Chapter 2 – The Making of Plans
Waking up from deep slumber, Leia tried to work some moisture back into her mouth. She scanned her surroundings thoroughly, even though there was not much to see. A nondescript room with a narrow bunk, a small window that showed her starlines streaming by, a fresher stall and a door. Shaking her head to get rid of the dizziness that still remained, Leia sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bunk to rise. Her stomach rumbled at her demandingly. She got to her feet gingerly, feeling as if she were balancing on a thin rail above a black abyss. It felt strange, but she put it down to the after-effects of the stun bolt, and maybe some mild drug. Nothing she could not handle.
Her eyes sought the bunk again longingly, but she refused to give in to weakness. Instead she walked over to the window and leaned her head against it. Reaching out to the stars, the way her father had shown her, she made herself feel them, feel the invisible field connecting them. He had claimed that it was possible to touch the Force anywhere, if one only knew how to listen properly, and right now Leia was smiling as she let it fill her consciousness, washing away her weariness. Would she be able to call out to her friends and family? Would Luke be able to hear her? Her father? She tried, forming words in her mind. Luke! Father! There was no reply. Perhaps they were too far away.
Her mind open to the Force and her surroundings she picked up the presence approaching easily. He was nervous in an absent-minded sort of way, and his thoughts seemed to be drifting in several directions at once. Turning toward the door Leia composed herself, wondering if she looked as regal and calm as she felt. She wore her confidence like a shield, but when the door opened she was almost disappointed to see that it was only Nasdra Magrody. The elderly man looked at her in confusion, then gave her a small, friendly smile.
"They said I was to bring you to their quarters," he began in a soft, slurred voice. Leia winced. He was obviously drugged.
"Lead the way," she answered coolly and nodded at him. He turned around and started walking down the hallway. Following him, Leia studied the corridor closely. She could try to get to an escape pod or something, of course, but while they were in hyperspace, any attempt to flee would be useless anyway. Suppressing a sigh, the princess tried her best to scour her memory for any ship type with a set-up like this one had. None came to mind during their short trip.
"We are here," Magrody announced suddenly, stopping in front of a cabin door that opened immediately. Leia recognized the woman who sat on her chair like a queen, a slender boy at her side. The black hair and fair skin made him her son. His blue eyes though were a stark contrast to her almost black gaze, and they were far colder than hers. Stepping into the cabin, Leia smiled in imitation of her father. He always managed to upset people that way.
"Thank you, professor," the woman said sweetly. "That will be all." She waited until Magrody had disappeared again, closing the door behind him. "Princess, it is an honor to have you with us."
"Maybe you will tell me now who you are and what you want from me?" Leia asked calmly, refusing to acknowledge fear or anxiety.
"Of course. You do not recognize me, do you?"
"Should I know you?"
"Perhaps. We have not been formally introduced. My name is Roganda Ismaren, and this is my son, Irek."
Leia stared. Roganda Ismaren? She remembered her now, one of Palpatine's concubines, met at one court function or other. Leia had been a girl back then, attending those functions at her father's side, usually, and she had had no interest in making the acquaintance of that exquisite group of women that had always seemed to cluster together, watching the others watch them, like some strange, exotic creatures. Her son? Leia's eyes narrowed as she studied the boy more closely. She estimated him two years younger than herself, but there was a darkness about him she found unsettling. Suddenly it came to her. He was Force-sensitive. Well, if his father was who Roganda's past hinted at, this should not have come as a surprise. Palpatine's heir? Maybe. Leia' mind was racing with the possibilities. But then she stopped herself again. Why speculate when Roganda was right there to answer her questions?
"I remember you," she said at last. "And perhaps I should not be surprised that you chose to abandon Coruscant before the Alliance conquered it."
"That was no conquest, my dear. It was a treasonous plot designed by your father and the Grand Admiral. Surprised? I know who you are, and what you are," Roganda countered coolly.
Leia shook her head. "Why should I be surprised? This has been public knowledge for the past months. I know your kind. I have to deal with them every day. I have heard far worse than this." She smiled again. "So, what do you want? Your son to take his rightful place as Emperor?" The boy gave a soft snort and his mother shot him an icy glare that told Leia a lot of things.
