Chapter 31. Predator and Prey
When the door chime in the cabin assigned to the Naboo Delegation sounded Sabé quickly lowered her veil and glanced around to see where Balé was. She wasn't in sight, so she must be in one of the two sleeping cabins.
Stay there, little one, Sabé thought beseechingly. Just stay there.
Then she called out for Dormé, who hurried to answer the door.
Both Handmaidens sighed audibly with relief when their visitor turned out to be Captain Typho.
"Well, Captain?" Sabé asked, raising her veil again once Typho had been settled in a nearby chair. Dormé sat close by with her hands clasped tightly together. Sabé hoped that she wouldn't start wringing them again.
"I couldn't find out too much without raising suspicion since there is no provision for movement between ships in our convoy, and the communication lines aren't secure." Typho frowned thoughtfully. "But the way the ships are arranged, it does appear that special protection is being given to one at the very center."
"No special protection for us?" Sabé asked wryly.
Captain Typho just snorted.
"It could be the Military Governor's ship," Dormé suggested.
"Probably," Typho conceded. He didn't mention the fact that, if the convoy were attacked, the small starship that had been carrying the Naboo Delegation would be among the first victims. So much for the Chancellor's special protection.
"How long are they taking for this journey?" Sabé wanted to know.
"We're cruising along at a pretty sedate speed," the Captain observed. "Depending where they plan to make the jump into hyperspace, and where in the Naboo system they want to come out of it, I reckon we will arrive in three days' time." No one said anything for a while, and then Typho asked, "How is the child holding up?"
Sabé and Dormé exchanged glances.
"She's very unhappy," Dormé said. "And it certainly doesn't help that Dellia spends all her time in tears or moping."
The tight quarters allocated to Naboo's admittedly small group meant that sleeping chambers were shared, and there was precious little diversion or amusement to be had on board. Dellia and Dormé shared one of the cabins, and Sabé and Balé the other. Captain Typho and his men were quartered aft of the Senator's suite, and the few other administrative staff near the security team. The ship's crew, all regular soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic, occupied the remainder of the ship's berths. Fortunately, there was no socializing with the crew, so the Naboo Delegation didn't have to account for the fact that there was technically one person missing. Sabé had to fill both her role and Padmé's because it had been decided that Padmé's absence was to be hidden even from the members of her own delegation, except for her intimate circle. They had announced right at the beginning of the journey that the Senator was feeling unwell and would remain confined to her cabin.
Three days, Sabé thought miserably. I'll go crazy.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Typho asked.
"Do you know how to fight with swords?" asked a small voice from the vicinity of the door to one of the sleeping cabins. Balé had come out to greet their visitor. Her hair was tousled because she had mutinously refused to allow Dormé to brush it, and her clothes were crumpled from hours of sitting on her bed trying to amuse herself with books and drawings.
Typho smiled at the child. "I've been known to heft a blade or two in my day," he said.
"Could you practice with me?"
Typho looked at Sabé, who shrugged. Anything to keep her entertained…
Padmé's Captain of Security looked at Balé thoughtfully. "There's not much room on this ship, but I suspect that we could clear a space in the mess hall." Balé brightened up a little. "I'm willing if you are," the Captain offered, standing up and holding out his hand to the child while glancing over at Sabé for approval. Balé ran to him and took his hand happily.
Dormé jumped up and reached for a nearby hairbrush, but Sabé caught her eye and shook her head. Untidy hair wasn't the end of the world. It was more important that Balé had some fun.
"Do you remember that swordfight Anakin once fought in the dining salon of the Queen's Yacht?" Captain Typho asked her on the way out.
It was an inspired question. Balé's face brightened completely at hearing Anakin's name.
"Yes," she said eagerly. "He fought with that shiny man! The one that didn't like Jedi … It was amazing!"
"Remind me about it while we go find some sticks to fight with," the stalwart Captain said. The sound of Balé's enthusiastic chatter followed them out the door and far down the narrow corridor to the mess hall.
