CHAPTER THREE
What passed for the mess hall on the Republic Navy corvette was little more than a small, dimly lit room containing a half-dozen round tables with chairs. The spartan conditions were to be expected, however; the ship's sole function was to transport soldiers from one location to another. The vessel was so mundane it had not even been given a name. It was simply Corvette 2157. And its design did not contemplate guests.
"I feel bad for Artoo and Threepio," Padmé whispered to Jenny over their steaming cups of cocoa. The droids had been unceremoniously deactivated and tossed into a mechanical closet. The corvette was loaded to capacity with the weapons and gear of the platoon of forty-eight Special Forces troops under Lieutenant Bryon Skywalker's command. Wandering droids with meddlesome personalities only would have created problems.
"Don't. At least they're not aware of it," Jenny smiled, hoping to lighten the mood for the woman who was her boss, mentor, and dear friend. Instead, the other implication of her statement hung in the air. The private who ordinarily had the other bunk in Bryon's room also had been raised on Naboo. Padmé was someone he had learned about in school – to him she was a heroine of the greatest magnitude. He was more than happy to give up his bed for her. Nevertheless, the kind young man would be spending the night in a sleepsack on the floor of a storage room because they were here.
"I suppose so," Padmé agreed. She reached up to hold her face in her hands as she propped her elbows on the table and let out a very forlorn sigh.
"I'm sure Anakin will still be at Sullust when we arrive," Jenny suggested quietly. "He wouldn't leave without seeing you. It's been so long."
"I know," Padmé nodded. Three months had passed, in fact, since the last time she and Anakin had been together in person. It was one of the longest periods of separation in their marriage and she did not like it in the slightest. "I hope he's okay."
Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any reason to think he isn't?"
"No." Padmé unconsciously let her right hand drift over to tug at the faded and worn hand-carved japoor snippet pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck.
Jenny had seen the habit so many times she didn't even perceive it. "Then why'd you say that?"
"I don't know," Padmé sighed again. "Because I'm not okay, I guess. I'm imputing my own fears to him." She sat back in the chair and clutched the edge of the table, her knuckles gradually going white from the grip. "I'm afraid for Leia. I worry about Luke and Mara on this mission to try to find her. I'm afraid there's going to be a war, a horribly bloody and awful one. I really thought I might not see another major conflict in my lifetime. And now one's not only here, but my children and my husband are going to end up right in the middle of it."
"Everything will be fine, Padmé," her friend soothed.
"I used to think so too," Padmé frowned mournfully. "And then Jarren was murdered. Nothing's been fine since that day." She glanced around the mess hall and realized there was only one other occupied table. "I hope they can enjoy their reunion," she motioned with her left hand. "These aren't exactly ideal circumstances."
Jenny turned around over her shoulder to see Bryon and Sarré sitting across a table from each other on the far side of the room. The youngsters were leaning in toward one another, immersed in what appeared to be a deeply emotional conversation. Jenny faced Padmé again. "I hope so too." She took another sip of her warm drink. "When was the last time they saw each other?"
"As far as I know, it was sometime last year. They met up on Coruscant and had lunch. It wasn't very long; just an hour or so. Leia mentioned it to me." Padmé brushed a few dangling locks of her long brown hair away from her face. "I don't think they've even been able to speak on the holo for a few months."
"That's really sad. They used to be so close." A little twinkle appeared in Jenny's eye. "Do you think they've ever… you know…"
Padmé laughed lightly. "No. They considered it many times, I'm sure, but they never did."
"And what makes you so certain," Jenny winked, "that you'd be aware of the truth?" When the Skywalker children were growing up, Jenny often simultaneously had played contradictory roles as conduit and confidant. On some occasions, one of them would confess something to her with the unspoken assumption that she would tell Padmé and Anakin. Usually this occurred when it was better that a third party deliver the news. Other times she would be told information subject to the strictest promises of secrecy imaginable, and she honored those pledges to this day. Jenny would never betray the trust the children she had helped to raise had placed in her.
"A fair enough question, I suppose," Padmé chuckled again. "Do you remember three years ago, when we all went to that big Lake Country lodge for a weeklong vacation?"
