CHAPTER TEN
Padmé sat in her pod in the Galactic Senate chamber, her fingers anxiously plucking at the faded japoor snippet pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck. The emergency session had convened within hours of Chancellor Millius' assassination. Senator Firren of Sullust, the Rules Committee chairman, was presiding over the raging debate.
The second assassination of a Supreme Chancellor in less than two weeks had left all the delegates stunned. Although the first order of business should have been the immediate election of a new Supreme Chancellor, not a single Senator had been nominated to the post.
Padmé knew exactly why. They were terrified. They were all terrified. The high office now looked less like the pinnacle of political achievement and more like a death mark. Whoever held the post next would have to manage a full-scale war against Argis' Vyhrragian legions, try to keep the Senate from degenerating into paralysis, and be willing to lay down their life to serve the Republic.
It was little wonder no one was leaping at the opportunity.
Instead of focusing on the selection of a new Chancellor, the debate had taken a disturbing turn. Senator Breena of Rodia, once a leading proponent of peace, actually had stood before the Senate and called for the declaration of martial law not merely in the threatened sectors but throughout the Republic. The staggering proposition was receiving praise from an increasing number of delegates, and the climate of fear in the chamber was gaining intensity every minute.
Jenny leaned forward and put her hand on Padmé's shoulder. "You're next on the Order of Debate," she said gently. "Do you want to speak, or should I yield the time?"
"I don't know," Padmé sighed. "This is bad. This is very, very bad. But I don't know what to do about it."
High in the air above them Senator Rylla of Ryloth, the corpulent Twi'lek, was bombastically declaring the hopelessness of the conflict. "How can we, a democracy," he shouted, "ever attain the kind of strict leadership necessary to prevail against an opponent of this kind? Argis is a dictator - a ruthless and brutal one. He can act quickly and efficiently, with no legislative approvals to obtain or committees to clear. He simply acts. Our Supreme Chancellor lacks this kind of authority. No matter who the next one is, he or she will be mired in bureaucracy and procedure. Perhaps martial law is the only way. And every hour we delay in electing a new Chancellor is another hour our enemy holds the advantage."
Padmé sprang to her feet and smoothed the front of her formal blue gown. "I will speak," she said to Jenny as she adjusted the heavy, elaborate Naboo style into which her long brown hair had been arranged. "I will speak."
When Rylla concluded a few minutes later, Padmé's pod rose from its moorings along the lowest row of pods near the chamber floor and floated smoothly into the open air in front of the Chancellor's podium far above. "Fellow Senators," she began, "this discussion of martial law is a threat to the very meaning of our democracy. Our great Republic is founded on the importance of debate and representation and oversight. Martial law is antithetical to all of these, and we must avoid it at all costs. The Republic is not weak. Our military is strong and our soldiers are capable of victory. We simply now must unleash them against our enemy. They will prevail, of that I have no doubt."
She felt Jenny tug at her hand, then pass a small hand-held datapad into it. Without interrupting her improvised address, Padmé read the short text message. It was from Bail Organa in the Alderaan pod; he had stepped in as temporary representative for his homeworld after Millius' death.
"Senator Rylla is correct," she said as she skimmed the words, "that each hour we delay is an hour Argis holds the advantage." You are a genius, Bail, she thought. This is brilliant. "But that does not counsel the declaration of martial law. Instead it counsels immediate action to install a new, democratically accountable leader." I will begin this, Bail. I trust you know what you're doing next. "We have debated for hours without a single nomination. And perhaps this decision is too important to make in a moment of extreme crisis. Perhaps we should not select our next Supreme Chancellor so hastily. But we need not do so. There is an alternative."
A stunned silence echoed in the gigantic chamber. Padmé smiled - clearly no one remembered the ancient procedure her old friend had suggested. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"My fellow delegates," she continued after the brief pause, "I move the invocation of Article Six, Section Fourteen, Clause Eight of the Articles of Succession."
---
The two Jedi Masters sat in the cockpit of the Lady Vader as the unique starship dropped out of hyperspace and Jaytoo began to recalculate the next jump to lightspeed toward Gimna 3. The short delay would give them the time they needed to make an important transmission.
From the starboard co-pilot's seat Obi-Wan opened the connection to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. When the console beeped to notify him that the encryption had succeeded, he addressed the wavering, static-laden blue holographic image that rose two hand-widths above the console. "Is the feed clear, Barriss?"
"It is, Obi-Wan," nodded the near-human Mirialan woman. "And we've done our best with your request."
Anakin leaned over from the pilot's chair. "What do we have available?"
"Aayla set it up," Master Offee said. "Here."
After a moment, the small image of the Twi'lek Master Secura appeared. "Two pairs of Padawans were on nearby planets, and they already have arrived at the Invictus," she explained. "I also have located three more Master-apprentice pairs who should be able to join you within six hours. But given the constraints of time, that is the most we can do."
"Very well, Aayla," nodded Obi-Wan. "Fifteen Jedi total, then. Not enough for an operation of this magnitude, but far better than I had expected."