"Remind me to recommend him for an enormous raise," Sabé said to Dormé after they had left.
Dormé smiled, the hairbrush all but forgotten in her hand. "I will. He's wonderful."
Sabé found the change in Balé at the mention of Anakin heartbreaking to watch. Then she had an idea – a brilliant, daring idea. She had a story of her own to tell Balé at bedtime tonight – a story that starred Anakin and Padmé – a story that might just might help the child to understand that she had not been abandoned by the adults she loved most. Sabé thought it was a story that Balé would like very much, and under the circumstances, she didn't see why she shouldn't tell it. It might just give the child some ease.
"While I'm at it," she grinned, feeling suddenly more cheerful, "I think I'll ask for one myself."
* * * * *
The crew of the Starcruiser Mephisto was under strict orders to leave their passenger undisturbed. They did not know the identity of the man in the plain black cloak, but it was clear from the positioning of their ship at the center of the task force and from the comfort with which his quarters had been outfitted that he was a dignitary of no small rank. Once he had boarded, with the company of only a small staff, none of the crew had spotted him again, nor did they try. Even the Military Governor for whom they were providing passage on the same ship, and who outranked even the Mephisto's Captain, respected the privacy of the dark-cloaked passenger. It was as though they were meant to forget about him; and yet they must not. Their orders were clear. In case of an attack, the Mephisto must be protected at any cost, even that of all the other vessels.
Their passenger, on the other hand, was aware of everything. To all outward appearances he had remained silent and unmoving in his spacious cabin since the beginning of the journey to Naboo, attended only by his equally silent and discrete staff. But inwardly he was alive with knowledge, with perception and with a conscious awareness whose reach stretched far beyond the puny range of the ship's sensors. It was a consciousness that dwelt within the darkest and most occult aspects of the Force, and that was limited neither by distance nor by dimension. It did not fear discovery. And it was enormously powerful.
The passenger took great pleasure in his isolation. The Chancellor's office on Coruscant continued to operate as though he were there, functioning without interruption to process the vast numbers of communications that crossed his path daily and the untold distractions that required his disciplined attention. But here, now, he experienced the kind of inner space that normally he could permit himself only in small doses and through strict scheduling. He would have this freedom from routine activity for three days, and he would make very good use of it.
It was during these times of meditation that he surveyed his realms and worked on his plans – those beautifully wrought patterns that continued to weave themselves once he had set them in motion. He had only to revisit them occasionally, lightly teasing here or nudging there to assure their continued momentum. It was his genius to find the keystone to every event and strand of mortal activity that he cared to affect. It was his power to activate and maintain each one according to his will.
He was on his way to Naboo, his home planet. It meant nothing to him. For one who could possess everything he reached for, the idea of home was irrelevant. He dwelt at the center of all things. Naboo was merely the place where the strands of activity that he had been spinning for some time must now come together, as he had foreseen.
It was quite convenient that he would be able to accomplish so much in a single visit. There were some loose ends to tie up, and some others to unravel and send on their way into the future – his future – the one that he had devised. It was one thing to divine the movement and intention of the Force; it was quite another to harness it to his own designs. He did both, as necessary – what he could not change he worked around. In that way the future was indeed his to fashion according to his own will.
He had a good idea now by whose hand the Jedi interference in his production and distribution of the Life-Force disruptor weapons between D'lai and Naboo had been carried out, but Kenobi would not be a thorn in his side much longer. It also was high time to bring the Naboo Sector under his personal control. The installation of the Military Governor would both prevent further problems and solve many others, at a single stroke. Then let anyone try to shut down the operation again.
He was careful to monitor how the Jedi Order responded to the continued attrition in their numbers. They were becoming more erratic and less predictable in some ways, likely in reaction to their growing blindness and the increasing hopelessness of their position. He didn't much care in what order they were eradicated, so long as their pernicious influence and interference were forever ended. He would very soon need a free rein for his much larger, and more significant plans.