"Three years ago? That's when Leia announced her Senate candidacy, and Sarré was her campaign manager. And when Bryon went off to the Academy. I'm not sure I…"
"No, no," Padmé interrupted to clarify. "Right before all that. It was everyone. Anakin and me. Luke, Leia, Danaé, and Bryon. Sabé and Alain brought Sarré and Nalé. Mara came for part of it. And you, obviously."
"Of course, of course. Yes. I remember now."
"So the last morning we were there," Padmé continued, "I woke up just after dawn. I couldn't sleep, so I headed toward the kitchen to get something to drink. And just as I was about to pass Bryon's room…" She paused for dramatic effect.
"Oh, you can't be serious," Jenny whispered loudly, trying to be sure the young couple only a few yards away wouldn't hear but failing to contain her surprise. "Sarré came out of his room? She spent the night with him while you and Anakin were just down the hallway?"
Padmé simply winked.
"Wow." Jenny's face showed her incredulity. "That girl is more courageous than I thought!"
"At the time, she was anything but," Padmé grinned. "I really thought she was going to die from embarrassment right then and there. I've never seen anyone blush so red. But she walked with me to the kitchen and we drank a cup of caf together. We talked about a lot of things, including Bryon. She couldn't look me in the eyes for the longest time until she finally just blurted out that it wasn't what I assumed and please not to hate her. She felt much better after I told her I believed her. And that I would never hate her, even if it was."
"Did you ever say anything to Bryon?"
"No. I suppose she probably did. But I didn't." Padmé took another sip of her cocoa. "And before you ask, no, I never told Anakin either."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Why not?"
"Because he wouldn't have let it go. And this is best left alone."
"I must say, Professor," her friend teased, "this seems a bit unlike you."
"I've got a little bit of secret rebelliousness in me, in case you've forgotten," Padmé smirked. "Anakin and I didn't exactly follow all the rules before we were married."
"Sure, but he and you had a whole destiny thing going on too. You know, will of the Force. All of that."
Padmé gave Jenny a kind and gentle look in the eyes. "Well, maybe I'm wrong, but I've always felt something about those two. They're meant for each other. I don't know if they realize it yet, but I'm sure sooner or later they will."
"I had no idea you were such a softy," Jenny chuckled. "It's a good thing Leia didn't know this when she was courting Jarren or she would have manipulated you to no end."
Padmé's eyes lost their sparkle for a second, but it quickly returned. "And that, by the way, is how I know nothing's happened between them since the Lake Country. Sarré would tell Leia and Leia would tell me. I know Bryon would rather die than admit something like that to me, or even to his father. But all I need is one side to confess."
"See, Padmé, that's the political operator I expect from you!" Jenny finished off her drink and set the empty cup on the table again. "So. Do you think we should offer to give them some privacy tonight?" She reached her hands back to begin tying her long brown hair into a braid.
"No," Padmé winked again. "They're adults now. I respect and trust them both enough to honor their request. But I won't go out of my way to make it easy for them. They have to ask."
"Oh, you're good. You're very, very good." The two ladies rose from their table and headed toward the door.
"You know, I think at least we should…" Jenny flashed a sly grin and finished her thought by whispering in Padmé's ear. When she pulled away, Padmé nodded before she turned back and called out across the room to her son and his paramour.
"Good night, you two."
---
In the congested channels of hyperspace near the important Core world of Corellia, no one noticed the unusually fast starship that arrived from the direction of the capital, used the planet's gravitational pull to adjust its path without dropping from lightspeed, and blazed Outward in the general direction of Sullust. Had anyone bothered to check its identification codes, they would have found simply a mundane private yacht called the Lady Vader.