The holographic image shifted to Master Offee again. "Mace had a brief chance to speak with Danaé while she was in transit from Dagobah," she told them calmly. "He was very pleased with what she had to say, apparently. He fully approves of her assignment to Gimna 3, and expressed his belief that she can handle any role you might wish to give her."
"That's good to know," Anakin smiled. "I haven't spoken to her yet myself, but I trust his judgment."
"Do you need anything else from us?" asked Barriss. "We've dismissed the utility of reinforcements, so I doubt there's much we could do on this end."
"We have done the best we can under the circumstances," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "We simply will have to believe that the Force is with us."
"As you say," Barriss said. She looked away momentarily. "Aayla agrees."
Anakin ran his fingers through his short gray hair. "You should be aware, Barriss," he said sadly, "that the mission on Tatooine did not end favorably. Gialla and Von Krindlemeier are dead, and Luke and Mara blame themselves for it. They disobeyed our instructions and attempted a rescue."
"I see," Barriss frowned. "Should I inform the Council? We convene again this evening."
Obi-Wan sighed and glanced at his old friend. Anakin only shrugged. With a deep breath, Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his short white beard and looked back at the holographic image. "There is no need to inform the Council at this time. Our Padawans have enough remorse for their actions, and I am confident they will act with greater discipline at Gimna 3. Once we return to Coruscant, they will prepare a full report and the Council can act accordingly."
"Very well," Master Offee nodded. "I am sorry to hear this," she said after a moment. "They were so close to being approved to take the Trials. It is a shame they will lose that opportunity."
"Yes, it is," Anakin grimaced. "But they have given us no choice."
"Are you enjoying holding the Chair in my absence, Barriss?" laughed Obi-Wan to lighten the somber mood.
"Enjoy? I'm not sure that's the right word, my dear friend," she laughed too. "May the Force be with you."
"And also with you," Obi-Wan nodded, then flicked off the transmission feed.
---
The Millennium Falcon flew slowly through the enormous opening of a docking bay of the Republic Navy destroyer Invictus. The floor of the gargantuan room, several hundred meters on each side, was filled to capacity with a wide variety of military and civilian transports and Navy starfighters. High in orbit above the threatened planet of Gimna 3, the destroyer soon would be the staging ground for a massive evacuation of refugees and personnel from the surface.
Once the old and worn Corellian freighter had dropped the final distance to the floor and settled onto its landing gear, its passengers headed toward the boarding ramp to disembark.
Sarré was so overwhelmed by her inconsolable need to see Bryon again that she was having great difficulty paying attention to the others around her. Han was explaining to Leia that he would be pulled away on Navy business immediately, and Leia was perfectly calm about it. Less than half a day ago they had spent the night together, but Sarré knew they hadn't told Chewie or Lando. They were acting nonchalantly, as if nothing significant had happened. Sarré supposed it probably was because of Leia's continuing discomfort about what her family would think, and Han no doubt was concerned about the appearance of having begun an affair with a Senator he was charged with protecting. With all her heart Sarré wanted to scream at Leia that the price of hiding the relationship was too high - unbearably high. But right now it was taking all of her self-control to suppress her fidgeting and she couldn't possibly formulate a coherent way to express her concern to Leia.
Finally the boarding ramp lowered. Sarré shot past the others to be the first down the ramp, rushing immediately into the open arms of her secret husband, who was waiting for her at the very edge of the painted stripe of the safety zone. She slammed her arms around him and felt his crushing embrace nearly knock the air from her lungs. Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes. It had been only about five weeks. It had felt like an eternity.
Only vaguely was she aware of Han and his friends saluting Admiral Mirkalla, who praised them highly for their legendary exploits against the Hutt Criminal Syndicate. She barely noticed Leia hugging Anakin and patting Artoo on his dome. She couldn't think about anything but being in Bryon's arms again.
After a short time she found her voice. "I missed you so much," she sobbed. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too," Bryon said with tears streaming down his face as well. "I need you so much right now."
She buried her face in the black shirt of his Special Forces fatigues and kept crying. Every sob that wracked his body, every gasp for air through his tears, she heard and felt. There was so much she needed to say, and yet she could not find the words. They simply stood in silence, holding each other desperately.
Sarré lifted her face away from Bryon's chest and gazed up at him. He looked awful. He had dark circles under his eyes, and bruising and swelling around them. His skin was pale, and the energy that usually sparkled in his smile was nowhere to be seen. "Everything will be okay," she whispered to him.
Bryon tried in vain to blink away the last of his tears. "I hope so," he said quietly. "I hope so."
She knew what was upsetting him so much. "You did the best you could," she insisted. "You and your men did your best."
"But it wasn't good enough," he said mournfully. "The Chancellor is dead and. and Pryzill. and Krannar too. and so many of them. and. and. it's my fault. It was my responsibility. I failed them. I failed them all. I failed the Army."
"You can't think like that," she replied firmly, yet still softly enough that no one else could hear. "You can't. No one wins every single battle. It's impossible."
