Chapter 39. Into Our Own Hands
The grand plaza in front of the Palace at Theed was teeming with people. Formally and colorfully dressed Naboo mingled with Gungans and some off-worlders. Phalanxes of white-armored soldiers stood at attention around the edges of the vast space, interspersed with groups of regular Republic Army troops in their distinctive severe gray uniforms. Both groups of soldiers were heavily armed. Tall flagpoles had squared off the curved edges of the ancient architecture, and their long banners snapped loudly in the stiff breeze far above the heads of the crowd. A substantial dais had been constructed in front of one of the Palace entrances, on which dignitaries were assembling in clusters.
Anakin allowed the crowd to push him along into the heart of the plaza, all the while studying his surroundings with all of his senses, estimating numbers, calculating distances, testing moods and intentions, assessing threats and opportunities alike. The side streets leading to the plaza were lined with Army vehicles of various kinds. The Naboo were uniformly anxious, and resentment coiled its way through the crowd like a writhing vine, touching almost everyone. The Army officers were wary and cautious. The armored troopers were – well, they were clones. There wasn't much to sense.
Anakin's attention snapped to the dais. Chancellor Palpatine was there! Anakin's heart slammed sharply in shock and dismay until he fought it back down to its normal rhythm. Was everyone in the Galaxy who thought of him as a big disappointment, or who had it in for him, here today?
It occurred to Anakin in a rush that the Chancellor must have arrived on the same Army task force as Padmé's staff. And Balé. He frowned, puzzling once again about the odd attack on that task force, and then stored the thought away for the moment, together with the persistent feeling of unease that accompanied it. Master Windu was taking a place at the Chancellor' left on the dais. That meant that the Jedi Council was being represented at this investiture – and therefore the Jedi were sanctioning the installation of the Military Governor. More importantly for Anakin's immediate concerns, it also meant that with only Master Windu on the dais, there were too many Jedi roaming elsewhere, probably in all the places where he needed to go unnoticed. Anakin struggled to contain a powerful surge of frustration, so that he could continue to observe clearly.
Queen Jamillia, accompanied by a contingent of the Queen's Own Guard, arrived to stand on the Chancellor's right, causing a welcoming ripple to run through the crowd. Four Red Guards took up places directly behind Palpatine. Music had been provided as well; in front of the dais sat a large band of musicians, both Naboo and Gungans. As some of them blew experimentally into their instruments to test their tuning, the distinctive tones suddenly catapulted Anakin back ten years in memory to another celebration on Naboo – the one after the Trade Federation crisis. After Master Jinn's death. The one at which Anakin truly had begun his life as a Jedi.
Again, he had the feeling of having come full circle. And again, everything had changed.
Fiercely Anakin pushed down the lump that had formed in his throat and concentrated on the scene around him. Another wave of murmurs, less welcoming ones this time, surged through the crowd as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic stepped forward and raised both arms in a gesture Anakin often had seen him use in the Senate Chamber. Anakin noticed the same feeling he had experienced during the crisis in the Senate – once again he felt the hairs rising on his arms and on the back of his neck. Once again he sensed an indefinable, rippling energy of some kind throughout the vast space. Involuntarily he glanced at Master Windu, who stood on the dais like a stone sentinel, neither speaking nor moving. The huge crowd quieted immediately upon the Chancellor's gesture, although no word had been spoken.
"My friends," the Supreme Chancellor began, in a voice that somehow carried to every part of the huge plaza, "this is indeed a momentous day…"
A middle-aged woman standing next to Anakin in the crowd snorted loudly, distracting him from the speech. "A day of villainy, more like," she muttered bitterly to the man beside her.
"Aye," her companion agreed. "And those speeches are going to go on and on while we stand by helplessly…"
On and on.
Anakin's attention snapped into focus. That was it. The investiture – it was perfect. He couldn't have designed a better distraction if he had tried. He glanced around the scene again with a sudden, deep sense of satisfaction. It was chaos, waiting to happen. He just needed a little more information. Abruptly he pushed past his neighbor.
"Have a care!" the woman snapped, looking around for the grim-faced young man who had jostled her, to berate him further. But he was gone.