Anakin Skywalker's personal ship was anything but ordinary, however. It was too big to be fairly called a starfighter, although it handled better than any X-Wing. It was too small to be classed as a transport or freighter, although in the past it had ferried a dozen persons in barely overcrowded conditions. The navicomputer was top-of-the-line and the hyperdrive was the most powerful ever built for craft of this size. Shaped generally like a thick arrowhead, the port and starboard sides of the wedge bristled with forward-facing laser cannons and torpedo ports. If one looked carefully, though, one could see additional laser cannons concealed in the design that pointed to the rear, up, down, and straight out to the sides – the pilot could fire in six directions at once. In addition to the cockpit with three seats, the vessel had a small cabin lounge, a cramped bedroom with four bunks, a refresher, and a notable amount of storage space.
Like its owner, the Lady Vader was exceptional and unparalleled. Since its completion seven years ago on special order from Kuat Systems Engineering, he rarely had flown or traveled in any other ship.
When a cursory check of the instruments confirmed that the arc around Corellia had gone smoothly, Anakin unbuckled the restraints and stood up from the pilot's seat. By the time he had turned around, Danaé had risen from the starboard co-pilot's chair and was waiting at the open door to the narrow cabin hallway. After his simple nod, she led the way the dozen paces to the lounge.
A few minutes later father and daughter, dressed identically in the standard-issue tan Jedi robes, sat across from each other at the small square table drinking her favorite – shuura fruit juice from Naboo. Anakin sensed a question hovering around the edges of her mind. He decided to ease her spirit. "We have almost nine hours until we reach Sullust. It's been a while since we talked, Danaé," he reminded her gently. "I can tell you're wondering about something. Ask me. Whatever it is, I don't mind."
Danaé looked up and met her father's tender gaze. "Alright," she replied. "I've been curious for a while but never had the nerve." She gulped another swig of juice and swallowed hard. "The Lady Vader. I know it means Mom. But where does it come from? What's the name about?"
Anakin leaned back in his chair and let out a contented chuckle. "Your patience is remarkable, sweetheart. I can't believe you waited so long." He paused for a moment to try to figure out where to begin. There was no reason to repeat the parts of the story Danaé already knew well. Danaé had heard the tale of her parent's whirlwind romance many times in her life. But she had not yet learned every little detail.
"You remember," he proceeded deliberately, "that your mother and I were sent into hiding on Naboo?"
"Yes," Danaé nodded. "It was the best way to ensure her safety."
"We went to a secluded lake retreat to conceal ourselves. When we arrived, we realized we should use an assumed name. So I asked the Force for guidance."
Her eyes sparkled as she made the connection. "And the Force gave you the name Vader."
"Very good," he smiled. "It spoke to me, revealed itself to me. So we called ourselves the Vaders while we were on Naboo. After that, off and on, we used the name to hide our identities. And I guess you could say it grew into a secret name we could call each other."
Danaé could perceive a very subtle flush in her father's face and a quiver in his Force presence. It took her only a second to realize why. The name clearly also had some significance to her parents in a certain deeply private aspect of their lives that Danaé never, ever, ever let herself think about. She quickly redirected the conversation. "I remember once overhearing you joking with Master Kenobi that Bryon inherited the Vader genes. That's what you mean, right? Because he's so much bigger than the rest of us? Like he's not really your son, but someone else's. The old joke, that it's the delivery man's kid, that kind of thing."
"That's right," Anakin laughed heartily. "Your mother and I still have no idea where he got that from. So sometimes we joke that it was Vader, not Skywalker, who fathered him."
Danaé finished off her juice and set the empty bottle on the table. "Where did the name really come from in the Force, though? Do you know? I mean, I assume it wasn't just so you and Mom could have a little inside joke about your fourth child." When she looked up again, she saw his eyes were somber. "I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"
"No, no," he shook his head. He sat forward in the chair and ran his fingers through his short gray hair. Then he rested his right hand, palm up, in the middle of the table. He wiggled his fingers. "You know what these are, right?"
She knew immediately he meant the calluses on his fingertips and the rough scar on his palm. "Yes. They're from when you drew upon the dark side. You used the Sith lightning when you were fighting against Dooku."
When he didn't say anything more, she raised her eyes to meet his. He was staring at her with great intensity. She knew that stare – he wanted her to figure it out for herself. What am I missing? she wondered. What am I overlooking about the scars, or the dark side, or the fight with Dooku, or… Then it hit her. Not Dooku. Darth Tyranus.