"You may mock me as you wish, Princess, but I am not alone with my views. There are many who still believe in the Empire."
"And many more who curse the Emperor's memory. Whatever you are planning, Roganda Ismaren, you can only fail."
"On the contrary." Reclining in her chair the small woman was smiling warmly. "My son will take what is his, and no one will be able to stop him. Not you, nor your father."
"So it is him you are afraid of? I should have known this was your reason for kidnapping me."
"An insurance, in a sense, yes. But rest assured that we will not harm you more than necessary. Perhaps, when you know everything, you will even come to understand our cause. And join it."
Leia laughed out loud. "Your master has taught you well, Roganda Ismaren. But if even he could not convince me, I doubt you can."
Those black eyes flashed with fury for a second. "We shall see about that, your Highness. Very soon."
"This is unfortunate," Mon Mothma was saying. "I never should have allowed her to leave on that vacation."
"She is her own woman," Padmé countered mildly.
"And Minister of State," the other woman insisted. They were seated together in the president's office, the tea growing cold in the cups standing on the desk in front of them. Mon Mothma sighed. "I have had Admiral Piett recall the Liberty before he left. He agreed with your husband. If Corellia is involved in this conspiracy, they might have taken the ship's presence as a hostile act and an excuse to refuse any talks with us."
"We do not know if it is a conspiracy yet. Anakin is preparing an investigation, but I fear he does not know where to start."
"What does Page say?"
"He is following Anakin in this. He's the schemer, after all. Once the course is clear, Page will take over."
"A schemer," Mon Mothma mused aloud. "Yes. He is well, I hope?"
"He is holding on to his temper, yes. But he is as worried as I am, maybe even more so."
"I understand. I am worried too, and not only because of Leia's disappearance."
That got Padmé's attention. "Is there something we should know?"
"No, not yet. It is the same your husband has warned me of when we founded this government. The war has not changed anything. The Core worlds might support us, but only because they were hit the hardest. A few others, like Chandrila and its neighbors, are with us too. The rest though..."
Padmé smiled. "So Piett isn't going on vacation, but on a diplomatic mission, am I right?"
The other woman nodded. "I see I did well in making you Senior Analyst for Internal Affairs."
"Then you should trust me far enough to keep me informed about such things." Padmé saw the uncertainty flicker in Mon Mothma's eyes. "You are worried that I would tell my husband?"
"To be honest, yes. This might sound foolish, but I always feel that he is measuring me by his standards, and I cannot match those. So, if I am to do my job properly, I have to make sure he knows as little as possible about what I am planning."
"Why can't you just accept his advice?" Padmé asked quietly.
Giving her an incredulous look Mon Mothma shook her head. "Because then I might as well admit that he is running the New Republic. I won't do that, Your Highness. I gave a promise to the people, and that includes protecting them from your husband. No, let me finish," she said when Padmé opened her mouth to protest. "I know your husband to some extent, I believe, but most still see a tyrant in him, a butcher, who is still alive purely on sufferance, and because he has atoned for the past by helping us win the war. He will not ever manage to shed that reputation, no matter what he does. Maybe the next generation, or the one after, will be able to give him credit for what he has gone through, what he has endured to achieve peace, but our history will be written in the future, and right now Darth Vader is still alive in the minds of everyone."
"Force help me, I know," Padmé whispered, tears in her eyes. "I wish it weren't so. But you must trust his expertise. You did so in the past, and he has not disappointed you."
Mon Mothma gave her a gentle smile. "You do not understand. I am President of the New Republic. This is my war now, not his. He has done what he could, but now we need others to take over. I have the support of the navy, I know, but they will not be needed in the battles to come. Those will be fought on a diplomatic level. I need you, your daughter, your son even. Mediators, not warriors." She leaned forward and placed a hand lightly on Padmé's forearm. "Will you tell him that?"
She swallowed hard, then nodded. "I will." Anakin would not be pleased. Not pleased at all.
They had left Yavin behind weeks ago, but Belana was suddenly not certain anymore if she had achieved anything there at all. Her eyes were dark with sorrow as she gazed out over the battle-field that went on for miles and miles. She turned her head to look at the tall man standing at her side in the cramped cockpit of the small yacht he had stolen from Coruscant what seemed like years ago.
