Chapter 2. Impasse
Obi-Wan Kenobi fell out of an uncharacteristically deep sleep as though he had been thrown off a cliff.
Something was terribly wrong.
Anakin. Something had happened to Anakin.
He jumped up and strove to regain his focus, reaching out in his mind for his constant companion of ten years. His Padawan.
Anakin was gone.
Think.
Anakin had been sent on assignment to Naboo with Senator Amidala. Again. That was in order. That was where he was supposed to be.
But no. Anakin was truly gone. The link between them – the telepathic link between Master and Padawan – was no longer there. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he probed the place that Anakin had filled. It was a painful gouge in his awareness.
He has left me. He cut our bond and he has left me.
Obi-Wan fumbled for his console and checked, not very optimistically, to see whether he could find Anakin's transponder signal.
Of course not.
Maybe something has happened to him. Maybe he is hurt, or dead. He wouldn't just cut me off like that. He would not give up everything he has worked for. That we have worked for. He wouldn't abandon the Order.
Obi-Wan calmed himself and stretched out with his feelings with a somewhat un-Knightly sense of urgency. His awareness surged through the quarters they shared in the Jedi temple, finding traces of Anakin everywhere like the shifting and thinning pictures in clouds. He searched more deeply. He found wisps of sadness and regret. There were clumps of determination and tendrils of guile. And love. And loneliness. And very clearly, he found intent.
Anakin was gone, and he had deliberately separated himself from his Master.
Stunned, Obi-Wan searched within himself to understand why.
* * * * *
The Queen's Yacht was unlike any other ship in Naboo's otherwise modest fleet. Designed for protocol, diplomacy and entertaining it was larger and more luxurious than the other starships and provided many of the amenities of palace life. Although travel at light speed made short work of most journeys, the Yacht provided the opportunity for longer, slower journeys, for off-planet diplomatic encounters and for high-level meetings while in transit. It contained luxurious staterooms and servant's quarters, a galley and dining salon, two conference rooms, and even an elegant Salon where guests could meet and mingle. The centerpiece of the Salon was a large viewing port – a great luxury, but one that befitted the overall style and purpose of the vessel.
The entire complement of passengers had been quickly and efficiently settled in their quarters. The Senator and her handmaidens occupied the Queen's suite of staterooms on the starboard side of the Salon. The D'laian delegation had similar accommodation to port. Security personnel, staff and crew were housed in a separate section of cabins aft of the dining salon and conference rooms. The larger of the two conference rooms was immediately in use as the two delegations faced off on another round of negotiations before the ship had even lifted off.
As a luxury liner with minimal armament and no fighters of its own, an escort wing to discourage piracy and assure the safety of its important passengers generally accompanied the yacht. On this journey it had been agreed that the ship would travel unaccompanied from Coruscant to the outskirts of the D'laian system. There a complement of D'laian fighters would rendezvous with the Naboo ship and provide a largely ceremonial escort to Naboo, where the finalized treaty would be announced.
That didn't leave much time to finalize the treaty. That was a problem because the Naboo and the D'laians were at complete disagreement on several points, not the least of which was the D'laian's insistence that the agreement be sealed in the method common to their own culture – through a marriage between members of the ruling elite. Since Naboo's aristocratic culture was shot through with the annoying economic and social egalitarianism of democracy – an elected Queen with a limited term; had one ever heard of such a thing? – the D'laians had decided that Senator Amidala would fit their requirements for a suitable partner of equivalent social and economic value. At least she had formerly held the title of Queen, and even had some small reputation as a warrior.
It was nothing personal. D'laian law contained very interesting provisions for ownership of and disposal of assets between partners joined in this way. No wonder the entire planet of D'lai was in the hands of a relatively small ruling class.
The D'laian's were openly offended at the unwillingness of the Naboo to concede on this point. They had gone out of their way to select a prime partner for the Naboo woman. Wolan was a member in good standing of one of the finest houses, and had an outstanding reputation as a warrior – surely the most important criterion of all. He was young enough to be appealing, if the Naboo were silly enough to care about that sort of thing when it came to forming alliances. Surely there could be no objections. All that remained was for the planetary government to allocate to the Senator a suitable dowry, and the treaty could be completed.