He took a deep breath and sighed. "I know. It's just really starting to get to me, this war. All the casualties. All the death." His body shook from anguish. "We won't be able to save anywhere close to all the refugees here. Even if we succeed beyond our wildest dreams, thousands and thousands will be stranded. I don't know how much more of this I can handle, Sarré. It's too much to take. It's just too much."
She smiled as reassuringly as she could. "You'll make it through this, Bryon. I'm here now. We'll make it through this together. You and me." She smiled more broadly and took a deep breath, keeping her voice hushed. "We'll make it. You and me and."
"Hey, Sarré." Leia's voice cut through air and drove away all of Sarré's resolve to continue with her very private announcement.
Sarré turned to face Leia and Anakin, and realized the Navy officers already had left. "Yes?"
Leia clearly was oblivious to what she had interrupted. "We need to go now. I'm sorry. Daddy says the Senate is meeting in emergency session, and we need to see if we can get in touch with our Moms before we get pulled away for other things."
"It's okay," Bryon said quickly. "I've been away from the planning meeting too long already. There will be time to talk later. I promise."
"Okay," Sarré nodded reluctantly. There was no way to tell him now. Not in front of Anakin.
Sarré compelled herself to release Bryon and walked over to join Leia and Anakin. "Let's go," she said, using every ounce of willpower she had to keep her voice from shaking. As they walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder one last time at Bryon. He remained standing in place, watching her.
After Sarré was gone, Bryon strode quickly away from the Falcon toward a different exit on the far wall. When he was out of earshot, a series of bleeps and toodles filled the air.
"I'm delighted to see you too," said Threepio to Artoo. As always, the droids had waited patiently to the side to be sure there were no instructions from their human masters. "You must tell me all about your trip to Dagobah with Mistress Danaé."
The astromech beeped and whistled. "Oh, my journey with Mistress Leia was perfectly uneventful," the protocol droid replied. "Well, except for the very end, when this quite unruly band of miscreants began attacking us as we were walking to the ship to depart."
Artoo honked and squealed. "Yes, we were attacked!" exclaimed Threepio. "There was blaster fire everywhere. I was certain I was going to be blown to pieces, but thank the Maker I wasn't."
Artoo blooped and whistled sadly. "Yes, I know," Threepio responded. "This is a tragic situation. But I am confident that Master Bryon has a well conceived plan for helping as many of the refugees as we can."
Artoo beeped proudly. "I think so too," Threepio agreed. "He's quite clever, you know. For a human being."
---
Nalé Bellion sat on the side bench of the Alderaan pod. Since the day her mother had assumed the post of Acting Senator for the Naboo system while Leia was away, Nalé had joined her in their homeworld's pod for every assembly of the delegates. A few hours ago she had learned that Bail Organa would be Acting Senator from Alderaan until the planet's Viceroy could appoint a replacement for the slain Bail Millius, and that he would be alone in the pod during this important emergency session. Nalé had offered to sit with him and help as much as she could, and he had accepted graciously.
Now Nalé listened intently to Bryon's mother addressing the Senate from far down below near the podium.
"My fellow delegates," Padmé was saying, "I move the invocation of Article Six, Section Fourteen, Clause Eight of the Articles of Succession. That clause provides for the selection by acclamation of a Chancellor Regent who shall assume the powers of the office of Supreme Chancellor until such time as a proper succession election can be held." She paused for a moment, then continued. "By rule, the motion itself is not debatable. A candidate shall be immediately nominated, and the presiding Chair shall call for approval by acclamation. Candidates shall be proposed until one receives approval. No other business may be conducted." She paused again, allowing the words to sink in for the shocked delegates throughout the chamber. "If we act wisely, my honorable colleagues, we will have a Regent within minutes. As movant, I am entitled to make the first proposal. I choose, however, to yield my time to the Alderaan system."
Nalé looked over at Bail with raised eyebrows. She knew he had sent two messages from his datapad, but she had assumed they had been to the office staff. Apparently not.
As the Alderaan pod released from its position far up the sloping bowl and descended slowly toward the podium, Bail leaned over and smiled. "Don't be nervous," he said soothingly. "You don't have to do anything. It's okay for you to stay seated. I'll only be speaking for a short moment."
Nalé realized she was hyperventilating, so she took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Her pulse was racing and she felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Anxiously her fingers began to pluck at the elegant meadow-green dress she had chosen for today.
The pod finally slowed into a position next to Padmé's. Standing calmly in the front of the pod, Bail addressed the chamber in a firm, authoritative voice earned by nine years of service on the Supreme Chancellor's podium. "Thank you, Senator-at-Large Skywalker," he said. "For the post of Chancellor Regent, to serve effective immediately until such time as a duly elected Chancellor is chosen, I propose Acting Senator Sabé Bellion of Naboo."
Nalé barely managed to stifle her gasp. From the corner of her eye she saw Padmé slump backward into Jenny's arms in her pod a few meters away, equally dazed by the shock of Bail's words.