Danaé leaned back in her chair and took a very slow and deliberate deep breath. "Darth Vader," she whispered.
Anakin matched her pose in his chair. Still he did not speak but only looked at her contemplatively.
"Had you fallen to the dark side, that's who you would have become. Darth Vader. The Force told you your Sith name." She shook her head. "So why in the galaxy would you call Mom Lady Vader, or name the ship that?"
"For two reasons," he said finally. "First, that's not what it is to your mother and me, so we don't think of it that way. And second, it's a reminder. Of what's at stake every day, Danaé. Of how close I came to losing all of this." He clasped his hands over his abdomen. "That I have everything to lose and nothing to gain if I ever make the wrong choices again."
Danaé was looking aimlessly at the toes of her boots and tugging with her fingers at two locks of her long brown hair.
"I'm sorry," Anakin apologized. "You had no way of knowing that a simple question would lead to this kind of a discussion. It's not what you needed right now."
She sat up straight in the chair. "Sometimes we don't get to choose where life leads us. Sometimes the will of the Force isn't what we expect." Her poise and composure had returned fully now. "Maybe I didn't want it, but maybe I needed to hear it anyway."
He nodded approvingly. "You're probably right." He rose from the chair and sat down cross-legged a short distance away on the carpeted floor. "I know you've had trouble lately clearing your mind when you meditate. You can join me now if you like. It might help."
She didn't have to think about it. Opportunities to meditate with her father were few and far between, although they had been slightly more frequent since her Master's disappearance. And even if it didn't help her achieve any serenity, it still would be nice.
---
Sarré's face was bright when she faced Bryon again. "I thought they'd never leave!"
Bryon smiled. He reached out with both hands and took hers. "I've missed you so much," he admitted desperately. Even though they were alone in the room and everyone else on the ship had gone to sleep, they kept their voices hushed.
Sarré simply stared into his eyes. She had told him that seven times in the previous half-hour without hearing it in return. His mother wasn't strong in the Force. Yet for some reason he was incapable of speaking the words aloud with her in the room. So he was going to pay for it, if only for a few minutes.
"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "If I hurt your feelings, I didn't mean to."
All he was receiving in reply was a delighted smile from the gorgeous blonde girl in the red-and-white jumpsuit. It looked like she was admiring the way his tight black fatigues fit over his muscled frame, but he couldn't be sure.
Now his hands were sweating profusely. But he was unwilling to release his hold on hers. "Really, I'm sorry. You just have to realize what it's like. My father and my brother and my sister are Jedi. They pick up emotions without meaning to. It's natural for them – it's no different than seeing colors and hearing sounds." He took a deep breath. "And think about who my men are. They're all trained to have maximum perception. They can interpret eyes and faces easily, and they can understand whispers and read lips perfectly. I'm so accustomed to being circumspect I don't even do it on purpose."
She decided to let him off the hook. Just a bit. "Even if all of that is true – and you forgot it's only your mother, who can't do any of those things – so what? What do you care if your mother knows how you feel about me?"
"It's not that I don't want her to know," he conceded. "At least I don't think so. But it seems different to me for her to hear me say it than if she just assumes it, or figures it out for herself."
"Or if someone else tells her?" She never had told him about the mortifying encounter and poignant conversation with his mother. She had meant to, of course, but had been afraid to admit it. The more time passed, the more difficult it became to explain why she had waited to bring it up. Now it seemed impossible. Except that Padmé might say something to him. Which would be very bad.
"Hmm?" Bryon was oblivious.
Fortunately, the politician in Sarré found an avenue of evasion. "Well, I don't hide things from my mother. She knows how I feel about you. How much I miss you. It's only a matter of time before she and your mom talk about this." She would deal with the other problem later.
"You're right," he nodded. "It would be different if Mom hears it from your mother than from me."
"That's crazy," she teased. "But for now I'll let it go." She looked fiercely into his brown eyes and squeezed his hands more firmly. "I bet you thought you'd successfully kept the subject changed, huh?"