The Naboo Foreign Minister thought that in his entire thirty – year career in the Foreign Service, including a long stint as Senator, he had never encountered people as arrogant and unyielding the D'laians. As chief negotiator on this mission he had the onerous task of leading this distasteful treaty negotiation. He found the assignment deeply unpleasant, not least because the Senator herself had insisted on being part of every minute of every meeting. It was difficult enough to deal with the matter-of-factness with which the D'laians bought and sold individual lives and careers without having to sit next to the woman whose fate was being so forcefully and insistently bartered.
Privately, he felt sorry for her. No one on Naboo had ever intended for the Senator to actually go through with the arrangement once the D'laians had added the marriage condition onto the package on the table. They thought it was simply another negotiating point. But over the last few days he had watched the D'laians concede point after point without ever moving on this one. It had now become the make-or-break condition of the treaty, and no one was budging. That had placed the young Senator squarely into the position of either conceding to the untenable arrangement at great personal cost, or refusing and thereby risking armed conflict with the D'laians, who were a formidable military power in the sector.
The Foreign Minister did not doubt for a moment that the D'laian's would turn on Naboo if crossed. With the Galaxy at war and attention turned elsewhere, they knew they could get away with it. The small planet contained many resources coveted by the Warrior race, to be sure. But at this point the Foreign Minister was convinced that the D'laian's code of honor alone was enough to make them regard Naboo as an enemy simply because their demands had not been met.
Barbarians, he thought bitterly. Glittering, self-important, unyielding barbarians. Impulsively and uncharacteristically he reached over to pat the young Senator's hand. He felt powerless to help her.
* * * * *
Padmé was running out of ideas. She fervently wanted to tell the Queen to marry the man herself. But it was also completely outside of Padmé Amidala's character to inflict a burden on someone else that she would not carry herself. Hour after hour for days she had come up with alternate options. The D'laians stood firm on the point of the marriage.
This morning in her office she had barely been able to prevent that Wolan person from announcing the marriage on the spot, even without her formal concession. For him it was as good as done, and he saw no reason to listen to any more objections from her.
Here on the ship, coming closer and closer to Naboo, she was as far away from a solution as before. When she felt the foreign minister's hand on hers she realized with a staggering sense of loneliness that he had given up. The choice was hers: an abomination of a marriage or endangering the planet she had served unquestioningly all her life.
Padmé thought back ten years to another attempt to subjugate Naboo. Chancellor Valorum had responded to the Trade Federation's blockade by sending Jedi negotiators. There were only two – a Master and a Padawan. Their modest presence had been enough to instill fear in the Trade Federation, but that fear had only served to make the enemy more dangerous.
She allowed herself to think a little bit about Anakin – at least about his presence on this ship. Clearly the Chancellor had arranged it. But why? There had been no mission briefing. His Master was not with him. He was on his own. He was not even a Knight. Would his presence have an effect on the negotiations simply because he was Jedi?
Suddenly Padmé surprised herself and everyone else in the conference room by standing up and demanding a recess in the meeting. The impulse came before the rational thought. Without waiting for an answer, she fled the conference room and walked unerringly toward the Salon, telling herself only that she needed to think. She did not admit to herself that she was really looking for Anakin, as though he held the answer to all of her questions. As though he could save her.
* * * * *
Anakin stood alone before the large viewing port in the Salon like a dark statue silhouetted against the vastness of deep space. He was so still and his outline against the starry illumination was so faint that an idle passenger wandering into the salon might not even notice him at first. The Salon was empty except for a small group of Naboo who sat together at the other end of the spacious room, chatting and having drinks. They had long since forgotten the young Jedi's presence, if they had ever even noticed it to begin with. He had been standing there for a long time.
Anakin had spent the first few hours on board thoroughly familiarizing himself with the ship and the people aboard. He had given considerable attention to learning about the D'laians. What he had learned so far did not give him comfort. Now he had nothing to do but wait.
Idleness was his darkest enemy. He could cope with anything but a lack of purpose. Meditation was an acceptable and useful kind of stillness as far as he was concerned but this business of having nothing to do and nowhere to go was a rarefied form of torture. It meant that his mind was not fully occupied with a task, and that allowed room for the thoughts that he most wanted to avoid. The thoughts that lurked inside him like demons.
He hated how much he missed Obi-Wan.
He hated feeling guilty for having severed his telepathic bond with his Master this morning when he left and not even having said goodbye properly.
He hated the deepening realization that their bond had been so much more than a way for his Master to check on his whereabouts.
