Chapter 35. The Limits of Engagement

As the call to battle stations sounded, Sabé's eyes automatically turned to the Jedi Knight. So did those of the others in the Naboo Delegation's cabin. Simply by virtue of his presence, in the sudden crisis command had instantly devolved to Obi-Wan Kenobi, who took over quietly, firmly, and without hesitation. Sabé observed that Captain Typho deferred to him immediately, as he would to a superior officer, when the Jedi began to issue instructions.

"Dormé, collect the remaining members of the Delegation, including the security team, and bring them together in this cabin. Sabé, you must remain here and continue your decoy role."  Dormé nodded in acknowledgement. Sabé's narrowed her eyes. She wanted very much to know what Kenobi had in mind.

"Poulin," Obi-Wan ordered, turning to the boy, who had appeared in the sitting room with the little girl as soon as the alarm had sounded, "remain here and watch over the Delegation."

A Padawan?  Was he joking?  The boy couldn't have been more than sixteen. What good could a trainee do them? If the ship ended up being boarded, they would need seasoned, devious fighters. Like herself. Sabé started to protest, but Kenobi ignored her.

"Captain," the Jedi ordered further, "come with me."

"Wait," Sabé snapped as the Jedi and the Captain turned to go. "You're leaving us with a mere boy?  "I'm one of the best fighters here, and if we're boarded I'm going to be needed. Maybe Dormé should take over the decoy role."

Obi-Wan turned back to her, with slightly raised eyebrows and an uncompromising stare.

"Poulin is a Jedi," he said simply.

Balé had watched the exchange from the safety of her young Jedi friend's side. "Poulin is the best swordfighter in the Galaxy," she announced out of the blue. "Anakin said so." Although clearly in a hurry, Kenobi took a moment very briefly to consider the child, and then the Padawan, who had begun to blush again. Gods, Sabé thought, that's all we need – a blushing youth. I'll end up having to protect him.

"If not for other circumstances, you would not have our assistance at all," Kenobi said pointedly to Sabé. "Unfortunately, the pretense that you are Padmé must continue for now. I suggest you make certain it does." Without waiting for a reply he waved the door open and left, with Captain Typho on his heels. Dormé hurried after them, leaving Sabé alone with the Jedi Padawan and the child. Balé was clinging to Poulin's hand tightly.

Arrogant Jedi, Sabé thought as Kenobi disappeared. She glared at the Padawan, conveniently ignoring the fact that she had served Padmé as a bodyguard and decoy since she was much younger than the boy in front of her. But she needed an outlet for her simmering rage about their predicament – about what was being done to Padmé – and the shy young Jedi was the nearest target.

Poulin's flaming face grew paler. Without letting go of Bale's hand he bowed formally to the Sabé and said politely,  "I have completed my combat training. I will serve you to the best of my abilities."

Sabé snorted rather ungraciously.

"We'll see," she said shortly, and lowered the veil.

"I'm glad you're here," she heard Balé whisper to the boy, and saw him squeeze the child's hand.

* * * * *

Padmé swiveled her seat slightly so she could watch Anakin more closely. For a short while now she had sensed the normally companionable and intertwined silence between them turning colder and somehow more distant. He had not said a word, but she found herself searching his profile for clues to her feeling of unease.

Seen from the side his face was completely still, as though chiseled out of the sandy stone of his home world. She let her eyes follow the curve of his face from the lashes just above his cheekbone down to the edge of his jaw line, and then back up. That's what it was – his lashes. He wasn't even blinking. He wasn't moving at all. He was staring straight ahead and holding his shoulders so rigidly that the tension coming off of them was almost palpable. Padmé tried to say Anakin's name, to attract his attention in hopes of seeing him soften, but somehow couldn't bring herself to make a sound.

Gods, it was cold on this wretched ship.

She checked the controls. Not much longer before they shifted to realspace. Her eyes drifted inevitably back to Anakin. There was no doubt that he was sitting unnaturally still…

The shock of his sudden, violent movement beside her ripped a scream from her throat. Without any warning at all, Anakin abruptly came to life and smashed both fists down on the console in front of him. The sound of his ungloved metal fist shattering molded plastisteel went through her like a physical shock, and she leaped to her feet.

"Anakin!"

His back was heaving as he lowered his head to the console, where his fists still rested on bent surfaces and exposed circuits. Padmé threw herself on him, dragging him up by his shoulders and sliding around him so that she could see his face. His eyes looked dark and haunted, but he was evidently back from wherever he had been because he threw his arms around her waist and pulled her to him in a crushing grip.