Before Nalé could say anything she realized the Alderaan pod was ascending through the air again. Around her she heard the usual dull murmur of background conversations explode into a cacophony of cheers and shouts and exclamations. At the podium, Senator Firren made no effort to restore order but simply stood calmly and let the uproar take its course.
As the pod slowed and approached its moorings, Nalé swallowed hard and looked at Bail. "You just told them that you thought Mom should be the Supreme Chancellor, didn't you?"
"In a way, yes," Bail said tenderly as he reached over from his seat to take her hands. "Not permanently, though. I said that we need someone to be making decisions and taking charge and doing everything the Chancellor does. And what Padmé did was call upon a very old rule that says that we can select a person to be a Regent for the office. That person acts just like a Chancellor, but they're not officially the Chancellor. As soon as we can have a proper set of nominations and an election, the Regent steps aside and the duly elected Chancellor takes over."
"I think I understand," Nalé said through her quivering jaw. "It's like how Mom is standing in for Leia now, but she stops as soon as Leia gets back."
"That's exactly right," Bail smiled warmly. "It's the same idea."
"So if the Senate does what you asked, Mom will basically get to be the Chancellor for a while. Until there's an election. She'd make decisions, and get to tell the Army what to do, and things like that."
"Yes," Bail nodded.
"She could make Sarré come back, and make the Army send Bryon home," Nalé said pleadingly. "She could make them safe."
Bail smiled sadly. "I suppose so, yes. I suppose she could."
Nalé furrowed her brow. "What does acclamation mean?"
"It means that when the presiding Chair of the chamber puts the proposed Regent to the delegates, everyone has to agree. If anyone objects, even a single Senator, then there is not approval by acclamation."
Nalé frowned. "Would that ever work? Wouldn't someone always object?"
"It's a possibility," Bail conceded. "But that's why acclamation is used so rarely. By making the procedure approval by acclamation, the Articles of Succession make each Senator think greatly about their duty. This is only a temporary choice - a Regent. The person doesn't have to be a perfect one. It might be someone who couldn't be elected as a regular Chancellor, but because it's only a Regent, the Articles ask the Senators to set aside their differences and choose someone who's acceptable to everyone for that short-term post."
"And you think Mom could be approved by acclamation? That's why you nominated her?"
"Yes, darling, that's right," Bail smiled. "Your mother served here for fifteen years. She has her share of enemies who still hold grudges, that's certain. But everyone respects her, even her enemies. She is smart and wise and knows many of the Senators personally. They trust her and know she will do a good job. And most of all they know that she loves the Senate and the Republic and would step aside when the new Chancellor is elected, no matter who it is, even someone she doesn't like."
"I know she's really famous and everyone respects her," Nalé said quietly. "I guess I never realized how important she is. I mean, she could be the Chancellor Regent during a war. That's. I don't know. It's a really big deal."
"Yes," Bail smiled. "Yes, it is."
Then the pod's console beeped, and far beneath them Senator Firren began to call for order from the podium. After a short time decorum was restored. Firren cleared his throat and addressed the chamber. "The motion has been made and is not debatable. Acting Senator Sabé Bellion of Naboo has been proposed as Chancellor Regent. The proposal must carry by acclamation." Firren took a deep breath and continued. "As the presiding Chair of this body, it is my duty to submit the proposal to the floor. The proposal is hereby submitted. Any delegate objecting to the approval of Acting Senator Bellion shall so vote at this time."
Anxiously Nalé peered over Bail's shoulder at the small screen that displayed the results of votes. A solitary red dot on the grid of 1,200 delegations would end her mother's chance to be Regent. None appeared.
After an eternal, terrible, soul-rending pause Firren spoke again. "The time to vote has elapsed. The proposal is approved by acclamation." The Senator from Sullust leaned over for a moment to the Vice Chair. "It has been my honor preside over this session today. We are hereby adjourned, to assemble as scheduled in the morning. It is my privilege to announce that by operation of law, Sabé Bellion of Naboo is now Chancellor Regent of the Republic."
A thunderous ovation shook the chamber, and Nalé looked far across the enormous bowl toward the Naboo pod. She saw her mother standing in her pod, bowing humbly to acknowledge the cheering of her peers.
Nalé couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. She leaned forward and grasped Bail's arm, raising her voice to be heard over the din. "I need to see my Mom," she sobbed, suddenly feeling much younger than her sixteen years. "I need to see her."
---
Luke adjusted the fit of his indigo Jedi robes as he approached the door to the small lounge where his twin sister was expecting him. She had arrived aboard the destroyer only a short time ago, and momentarily he would have to head to the staging deck for the mission briefing. Even if they had only a few minutes, though, he wanted to be sure her assignment to Pharenniol had gone smoothly.
She must have heard his boots on the tile floors, because she was rushing to the door to greet him. "Hi," she smiled happily as she reached out to embrace him.
Luke stopped in his tracks, extended his arms in front of him, and blocked her. "What do you think you're doing?"