"Was that necessary?" she asked quietly.
"Yes." He did not look at her.
"Why?"
"There is no 'why', Belana. I do what I feel is right."
"You killed I don't know many out there. What has that got to do with respect for life?" She was trying hard not to start shaking with the magnitude of what he had just done. Had she misjudged him? If so, she had unleashed a monster on this galaxy that no one would be able to stop.
He sighed deeply. "You do not understand."
"No." Belana shook her head firmly. "It is you who does not understand. You told me that you want to return to your duties, that you want to remember life over survival, that you would respect it."
She almost screamed when he seized her very suddenly, holding her head in his hands, his pale green eyes locked with hers. "You are a Jedi, Belana. You do not understand death at all. And don't give me that crap about there being no death, only the Force. If that were so you would not try to protect life at all costs."
"Let go," she said very calmly, but inside she was seething with outrage. He had admitted his errors, had realized his mistakes, only to return to his old self again as if nothing had happened, as if none of it mattered at all.
"It does matter, Belana. You reminded me that there was more to survival than I remembered, that feelings play an important role since they spark the desire for survival, the will to go on. You are no survivor, Belana. You would let your enemies strike you down for fear of falling to the Dark Side. You have forgotten the joy of being alive, the joy of pure being. You have given up part of yourself, just as I did."
"I respect life, Kell, and if I were under attack I would defend myself, just as I would protect the defenseless."
"Then don't judge me!" he roared. His right hand slipped around her neck and pushed her toward the viewport. Belana gasped in indignation. He should not be able to manhandle her like this, but somehow the most basic rules of physics did not apply to him. "Watch," he ordered coldly and flung out his left hand toward the wreckage outside. Belana did not know how long it took, but once the images faded and he let go of her again, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Seeking his cold-eyed gaze, she shook her head in denial.
"That is not right," she managed at last.
"It is life, Belana. Life hurts sometimes, and to respect life means to respect death too. Death itself is not evil."
"You are making this too easy, my friend," Belana whispered. "You cannot justify those deaths with the future. Would you kill a child just because he might turn into a murderer someday? Where do you take that right from?"
"I would never harm a child, no matter what it might become."
"Kell," she shook her head again, this time in sorrow. She understood now why he had become so cold, why he had shielded himself with logic and reason, had locked up his emotions so tightly that they became part of someone else, someone distant. No living mind could cope with this knowledge otherwise. Once upon a time his innocence and ignorance had been his sole protection, the only one he had needed. But with all that had happened, how could he stand this without going mad in the process? Could he finish his journey at all?
"I know what you are thinking," he said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts mercilessly.
"Really?"
"Yes. Here's a proposal: from this day on I will follow your advice, but under one condition."
"What condition is that?"
"You know now what I am, what my purpose is. I want you to keep that in mind. You promised to stay with me to the end, but I can only finish this if you let me do what I must. Do you agree?"
She nodded numbly. "I agree. Then I will be your conscience when you forget yourself. But don't expect me to share your view."
"I never would," he answered mildly, and for a moment Belana found herself wishing that she had killed him all those years ago.
As expected, Marten Anderland did not understand the reason for her request, but Yana did not care as long as he got the job done. Seated on the sofa, she gave him a level look that should have shown him what she thought of his protests, but the slicer was not very quick on the uptake sometimes. Fidgeting with his hands, he shrugged uncomfortably, but his face betrayed his emotions clearly.
"It's just not right, boss," he said again.
"But you can do it."
"Yes, of course -"
"Then why are we holding this discussion, Marten? I am just asking you to hack into the Coruscant Mainframe. That's a piece of cake, as you yourself assured me just a moment ago."
"But planting false information... It just isn't right."
"No one will get harmed by that. Much. The same cannot be said of you if you don't get going right now." She arched an eyebrow meaningfully. "Clear?"
"Yes, boss. Clear," he sighed and his shoulders slumped in quiet defeat. Yana suppressed a smile. Marten was an expert slicer, but he had no backbone, none at all. Which was why she did not tell him anything beyond what his tasks were.
"Good. On your way out you can tell Abla that I want to see him at once. And tell Sharam that she can get me another drink."
"Sure." Walking away dejectedly Marten was the very impersonation of hurt.