"I won't," he gasped against her stomach. "I won't."

"Won't what?" Padmé whispered, stroking his hair and his neck, trying everything she knew to soothe him while her own heart still thudded painfully and erratically in her chest. She wanted to reach down for his face but it was impossible to remove him from his stranglehold on her body.

Anakin moaned. "I won't…choose," Padmé thought she heard him say, and then he fell silent. She continued caressing and stroking him until the proximity alarm succeeded in rousing them both.

At least that still works, Padmé thought, wondering how much damage he had done.

Anakin raised his head, blinking, and quickly sized up the situation. Releasing his hold on Padmé as quickly as he had taken it, he checked the flight computer and brushed debris off the indicators that were still intact.

"Anakin, what happened?" Padmé asked sharply, not yet willing to leave his side and sit down. She put her hands firmly on his shoulders and kept them there while he went systematically over the controls. "Anakin?" she prompted, when he didn't answer right away.

He still had not answered her when moments later the gray streaks of hyperspace were replaced in the view screen by the panorama of the stars of the Naboo Sector. With a quick tap on the magnification control the monitors jumped to the image of a cluster of ships in a close formation.

The task force. Anakin had indeed found it. Padmé studied the magnification for a moment and then increased it again, hoping that her eyes were deceiving her. The closer image showed five ships converging on the convoy at speed from a heading that angled toward their own.

"Anakin, look!" She pointed at the screen. Her other hand was still resting on Anakin's shoulder, as though she could steady him with her touch.

"Yes," he said. "That's an attack formation."  He adjusted the Defiance's heading slightly and nudged up her speed. His voice was quiet and controlled, but something about it seemed absolutely deadly.

Padmé stood still for a moment, watching the monitor with horrified fascination in midst of the throbbing of the Defiance's engines, the thuds of her beating heart and the rush of the blood that pounded in her ears.

"It's a very small attack force to tackle a convoy that size," she finally said.

"Yes," Anakin agreed, while staring straight ahead. Even that one syllable was chilling. The images on the monitor visibly grew larger as the speed he was coaxing out of the blastboat brought them rapidly closer.

"What is it, then?" Padmé persisted, sharply. Anakin's incomprehensible outburst and his monosyllabic responses had pushed her nerves to the edge.

"It looks like a single strike," he said unwillingly. "A hit and run strike against one ship, rather than the whole convoy."

"Surely the task force commanders see what we see." Padmé was becoming desperate for some reassurance from him.

"Let's hope so," Anakin said shortly.

Padmé fought down an overwhelming urge to shake him, to shout at him, to do anything to snap him out of that peculiar and frightening mood. What was the matter with him? He suddenly had changed completely. What could have happened?  What could have hardened him like that?  Why…?

 Oh. It hit her like a kick in the stomach.

"You knew already," Padmé observed tonelessly. Anakin didn't answer.

"Tell me which ship they are going to attack," Padmé said, just as flatly.

"You know as well as I do," Anakin said, and fell silent again. But his living hand came up to grasp hers where it still rested on his shoulder. He kept it there, holding on tightly as though he were drawing strength from her touch, as the Defiance hurtled toward the battle ahead.

* * * * *

By the time the claxon had finished sounding, Obi-Wan and Captain Typho had arrived on the bridge of the small starcruiser that was hosting the Naboo Delegation. The Commander of the Penumbra only permitted them access to the busy bridge because of the presence of the Jedi, but made it plain that they were to stand clear. That was fine with Obi-Wan. He was there for his own purposes.

The Penumbra's position toward the front and at the edge of the convoy's formation made it first in line for the attack by the ships that were vectoring toward them, so close that they already showed up clearly on the various monitors. The Penumbra nominally was protected by one fighter assigned exclusively to her, and two others within close reach behind her that covered other ships as well. That would not be enough. Obi-Wan reached for his private communicator.

"Mace?"

"We're on it," came the brief answer.

"Commander," Obi-Wan said to the starship's chief officer, "there are three Jedi starfighters alongside. Notify your escorts."

The Commander, a tall, lean human in the gray uniform that identified him as an Academy graduate, looked surprised. Perhaps his astonishment was due to the fact that the Jedi ships had escaped detection until now, or that there were as many as three of them. Either way, he quickly recovered his composure, nodded, and transmitted the appropriate directives to the fighter escorts and to his crew.

Obi-Wan fell silent, reaching out with every visible and invisible sense to form a picture of the events as they were happening, or more accurately, as they were about to happen. The small enemy force's intercept course had brought them almost within attack range of the convoy's escort fighters, and yet no counterattack had been launched.