Anakin's hopeful mood continued to buoy him up as he rounded the pillared gateway into a small courtyard that led to the main service entrance at the rear of the Palace at Theed. There was the tree that he had taught Balé to climb. There were the kitchens where he and Balé and prowled and played and annoyed the cooks. As he had anticipated, they were bustling with service staff. And if anyone knew who was in the Palace, and where they were located, it was the service staff.
Anakin grinned to himself as he walked boldly into the Palace kitchen, and again, as he walked back out a few minutes later, having helped himself to some sweet buns along the way. No one in the kitchen remembered his having been there, or having spoken to him. But the missing buns became the cause of a heated discussion between the cooks and the serving staff.
* * * * *
As soon as Obi-Wan Kenobi had left her alone and imprisoned in her own apartment in the Palace, Padmé began a systematic and frantic search through her home for all the emergency communications devices that had been carefully built into it. The Naboo were, by nature and as a result of long and bitter experience, supremely cautious. Padmé searched her furnishings, cupboards, walls and belongings obsessively, as though the action could provide her with an antidote to Obi-Wan's poisonous words.
Anakin is a danger to us all... he is under the influence of forces for which you have no frame of reference….Padmé's heart contracted in pain with every step, with every movement she made. Oh, Anakin. Why didn't you tell me?
The result of her search was as she had expected. Before her arrival the Jedi evidently had combed through her residence and located all of the panic buttons, data terminals and hidden COM access links, and disabled them. Her store of hidden weapons had been removed as well. By now as determined as she was angry and fearful, Padmé stood in the middle of her gracious sitting room with her hands on her hips, thinking hard. There had to be a way to contact Typho, or her Handmaidens. They were her link to contacting Anakin.
Anakin. She wished she could still speak to him in her mind. She wished he still allowed it….
Gods. Padmé felt suddenly sick as she realized why Anakin would have cut off that beloved channel of communication. She didn't understand all the ramifications of the dark threat that hung over him, but she had seen his eyes. She had seen the effects on him. All he ever did was to protect me, and all I did was demand more and more…
No wonder he was afraid. No wonder he was desperate to leave. And she had made it worse for him – so much worse, that the mere thought made it hard for her to breathe.
Think.
It was so difficult. It had been so long since she had been home. Her mind strafed the rooms and belongings around her, searching for something helpful to her – anything – that she might have forgotten about, and that the Jedi might not have found. A bundle of frayed nerves, Padmé fidgeted as she stood, clenching and unclenching her fists, curling her toes inside her boots…
Boots. Clothing. Wardrobe.
Padmé sprinted into her bedroom and yanked open the door to the vast wardrobe, almost a room in itself. Heedlessly she tore her way along the rows of glittering gowns until she found the one she was looking for. Scrabbling for the hem, she ripped into the elaborate raised decorations that dotted the sensuous fabric of the wide skirt, looking for the one that was designed to come off easily. There. A small but powerful blaster had been sown into the gown underneath one particular piece of decoration. Even the Jedi hadn't thought to look there, Padmé thought with grim satisfaction, snatching up the weapon. She stopped short when she began to wonder where and how to conceal it.
Well, that's what clothes were for.
Padmé dug back into the wardrobe and finally dragged out a change of clothing – soft leggings and a loose double-layered tunic that would suffice to hide the small weapon. Hastily she changed her clothes, and then searched the wardrobe again, more methodically, for anything that might serve as a rope. Since she hadn't had any luck in finding a communications device, she would have to get out of here on her own. That meant climbing. Blasted Jedi.
Minutes later Padmé had a makeshift rope wrapped around her waist under the loose tunic. The blaster was fully charged and safely tucked away. She slammed the wardrobe door behind her and headed straight into the sitting room and out the magnificent glazed doors that led to her balcony terrace. Impatiently, she paced around the perimeter of the spacious terrace along the balustrade, looking for landing points below and trying hard not to think about how high up she was. It looked hopeless. Frustrated and growing desperate, Padmé doubled back and followed the balustrade around the side of the terrace to the point where it met the palace wall. That corner was well out of sight of the sitting room, and the thick eliril vine that grew stoutly up the wall at that point might provide some hand-and footholds.
Padmé was just reaching over to test the strength of the vine when something grabbed her ankle. She choked back a scream, and then a second later almost screamed again when Anakin's face suddenly appeared a foot in front of her own as he pulled himself up onto the balustrade. After the initial shock Padmé almost cried with relief.
"Shhhh," Anakin warned, as he dropped lightly over the wide stone ledge.
