Chapter 9. Siege
Padmé was silent as she walked toward her stateroom with her ever-present protector by her side, turning the situation in which they found themselves over and over in her mind. It was not a peaceful silence.
"What is it?" Anakin asked, sensing her feelings without being able to attribute them.
Padmé didn't answer. They reached the stateroom, Anakin ushered her inside and made sure the door was secure. He checked both rooms to make certain they were alone.
"Have I done something wrong?" he asked into unnerving silence.
"You are.... remarkable, Anakin," she said shortly when she finally did speak. "You constantly surprise me."
"Sometimes I surprise myself," he admitted.
Padmé yanked off her veil and flung it onto the nearest chair. Anakin was visibly taken aback by the intensity of her emotions.
"Is it the D'laians?"
Padmé stood in the center of the stateroom with her arms crossed as though she were holding herself together.
"What's wrong?" he persisted. "Tell me. Is it…is it my fault?
"I'm angry at myself," Padmé finally said. "I feel like a fool."
"You are anything but a fool," Anakin protested, needing to protect her even from herself. "It is a difficult situation."
Padmé took a deep breath. "It's not just the D'laians," she said. "It's everything." She was holding on to herself tightly. Anakin took a step toward her but hesitated, uncertain.
"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "If I have done something to upset you …something I shouldn't…"
"Oh, Anakin," Padmé said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm here in the middle of a political crisis. My ship, my people and now possibly my planet are in danger. I have to face the fact that I have shown very poor judgment." She looked at him, taking in the hesitant, guilty look on his face and finished heatedly, "I cannot afford to be distracted."
"I distract you?" Anakin asked, completely crushed. "I thought I was helping."
"You're not helping!" she burst out. "We have been betrayed and are about to be attacked and yet all I can think about is you!" She glared at him as if anger could keep her from going under. "What are you doing in my thoughts, anyway?"
Anakin suddenly found himself very confused. "You're angry because…because" – he went on tentatively because he could barely believe what he was hearing – "…you love me?"
"To distraction," she said furiously. "I can't think when you're standing right next to me."
Anakin was out of his depth. Nothing in his upbringing among the sedate and mindful Jedi had prepared him to deal with outbursts of contradictory logic –unless they were his own, which were never tolerated. All his pride would allow him to hear was that he had disappointed her in some way.
"Do you not want me near you?" He asked uneasily.
Padmé buried her face in her hands. Anakin didn't know whether she was going to cry, or laugh. Either possibility was deeply upsetting.
"Anakin." She tried again. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be all the things I was before and to be in love with you at the same time."
This can't be happening, he thought as dark tendrils of doubt crept into the center of his being. It felt like an abyss was opening in front of him.
* * * * *
The moment she saw his face, Padmé regretted her words. She felt him withdraw from her and it hurt like a physical ache.
"Anakin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that…"
She stopped at the look on his face.
"I'm sorry that it's so difficult to love me," he said stiffly, backing away.
"Don't, Anakin." Padmé wished she could take back everything she had said since leaving the meeting. He ought to just take me in his arms and tell me everything is going to be all right, she thought.
But this was Anakin. He defied all known articles of faith.
"Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, Padmé," he said, not looking directly at her. He seemed very far away. "I don't have to think about it. It's not a struggle. It's like waking up every morning and knowing that I'm breathing. And knowing that I have been breathing all of my life and that I will until the day I die."
"You make it sound so simple," she said wistfully. He loves like a child, she thought. Freely. Purely. Unconditionally. She wondered whether she could do the same.
Anakin looked down and unseeingly traced the back of a nearby chair with his fingers.
"You know," he said, "everyone in my life seems to be afraid of me." He stopped and looked straight into her eyes. "I didn't know that you were, too."
The sudden darkness in his eyes was not remotely childlike. In her whole life Padmé had never met anyone like him. He was like a series of interlocking puzzles – as soon as you solved one another appeared. Everywhere he went he brought change. New paths opened while old ones closed.
He was right, in a way. She was afraid – but not of him. She was afraid of taking a new path.
Anakin, she called out silently.
There was no answer.
In disbelief Padmé watched him turn and walk out the door, closing it behind him.
The pain she felt was physical.