She flinched at the harsh rebuke. "What?"
"That," he said, pointing to her attire. She was wearing the red-and-white jumpsuit of a Naboo military commando, had her long brown hair pulled up in the traditional combat braids, and had a large blaster pistol holstered on her belt. He stared intensely into her eyes. "You're not participating in the operation. It's too dangerous."
"I most certainly am participating," she snarled as she headed down the hallway in the direction of the turbolifts to the staging deck. "We'll need all the hands we can get down there, and I'm doing my part. Sarré's going along with Bryon, and I'm going too."
"What you mean is," he growled, "you're going along with Captain Solo."
"Yes."
Luke shook his head in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?"
"No, not at all," Leia snapped. "These refugees need our help. Jarren gave his life trying to help them. And I'm going to help them too."
"This isn't some peaceful camp on stable world," he insisted. "This is a war zone, Leia. A war zone. You have to stay here on the destroyer. You must ensure your own safety."
"Don't order me around, Luke," she spat as the turbolift door closed in front of them. "I don't answer to you. And I'm participating in this mission whether you like it or not."
His piercing stare had not abated. "You think you're in love with him, don't you?"
"So what if I do?" she barked. "I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing it for me. Because I have to."
"If he really cared for you, he wouldn't let you."
"Ha! I'd like to see him try," she laughed. "Yes, we care for each other. But I wouldn't listen to him on this any more than I would to you. It's not like we got married or something."
Her words hit Luke like a slap in the face. Married. Husband. Mara had called him her husband. When they had posed as travelers needing passage to Naboo, she had called him her husband. She hadn't told him in advance or asked him or warned him. She'd just done it. Panic rose in mind and his heart began to pound. One night together, he thought, and she's calling me her husband. Is that how she feels? Does she want to get married? It was one night. We don't. How could. There's so many.
Leia was looking at him in confusion when he hadn't replied, and when she spoke the harshness was gone from her voice. "Luke? What's wrong?"
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Nothing," he said firmly, walking out the open door of the turbolift on to the staging deck of the destroyer. "Nothing. I just. I. I got distracted."
"Did you sense something in the Force?" In her eyes, apprehension about the mission to come was apparent.
"No," he replied quietly. "Not that. Forget it. I'm fine."
"Okay," Leia said, unconvinced. They passed through the open door of the briefing room. "There's Sarré," she pointed. "I'm going to sit with her."
"Fine," Luke agreed, "but we're not through with this. You're making a mistake. A big mistake."
"Go kiss a mynock," she glared, then marched away.
---
Striding down the gray hallway of the Invictus, Mara couldn't believe it had been only a few hours since she had arrived here aboard the Lady Vader. She had spent the whole time on the destroyer in meditation, trying to calm her emotions from the roiling tempest they had become on Tatooine. Her Master had approved of the idea, but it hadn't been as effective as she had hoped. Her time for meditation was up, though, and now she had to attend the briefing about the refugee evacuation that was going to begin immediately. Her mind jolted back to the present when her companion spoke.
"Master Kenobi told me what happened," Danaé was saying gently. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks," Mara said sadly.
"How is Luke managing?"
Mara had to lock down her feelings instantaneously. During the five-hour flight from Naboo to Gimna 3 she and Luke had told their Masters all the details of their mission, including the horrible result - but they hadn't revealed what had taken place between them afterward at the inn. They hadn't even had time to discuss it themselves, and there was no way they were going to talk about with anyone else first. "Well enough, I guess, all things considered."
"That's good," Danaé replied. "And you're doing okay?"
"As well as can be expected, I think," Mara nodded. "It'll be easier when I can focus on the task at hand, instead of just thinking about it."
"You're right," Danaé agreed, "but you need to be sure you've found some peace. You could get into real trouble if you're distracted or vulnerable. I should know."
"I'm doing my best," Mara said. "I'll be fine."
They walked together into the enormous briefing room. Scanning the crowded auditorium for empty seats, they heard a voice call out to them from the far left.
"Jade! Hey, Jade! Over here!"
They spun around to see a tall, brown-haired Jedi with a neatly trimmed goatee waving at them. Quickly they made their way through the soldiers and pilots to find a group of four Padawans seated together. The other three rose to greet them. One was a young man with white hair. Another was a red-skinned Mon Calamari female whose big bulging eyes constantly peered around the room. The fourth was a shorter young human woman with blonde hair and gray eyes.
"Hey, Halcyon," Mara said when they arrived. "Good to see you, Solusar. And you, Cilghal." With a mental grimace, she inclined her head to the woman. "Callista." Any former lover of Luke's was the last person she wanted to see right now, and this one in particular. Mara had never really liked Callista to begin with - and even though it was well in the past and no threat to Luke's feelings for her at all, it took her full mental strength not to think about the idea of Luke and Callista together.
"Hi, Mara," Callista smiled obliviously after the others had nodded politely to Mara. "We heard you and Luke were at Corellia and then got sent somewhere else. Is he here?"