"I'm sorry," Padmé whispered desperately. "I'm so sorry about not leaving right away. I'm ready to go now. Right now."
Anakin encircled her waist with one arm and placed the fingers of his other hand against her lips to quiet her.
"Not now," he whispered quickly. "The two by your door know I'm here." His expression changed to surprise and then satisfaction as he detected the rope under her tunic. "Keep that on," he added, "it might come in handy." Padmé struggled to speak, but he wouldn't allow it. "Quickly," Anakin said. "How many Jedi are here on Naboo?"
He removed his fingers from her lips and Padmé obediently named the Jedi she had seen or knew about. When she reached the last one on the list Anakin's eyes widened in distress.
"Brith?" he hissed. "They brought Brith? They had no right…"
"He's with Balé," Padmé whispered hurriedly. "I don't know where Obi-Wan and Master Windu went." Anakin's despairing expression twisted her heart. "Poulin's your friend, isn't he?" she asked worriedly.
"He can't afford to be," Anakin said harshly. "It would destroy him." His eyes shifted to the glass terrace doors, which had remained open.
"They're coming," he breathed. "Stay here. I'm going to get Balé. I'll be back for you."
And then suddenly, he was gone again, leaving Padmé alone on the sunny terrace where a year before, she and Anakin had lain together trying not to think about the future.
"Senator," came Master Medulla's voice from behind her, as Lon Erian suddenly appeared by her side and leaned over the balcony railing to scrutinize the walls and spaces below, "is anyone with you?"
"No," Padmé said shortly, looking longingly at the place where Anakin had just been. "I am alone." She turned around sharply to face the Jedi Knight. "And I would appreciate a bit more privacy. You may guard my door, but this is my home, and you should not feel free to burst in on me like this."
"He was here," Lon said over Padmé's head to Master Medulla, ignoring her completely. "He's not far."
"Come inside, please, Senator," Master Medulla said firmly. Padmé glowered at him and went. Lon followed, speaking into his communicator on the way. When they were all inside the sitting room again, Master Medulla closed the glazed doors. "I'm sorry, Senator," he said gravely. "Padawan Erian will remain here with you while I keep watch outside."
"How dare you!" Padmé blazed.
The Jedi Knight only bowed and returned to his post outside her apartment door, leaving Lon behind. The Padawan remained standing in front of the terrace doors with his arms crossed. No words were needed to tell Padmé that no repeat of her contact with Anakin would be tolerated. Padmé stood in the middle of her no longer private sitting room and glared at him full of grief and rage.
"Dellia has been inconsolable," she said abruptly, with wholly uncharacteristic malice. Lon looked at her, startled. "She is suffering terribly. I hope whatever you abandoned her for was worth it."
Look what I am turning into, Padmé thought wretchedly, when she realized that the sudden pain in the young man's eyes gave her nothing but satisfaction. This darkness touches us all.
Without another word, she turned to go into her bedroom where she would keep vigil until Anakin came for her.
* * * * *
Obi-Wan lowered his private communicator and looked at his companion. "Anakin has made contact with the Senator," he said quickly.
"He'll look for the child next," Tec Andros said, his eyes never ceasing their careful surveillance of the crowd in the plaza. The two Jedi Knights stood at the edge of the throng. Tec was once again wearing his Jedi robes. "I'll go."
"Wait." Obi-Wan spoke briefly into his communicator again. "Poulin – if Anakin appears, contact me, but take no action."
Tec shot him a sharp look. Obi-Wan looked away.
Despite the mobs of people at the investiture, there was always a little space around the Jedi Knights. People were cautious about getting too close to them. The feelings behind their distance seemed to have more to do with mistrust than fear.
"We will be blamed for this," Tec commented. "Our very presence here is taken as support for what he is doing."
"That is true everywhere in the Galaxy now," Obi-Wan pointed out.
The crowd milled and surged restlessly as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic concluded his lengthy speech, and then quieted when the musicians took up their instruments and launched into a lively medley of Naboo folk music. Under cover of the music, Obi-Wan murmured to Tec, "Have you taken care of the last shipment?"
"As well as possible," Tec replied tersely. "I figure we have stopped the flow of the weapons for the time being – the last two shipments have been destroyed." He nodded toward the dais. "With the Military Governor installed, they can do anything they want, and shipments will likely resume. We'll have to take out the source on D'lai if we want to stop it."
