Four

The first thing she felt when the needle of the poison droid scratched across her neck was an overwhelming lurch of pure terror. Her stomach flipped; she half expected to keel over on the spot in agony. But the only pain she felt was a tiny sting on her skin like a paper cut, and when she reached up and touched it, the pain went away and left only a numbness. Then a little tingle, not unpleasant, coursed through her fingers and subsided.

She quickly ran through the list of poisons in her mind. The class had been so long ago, back on Naboo when she had only been a girl. And all the symptoms were so similar. A burning pain, the coughing up of blood, the unbearable aches as the organs began to melt. But there was one that was different. One that was so intriguing she actually remembered its name.

Venenum.

"Venenum is a very clean and sophisticated poison," she heard the gruff voice of her former teacher  (now shot dead by Stormtroopers) fill her mind. "No disgusting melting or anything of the sort. Once inside the body, Venenum denatures all of the elements necessary for brain function. Eventually, the brain will simply and painlessly shut down." He had winked, as if it was just a joke.

"How long does it take to kill?" Sabé (now also dead) had asked.

"From within seconds to two, possibly three hours. Maybe longer. It depends on how much got into you. The smaller the amount, the longer the time. But even one molecule of Venenum can and will kill, as it starts off a chain reaction that nothing can stop." He had chuckled. "But don't worry. Venenum is more expensive than it is harmful. Assassins will use it only on the enemies for whom they hold the utmost respect."

The terror Padmé felt now was numb and cold and heavy.

There was no cure for Venenum.

And all she could think about was Obi Wan Kenobi.

"What happened here?" he was saying, touching the wound on her neck. She couldn't feel his fingers.

"It just scratched me before it flew into the wall!"

"But it got you!"

"Just a scratch, Obi Wan! The needle didn't go in!"

He pressed her neck again. "What do you feel? Be honest with me, Padmé. What do you feel."

She heard the professionally trained part herself responding automatically, "It's burning and tingling, and there's a spicy taste in the back of my throat."

"Anything else?"

"No."

He sighed, a shuddering sound of relief. "Chingdu. Dragon's Poison. It scratched you, and that small of an amount isn't lethal. But we'll still want to have an antidote. I'll go to a dealer in Mos Eisley--"

"No, Obi Wan," she said firmly. "It's going to take three whole hours and -- it's dangerous for me to stay here alone for that long. I'll go with you."