He hated feeling lost and lonely. It was like being orphaned again, only this time it was his own doing. All because his passion for Padmé had become the bright center of his universe, blinding him to all the other parts of his life.
He also found that he hated having – well, no proper status. As a Jedi Knight he would have arrived here with a clear mission and a full background briefing. He would have been present at all meetings. His advice would have been asked for and respected and he would have been given the authority to make decisions.
Instead all that Anakin had going for him was a grudging agreement that he could tag along if he stayed out of the way.
Padmé was unavailable. Meetings between the D'laian and Nubian delegations had continued as soon as the Star Cruiser lifted off. He had not seen her once since coming on board, and there was no way to know whether he would even get the opportunity.
Typho had been right. Anakin hated that, too.
Misery began to stalk him like a shadow.
You are now master of yourself, he reminded himself. You can decide your own actions from now on. You are free.
The bittersweet demon thoughts suggested that freedom might always be lonely.
Anakin looked inside himself with the intention of strangling the demon voices and found instead his own bright, shining center. Not loneliness. Padmé. He felt her presence. He turned around and she was there. Misery lost its foothold and the voices stilled.
* * * * *
After the abrupt departure of that Senator woman, Wolan decided to follow her rather than trying to gain a strategic advantage with the old man during her absence. He had a sneaking feeling that she was up to something. He had already made up his mind not to allow her to confer with her security team or the other passengers, and now he wanted to know where she was going and why. He signaled to the three young warriors who were his constant companions, bowed to the people who still remained seated around the large conference table and followed he at a discrete distance. Action was better than that stupid talking any day.
She didn't get far. He followed her into the Salon, lengthening his stride so he entered the room only a few paces behind her. He saw her walk unhesitatingly across the room toward the viewing port.
And then he saw the Jedi.
Battle-rage rose in him like heat. She had no business inviting the Jedi here. It was none of their concern what kind of treaty was made with Naboo. The D'laians never allowed those sneaking sorcerers to get involved in their affairs.
"Senator Amidala!" Wolan's voice cut across the quiet room like a blaster bolt.
The woman stopped momentarily as though she had been struck, then continued to walk forward without turning until she stood at the Jedi's side. Only then did she turn her gaze toward him.
"Senator, I must insist that you return to the negotiating table." Wolan did not look at her as he spoke. His eyes were locked on the hated Jedi. "Unless, of course, you wish to concede on all points."
"I will return when I have finished speaking with Jedi Skywalker," she said coldly. "You may wait for me in the conference room."
No woman had the right to speak to a D'laian warrior in that way.
"Our negotiations are not a matter for the Chancellor and his lapdogs," he snarled. "Our business must remain between us."
The Jedi had not moved.
"I will not ask you again, D'ai Wolan," said the insufferable woman, "You must do me the courtesy of returning to your delegation until I have completed my business here. You are a guest on my ship."
When she put it that way, Wolan had to back down. For now. But he would not forget this insult. Grudgingly he turned on his heel and left the Salon without so much as a bow, and with his minions tagging along behind.
If the D'laian warrior had known more about the silent Jedi at the Senator's side he would perhaps not have spoken with such confidence. He did not know how little stood between him and his immediate demise.
* * * * *
Anakin had listened to the entire exchange with an ice-cold heart.
The other passengers in the Salon were now staring at Anakin and Padmé with undisguised fascination. They could no longer speak privately. But Anakin could sense everything that was in her heart and on her mind, and she in turn gained strength from his mere presence. At this moment his fierce protectiveness felt like the only safe place in the world.
Padmé turned her back on the spectators and gazed unseeingly out the viewing port. Anakin turned with her.
"I have to go back in," she whispered, "but I need to see you. I will send Sabé when I can."
"Let me help you," he said quietly. "You know that I will do anything you ask. Anything."
"The D'laians seem to believe I am plotting against them with you."
"Then," Anakin said, with grim satisfaction, "let them continue to think so."
Padmé remained standing next to him as long as she dared. Somehow it gave her strength. Then she whispered, "I have to go back."
"You don't have to give in to them," Anakin said with a hard edge in his voice. "There is always another way."
"I wish that were true."
Anakin could think of a number of ways to make it true, but kept them to himself.
"I will not leave you," he promised.
Padmé did not know how he could be of help, but she felt comforted. Without a backward glance, she left him and returned to her duty with a quieter heart.
Anakin went back to his window.