* * * * *
When Anakin moved, he moved fast. When he was angry, so did everything else. Jumping out of the way to avoid a hatch that slammed shut of its own accord in the young Jedi's wake, Captain Typho wondered whether working with a Jedi who was in full operations mode was always like this. Things seemed to be banging and flying around everywhere.
Still, under the circumstances it was pretty useful to have him on board. The boy had shown up at the last minute with a face like a Malastarian funeral mask, but with his efficient help the Naboo had prepared for hostilities in record time and with a satisfying level of secrecy.
To outward appearances the ship still seemed more or less the same in terms of the distribution and activities of the Naboo aboard. But weapons had been distributed and hidden around the ship, and the maintenance ducts were mined with sensors. The Queen's staterooms had been secured with guards posted inside the door and above each room in the ducts. All the Naboo aboard had been briefed on what to expect.
It was a typical, civilized, peace-loving Nubian plan: sit tight and wait for help. They just needed to hold out until the promised Republican fighting force arrived.
Anakin thought Typho's approach was disastrous, and said so. Knowing what he did about the D'laians he was certain that a more aggressive, pre-emptive response was required. He would have liked to see all the D'laians on board disarmed and captive before either one of the fleets arrived.
Typho had refused. He wasn't willing to take the necessary risks with so many civilians on board.
If Obi-Wan were here they would do everything his way, Anakin thought resentfully. But he kept quiet after that and resigned himself to a role as babysitter. He resolved not to speak up again.
Typho was very surprised when Anakin did not argue about his post assignment. The Senator really must have really given it to him, he thought. He'll think twice before overstepping his boundaries again.
* * * * *
Anakin's last task in the little time remaining before the crucial meeting resumed was to escort Vespé and Balé to the Queen's staterooms. Typho had determined that they would be safest there.
Balé threw herself at him the moment she saw him.
He could feel her anxiety. Poor little one, he thought, this is not the first time she has been through something like this. He squatted down on the floor in front of her so that they could see eye to eye.
"Don't worry," Anakin said. "Nothing bad will happen. Not this time."
"Will you stay with us?" Balé asked shyly, holding him around the neck. He could feel her unquestioning trust flow between them. It touched a deep, deep hunger in Anakin and made it very difficult to maintain the layers of icy shielding he had wrapped himself in since leaving Padmé. He thought if he stayed with her any longer he would crack.
"I can't," he said, gently disengaging himself from her and standing up, "but I will be nearby. Don't worry."
Anakin brought the girls to the stateroom, handed them over to Dormé and left for his assigned post without a backward glance.
* * * * *
Captain Typho stood in front of the door to the large conference room and checked his timepiece. On cue a veiled figure appeared in the corridor, accompanied by her ever-present Jedi alter ego. Typho nodded and disappeared into the maintenance duct just before the D'laian delegation arrived from the other direction.
Nothing made a D'laian warrior happier than conquest. For the members of the delegation on the Nubian Yacht the promise of victory was almost enough to make up for the endless, tedious hours of negotiations they had to endure for the past weeks. Now it was just a matter of settling the score.
Anakin could feel their pleasure like warm waves. He took note of the fact that neither Wolan nor his posse had joined their delegation in the room. A quick head count came to five D'laians and five on the Nubian side, including him. And of course Typho, hidden above.
Anakin expected the D'laians to be armed. Their elaborate clothing would certainly provide some convenient hiding places for weapons.
This is a bad plan, he thought.
The D'laian Foreign Minister opened the meeting.
"We have consulted with our leaders. The sovereign government of D'lai cannot accept your proposal."
"Then we have nothing more to discuss," the Nubian delegation leader responded firmly. "I declare these negotiations to be officially ended."
"That may be, Minister," his D'laian counterpart said with open delight, "but it is our duty to inform you that this is not the end of our association." He surveyed the room with what on D'lai must have passed for a beneficent gaze. To the Nubians it looked predatory. "I am afraid that our position has changed. It is our view that an association with Naboo is in our planet's interests. However, that association must and will be of our own devising."
He rose. All the members of his delegation rose with him.
"Your ship is being boarded as we speak, and our fleet has arrived. I am afraid you are all now our prisoners until we arrive on Naboo."
The veiled figure stood up.
"I think not, Minister," she said firmly, and touched the COM link that lay on the table by her hand.
Every last one of the D'laians grinned.