Mara slammed down the controls on her emotions again. "He's around here somewhere, yeah."
"How's he doing?"
It's none of your business how he's doing! Stay away from him! He doesn't want you anymore! You're nothing to him! He's mine now! screamed Mara's thoughts. Out loud she said, "He's fine."
Corran Halcyon leaned around Mara to look at Danaé. "Hey, why so quiet? Not gonna say hello?"
Mara expected to feel a flinch in the Force from Danaé. Unlike her gregarious and headstrong brother, Danaé was shy and reserved, and she often took simple teasing like this too personally.
Yet when Danaé spoke, there was no hint of discomfort in the Force. She truly seemed at ease with herself for the first time in many years. "Hello, Corran," she laughed. "Hi, Kam. Cilghal. Callista. It's nice to see you."
As the others greeted Danaé in return, Mara sensed a murmur in the Force and glanced over to see Luke and Leia walking into the auditorium together. When Leia glared hard at him and spun away, Mara sent a telepathic message to him. Over here.
Luke's head bobbed in surprise before he glanced over his shoulder to see her. Their eyes met, and his blue orbs flickered with uncertainty and reluctance. He looked like he was about to turn away, but then he shook his head to himself almost imperceptibly and strode toward her.
---
Bryon stood on the stage at the front of the large auditorium with his hands clasped behind his back. Although he had intended to wear his dress-whites uniform to address the assembled soldiers and Navy pilots, with the evacuation operation scheduled to start immediately he wore his shining obsidian-black Special Forces battle armor instead. He knew without question that he struck an imposing figure for the troops.
To his left at the podium Admiral Mirkalla and Captain Wedge Antilles were concluding the Navy's part of the mission briefing. To ensure maximum security and prevent friendly-fire casualties, only Navy transports would ferry soldiers and refugees to and from the orbiting warships during the evacuation. With quick glances at Captain Solo, Danaé, and his father, he saw their grim acceptance that the Millennium Falcon, her Jedi X-Wing, and the Lady Vader would remain docked aboard the Invictus.
Bryon's segment of the briefing was about to begin, and he wondered whether he would be able to go through with it. His self-doubts still haunted him; his failure on the convoy hung a terrible weight on his heart. His pulse raced and he began to sweat. Even a deep breath did not calm him down.
Bryon closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again and looked to the near wall of the room about halfway up the tiered floor of the auditorium - and there she was. Sarré wore the red-and-white Naboo military jumpsuit and had tied back her luscious blonde hair in a quartet of combat braids. Her lavender eyes locked instantly to his and she smiled lovingly.
A wave of peace washed over him as he held her gaze. One of the benefits of leading this mission was his authority to make the assignments of tasks on the ground. Sarré would be at his side the whole time. He could protect her himself. And if he needed her, she would be there for him. He had assigned Captain Solo's team - which really meant Leia - to his unit as well.
When Sarré blew him a hidden kiss he felt his legs tremble. But for once not from fear for her safety. In fact, as he thought about it he realized he had never felt less worried about her. Mostly it was because he would be with her. Beyond that, over the last six months their relationship had become so much stronger - and more physically intimate - than it ever had been before, and during that time she increasingly had expanded her combat training beyond the minimum requirements of a Senatorial handmaiden. While they had trained some together when he was on leaves, for the most part she had dedicated herself to those efforts while he was away on missions. Her aim with a blaster had reached nearly marksman level. Her martial arts skill had improved to a degree that she now consistently was able to hold her own with him in practice matches, something many of his soldiers could not do. Becoming a worthy warrior in her own right, he thought, was her way of feeling close to him even when he was absent. Any opponent who underestimated her on Gimna 3 would be in for an unpleasant - and probably fatal - surprise.
As Admiral Mirkalla finished the Navy's presentation, Bryon smiled warmly at Sarré. She smiled back happily and mouthed "I love you" to him. He nodded slightly to her, then took a deep breath and strode to the podium.
"Thank you, Admiral," Bryon said firmly, his deep, rich voice booming in the spacious auditorium. "As most of you know, I am Major Bryon Skywalker of the Army Special Forces and the commanding officer of the Army units for this operation."
Bryon briefly scanned the crowd. To his right, Leia was sitting with Sarré. In the rear two groups of Jedi Padawans were clustered together, separated by a squad of Navy pilots from a quintet of Masters. Solo, Chewbacca, and Calrissian were seated in the front with other high-ranking Navy officers from various warships assembled for the evacuation task force.
"This operation will be a tremendously difficult one," Bryon explained calmly. "The refugees we are evacuating have been gathered at two spaceports on opposite sides of Gonnolli, the capital city of the planet. Our regiments of regulars and the battalion of Special Forces have been divided into three teams. Two teams, which together comprise about three-quarters of our units, will provide defense at these spaceports. The third, smaller team will protect the Republic personnel being evacuated from the government complex in the city center, which has sizable hangar of its own." He did not mention that he was leading the third group personally.