"Do we know how many life-Force disruptor weapons are in circulation?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Hard to say," Tec answered grimly. "Enough. Enough to do us serious damage."
Obi-Wan was silent until the band launched into a well-known Gungan anthem. Then he said decisively, "There is nothing more we can accomplish here. It's time to take the Senator and leave. By the time the first round of negotiations about her fate finishes this afternoon, we will be in hyperspace on our way to Coruscant."
"What about Master Windu?" Tec asked finally, after mulling this over. "He has to stay for the negotiations."
Obi-Wan smiled briefly. "I imagine Mace can find his own way home."
Tec smiled, too. "And Skywalker?" he asked.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Wherever the Senator goes, he will follow. By taking her, we will have them both."
Tec caught his friend's eye. "You know, you could make this all a great deal simpler if you were willing to confront him here and now." Obi-Wan didn't answer. "Just finish it," Tec urged. "You know what he is, and worse yet, what he can become."
As quietly as he had been standing, Obi-Wan became even more still. It was a profound inner stillness, as though he had suddenly locked himself away. For a long few moments he didn't speak, and when he did, it was only to say, "My plan has the full support of the Council."
Tec shrugged dismissively. "Plans can change. The Council would also support you if you decided to take unequivocal action."
Ob-Wan took a deep, slow breath. "As long as Anakin remains in play, we have a chance to draw out his pursuer."
Tec studied his friend carefully.
"Perhaps," he conceded. He searched Obi-Wan's face some more. "But that's not the only reason you hesitate, is it?"
Obi-Wan looked away without another word, and continued to scan the crowd.
* * * * *
By the time Anakin had pulled himself up onto the last terrace, the one that belonged to the spacious apartment that had been assigned to Padmé's daughter and the staff that attended her, he reckoned that he could have produced detailed architectural elevations of the exteriors of The Palace at Theed with his eyes closed. He allowed himself the luxury of an extra push with the Force for that final climb, and it was with real relief that he dropped onto the wide stone surface and crept toward the doors that led inside. The apartment was very similar to Padmé's, although from the arrangement of windows and the length of the terrace it appeared to be larger. It was even higher up than Padmé's – the eaves of the shining green roof were just overhead – and the view was breathtaking. Anakin didn't care about the view.
Despite the warm sunshine outside, the terrace doors were closed and locked, and partially covered on the inside by curtains. Anakin peered inside the apartment through the uncovered portion of a glazed panel.
Come on, Brith, he thought impatiently. I know you can sense my presence.
Sure enough, he sensed movement behind the doors before he saw it. One of the doors opened a crack, and then the opening widened enough for Poulin Brith to slip through.
"H-hello, Anakin," Poulin said cautiously.
"I'm sorry they dragged you along on this," Anakin said without preamble. "They shouldn't have."
"I s-serve," Poulin said stoutly, but the stammer gave away his uneasiness.
"How is Balé?" Anakin asked, cutting to the point.
"Frightened," Poulin admitted. "Upset with Senator Amidala for n-not coming for her right away. And she m-misses you."
Anakin made for the door, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. "That's not a g-good idea," Poulin said unhappily. "It will just get her h-hopes up. It will m-make things worse."
Who is guarding the apartment?" Anakin asked, ignoring Poulin's gentle plea.
"Four of the Queen's Own Guards," Poulin answered readily.
Anakin grinned lopsidedly. "That's it? Without further hesitation he stepped past the Jedi Padawan into the darker interior of the apartment and called softly, "Balé!"
Sabé leaped out of an armchair where she had been sitting with her back to the door.
"Son of the Seventh Pit!" she yelped at the same time that Balé emerged from the other room. "Where did you come from?"
Anakin ignored Sabé, and instead dropped to one knee to catch the squealing child as she threw herself at him. Her arms strangled his neck, her hair tickled his nose; her shrieks assaulted his ears. But her Force signature – holding her was like wrapping his arms around a bright, radiant bubble of love and acceptance and joy. Its light pierced Anakin effortlessly, instantly crumbling layers of defenses and shielding until he was gasping from the sheer unguarded happiness that poured from her. Anakin hugged her tightly, and for those precious moments all but forgot everything that haunted him.
"I was scared you wouldn't come," Balé said breathlessly.
