to kill him and Ferus back on Naboo.

Somehow she got the impression the young Jedi hadn't fully believed her story about why they'd needed to leave Tatooine. But essentially she had only manipulated facts. The Empire had arrived on Tatooine, and yes, they had needed to flee the planet as a result. Just not in the company of, nor for the reasons that he may have expected. And her flat out refusal to disclose her family's current whereabouts or even their com-frequencies when he'd asked, hadn't gone down all that well either. For a Jedi, he'd actually seemed to get quite worked up about it. In the end, though, when she'd been unable to fight the urge to vomit any longer, she'd excused herself from his poorly veiled interrogation and bolted for the fresher, praying that she'd make it in time. Hopefully now he'd found something else to focus his frustrations on. Otherwise, their following conversation was going to be considerably less pleasant.

Doing what she could to fix her hair, Padmé took one final deep breath and left the fresher. When she walked back into the main suite the two Jedi were stood alongside Bail at his desk, both eating their freshly made hand meals. She moved to join them, listening in on their conversation.

"I hope the information on that disc was worth it, Senator," the older Jedi said gesturing to Bail. "Caleb and I almost died trying to get it."

"I apologise for having to put you and your padawan in that situation, Master Olin," Bail said. "But if what Colonel Draven told me is correct, the information stored on this disc could help give our efforts a much needed resources boost."

"Yeah, well for what it's worth..." the younger Jedi put in after finishing his mouthful, "I wouldn't trust that shonky informant as far as I could throw him. I still say it's a trap."

"What's a trap?" Padmé asked, stopping beside Bail at his desk as the holo-report rezzed into view. She looked between the three men, paying particular attention to the apprehensive stares coming from the two Jedi.

"It's alright, gentlemen. Padmé is one of us," Bail offered, nodding in her direction. "She has been since the very beginning." He smiled encouragingly at her then turned back to the desk to tap at the controls. "He's referring to this, Padmé," he said, pointing toward the translucent blue image of some large eight-winged sea-creature-looking ship.

Padmé stared at the holo-projection and folded her arms. "It looks just the same as any other standard cargo freighter," she said. "What's so special about it?"

"It's rumoured to be carrying a rather large shipment of essential supplies," Bail said. "One that could solve many of our current resourcing problems."

Ferus leaned in over the desk and gestured to the display, bringing up the freighter's itemised shipping manifest. "Only... it's more than just a rumour," he said. "Caleb and I had a brief look over the cargo list when we verified the disc. Look here," He pointed to the lines of decrypted data. "There's enough food and medical supplies to sustain a small city for at least a year, and that's not even counting some of the more obscure items. Just the bacta alone is worth a fortune, and there's enough of that to treat the entire Imperial army. Not to mention the container loads of munitions and weapons it's carrying."

Caleb snorted and dropped his hands heavily onto the desk. "Which is precisely why I still say it's a trap," he said gruffly. "Plus, don't forget the fact that it's also being escorted by a heavily armed command ship."

"A Pelta-class command ship, Caleb," Ferus said dismissively, shaking his head at the younger Jedi. "They're not that heavily armed, not like those new star destroyers they're pumping out. Besides, if it were a trap, wouldn't it make more sense to send it without the escort? Most pirates would be scared off just by the sight of an Imperial cruiser shepherding it across the galaxy, let alone to the far reaches of the Outer-rim."

"Wait, Bail... You're not actually planning on ambushing an Imperial convoy, are you?" Padmé asked, leaning forward to inspect the manifest a little closer. Wherever this cargo was heading, it looked suspiciously like the Empire was potentially going to be using it to establish some new military outpost or base. Palpatine no doubt trying to stretch his stranglehold over the galaxy into the Outer-rim. She could see the attraction in stealing it, but it was well out of Bail's character to do something so rash. He'd always prided himself on carrying out his dealings professionally, keeping everything he did above board and within the law, often criticising those who didn't. She frowned, straightened to her full height and turned to face him. "You were always so dead set against piracy and smuggling operations. I don't understand this ... What's changed?"

The Alderaanian Senator sighed and met her gaze. "You said it yourself earlier, Padmé," Bail said. "This isn't the Republic anymore; our every movement is being monitored: ships, cargo, even people. We've had to adapt our approach in order to compete with our surroundings."

Bail went back to tapping at the controls and brought up the freighter's travel itinerary. The hundred-or-so lines of cargo listings quickly vanished from sight, and in its place a large blue galactic map hovered above the desk.

"Now, according to Colonel Draven," Bail said, tracing the glowing white hyper-lane across the map with his finger. "The convoy is supposed to navigate through here, along the Perlemian trade route. It is then scheduled to stop here; at the ISS Obelysk, and dock for cargo transfer."

"So, that's how Draven found out about the freighter," Ferus said, stroking his chin. "The Massassi mercs must have received the shipping notification through the logs at the station. Obviously, the Empire hasn't yet realised the station has been taken over."

"Or maybe they have, and that's all part of the trap," Caleb argued, folding his arms across his chest. "Maybe that's why they're sending the cruiser as escort."