Bryon took another deep breath and glanced quickly at Sarré. She appeared utterly transfixed by him, her eyes lost in a smitten gaze. He suppressed his chuckle and continued.
"We are fortunate to have a small contingent from the Jedi Order present for this operation," Bryon smiled, tipping his head to acknowledge the five Masters sitting in the back of the auditorium. "The Jedi also will be divided among our three teams and will provide as much assistance and guidance as they are able."
Bryon unclasped his hands from behind his back and grasped the sides of the podium. "As Admiral Mirkalla has explained, the evacuation will proceed by continuous round trips by Navy transports from planetside to our vessels in stationary orbit. Wings of Navy starfighters will provide cover, as will the cannons of the larger warships. Although the enemy has not yet launched an assault on the planet, we fully expect that such an attack will begin during our evacuation. We will continue with our operations until we can no longer sustain them within the mission parameters we have established."
He paused to let the murmur of surprise ripple through the assembled Army troops. "We will be maintaining a close watch on the status of both our ground and naval forces. The acceptable loss rate has been agreed at fifty percent. When attrition either on the ground or among the evacuation ships approaches this percentage, an immediate windup of the operation will be ordered and all forces will be extracted from the planet." The undercurrent grew even louder - probably because the soldiers had heard him say when and not if the attrition rate reached fifty percent.
"This operation carries great risk for all of us," he said somberly when he finished his presentation half an hour later. "Of that there is no doubt. We have been given the responsibility of saving the lives of as many refugees as possible, and that is what we will do. The Army of the Republic has served the people of the galaxy proudly for many years, and this evacuation is another chapter in our glorious history. I know each of you will serve with honor and do your duty." He scanned the crowd a final time and fixed a determined expression on his face. "The operation begins immediately. Proceed to your stations, and may the Force be with you."
The auditorium erupted with noise as the hundreds of gathered soldiers and pilots rose from their seats and began to file toward the exits, chattering as they did. After a brief word with Admiral Mirkalla and Captain Antilles, Bryon walked down the four steps from the stage and headed straight for the near wall, where Sarré was descending against the flow of the crowd to meet him.
When she arrived she took his hands and stretched up on her toes to give him a gentle kiss. "You did great," she smiled. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks," he nodded shyly. "It really helped having you here."
She squeezed his hands and laughed. "I don't see why, but okay."
He leaned down so he could speak more quietly through the noise of the exodus. "I'm sorry we haven't had any time to talk yet," he apologized. "But it will take a while for the teams to assemble and board the transports. We're the last ones to board, and you can come with me to the command area in the meantime if you want."
"Sure," she said, wrapping an arm around his waist. "But I guess we really won't be able to talk alone, though, huh?"
"I don't think so, no," he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I mean, if it's really important I can probably get away for minute or two if you want me to try to."
"No, no, it's okay," she insisted. "It's nothing. Really. I just miss having time to be together, you know?"
Bryon looked closely into her eyes and believed her. "Yeah, I sure do," he sighed. "Once this mission is over, I'm taking a leave no matter what. I need time with you, just the two of us, with nothing else to get in the way."
"I'd like that," Sarré grinned. "I'd like that a lot."
---
Padmé stood behind the desk in her office and gazed out the broad window that overlooked the Senate Building. The gargantuan domed structure was illuminated by an array of lights, creating a stark contrast with the dark sky of night in the rest of her vista. Absentmindedly she reached up her hand and her fingers began to twirl the japoor snippet pendant.
Behind her she heard the quiet rustling of fabric and beaded adornments coming down the hallway and through her open door. Without turning around she greeted her visitor. "It's late, Jar Jar. You should head home."
"Mesa going to, Padmé," the Gungan said agreeably as he arrived at her side and joined her in looking out the window. "Mesa wanted to see yousa first. Be sure yousa not needing anything else."
"I appreciate the offer," she smiled warmly. "But I've done all I can for today. I'm waiting for Sabé to stop by, and then I'll be going home too."
"Mesa stay with yousa, then," Jar Jar declared. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the beads on his robes clattering as he did. "Wait with yousa."
"Thank you, Jar Jar," she sighed. "Thank you."
For a long while they stood in silence, gazing at the nighttime sky, or the Senate Building, or the zipping lines of airspeeder traffic in the distance. Finally Jar Jar cleared his throat and spoke. "Mesa remembering the first time wesa here," he said quietly. "Yousa thinking, yousa people gonna die. And yousa knew the Senate wouldn't be helping. Not in time. So yousa went back to Naboo, and asked mesa for help with the Bosses."
"I remember that too," Padmé nodded. "We were standing at a window much like this one when Palpatine arrived to tell us he'd been nominated as Supreme Chancellor."
Jar Jar pulled her closer reassuringly. "Mesa thinking, yousa going to be doing something this time too, eh?"
Padmé's fingers continued to spin and tug at the pendant on its thin chain. "I think so," she said softly. "I'm just not sure."
"Whatever yousa decide, mesa support you. Mesa always help you."
"I know," she smiled. "Your loyalty is one of the most precious gifts I have ever received."
