Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were so, I do NOT own Star Wars. I may someday, but not now.

Chapter 5

Padme stood in her room, for the first time in her life unsure of what to do.

Two days ago, she had signed on, as usual, and waited for the transmission from Anakin. It was amazing how simply talking to him could alleviate all her concerns and fears.

She hadn't known, she couldn't have known, that this transmission wouldn't be like the hundreds they had had over the years. She couldn't have known that this one might cost them their jobs, and their reputations. Couldn't have known that they'd be discovered.

For they had been found out, seen by Anakin's former master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had barged in to Anakin's quarters, stunning everyone present, himself included. In that moment of stupor, shock had rode freely from Anakin's face. And although the Force still remained a great mystery to her, she knew that the mental barriers Anakin had put up in his mind, to keep their marriage a secret, had been broken. Obi-Wan knew everything.

Of course, that had been a danger from the very start, and Padme knew it.

She hung her head in shame, wondering for the hundredth time that day what had possessed her to marry Anakin. He was a Jedi, bound by oath to the Force, forbidden from any attachment.

And she was a Senator, committed to making the galaxy a better place, just like Anakin. That was her calling, her passion. She didn't need love.

But one look into Anakin's eyes, those beautiful eyes, and she knew that just wasn't true.

Okay, she didn't regret their marriage. She knew that any and all pain she felt now was well worth it. But that did nothing to stop the guilt.

For the guilt she felt was almost too great to bear. She knew in her heart that this was her fault; that if she had only kept her head for a little longer, they wouldn't be in this position. Why didn't I just say no?

She looked at Anakin's hologram, that she always kept with her.

Because I love him, that's why. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I love him with all my heart, and I would do it all over again if I had the chance.

That was what was eating at her, in truth. If she had the chance to change history, to say no to Anakin's proposal, she wouldn't. She would have done everything the same, even if it meant Anakin would lose his life's work. Does that make me selfish?

She knew, logically, it was a foolish question. She had devoted her entire life to public service, and Anakin had known the risks when he had proposed to her, perhaps even better than she did. And he certainly had more to lose, which made the offer all the more flattering.

But her mind wasn't working logically at the moment, and the guilt was threatening to overcome her.

Becoming a Jedi was Anakin's dream. He wanted it more than anything, and had worked for all his life to achieve it, even harder than she had worked as a Senator. And she had taken that from him.

This guilt, the realization that it was her fault had hit her like a star going nova, and paralyzed her. She had planned all along to go to Coruscant, to give Anakin the support he no doubt badly needed. But now, she was uncertain; confused. For if she had caused Anakin to lose his dream, if she had destroyed his life, how could he still love her?

The only answer: he doesn't. How could he love someone who puts their own desires above his?

Even as she thought this, however, a bit of indignation began to creep into her spirit.

A marriage was based upon the idea of two people coming together as equals. One always had to be sure to take their share of the blame when a problem arose, and Padme had been sure to do that.

But at the same time, it was doing the marriage an equal disservice if she took more than her share of the blame.

She smiled. She had often done this, she knew, holding herself more at fault than she deserved. It resulted in a virtually permanent guilty conscience, which was what drove her to public service.

The problem, and the concept that she had never really understood, was that while it may be better to take more blame than less, there was such a thing as taking too much blame.

Her family had often called her on this, asking her if she would ever allow herself to be 'just Padme.' She had replied, without much conviction, that this was Padme, and that service was her passion.

It was ironic, and a little unlucky, she reflected, that the first time she had followed their advice, it would have such drastic consequences.

It isn't fair! Other people don't have to choose between love and their job. Why do I?

Even as she thought this, though, she realized that she should be above those thoughts. No matter how bad she thought she had it, someone, somewhere, would trade places with her in a second.

And even if that weren't so, self pity would hardly do anything to improve her situation. The only way that would happen would be by taking action.

She grinned. And there was no one better than her at taking action.