The delegation leader shook his head happily and took out a weapon that was probably a blaster. It was hard to tell because of its showy design. The remainder of his party followed suit. "Communications have been blocked, I'm afraid, Senator. Both internal and external."
The D'laians had obviously been busy. But Typho had heard that, Anakin guessed, and was on his way to doing something about it.
This was completely unnecessary, Anakin thought. We should have dealt with them all before this. He stretched out his awareness. There were more D'laians in the corridor outside the conference room. They were clustered so he couldn't get an accurate count. He was beginning to seethe with impatience although his impassive demeanor hid it creditably.
He hated playing out this farce. It was beneath his dignity. Ten seconds, Anakin thought. Maybe twelve. I could get all five of them.
"Where do you intend to hold us?" asked the veiled figure. "This is a diplomatic vessel, not a military one."
The D'laian waved his blaster. "In the Salon. Now." Wonderful, Anakin thought. We can sit in the Salon and wait to be rescued. We could even drink tea while we're waiting.
The conference room door opened and as the Nubians filed out of the room the D'laians who had been waiting in the corridor searched each captive for weapons.
Anakin was the last out. He had taken care to wear his cloak, which at least partially hid his light saber, but hoped fervently that someone would attempt to take it from him. The D'laians unfortunately had the sense to approach him cautiously. No one touched him.
"Hand over your light sword, Jedi," one of them demanded.
Anakin looked at him levelly. "You must be joking."
Another D'laian, probably a superior officer, said, "Hand it over, Jedi! You are our prisoner."
"No," Anakin said dismissively, brushing past him to follow the Nubian delegation. He lagged behind them just enough to make sure he had room to move if he needed it.
The two who eventually did try to grab him flew backwards knocking over two more of their comrades in the process.
Anakin turned around, hand on saber hilt, longing for one of them to try to shoot him. He was spoiling for a fight.
"I am not part of your dispute. I am going along with your little charade here in order to ensure the safety of the others," he said pointedly. "Now, don't ask me again." And he turned his back on them to follow the Nubians into the Salon. Perhaps because of his stunt with Wolan's thrown sword that morning, no blaster bolts followed him.
It was intensely disappointing.
The Salon was filling with people. Anakin took note of who was missing: Wolan and his posse of three; Typho, of course; the small group whom Anakin had sequestered in the Queen's stateroom; and the Nubian flight crew. The D'laians were obviously conducting the same head count. Many of the Nubians were looking out the view port, where a few specks that must be D'laian ships could just be seen.
Anakin wondered just how they were going to try to deal with him. They wouldn't tolerate the presence of an armed Jedi for long no matter how neutral he claimed to be. He stayed close to his charge, watching the D'laians who were watching him. Doing nothing made him feel like exploding.
Suddenly a gasp and a cheer went up from the Naboo in the Salon.
Perfectly framed in the center of the view port, a huge Republic Military Cruiser appeared surrounded by a fleet of smaller vessels.
The Chancellor had been as good as his word.
Anakin felt a rush of excitement and pride. It really was a magnificent ship. He could imagine the activity on board her right about now – troops being mustered to transports, pilots scrambling to their fighters. He longed to be part of it. By nature he was active, aggressive, always in forward motion. Ten years of Jedi training still hadn't stamped out the deep-seated urge to take matters into his own hands and to change them for the better. He imagined the pleasure of handling his own fighter…
A hand on his arm brought him abruptly back to the here and now. He realized that he had allowed his thoughts to drift for a few moments and felt ashamed. It was inexcusable. In his mind's eye Obi-Wan was glaring at him.
"Where is Wolan?" asked Sabé, for of course it was she under the veil. The Naboo were dedicated to the decoy method of protecting public figures.
It was only when Anakin reached out to find Wolan's Force signature, which he knew well by now, that he suddenly realized what they were up to. Idiot. I should never have been daydreaming…
"Arm yourselves," he snapped to Sabé. "Secure the Salon."
A ripple went through the crowd when he abruptly activated his light saber and advanced toward the armed D'laians at the door.
"Move," he demanded, compelling them with the Force. Two of them actually did step backwards and try to get out of his way. The rest Anakin shoved aside while deflecting the blaster bolts that went off as they fell. By the time the Naboo security guards rushed the D'laians he was sprinting down the corridor toward the Queen's Staterooms.