Bryon held the intense stare while he frowned. "I was hoping so, yes." As he had on countless prior occasions, he decided that her lavender eyes outshone even the most beautiful gems in the galaxy.
"Too bad, Bryon," she insisted. "You have to tell me what's going on. You're sullen. Moody. You haven't called me for weeks and weeks. Please. Let me help you."
"I can't, Sarré," he sighed, breaking their gaze. "I just can't." His eyes drilled into the bottom of his empty cup of cocoa.
"Look at me!" She let her voice rise and gain an edge. It worked. He met her eyes again. "Are you going to make me guess?"
"Yes?" he replied tentatively, hoping it might distract her by making her angry about the gamesmanship rather than his reticence.
It didn't work. "Well, I won't. Seriously, tell me."
"Fine. You win." He took a slow breath before he continued. "Our last mission was brutal. We all survived, but it was close for a while."
"Did you have to kill anyone?"
"We all did."
"How many did you kill? Yourself, I mean."
He looked deeply into her eyes again. "You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do," she persisted. He was silent for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer. "Bryon?"
"I lost count at forty." His voice, ordinarily so deep and rich and sonorous, was a raspy whisper.
"What?" She wasn't angry or disappointed – only shocked. After a few heartbeats she composed herself. "Did you say forty?"
He nodded sadly.
She squeezed his hands even tighter. "On the last mission alone?"
He nodded somberly again and clutched her fingers so firmly it almost hurt.
"I'm so sorry," she said in anguish. "I had no idea." She could see from the look on his face that she had pressed him further than she should have for their first face-to-face meeting in two hundred four days and their first conversation in seventy-three. The mental log in her head had become almost unbearable. "I suppose we should get some sleep too, huh?"
"Yes, we should," he agreed.
They rose from their chairs and headed toward the officer's quarters. Sarré took his hand and clutched it reassuringly while they walked. It didn't seem possible, but she thought it looked like he had grown since the last time she'd seen him. Not taller, probably, but more muscular. He was gigantic. Then again, maybe it was just her memory – it always seemed to do that to her, to trick her into forgetting the difference in size between them.
He stopped outside the door to the room and looked down to face her. "I'll change in the refresher and you can change in the room. Just knock when you're ready."
"That sounds fine," she smiled, a little glad he had not suggested anything different.
"I'll squeeze in with my mom; you'll have more room with Jenny."
She had forgotten there were only two beds in the room. "That's fine too." She released his hand so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable when the door opened.
When it did, they both stopped in their tracks in the doorway. Padmé and Jenny were sound asleep, back-to-back on one bed. Bryon and Sarré stared at each other in disbelief.
For a second Sarré thought it might be a trick, a setup, a test of some kind. Maybe they were supposed to wake up the two women to correct the sleeping arrangements. That didn't seem like Padmé, though. Before she could think anything further, Bryon whispered in her ear.
"Knock when you're ready." He grabbed a small luggage bag from the foot of the bed and stepped inside the only private refresher on the starship.
A few minutes later during her turn, Sarré looked at herself in the mirror. When she had packed her travel bag ages ago, it had not occurred to her that she might be sharing a bed with Bryon. The sleepshorts seemed awfully short indeed, and the sleeveless cotton top was far too revealing. But there was nothing she could do. She waved open the refresher door and climbed into the bed with Bryon, learning in the process that the Republic military's sleep attire left about as much to the imagination as did Naboo's. She allowed herself to let her back come to rest against his chest. And she knew he had to be wedged to the wall uncomfortably – there was far too much room for her.
Without a word, Bryon wrapped his right arm around her. His hand slipped gently under her shirt to touch the bare skin of her abdomen – and stayed there. For a moment he was afraid he accidentally had crossed a line he thought he understood until he felt her entire body relax with a rush of contentment.
Sarré smiled to herself. He always knew exactly what to do.
---
Anakin let his thoughts drift away from the nondescript images and sensations flowing to him in the Force and began to ponder the present again. He had many issues to consider.