Padmé couldn't help but look back and forth between the two Jedi as they traded irritated glares. They were bickering as much now as what they had done previously on Naboo, when they'd received Queen Apailana's distress signal and couldn't agree on how best to deal with it. Back then she'd likened their relationship to that of Anakin and Obi-wan's. Thankfully, Anakin and Obi-wan had since managed to come to terms with their differences —well, kind of— and were now able to have an amicable conversation without trying to kill each other. It seemed these two still had quite a long way to go.

"There's no point in speculating over the Empire's supposed intentions," Bail said, interrupting before they could continue any further. "We need to contact the Colonel back at base, and transfer him what information we do have, so they can start to prepare." He shut down the holo-report and activated the long-range transmitter built into the console.

While the two Jedi excused themselves to have a more private conversation, and Bail was busy trying to contact the Colonel, Padmé tapped at her wrist-com and checked the time. It was already well past midnight. No wonder she was tired. She'd have to call it a night soon, or she'd get no sleep before the Senate meeting tomorrow. As it was now, she'd be lucky to get seven hours before needing to get up again. Tugging the sleeve of her robe down to conceal the leather gauntlet, she returned to Bail at his desk. "It's taking some time to find a connection," she said. "I presume your Colonel Draven is not stationed on Alderaan then?"

Bail shook his head. "No, he isn't. I had to move our base of operations after our run in with Vader. Colonel Draven suggested we team up, and use their Massassi headquarters in the Outer-rim. If the Empire decides to launch an investigation, I don't want the people of Alderaan getting caught in the cross-fire."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

The console finally stopped beeping and a second later the holo-projector flared into life. After a few brief moments of static, the image of a somewhat shaken, middle-aged man with a receding hairline appeared above the desk.

"Good evening Senator Organa, I had hoped I'd be hearing from you soon," Draven said. "How is everything going. Did your Jedi manage to successfully meet up with the informant?"

Bail nodded and held the small disc up to the projector. "Yes, Davits. Master Olin and his padawan brought it back close to an hour ago. And it appears your intel was right; appropriating this ship could be the answer to many of our problems. I am sending the files through to your coordinates, so you and Commander Delto can start making the arrangements."

Draven's face seemed to tighten slightly. "Unfortunately, Haxen isn't on base at present," he said. "Although, I do have him waiting on the other line. He and Roland went to Kashyyyk to help some of Gererra's men get their cargo off the ground. Apparently, the Empire has the whole planet sealed off, and from what he was saying, it sounds like the Wookies might be in some serious trouble, too."

Padmé looked to Bail, saw the worry hiding in his eyes. If the Empire was blockading the system, it could mean only one thing; military occupation. Kashyyyk, like Naboo, was well-known throughout the known galaxy for its overabundance of natural resources. That made it valuable. So, to Padmé, it came as no surprise that Palpatine would move to seize control of it. Just like he had during the war, with any other system that produced or controlled something of interest. Only now, he didn't need the permission of the Senate before going ahead. He just did it. Justifying his actions to the greater galaxy by providing evidence of 'treason' or 'dissention'. Padmé sighed. Anakin was wrong; the war wasn't over. In-fact, for systems like Kashyyyk and probably countless others soon to follow, the real war was only just beginning.

Clearly finished with their conversation, Ferus and Caleb came back to join them, and Bail broke away from her gaze, his attention quickly turning back to Draven in the holo-projector.

"The wookies? I don't believe it," Bail said, planting his hands firmly on the desk. "Is Haxen still there. Can you patch him in?"

"I'll see if I can merge the two frequencies," Draven said. "Hold on."

For a brief moment, lines of static blurred out the transmission. A few minutes later, and it was back. This time Draven, and some other darker-haired man whom she presumed to be Haxen, now stood before them. The other man seemed stressed, and there was a roar of chaos echoing behind him. Mostly blaster-fire, a few loud explosions ... and a lot of yelling.

"Davits. I don't have long," Haxen said stiffly, his voice dark with tension. "We've only just gotten our communications back on-line. I don't know how long it'll be before the Empire starts jamming them again." He nodded toward Padmé and the others gathered around the projector. "Senator Organa. Ferus. Caleb. And ... I'm sorry my lady, but I don't know your name ..."

Bail was quick to introduce her. "Forgive me, Haxen. This is Padmé Amidala, a dear friend of mine. Former Queen turned Senator for Naboo of the Chommell sector."

Padmé mentally added Skywalker to her name, but didn't bother to correct him. The less people knew about her marriage to Anakin, the better. Besides, it would probably only further complicate things, in a situation that was already far too complicated. She smiled, and politely nodded toward Haxen.

"We're glad to have your support, Senator Amidala," Haxen said, returning the gesture. "We need all the help we can get at the moment. Kriff, the way things are going here, we'll be lucky if we even survive the night." He frowned, turned his attention back to Bail. "Organa. Davits tells me you have the disc. Does it say how long we have before the freighter is scheduled to break berth?"