She started grabbing clothes, throwing them into the suitcase she always kept handy for emergency trips, and started packing. Besides, she thought, regardless of what Anakin thinks of me, a trip to Coruscant can't hurt.

She stuffed a few more outfits in her bag, and was about to key the comm to alert the hangar of her unplanned trip, when she felt the muzzle of a blaster being placed on her neck, along with a menacing voice, barely above a whisper, telling her to freeze.

Before she could react, before she could drop into a combat stance, she felt a sharp jab against her neck, and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

*     *     *

Sitting in the cockpit of his ship, the Slave I, Boba Fett stared out into the vast infinity of space. It was quite humbling to think that out there, somewhere, there were planets that no living beings had ever set foot on. It was almost enough to make him want to quit the bounty hunting profession, and set out to become an explorer.

He smiled. Almost, but not quite. He had another calling, one that sent him on an equally arduous, yet fulfilling quest: the search for credits.

And search he would.

Today, the search had brought him to one of the moons of Naboo, for a target that could well prove to be the most satisfying of his career. Perhaps not the most formidable, or elusive, but satisfying all the same. Yes, she was well defended, and, if it came to a fight, resourceful. But it wasn't the challenge that drew him to her. This was personal, or at least as personal as bounty hunting got. He was hunting Padme Amidala.

Amidala, who had eluded his father for so long. Amidala, who was at least partially responsible for his death. Today, his father would be avenged.

Or would he?

Fett frowned. The one thing that his father had constantly drummed into him, above all else, was emotional detachment. To be a good bounty hunter, to be the best bounty hunter, you could not have any feelings about a target. They only served to distract you, and dulled an otherwise sharp and focused mind. In making the hunt for Amidala personal, he had betrayed his father. Father…

Stop it, Fett berated himself silently. If his father would have frowned on taking a hunt personally, he would have frowned even more on mourning for him, especially on such an important mission.

He reached over and punched a button on the console, bringing the Slave I through preflight with the same methodical precision that made him the best bounty hunter in the business.

Only through that, could he honor his father.

*     *     *

Boba Fett walked up to and beneath one of the palace security cams without even so much as a glance at it. A lesser man might have paused for a moment to gloat, but Fett was above such things. His ego was not at stake here, and if it were, endangering the mission would do nothing to help it. He did, however, allow himself a small smile, though it never reached his lips.

For the reason he could walk with impunity, the reason he could stroll in and out of the cam's sights at will, was his suit.

Not his usual Mandalorian armor. No, he had forsaken his armor in this case for the sake of stealth. He was still well-armed, of course – Boba Fett was always well-armed – but there were just some missions that his armor couldn't handle.

For this one, he had contracted the help of legendary inventor and all around genius, Tarx. Quirky and eccentric to boot, he claimed he needed only one name, because his was good enough for two.

Eccentric or not, he was perhaps the only being in the galaxy to understand the secret of a most useful trick: Invisibility.

When Fett first contacted Tarx with the offer of creating a dedicated cloaking device, the old man had scoffed  at the possibility. After a bit of coaxing, and a lot of funds, he had agreed, though reluctantly. At the time, Fett hadn't had high hopes, thinking it nothing more than a long-term investment, and not one to bet on, at that. Even if the inventor did manage to come up with such a machine, Fett hadn't expected it to be inexpensive enough to be practical, and he certainly hadn't expected it to be ready in a matter of months.

To his surprise, and great delight, he had been wrong on both counts.

The problem with previous such machines was that they relied on archaic cams and projection units, which simply photographed what was behind the user, and projected it in front of the user, similar in principal to the Gaffa lizard of Thyferra, which could change color at will, and thus, blend in with it's background. Unfortunately, with that kind of inferior system, distortion was inevitable.