A gentle knock on the doorframe preceded Sabé's voice. "Sorry I'm late," the Chancellor Regent said. "Nalé had a lot more she wanted to talk about than I expected."
"It's okay," Padmé said. "I've been able to get some thinking done. And Jar Jar was here to keep me company."
"Well, I apologize anyway," Sabé chuckled. Like Padmé, she still wore her formal gown from the afternoon's session of the Senate. "Thanks for checking in on her, Jar Jar."
"Mesa pleasure," the Gungan smiled broadly. "Always. Mesa be going home now. Don't being here too late. Yousa both need your sleep." He put a hand on Sabé's shoulder. "Yousa most of all."
Sabé nodded. "Thank you, Jar Jar."
After a final warm smile and polite bow, their old friend strode out of the office.
Padmé turned to look out the window again, and Sabé joined her. After a deep breath Padmé reached out and took one of Sabé's hands. "I wish we'd been able to contact them again," she whispered. "Leia and Sarré said they'd try, but I guess they didn't have time." With her free hand she wiped her eyes. "Sarré doesn't even know you're Regent. And Anakin. I haven't talked to him since Theed. I really need to know what he thinks about this."
"I wish you could have spoken with him too, just to reassure you," Sabé said softly. She squeezed her hand reassuringly. "He'll do anything for you, Padmé, you know that. If it's what you want, it's what he wants."
Padmé nodded weakly. "I'm so worried," she said. "I'm so worried something's going to happen. They're all there. I'm just so afraid."
Sabé squeezed her hand comfortingly again, and they shared a mournful gaze. "I'm worried too," Sabé admitted. "Sarré and Leia shouldn't even be there. And Bryon's in the middle of it all. He's never concerned enough about his own safety. He can be so reckless sometimes."
Padmé managed a little laugh. "He gets that from his father."
Sabé laughed harder. "No, he gets that from both his parents. I seem to recall you doing similar things."
"Maybe," Padmé winked. "Once or twice."
Sabé grinned. "Once or twice a year, you mean."
"I wasn't that bad!"
"Yes, you were."
Padmé sighed, conceding defeat. "I suppose I was."
After a long pause Sabé finally asked the question they had been avoiding. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to do what I have to do, I guess," Padmé said quietly after a deep breath. "I can't stand by and do nothing."
"That wouldn't be like you."
"I know. I must do my duty. Anakin would expect no less of me." She heard his voice in her memories, saying the phrase he had spoken many times over the years. "I think the Republic needs you."
Sabé chuckled. "You're not doing this for Anakin. You're doing it because you don't know how to act any other way."
"I didn't really understand it until tonight," Padmé sighed, "but when I resigned from the Senate when I was pregnant with the twins all those years ago, I thought it could never happen. I made that choice willingly, without regrets. I thought leaving the Senate then was the end of it. And I was glad."
"But you've never left politics," Sabé said firmly. "You may not have been a Senator, but you were more involved than most of those who purportedly represented a star system."
"I know," Padmé said. "I see that now."
Sabé released her hand and pulled her into a hug. "You're really going to do it?"
"Yes. I have to." When the embrace ended, Padmé sat down in her chair and opened one of the desk drawers. She withdrew a small folder embossed with the Royal Crests of Naboo. She set the folder in the middle of the smooth dark wooden surface of the desk and ran her fingers along the folder's edges. Then, with a swift flick of a finger, she broke the wax seal that held the folder closed.
Sabé rested a hand on Padmé's shoulder. "I'm here," she said simply.
Padmé pulled out the single sheet of parchment contained in the folder. Unlike the durasheets used for ordinary Senate business, the archaic certificate rustled and crinkled in her touch. She found the traditional stylus and inkwell across her desk and slid them over. She knew the words by heart, but she read them again anyway.
Padmé took a deep breath and reached for the stylus. I'm sorry, Ani, she thought. I wanted to tell you first, I promise I did. I'm sorry. But this is the only way, and there's no time. I have to do this. I'm sorry. With elegant strokes she signed the document at the bottom, her blue ink writing across a small imprint of the multicolored Royal Crest.
"I'm proud of you," whispered Sabé gently.
"Thanks." After another deep breath Padmé tapped the office intercom. "Jenny?"
"Yes, Padmé?" came her Chief of Staff's voice from the speaker.
"Contact the Royal Palace and request the earliest possible audience for a transmission to Theed."
"Of course. Right away."
"Inform Queen Vivonia that I have invoked the Regal Prerogative."
For a long moment there was no reply from Jenny. "Understood. I'll let you know as soon as it's scheduled."
Padmé stood up again when the intercom clicked off. "I hope Ani understands."
"He will," Sabé reassured her firmly. "I know he will."
Padmé sighed forlornly and let her eyes fall on the illuminated Senate Building across the ferrocrete plaza from the office. "It's been almost twenty-five years," she said softly. "It will take a while to get used to this."
"It sure will," Sabé said. "It's been so long since I thought of you as Amidala."