Shaking her head at his retreating back, Yana Dar rose from her seat. She had been cooped up in here for far too long already. It was time for her to have some fun, but perhaps there was a way to combine fun with the work she still had to do.
Sharam, her Twi'lek servant, came bustling in and left a tray with a pitcher and glasses on the table. A moment later Abla came in, dark eyes looking at her in a silent question. Yana pursed her lips thoughtfully as the door closed behind him.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked softly.
"Yes." Walking over to him she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. "You will get an offer for a job to perform on Corellia. You will accept it."
"Corellia?" he sounded surprised. "You want me to go to Corellia?"
"No, dummy, I want you to get that job done. Ten thousand credits worth, I believe. All yours."
"Wow. Sounds like a treat." Abla was smiling now, and his joy was infectious. Yana laughed.
"Yes, it does." Snuggling against him she closed her eyes. "But alas you will be on your own in this. Our guests are arriving tomorrow and I will be leaving with them for Yaga Minor soon. I hope you don't mind."
"As long as you stay out of trouble, girl."
"Don't worry." She sighed as he started kissing her shoulders tenderly. "Have you made any progress in tracking down Magrody?"
"Not yet. I have made inquiries that might turn up some leads eventually."
"Eventually. Maybe I will find out something tomorrow. We need him."
"I know."
The door slid open almost noiselessly, and Yana growled deep in her throat, angry at the unwelcome intrusion. "Sharam," she snapped as she caught sight of the alien woman over Abla's shoulder. "What is it?"
"His Exalted Highness Joral requires your presence, mistress," the Twi'lek answered demurely, her eyes cast to the floor.
"Does he now," Yana muttered under her breath. "Very well. Six hours. Tell him that."
"Yes, mistress."
Once she had disappeared again Abla's eyes darkened. "What does that Hutt slime want now?"
"I have no idea yet," she replied cautiously. She had her suspicions though. It was no secret that the Hutts were aiming at building their own little Empire, and Joral had dealt with her often enough to have some clue as to how extensive her network really was. With her headquarters in his proximity he had a good position in making claims to being her most-favored customer. He might be useful, but dangerous too. Well, she simply would have to be careful then. Giving Abla a slow smile, she traced her index finger along his jaw gently. "Would you help me get dressed?"
Five hours later she stepped down the landing ramp of her personal yacht Firebird, accompanied only by Sharam. Abla had insisted she take some guards with her, but Yana knew how to play on the Hutt's vanity. He would like seeing her helpless and deferential, and she would give him just that. As long as
he thought her knowledge useful, he would not harm her, that she was sure of. His majordomo, a fat Twi'lek by the name of Haman, was waiting for her amidst a contingent of Gammorean guards. Yana raised her eyebrows in surprise, but did not comment.
"His Exalted Highness Joral sends his greetings, Mistress Dar," Haman began, his oily voice as disgusting as ever. He was ogling her openly, and that in itself was even more of an outrage. True, she had chosen her attire for complimenting her figure, but that was for Joral, not his lackeys. Well, Joral would learn of this. Nodding carefully she gave Haman her coldest stare.
"I thank his Highness. Why the escort? Have things turned that bad on Nal Hutta?"
"Not at all. But his Highness wants to extend his courtesy to you, as he would to any ambassador."
"How thoughtful of him." Yana smiled. "Then my thanks must be tenfold. If you would take me to him now?"
"Of course. Transport is waiting outside."
Han Solo was putting on his best face as he was put through to Baron-administrator Calrissian. Who would have thought that a man like Lando would become respectable one day? Lando was a con-man, or had been when he was younger, but apparently he had now decided to do something for his retirement after all. At last the still image of the Bespin Corporation's logo dissolved into the baron's darkly handsome face. He gave Han a long look before he nodded.
"Good to see you again, Han, although it comes a bit of a surprise."
"Really? Well, I thought I might want to say hello."
"And spend a mass of credits on a long-distance hypercomm call? Encrypted, as I notice. What's up?"
Han scowled at him. "Well, since we are done with the pleasantries, I need your help."
"My help? Who's been running across the galaxy playing hero with Chewbacca? No, my friend, I am too old for this."
"Listen, it is urgent."