Tarx's device used the latest in holographic technology to project a small scene directly in front of a guard's eyes, or in the case of a security cam, it's optical sensors. From there it was simple matter of filtering out Fett's image, leaving a photorealistic image that was impossible to detect. That, combined with sensor technology that could read where an enemy was and adjust the hologram accordingly, and Fett had an invaluable tool at his disposal in his search for credits.

Invaluable, that is, unless it malfunctioned. Security cams were easy enough to fool; an inattentive guard might not notice the slight shimmer that the projected image created. The motion sensors embedded in the palace would prove much more difficult. Reaching down, he set the dial that controlled the accuracy of the machine to 'high.' Doing so would be a drain on the limited power supply, but the whole operation would be for nothing it he got caught.

Finally, he reached the palace door. It's lack of any kind of gate or door was deceiving, Fett knew. Mounted around it were various swivel guns that could pop out of hidden panels the moment something wrong was detected. If that failed, the whole thing could self-destruct, sealing off the entrance. After the battle of Naboo, the palace had been redesigned with security in mind.

Bracing himself, he took a first, cautious step through the gate.

Nothing happened.

Another short step, and again, nothing.

Slowly and carefully, he eased himself through the motion sensors.

And let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd done it.

Reaching down, he shifted the accuracy back to medium. He needed his cloak to last. He made his way up to the Senator's room, carefully checking for guards. Being invisible didn't make him silent, or stop him from being solid, so he still had to be careful.

He was almost to his destination when he ran into his first major problem. Ahead was a corner, and using infrared goggles he had brought along, he could see that two alert guards were on the other side of it. By the time he got around the corner and the cloak locked on to their eyes, he would undoubtedly be spotted.

But Boba Fett was never unprepared.

He quickly took out a small vial, pressed a button, and set it down, backing away slowly. After a few seconds, there was a slight hiss, and the invisible stun gas, propelled by a tiny fan, began it's trek to the guards.

A few seconds later, Fett heard two soft thumps, as the guards collapsed to the ground before they had any idea what was happening to them. A mild stun gas only; they would survive to tell the story of how easily they were fooled. With time, the chemical would dissipate enough to inhale, but Fett didn't have time to waste. Stepping around the corner, he took out another vial, activated it, and rolled it to the area that the gas was still hovering. The agent, this time an orange color, spread out into the air with another hiss, forming a green gas as it reacted with the stun gas. Finally, after a few moments, the air became colorless again, signaling to Fett that it was safe to breathe.

He strode forward, feeling a slight twinge in his lungs from the remnants of the gas, and finally entered into Padme Amidala's room.

And there she was. Packing her various possessions into suitcases, not even giving an occasional glance over her shoulder to check if all was well.

Fett smiled. They should all be this easy.

Quickly and purposefully, he walked up to the former queen of Naboo, and with a quick, sharp jab to her neck, lapsed her into unconsciousness, and carried her off.

*     *     *

Padme awoke in stages, not quite sure where she was. She was aware of a slight swaying motion; that, and the soft footsteps somewhere below her seemed to suggest that she was being carried off. She couldn't remember anything that would explain why someone would be carrying her, but she knew, instinctively, that to open her eyes now would mean death.

So she kept them shut, careful never to change her breathing rhythm. If whoever was carrying her became aware that she was conscious, they might do something to rectify that situation.

Finally, the fog in her brain cleared, and she began to remember the sequence of events. The packing, the blaster placed at her neck, the whispered threat, then finally, the unconsciousness. It all pointed to one conclusion: she'd been captured.

That terrible realization spurred her into action. As surreptitiously as possible, she began to knead her palm with her hand. Doing so activated a hidden homing device imbedded in her skin, setting off alarms all throughout the palace. With any luck, guards would be converging on them within minutes.

After a few minutes, she risked a quick opening of her eyes.

She was not surprised to find herself on someone's shoulders. She was surprised, however, to see they were completely out in the open, walking almost casually along a busy street in Theed.  Surely someone must have noticed her? Regardless, they couldn't help but notice a scream. She opened her mouth…

"Don't delude yourself," a flat emotionless voice said, electronically filtered. "I'm aware that you're awake, and I know about your little homing device. A nice trick…too bad it won't do you any good."