"What are they waiting for?" Typho hissed beside him.

"That's a good question," Obi-Wan muttered. He was beginning to get a clear picture of something, and it wasn't to his liking.

"Commander!" he began, in a ringing voice, but stopped because at that same moment the enemy formation made its move, as he had known it would. They were fast. One of the ships at the rear of the formation had circled around their primary escort and approached the Penubra's single defender from the side. The firefight lit up the monitor screen with flashing, colored tracers. Within seconds the escort ship exploded into a huge fireball. There was a moment's silence, during which the Commander continued to do nothing. The Penumbra was armed, but no order to engage was given.

Obi-Wan sensed the Jedi starfighters moving into position before the tiny ships even appeared on the screen. Lon faced off against the single ship that had destroyed the escort fighter; Mace and Master Medulla headed toward the remaining four.

With two determined steps Obi-Wan closed the distance between himself and the Penumbra's Commander and gripped the man's shoulder in an unbreakable hold. "Tell me, Commander, he said in a voice that was all the more threatening for its softness," what are your orders regarding your limits of engagement?"

The Commander winced in pain, but held himself stubbornly upright. "That is classified information," he said through gritted teeth.

"Not to a Jedi," Obi-Wan said, very quietly. To outside observers it would have looked as though the Commander and the Jedi were standing close together in companionable conversation, which in itself would seem quite odd. When the Commander gasped once, in spite of himself, the rest of the bridge crew began to throw surreptitious glances their way.

"The fighter escort's original position was the outside limit of our authority to engage the enemy," the Commander finally spat out in a vicious whisper. Obi-Wan released his iron grip and stepped back to where the Naboo Delegation's Security Chief had remained standing, watching in fascination.

"A setup by any other name," Typho murmured. "I feared as much when I saw the position of our vessel. Let's hope your Jedi fighters can do some damage."

As they spoke, Lon had become engaged in a dogfight with the enemy fighter. The skirmish was a fierce one, and ranged over a wide swathe of space to the side of the Penumbra. Obi-Wan lifted his communicator to his lips.

"Stop grandstanding, Lon," he said shortly, "and finish him off."

"Yes, Master," came the words, and almost simultaneously the first of the enemy ships exploded violently.

"Maintain patrol in that section," Obi-Wan said into the communicator, without so much as a 'well done.' "They might try that move again."

"Understood, Master," came Lon's voice.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and stared at the monitors, but his awareness went far beyond them. Two of the enemy ships were being engaged simultaneously by the Jedi fighters, while the remaining two continued unerringly to close in on the Penumbra.

"Get ready for a strafing run," Typho growled beside him. "Looks like these sons of the seventh pit don't plan to do anything about it."

"They'll fire at the last possible minute," Obi-Wan countered. He had confirmed his worst suspicions. The Commander of the Penumbra was operating under some kind of mind control. He would fly the starcruiser into certain destruction without hesitation, fighting back only enough to make it look as though he had made an effort. Everything was up to the Jedi now.

 Suddenly Obi-Wan's attention was wholly drawn elsewhere, as his expanded awareness revealed a very familiar presence. Somehow it didn't surprise him.

Anakin, he thought to himself, as the enemy ships opened fire.

* * * * *

On the Defiance Anakin felt a burst of relief so powerful that his knees would have buckled, had he been standing. He released his grip of Padmé's hand to lean forward, braced both hands on the damaged console in front of him to steady himself, and closed his eyes.

"Anakin?"

Padmé's worried voice came from beside him. He had terrified her, and he felt awful about it. He couldn't hide anything from her – she picked up every tone, every look, every feeling. But she was his salvation. Only her presence had saved him from sinking into that familiar dark despair. TheForce is strong with her. He grinned, now that he was able to again. With Padmé by his side he could do anything. He would prevail.

"Anakin!"

His eyes flew open. She sounded as though she had reached her limit, as well she ought. He turned around to look up at her in pure gratitude and adoration. The expression on her face was a picture of confusion and fury. Anakin impulsively stood up, took her face in both hands, and leaned forward to give her a hard, lingering kiss.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm truly sorry for frightening you."

"What is going on?" she demanded furiously, once she could breathe again.

"Jedi," Anakin said, kissing her again. "Lots of them." Another kiss. "Guarding the Delegation's ship." His next attempt at a kiss missed its mark completely because Padmé had squirmed out of his grasp, moved back a step or two, and stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"Stop this now," she shouted, "and tell me what just happened to you!"