"I'm here," Anakin murmured. "I'm here."
* * * * *
Anakin's sudden and unexpected appearance in the sitting room, and his reunion with Balé, had brought the others in the room to a standstill. Dormé had followed Balé out of the bedroom at a run, but now stood spellbound with her hands clasped over her heart. Sabé remained standing by her chair, but her clenched fists uncurled as she stared at Anakin and the child. Only Poulin understood the reason for the sudden change in the atmosphere in the room, and he, too, stood riveted by the powerful transformation that was taking place through the Force.
To Poulin's inner eye, the room was filling with light. Anakin had arrived in a cloud of darkness, but the last of those shadows was dissipating like fog in the morning sun. Anakin's powerful and normally so troubling Force signature shimmered clear and bright and steady. Poulin swallowed a few times, and then blinked for good measure. No, he hadn't been imagining it. The room was still bathed in that etheric light.
Sabé was the first to recover. "What's going to happen now?" she asked Anakin softly, without a trace of her usual edge.
Her words startled Poulin back into mindfulness of his position, and his duty. Reluctantly his fingers crept toward his utility belt where he kept the small communicator. He began to move backward little by little, toward the apartment door. It was hard not to be dazzled by the luminous radiance in the room. Anakin at his best was almost as overwhelming as Anakin at his worst. Now that he was momentarily unshielded, the effect was overpowering.
Anakin stood up with Balé in his arms. The child had a fistful of his hair grasped tightly in one of her hands. It must have hurt. Anakin let it be. "I have a ship waiting in Hangar 27b at the spaceport," he said to Sabé. "It's at the back of the cargo area. I need you to bring Balé there." Then Anakin looked straight at Poulin, gauging his reaction.
Poulin stopped moving backward when he caught Anakin's glance. It wasn't so much a look as a plea through the Force. Poulin felt himself beginning to tremble with the effort of keeping from being torn in two. The communicator was already in his hand. Anakin had just given him all the information he needed to stop him. It was his duty to inform Master Kenobi. And yet…and yet…
"I want to go with you," Balé protested to Anakin, her voice rising anxiously.
"I know you do," Anakin said reasonably. "I want that, too. But I have to get Padmé. And there will probably be shooting. And sword fighting. I'd prefer to keep you safely out of all that."
"You're going to bring Padmé?" Balé's voice was wavering. Sabé slipped closer to Poulin.
"Yes," Anakin said.
"And then you'll stay with us?" Balé persisted.
Anakin smiled at her. "Yes, I'm staying with you both from now on," he said, and then looked pointedly at Dormé, and then at Sabé, and finally at Poulin again. The Force surged between them, encircling Poulin with its warmth and light. The warmth and light that the Jedi sought above all else.
"What are you doing with that thing?" Sabé hissed, right next to Poulin. She was staring at the communicator in his hand.
Poulin took a shaky breath, and made his choice. He chose the light. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all." And he replaced the device in his belt. The gratitude in Anakin's eyes reached straight into his soul.
"I'm sorry to do this to you," Anakin said softly. "This will go badly for you."
Poulin managed a very small smile. "I don't know," he said. "If I had to fight you, no one would expect me to win."
Anakin's eyes twinkled in sudden amusement. "Right," he said firmly. "Avoid the plaza. There is going to be a riot. And I suggest you find yourselves an official escort, for cover and protection." He winked at Poulin. "Most of the armored troopers out there appear to be clones."
Poulin nodded. Clones were easy to mind-manipulate.
Anakin walked over to Dormé and gently transferred the clinging child into the stunned Handmaiden's arms, carefully detangling Bale's fingers from his hair in the process.
"Be brave, Warrior," he said. "It won't be long now." Balé nodded reluctantly from the safety of Dormé's shoulder.
No one said anything more until quite a while after Anakin had disappeared out the terrace doors.
"What…." Dormé eventually said uncertainly, into the silence, "what just happened?"
Sabé sighed suddenly and turned to give Poulin a warm and genuine smile. He felt himself beginning to blush.
"It seems we are taking matters into our own hands," Sabé said, still looking at the young Jedi. "We are returning Balé to her parents."
"P-parents?" Poulin stammered. When the implications of Sabé's comment had sunk all the way in, a very shaken Poulin became aware that his blush had spread all the way to the roots of his hair.