Padme let her voice carry the same condescending tone that the figure seemed to do so well. "Now who's deluding themselves? There are hundreds of guards in the palace. You can't hope to fight all of them off."

The figure seemed unperturbed. "I won't have to. You may have noticed that we're wide in the open here and that no one has noticed us. The reason for this is quite simple: we're invisible. None of these people can see us, and neither will the guards."

So that was it. This bounty hunter, for that was who this mysterious person must be, had somehow figured out a way to become invisible. Well, Padme thought to herself, they may not be able to see me…but surely they can hear me. She again opened her mouth to scream…

"Oh, and don't bother screaming, either," the bounty hunter added, almost casually, "I've just activated a white noise device. It counteracts any sound you make, leaving us virtually silent."

That was that. The hunter had thought of everything.

No! she admonished herself. Whoever this bounty hunter was, he certainly wasn't perfect. He would have to make a mistake somewhere, and when he did, she would be ready.

She didn't have to wait that long. Now that she was conscious, the bounty hunter had no need of carrying her. The same thought had apparently struck him, for he swung her around as if to place her on her feet.

And as he was doing so, a small box attached to his stomach became visible.

Somehow, Padme knew that this was the key to their continued invisibility. The guards were just arriving now, and from their confused glances, they had no idea where she was. If she could disable that machine, they'd have a chance.

She waited a moment longer, and then, at just the right time, she jutted her palm out with all of her strength.

The hunter was good, all right. With no shock or surprise whatsoever, he threw her to the ground and brought out two weapons and trained them on the now disorientated guards.

The guards took a minute to regain their balance, but when they did, they too, aimed their weapons at the hunter.

There were a few tense moments of silence, then one of them spoke. "Give us the girl," he said, "and we won't hurt you."

*     *     *

"Give us the girl," the bravest of them said, "and we won't hurt you."

Fett considered laughing at this. The concept of another being threatening him amused him deeply, and it was likely that none of them had any idea what they had gotten themselves into. Despite being only thirteen, he had recently undergone a slight growth acceleration, and as a result, could best virtually anyone in hand to hand combat. Instead of laughing, however, he went into action.

He tossed his weapons to the ground, then, bending down, he grabbed Padme by the arm and threw her towards the guards. This knocked several of them over, but they were quickly up, escorting her to what they presumed was safety, while others collected his discarded weapons.

Which left about twenty. Twenty highly trained guards against one unarmed man. It's almost unsporting, Fett thought.

He charged. Having already calculated his best angle of approach, all of the guards blaster bolts missed him cleanly. Leaping to the ground, he rolled and tripped the guard who had spoken to him a second earlier. He jumped up, landing on and then crushing the man's windpipe. Turning a somersault and then landing on his feet, he head butted a guard, at the same time kicking backwards to knock the air out of another. The guard gasped in pain, and dropped his blaster. Fett reached behind him to grab the blaster out of midair, then spun around and shot two more guards cleanly in the stomach.

Six down, he thought, as emotionless as always.

He flung the gun at a guard's face, stunning him, then dropped him to the ground with a kick. Another guard approached, and this time, Fett let the punch connect with his jaw. Using that momentum, he spun around, dropping another guard with a spin kick, then, coming full circle, he jabbed the man that had punched him in the neck. Hearing a whisper of movement behind him, Fett spun and delivered a sharp blow to his would-be attacker's hand, causing the guard to drop his gun in pain. Before it could hit the ground, Fett kicked it, sending it into the guard's groin.

There were only ten left now, and they were beginning to feel the first inklings of fear. Fett smiled. He was just getting warmed up.