"Government job?" Lando asked suspiciously.
"No, personal."
"Oh," his friend brightened up. "What happened?"
"That's kinda what I wanted to ask you. Can we meet someplace private?"
"Where are you?"
"On my way in."
"In?" Lando frowned at something off the screen. "I see. Always good for nasty surprises. I'll have someone escort you over. Is that the Falcon?"
"Of course," Han replied, scandalized. "Think I would exchange her for any other ship?"
"Make your request and I might make you an offer," Lando said with a grin.
"No way. The Falcon's mine," the Corellian growled.
"We'll see for how long. See you later, Han."
So Han found himself following Bespin Security Patrolboats into the cloud-ridden atmosphere of the planet. The sun was playing along the white mist rising from the gas mines, and the gas itself magnified the different hues of the light. It was a magnificent view, and Cloud City, the planet's only major town, rose into the sky like something unreal. It floated on repulsors above the surface, a gigantic umbrella that shone in metallic gray and white as the Falcon drew closer. Han was smiling despite himself. This truly looked like a magical place. And perhaps here he would find the assistance he needed to get Leia back.
Settling the ship down on one of the city's landing pads, he exited cautiously. No one was waiting for him. He closed in on the blast doors, feeling slightly uneasy. Lando was not exactly a good friend. He had been, a long time ago, but so much had happened that Han could not be sure if he would help him. He could hardly turn back now, though. He had to try, for Leia's sake.
The door slid open to reveal a bald-headed human who turned out to be a cyborg on second glance. A blinking interface module encircled the back of his head from ear to ear and he gave Han an expressionless look before he turned around, apparently wanting the Corellian to follow.
Walking through the bright hallways of Cloud City, Han felt strangely elated. It was beautiful - truly so. People were milling along the corridors inside and generous walkways outside, a mix that appealed to Han. They all looked peaceful enough. Lando probably did not allow any thugs in Cloud City. They crossed a domed plaza that sported rows upon rows of balconies seemingly reaching up into the sky and groups of people dotted the square, talking among themselves, haggling, perhaps. They certainly had the air of traders. The Corellian grinned to himself. Lando was probably finding some ways of relieving them of their credits. You could take the con-man out of the fringe, but the con-man remained.
Then a piece of conversation drifted over, almost making Han stop dead in his stride.
"... know that as well as you do. The question is, how is Joral dealing with it?"
It were not the words themselves, but the voice. Deep and resonant, it seemed designed to captivate the attention of any listener. Han had heard it only once before, and that one time had been enough to never let him forget the owner of that voice. Roj Kell.
Turning his head carefully he threw a quick glance over the crowd, and he thought he could make out someone in the back, a tall man with long, white hair, but then the cyborg had already led him out of the chamber again. Han suppressed a shiver. Kell was dead, or so he had believed. He would have to ask Lando if he knew anything. And he needed to warn the Republic. There was no telling what the old man was up to, if that really had been him, if he really was alive.
The cyborg entered a turbo-lift, waiting for Han to join him. They went three levels up and found themselves in another hallway, this one empty. The cyborg gestured toward a tall door and nodded. Han went ahead and pressed the door controls.
"Han." Looking up from his desk Lando Calrissian gave him a warm smile. "It's been a long time."
Han nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's true. You've done well, it would seem," he said, taking in the rich surroundings pointedly. Lando laughed.
"Well, we all do what we can. Han Solo, hero of the Rebel Alliance, I hear. You've done pretty well yourself, except for your in-laws, maybe."
"Not yet, not yet," Han sighed wistfully and dropped down in a chair that sat opposite from the desk.
"You say you need my help," Calrissian began again, more serious this time. "If this has anything to do with the Imperial renegades..."
Han waved his hand dismissively. "They've kept pretty quiet over the past year and we pick up deserters almost every day."
"I wasn't really talking about the military."
"What?" Sitting forward Han was staring at his friend. "What do you know?"
"Bespin is a haven for everyone who wants to make easy deals, without legal burdens, you understand. Doesn't Karrde know?"
"If he does, he didn't tell me."
Lando smiled smugly. "Ah, interesting. Well, I hear a few things, and they tell me that something's afoot. Something big."
"You can't get any more precise, can you."