He missed Padmé terribly. Even though they had spoken every day for the last few months, it wasn't enough. He needed her with him: her bright presence in the Force, the scent of her hair, simple kisses or loving touches for no particular reason, and most of all the gentle look in her brown eyes every time she said she loved him. When they were apart, they never had the time to discuss things in as much detail as when they were together, and in the current crisis her judgment and insight were more important to him than ever.
Anakin also had great concern for Leia. Every few hours he reached out in the Force and brushed over her presence to be sure she remained safe. Not that he had a plan for what to do if she were in direct danger, but at least he didn't have to create one yet. While she was on his mind, he directed his concentration toward her again. After a few seconds, her aura shimmered into his consciousness. As it had been, it was full of fear and sadness but did not reveal any perceptions of imminent threats. He released his focus on his eldest daughter and turned his attention to the younger one.
Without disrupting her meditation, he sent a tendril of his feelings around Danaé. Her concentration was intense and her emotions were calm and controlled. Many things troubled her, but by drawing on her father's strength she had found the willpower to clear her mind and relax her spirit to allow the Force to guide her thoughts. When he pulled back from her as well, a shallow smile crossed Anakin's face. He was proud of them both. Very proud indeed.
He knew the time for meditation was nearly at an end, so he forced himself to perform the daily ritual that for the past twenty-three years had kept his emotions in equipoise regardless of the circumstances. He would confront yet again the simple truth he had spoken earlier to Danaé – he had come perilously close to losing everything in his life he valued. Every single day he remembered it, often more than once.
His memories took him back to the critical weeks and months so many years ago. He had drawn on the dark side of the Force, letting it burn in his body and dominate his spirit when he struck down Count Dooku in the hangar on Geonosis. After his victory, he and Padmé had escaped the planet together – alone. For several months they had remained in hiding from both Darth Sidious and the Jedi. The pull of the dark side had been intense, and it had affected not only Anakin but Padmé as well. It led them to do several terrible things they should not have done until their love for each other had pulled them back from the brink. When analysis of data they had taken from Dooku led them to Sidious – to Palpatine – they had returned to Coruscant. Anakin had exploited Sidious' overconfidence to spring a trap that allowed him to slay the undefended Sith Lord with a concealed lightsaber. And then he had thrown himself on the mercy of the Jedi Council in a three hundred seventy page essay that confessed his actions and emotions, declared his love for Padmé and his lifetime of visions in the Force about her, and argued convincingly for a special dispensation given his unusual upbringing and his destiny. Considering his temptation by the dark side, his recovery from it with her assistance, his single-handed fulfillment of the prophecy, and most of all the emotional maturity proven by the essay itself, the Council had granted his requests.
That Anakin had been a model Jedi from that day forward did not detract from the risks involved in the unusual life he was allowed to live. The Code forbade possession and attachment to prevent a Jedi's objective and impartial judgment from being impaired and to insure against the dark emotions that all too easily can result from pain and loss. By having a family whom he loved and who love him in return, Anakin was potentially far closer to a descent into darkness than any other member of the Jedi Order.
Yet no one seriously considered that possibility anymore for the precise reason that Anakin himself was so fully and consciously aware of it. Even were a terrible tragedy to strike his family, he would not let anger or hate rise in his spirit or control his actions. That had happened to him all those years ago, on Tatooine and Geonosis and several more times. When his son-in-law Jarren Organa was murdered, however, he had ordered an investigation but nothing more. And when they learned the identity of the killers, which he had no doubt eventually they would, he would turn them over to a court of law for justice. There would be no personal vengeance or retaliation.
When he had demonstrated this complete and total self-awareness and had come to understand the temptations of the dark side, even those members of the Jedi Council who once had believed Anakin was a threat to the very integrity of the Order itself not only had accepted his marriage to Padmé but within two years also had elected him to join them on the Council. And no matter what happened in the present crisis, even the unthinkable, he was confident he would never tread down the dark path again.
All of this profound meditation notwithstanding, the last shreds of the notorious Skywalker impatience had not been expunged totally from his soul. With all his heart he willed the Lady Vader to fly even faster toward Sullust. He really, really, really needed to see Padmé again.