"Let me check." Bail pulled out his data-pad and thumbed through the pages on the screen. "A few days, a week at most," he said, reading over the newly duplicated report. "According to this, it is awaiting one final delivery before it can depart. My guess is that it's something important —so important that the manifest simply states it as being classified, and that it's coming from some place called Rhinnal State."

Classified, Padmé mentally repeated. Could it be a weapon of some kind, one that the Empire didn't even want their own people knowing about? The churning in her stomach started up again, and she casually dropped her hand down to rub it. She wondered; was the sickness this bad the last time? So much had happened since her previous pregnancy with the twins, that she could no longer remember each individual little detail. The churning subsided, and she was once again able to focus on the conversation.

"Good," Haxen said, even as another thundering explosion went off in the background. He shot a brief glance over his shoulder as if to check his surroundings, then sighed. "Providing we survive ... that should buy us enough time to finish up here, and still make it back before it leaves Coruscant."

"Haxen," Draven angrily cut in. "Leave Gererra's men take care of themselves. It's what they're good at. We need you and Roland back here. Our men don't have the necessary experience to handle this kind of operation."

The darker-haired man frowned, his jaw noticeably stiffening. "Damn it, Draven! The partisans aren't the only ones copping it here," Haxen snapped. "The planet is under siege. Kachirho is gone, and so are the Shadowlands. All burnt to a cinder by those blasted star destroyers. At least two of their villages have been ransacked, and the distress calls keep flooding in. We can't just abandon them now —the Wookies need us!"

His reasoning, however admirable as it was, didn't seem to be enough to satisfy the Colonel. Draven slammed his hand down on a nearby surface, his face twisting into a scowl. "We need you," he insisted. "Max still hasn't fully recovered from his injuries and you're the best slicer we have. If something goes wrong—"

Another voice unexpectedly broke through their transmission, and Padmé couldn't tell if it had come from Haxen's channel, or Draven's. She looked between the two holos, trying to decide which ... when Haxen suddenly jerked his hand up to the projector, cutting off the Colonel's protests.

"Hax!" a rough and panicked voice bellowed over the channel, and a thick-set bearded man thundered into view. He grabbed at Haxen's arm and tugged on it. "Get out front now. We've got trouble."

Haxen shoved the man's hand away and glared at him. "Blast it all, Roland, we've had trouble for hours," he growled back. "What is it now. Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"

The bearded-man, the one Haxen had just referred to as Roland, didn't back down. He grabbed hold of both arms this time and shook him hard. "Hax, listen," he said panting heavily, the unmistakable look of fear etched upon his face. "One of them kriffing Imp shuttles just landed in the clearing. It's ... him, Hax. It's Vader. The cocky cyborg just strode right out into the middle of everything, swinging that damned red light-sword of his!"

Padmé grabbed at her concealed wrist-com, squeezing the gifted leather gauntlet tight. Anakin was on Kashyyyk? Was that the mission he'd told her about? Was that why he was so uptight when she'd spoken to him?

Ferus hurriedly pushed in front of the desk. "Get your men out of there, Haxen!" he said, stabbing his finger at the holo. "Vader's a one man army. You have no idea what he's capable of."

Bail shot Padmé the briefest of glances before joining in with the older Jedi. "I agree with Ferus," he said. "If Darth Vader is there, then I'm afraid the battle is already lost. The best you can do now, is come back. We can work out how to help the Wookies after, but you cannot do that if you're dead."

"Go back?" Roland yelled, shoving his way further into view. He glowered at Haxen and shook his fist at him. "No, this might be the only chance we ever get at him. Think about it, Hax; we can take him. Gererra's boys are hitting him hard with everything they've got. Blasters, thermals, hailfires ... whatever they can find. Something's gotta take that blasted helmet off his head. Even those three Jedi kids and their Master just ran down after him. We can't just give up now."

Haxen sighed and clapped his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Roland, I think they're right. We should leave. We'll be more help to the Wookies when we're better prepared. This is not a fight we can win."

Padmé's heart was pounding, and she could feel the heat radiating from the japoor snippet hanging on her chest. The rest of the group carried on debating, oblivious to the silent internal struggle going on right alongside them. She massaged the wrist-com through her sleeve, wanting nothing more than to contact her husband ... just to hear his voice ... to know he was still alright. But she couldn't, not in here at least. Sith or not, he was still her husband —still her Ani— and all she could think about, was that right now he was in trouble.

Fear. That's all she could feel. Fear for Anakin, for herself, for their future, for the Wookies ... for everyone. She was totally and completely surrounded by it. Drowning in it. Could physically taste it...

And it was coming from everywhere.

Her insides churned; twisted and balled into a knot so tight that she squeezed her hands into fists to try and ignore it. It didn't work, if anything it only seemed to make her more frustrated. Frustrated and annoyed that she was standing in a room full of men that wanted nothing more than to see her Ani dead.

That was it, she wasn't taking it anymore. She scowled at their backs —at the lot of them— then turned and strode for the door, contacting Commander Bly on her wrist-com.

"Commander," she said, not giving him a chance to respond as she stormed past the sofa. "Bring Dormé and meet me at the turbolift. We're leaving."