Anakin glanced over his shoulder to double-check their course and speed.

"I had a premonition about the attack," he explained, simplifying wildly. "I knew we wouldn't get there in time. It hit me hard." Her eyes widened in shock and he hurried to reassure her. "Now I know that a team of Jedi are there. If anyone can protect that ship, they can." He stood up and moved closer to her, but Padmé took another determined step backward. She was clearly still confused, and definitely furious. He waited meekly, his heart full to bursting. He knew without a doubt that her presence had pulled him back from the brink of …something.

"I thought you and the Jedi were at odds," Padmé said, scowling.

Anakin sighed. "We are," he explained. "I can't go to them, nor can I let them get their hands on me. But they can safeguard that ship better than anyone else. I'm glad that they are there."

Padmé crossed her arms. Her body language said, "keep your distance" in no uncertain terms. Anakin glanced back at the console again, checked the monitor, and then turned his attention back to her. Obediently, he stayed where he was, with his hands clasped behind his back. "We've got about three more minutes in which to have this fight," he said helpfully.

"If the Jedi are enough to safeguard the Delegation's ship," Padmé persisted, ignoring his attempt to make light of her concerns, "why are we still heading toward the task force?  Why don't we just go straight to Naboo and wait for them there?"

A dark shadow passed through Anakin. Padmé must have noticed it, for Anakin saw it reflected in her eyes.

"We're needed," he explained, but it only seemed to add to her confusion. It didn't help when he added, "you had better strap in. This might get tricky."

Padmé did as he had asked. There was a short, dense silence while she seated herself and fastened the restraining straps. But Anakin didn't doubt that she had more to say. He was right, of course.

"If you can sense the Jedi, Anakin, then surely they know where you are as well?"

He stared into the starry blackness outside, wishing that it was only the Jedi he was trying to elude. "Knowing were I am and catching me are two different things." He felt her eyes resting on him, full of questions and challenges.

"Anakin," she said, as he turned the small ship sharply to align it with the cluster of ships that could now be seen with the naked eye, "tell me that everything is going to be all right."

Anakin turned to look directly at her, meeting her troubled look with pure determination. "As long as you're with me, Padmé, nothing can stop us. You give me strength I didn't know I had."

She looked at him steadily for a long time, and then finally sighed, and said, "I won't leave you."

Anakin felt the last of the dark shadows slip away.

* * * * *

Things began to move fast. As Obi-Wan had predicted, the Penumbra flared to life and began firing on the enemy ships at the last possible moment, but not soon enough to avoid being strafed by both attackers simultaneously at close quarters. The impact of multiple hits rocked the starcruiser violently, but her shields held. This time. Of all the personnel on the bridge only the Jedi maintained his balance and continued to stand upright as if he were welded to the shuddering floor of the bridge.

All eyes on the bridge turned to the monitors to watch the two enemy ships double back, presumably to get into position for their second run. One of the two attack ships that had been engaged by the Jedi exploded. The other appeared to be playing a game of avoidance, but then it risked an attack from behind by swinging around to destroy the second task force fighter that had finally arrived. That maneuver gave the two Jedi starfighters all the opportunity they needed. Pouring all their firepower into the larger attacker, the Jedi converged on it and reduced it to a vast ball of flaming splinters.

But the other two ships had looped around for their second run on the Penumbra.

Obi-Wan dove for his communicator. "Lon, move to attack position with the others."

"Yes, Master." Without hesitation he hurled the small fighter into an end run around the Penumbra and straight toward the incoming enemy ships.

Almost surprisingly, the third nearby task force escort fighter actually showed up to join the fray.

"These people are asleep on the job!" Captain Typho hissed furiously.

You have no idea, Obi-Wan thought wryly, but didn't reply to the Captain's comment. He was busy trying to determine why his body and mind suddenly had gone on red alert.

His hand snapped to his communicator again. "Mace, Medulla, Lon! Second wave, coming in fast!

The three Jedi fighters and the army escort fighter engaged the two charging ships just as they began their second run on the Penumbra. The battle was fierce, and moving rapidly toward the starcruiser. As Obi-Wan had foreseen, five new attackers appeared out of nowhere and were closing fast. In a matter of seconds they would establish a perimeter around the dogfight. If that outer ring were able to circle and close, it would be a death trap.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to increase the power of his focus. In his mind he reached out beyond the task force perimeter, beyond the new fighters, into the depths of space where he had sensed his former Padawan, and then beyond.

Again he raised his communicator to his lips.

"Evasive maneuvers. Don't get caught. Reinforcements are on the way."