Then there was Naboo's freethinking Senator. He had never considered her a real political threat – an annoyance, perhaps, but not a threat. But lately he had taken to keeping a watch on Senator Amidala because of young Skywalker's continued and persistent connection with her. She had been quite useful so far in undermining the boy's relationship with the Jedi. If the attachment were as strong as he had divined it to be, her destruction – at the moment of his choosing – would be even more useful in empowering the boy to begin his true apprenticeship. And that moment would be have to be chosen carefully.
It was necessary to keep her close. Skywalker's proper training could not begin until he had loosened the last shreds of conscience and control the Jedi had struggled so hard to instill in him. The boy would re-learn control; he would learn it well. But he would learn it in a very different way.
The Sith Master's careful, systematic train of thought carried him closer and closer to the present situation and to his immediate strategy. Narrowing his focus solely to the variables that directly affected his short-term actions, he cast out threads of awareness to check on the positions of each of his players.
The Separatist Forces were standing by for his final decision on where and how to attack. The most successful campaigns always were fluid and flexible, and left wide avenues in which to maneuver.
Amidala simply needed to be kept close by until he decided how to use her. She was tucked away on a vulnerable starship at the edge of the formation, awaiting his decision. And where the Senator went, Anakin was certain to follow. He probed the Naboo Delegation's ship again to confirm her presence.
Amidala's Force signature was not there. The Senator was not there. It was not a thing he would have noticed had he not been searching purposely for her. The next thought in the sequence presented itself logically.
Skywalker. He already had established a permanent link to the boy's mind that he could activate at will. He probed.
They were together. They were on their way to … Alderaan. Skywalker did not know why they were going there.
Clever boy. He still thinks he can elude me.
Slowly and deliberately the Sith Lord withdrew from his meditative state and opened eyes that glinted like polished volcanic stone. In the role of Chancellor, he called for his aide.
"I want an immediate check on the whereabouts of every Senator of the Republic, over the last three days. Identify and locate those who have made sudden changes in plans, missed meetings, or otherwise disappeared."
"Yes, My Lord." The aide bowed and fled silently without a whisper of complaint about the gargantuan task. Chancellor Palpatine had no doubt it would be completed shortly.
His eyes narrowed while he continued to sit in perfect stillness.
Perhaps the time for direct action was nearer than he had thought.
* * * * *
The Defiance slipped into her assigned docking bay on the outskirts of Aldera with an efficient roar of her landing thrusters, and quickly subsided into silence. Her two occupants were disembarking when a representative of the Royal Ports Authority of Alderaan appeared with an astromech droid and an official message from the Office of Export Duties and Licenses.
Padmé looked at Anakin in confusion. They were not expecting to be met.
Anakin didn't return her look because he was fully focused on the official. Since waking suddenly several hours ago with an ache in his head and an unattributable sense of personal violation, he had kept all of his senses on highest alert. It had made him a silent and distracted companion, but Padmé had not said anything about it. She had seemed lost in her own thoughts about the task ahead.
The official waved a data pad in Anakin's general direction with the gruff order, "You have been granted permission to land long enough to retrieve your cargo and to take on supplies as necessary, but the permit does not allow for an extended stay. Please load your cargo immediately and resume your journey. This landing bay is reserved for another incoming vessel."
Anakin thought fast, but the Force told him more than his mind about what to do next. He could feel Padmé's shock and consternation, but ignored her completely. This was not the time to look or sound baffled.
"This droid is the cargo?" he asked.
The official scowled suspiciously. "Don't you know what your cargo is?"
Anakin reached out a firm hand for the data pad. "I want to confirm the serial number. I didn't come all this way to load the wrong one."
The man subsided and Anakin made a show of checking that the droid's specifications matched the ones on the bill of lading. He could feel that Padmé was about to say something and quickly placed his hand on her arm to silence her.
"It's all in order," Anakin said to the official. The man nodded and turned to go, leaving the droid behind. "Let's go," Anakin said quickly, indicating that the droid should follow. He kept a light pressure on Padmé's arm, drawing her back up the ramp with him. Only when they were all back inside of the Defiance with hatches secured did Anakin relax his hold on her.