He launched himself into a forward hand-spring. Twisting in midair to avoid a blaster bolt, he delivered a solid, two-footed kick to a guard's chest. Landing on his hands, he grabbed someone's neck with his feet, and with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. He flipped back onto his feet, landing between two more guards. They collapsed simultaneously, as Fett crushed their windpipes with blows to their necks.

The six that were left approached on all sides, trying to overwhelm Fett. As if it will do them any good.

Dropping to the ground, Fett tripped a guard with a sweep kick, knocking him into the air. He went up on one hand, then delivered a sidekick directly to the flying man's chest, knocking him a good five meters away. From there, he flipped himself backwards, and with a kick to the temple, knocked out another guard. He landed on his feet, and, grabbing two guards, brought their heads together with a loud crack. A spin kick dropped another to the ground, leaving just the one guard, cowering in fear. Fett leapt into the air, with one kick, knocking the man's gun away, and with another, dropping the man to the ground.

Fett landed, and with barely a glance at the twenty men sprawled around him, calmly walked away.

*     *     *

"There's a ship approaching," the woman at the sensor station confirmed. "Firespray class, by the looks of it."

Padme's heart filled with dread. At least twenty of her best guards had been down there, and for this mysterious bounty hunter to have beaten them all, he would have to be more dangerous than any of them had realized.

It had been a calculated risk, coming out into space. For the bounty hunter to have penetrated the palace so thoroughly, there had to have been some inside help. Even with the invisibility, it had still been too easy. Therefore, she didn't know who she could trust in the palace.

On the other hand, if he was working with a partner, that partner could very well be waiting in orbit, in case she managed to escape.

"What are our options," she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

The navigations officer winced. "Not much," he admitted. "Right now, we're heading towards the edge of the planetary mass shadow, so we can jump to hyperspace. But even with our head start, that ship will catch us long before we reach the edge. We can either keep on this heading, and hope our ship can take the beating, or…"

"Or what?"

The officer hesitated. "In a situation such as this, surrender is a perfectly legitimate option. In fact - "

"Not an option," Padme said sharply. "We go on."

The officer bowed his head. "Yes, Milady."

*     *     *

Fett sat hunched over in his cockpit, streaking after a target that had almost, but not quite, eluded him. It was, he reflected, entirely too similar to his recent chase of the incompetent Gungan, Jar-Jar Binks. And if he had his way, the similarities wouldn't end there.

All along, it had been his plan to take Padme back to Slave I, and kill her there, where he could get proper documentation. Palpatine was a stickler for detail, and had been known to refuse payment if he wasn't sure who had been killed. Otherwise, Fett could have simply killed her in her room.

Well, Fett thought, a recording of her ship being atomized will have to do.

Reaching out, he punched a button on his console, sending a missile out towards the speck that was Padme's ship.

Before he could lean back and smile in satisfaction, a chime sounded. He had received a transmission. Frowning, he leaned over and read the readout…

And stiffened in shock. Fingers flying over his control board, he typed in a series of codes and overrides. Finally, he hit the 'send' button.  Ahead of him, the tranquility of space was suddenly spoiled by a huge explosion, buffeting his ship. The missile had been detonated.

He just hoped it had been on time.

***** Author's Notes *****

Wow…finally. Bet you thought I had forgotten about this fic, didn't you? Well, it's back from the dead!

Anyway, sorry about the delay. I got caught up with school, and that, combined with my writer's block has made me put this off for a few months. It's funny though…I thought this was going to be one of the shortest chapters, but it actually turned out to be the longest yet.

On another note: I was just watching A New Hope, and I noticed something. In the Falcon en route to Alderaan, Luke is using his lightsabre, but it's pure white and isn't nearly as bright as usual. Isn't it interesting how my training lightsabre features less glow, just as this one does, and how my training lightsabre would be perfect for use in ship, because it wouldn't damage anything? Maybe I inadvertently had the same idea as George Lucas…or not.

Anyway, please review – it'll only take a second – and look for the next chapter pretty soon.