"Not yet. Sorry."
"Do you know Yana Dar?"
Calrissian's face lit up. "A very charming lady. Runs her business from Nar Shadaa, very successfully too."
"Can you get me into contact with one of her people?"
"Who?"
"His name is Abla Othana."
"The slicer? That will cost you. He's the best there is."
"Never mind the credits. This is important."
"Well, I can set you two up, no problem, but I want to know why. You said it was personal?"
"I'd rather not tell you."
"Come on!" Lando spread his arms theatrically. "Don't you trust me?"
"Well -"
"All right. A deal then." Lando fixed him with a non-nonsense glare. "I will get you Abla and no questions asked if you tell me what this is about the New Republic preparing for war again."
Han's jaw dropped. "I know nothing about that," he managed at last. "Who started that rumour?"
"I have no idea. So you don't know, eh? What about Vader?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
"I'm not suicidal. All right, Han, here's the deal: Abla for that piece of information. You've got the connections, and it would mean a lot to me to know for sure."
"Done." Han extended his right hand and Lando took it, squeezing hard. "And now you can tell me what this talk about Joral is about."
Lounging on a heavy stone dais Joral's dark brown bulk almost merged with the gloom that filled his reception hall. Only his golden eyes were clearly visible, and they seemed to want to pierce into her head as she walked closer and stopped at a respectful distance. Bowing slowly Yana was smiling to herself.
"Your Exalted Highness, how may I serve you?" she began formally. He boomed a thunderous laugh.
"In many ways, esteemed Yana Dar, but there is one request I have to make that takes precedence over all others."
"What request is that?"
"You know my plans for the future, Yana Dar, but those plans will not come to fruition without your assistance."
"If you need information I will certainly make a special price for you," she told him with a teasing smile.
"Not information, little human," Joral replied. "I need you to perform a service for me, a small mission."
Yana gritted her teeth. Who did he think he was! But aloud she said: "I am sure we can come to an agreement. What mission is that?"
"I hear many things, Yana Dar, and of late I hear that the Minister of State of the New Republic has disappeared."
"I hear the same."
"Then these rumours are true?"
"They are highly probable," she conceded cautiously. If he suspected that she knew more than he did on the matter...
"I want you to find out where she is and bring her to me. If you do the job no one will suspect me. No one must suspect, Yana Dar, if my plans are to succeed."
"Find her?" She blinked her eyes in surprise. It was not even all fake. "That will take time, Your Highness."
"I have faith in you, Yana Dar."
"An honour," she murmured softly and bowed again. "If I may ask though, what purpose does this mission have?"
"The New Republic will move against us." Suppressing a startled 'what' Yana kept her features blank. That was new to her. She would have to confirm that rumour with her sources on Coruscant immediately once she was back in her office. "If we have the Minister of State we can convince her that we have the means to make that war very bloody."
"And anger her father in the process. Not very healthy that," Yana reminded him.
"Ah, but the esteemed Mon Mothma will not dare unleash him again, lest she lose the support of her allies."
"The navy is on his side more than hers. How do you propose to keep them in check?"
"Do not worry yourself with that, Yana Dar. I trust you will find out soon enough anyway, but for now you need not know more."
She gritted her teeth in frustration. "Of course. Then I shall leave and prepare that little mission for you. With your permission?"
"Of course. Visit me again soon, Yana Dar. I enjoy your company immensely."
That she did not doubt.
On her way back to Nar Shadaa Yana was busying herself with speculations on who might have spread that rumour about the New Republic, and to what purpose. The first who came to mind was Talon Karrde. He had excellent business ties to the new government, but he would not reveal sensitive information if they were not meant to be revealed. Right now she could see no way how such a rumor might benefit the New Republic though, except maybe to keep the Hutts from gaining allies.
Allies. She could not see Joral accepting any ally at all, at least not on equal terms. Suddenly she wished that Abla and Anderland had already finished their work on the program. She needed that knowledge badly, especially now that circumstances seemed to be changing.
Another thought came to her. If Ismaren had heard that rumor too, she might not want to come to Nar Shadaa.
"Sharam," she said softly. "Have there been any calls in my absence?"
"None, mistress."
"Good. If Roganda Ismaren calls I will speak to her without delay."