"What was that all about?" Padmé said in alarm.
"Let's find out." Anakin turned to the droid. "Whom do you belong to?"
A series of beeps and whistles followed.
"Apparently it belongs to you," Anakin interpreted, "and it has a message for you."
"Play it," Padmé said to the droid in complete bewilderment. Immediately a holographic image of Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan appeared.
"Padmé," the image said, "we have been discovered." Padmé glanced quickly at Anakin, who was scowling slightly at Senator Organa's familiar form of address, but her attention was drawn back to the image as the message went on.
"I don't know how he found out about our meeting, but the others have already been notified and have scattered. If we located you, others will be able to as well. You must leave immediately. Be careful – there is no telling what he has found out. This droid contains our latest information about the location of the task force." The image hesitated, and then said sadly, "My sources believe that there might be an attack against the convoy. I'm sorry, Padmé. Look to your own safety. I will contact you when I can."
"Anakin," Padmé began after a moment's stunned silence. When he didn't respond she turned to look for him and found that he had already hurled himself into the pilot's seat to prepare for departure. Padmé followed almost blindly, as though she were feeling her way in the dark, and sank down into the copilot's seat. Anakin moved with silent, concentrated speed.
"Anakin…" Padmé said again, not knowing how to express the unthinkable.
"It's all right," he said shortly. "We're on our way."
The Defiance roared into life and within short order had left the docking bay and was hurtling back toward the stars.
Padmé closed her eyes and began to pray.
* * * * *
Master Yoda, I have failed.
Inside the depths of meditation the Ancient Master opened his awareness even more, allowing the presence to touch his consciousness fully.
I cannot reach him. He does not hear me.
The familiar consciousness touched his own, allowing Yoda to form inner images to accompany it. Gradually Qui-Gon Jinn, as Yoda had last seen him, stood before him in his mind's eye with his head bowed and a look of profound sorrow on his rugged face.
"Failed, you have not," Yoda said, in his heart. "Hear no one, he does. Listening, he is not. Closed, he is."
He hears, Master Yoda, said the powerful presence in his consciousness. He hears the words that are whispered to him out of the darkness. Only our urgings go unnoticed.
"He struggles against the darkness," Yoda pointed out. "Fighting it, he is, in his own way."
I brought him to you, Qui-Gon's being persisted. I brought him to you so that he would not have to battle alone. I brought him to you, and yet we could not hold him.
"Hold water in our fingers, can we, hmmmm?" Yoda countered. "Grasp light in a fist? Place a spirit in a harness and drive it, can we?"
Yoda had a sense of roiling and surging in the energies that surrounded him.
Perhaps we cannot. But the Lord of Darkness holds him with ease.
"Finished, it is not," Yoda insisted. "In flux, are the powers in the Galaxy. Encompasses both the light and the darkness does the Force – contains them and transcends them."
Is it the will of the Force that the Chosen One be cast into the darkness?Yoda felt the beginnings of an inner constriction, like a tightening in his soul, and quickly countered it by releasing fully his feelings, thoughts, constructs and beliefs into the Force. He let go of everything that was solid or confined or had a boundary, merging into the living energy that binds the universe together. His consciousness touched that of Qui-Gon's. They harmonized. They augmented one another. Their energies combined and surged around and through one another.
Always changing, is the Force, they observed together. Time is meaningless. Control is meaningless. There is only life, and movement, and endless, eternal renewal.
"There is no failure," Master Yoda repeated to himself, as he slipped back into his own awareness. "Only the ceaseless Force, there is; timeless, unfailing, and wise."
As he slid gradually out of his profound state of meditation, Master Yoda found himself searching for the strength to merge with and accept the eternal, impersonal will of the Force.
I will not leave him, the now wavering and insubstantial image of Qui-Gon Jinn vowed.
"The Force be with you," Master Yoda's heart replied, "and with us all."