"Yes, mistress."
Of course, if Ismaren herself was the instigator of that rumor, things looked very different. Leaning back in her seat, Yana permitted herself a tiny smile. With all the various fractions she had to handle, life would not get boring too soon, that much was clear. Good. She hated boredom almost as much as she hated the Hutts. But Joral did not suspect anything yet and she would make sure that he remained ignorant until it was too late.
"You already talked to Karrde?" Padmé shouted, face red with anger. She seldom lost her temper, but when she did it truly was a sight to behold. Anakin merely shrugged. "I asked you to do what I tell you to, Anakin," she continued more calmly, but she was still furious, he could sense that easily. "Have you forgotten your promise already?"
"There was no time to ask for permission first," he countered, mentally preparing himself for another outburst. It did not come. And the expression on her face, a mixture of disappointment and regret, made his skin crawl with concern. Had he gone too far? Padmé shook her head slowly and sank down on her chair with a drawn-out sigh.
"You are not making things better this way. Why did you do that anyway?"
"I could only think of three factions who might profit from Leia's disappearance. One, the Imperial warlords we haven't managed to get on our side. Yes, I know they've kept to themselves, but if they think our attention might be focused elsewhere, we could goad them into making a fatal move."
"Far too risky. Anakin, they have enough fire-power to rekindle the war, and Mon Mothma won't let you command the fleet again. The New Republic would be easy game if they move fast enough. And you want to provoke them?"
"Just listen, okay? The second faction are the remnants of Palpatine's court. They might merge with the military, maybe they already have, but I know for sure they would only grudgingly agree to share power with the army. If they believe we are targeting the Hutts, they might also make the same mistake and try to find allies against us. Should they put in their lot with the warlords, they'll wait until our back is turned, too."
"I see. And the third?"
"The Hutts, obviously."
"What's the catch here?"
"If they have Leia, they will produce her soon enough to keep us away. If they are smart though, they won't do that."
"Then we have gained nothing. Anakin, this is all speculation." She frowned at him. "Or is it?"
Anakin smiled broadly. "Well, not entirely. Solo called. He had some news."
"What news?"
"First, he has found himself a slicer and he wanted money to pay him off. So don't be alarmed if our account dwindles a bit. I gave him the codes." Now Padmé looked amused. "What?"
"Nothing, dear. I just thought for someone who threatened to rip his heart out, among a few other things, you are surprisingly generous."
"Well, she is my daughter too. And Solo has his good sides, admittedly. Sometimes."
"Very generous indeed," Padmé mused aloud. "The other news?"
"Apparently there's some rumor floating about. You know that Joral has more or less inherited Jabba's little empire?" She nodded. "Apparently he wants to expand. The problem is that some Twi'lek are thinking about breaking their business ties with the Hutts and come to the New Republic instead."
Laughing out loud Padmé rose from her seat and came over to hug him. "Anakin! That is brilliant! I suppose Karrde will get into contact with that group for us?"
"Of course. Maybe we can use them to scare off Joral's supporters. Then he'll forget about expansion fast."
Patting his chest, Padmé was grinning at him. "That was a very good idea." She sobered again. "Unfortunately I have some bad news for you."
"What bad news?"
"Mon Mothma wants you to keep out of her affairs. In short, my dear, you have been retired."
"What? I thought she wanted my military advice?"
"She says the war ahead is a diplomatic one and that she wants to fight it without your help."
"I see. You will not be able to tell me anything of what is going on any longer?" She nodded mutely. Anakin felt like cursing. "Nice. She is pushing me out of the government and I am left to twiddle my thumbs. I should have known she would get back at me for taking charge during the war. What does she think I'll keep myself busy with?"
"I don't know. Gardening?" Padmé giggled. "Anakin, you have to understand her point of view."
"I do, believe me, but I don't like it."
"Understandable. I will try to convince her otherwise. She has to see reason too. She might deny it but she needs you."
"There's a great difference between what we want and what we need. Well, I know what I need."
"Do you?"
"Yes. A vacation. So maybe I will let you run the show for a change."
Squinting at him suspiciously, Padmé was silent for quite some time. Finally she asked, very slowly and deliberately. "Anakin Skywalker. What are you really up to?"
TBC