CHAPTER SIXTEEN
King Argis IV of Vyhrrag scowled at the two dozen generals, strategists, and intelligence operatives assembled at the long, narrow table in the ornately appointed conference room in the royal palace. Only General Tarkin, leaning back in his chair at the table's far end with his fingers steepled at his chin and casting an equally disdainful gaze around the table, was worthy of his presence. The others were weak, sniveling cowards.
"These are the best plans you have created?" Argis shook his head in disbelief as he prowled back and forth along the meter-wide end of the table. "A child could do better."
"The Republic's Declaration of War places us at a significant disadvantage, Your Majesty," said one of the generals on the left side. "Our armada is strong, but we are no match for the Republic's combined fleets."
Argis slammed his fist against the dark wooden surface. "Do you take me for a fool?"
"Of course not, Your Majesty," a different general replied. The other man shrank into his high-backed chair.
"Then do you truly believe I would seek a direct confrontation with our enemy's full arsenal?"
"No, Your Majesty." The third general's voice was a whisper.
Argis stopped in place and faced the one intelligent tactician in the room. "Enlighten the simpletons, General Tarkin. Speak plainly so that they may comprehend your meaning."
"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty," the elderly genius grinned. Slowly he rose to his feet, then spread his hands as if offering a benediction. "A full-scale assault by the Republic's fleets would defeat us. Yet if we can make war against each fleet in turn, we will prevail against them individually. In time, victory will be ours."
Argis scanned the gathered underlings. "Surely even the most ignorant among you understands this much."
"And so," Tarkin continued after they nodded uneasily, "we must choose a strategy which will ensure against a full-scale assault. Attacks across the Republic. Sabotage throughout the galaxy. To a greater extent than ever before we must bring the war to all the peoples of the Republic, until none of them feels safe. As predictably as the sun rises each day the planetary governments will insist that the regional and sector fleets remain in place to protect them. And when we control the Republic's deployments, we will have won."
Argis slammed his fist to the table again. "You see, my brainless servants, we are far from defeated. Victory will be mine!" The black-bearded monarch drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms over his elegant purple robes. "Elucidate the rest of the strategy to them, General Tarkin. I must attend to other business."
His black cape swirling behind him, Argis marched from the room without another glance or word to his subordinates. Quickly he stalked through the palace's gilded corridor, down a curving marble staircase, across a brightly tiled floor and around a towering statue of a long-dead predecessor, and into another hallway. Soon he had passed from the formal rooms into the quiet, dimly lit passages of the security team's wing. He waved open a door and descended a narrow set of stone stairs into the dungeons. Shortly he arrived at his destination – an intimidating wrought-iron door. He tapped in an access code to the small keypad, then swung the door open and strode inside.
The converted prison cell had lush carpet and painted walls, all a brilliant scarlet, along with expensive mahogany furniture. On the left a young, dark-haired man was nursing a tumbler of whiskey. Across the small, low table a beautiful young woman with long brunette hair lounged gracefully on the settee with a crystal goblet of wine. Standing a few meters from them at the bar, a middle-aged woman with straight black hair and sparkling brown eyes was mixing herself a drink. All three of them wore sleeveless black shirts and knee-length black britches.
As he entered the trio broke off their jovial conversation, looked over, and smiled.
"You are early, Lord Regelous," said Darth Vengous with a wink. "What a pleasant surprise."
---
Bryon lay on his back atop the thick comforter on his bed, aimlessly gazing at the smooth azure ceiling of his bedroom in the Skywalker residence. His right side was somewhat chilled, although he had no interest in rising to adjust the room's temperature setting – his left side was plenty warm from the heat of Sarré's body, her head resting on his chest over his heart. Slowly he traced his fingers along her side across the tantalizing smoothness of her silk shirt while she held his other hand in hers.
"That's everything," he said.
She sighed. "I just wish you had told me sooner. I could have helped you."
"I know," he admitted. "I wanted to. I wanted to so badly."
"Then why didn't you?"
"I was afraid to admit to myself that I needed help. Your help. Anyone's help."
She tilted her face slightly and planted a gentle kiss on his chest. "You're too proud for your own good sometimes, you know."
"Yeah." He took a deep breath. "I've just always felt like I've had so much to live up to. My father and mother, obviously. I'm not strong in the Force like Luke and Danaé. And Leia's success in politics came so easily for her. I've always measured myself against them. I have to be the best at what I do, just like them."
"You pushed yourself too much this time, though."
"I did. But I've always done it all on my own. Everything I've achieved, I've earned. I never got special treatment. I never used my family's influence to cut corners."
She kissed his chest again. "And gradually you let your self-reliance get out of control, even with me."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant it to happen. I never realized it was happening. I guess by the time I knew I was in trouble, I thought I could solve it myself. I thought I could get myself out of it."
She nodded into him. "You thought admitting you needed help would make you weak. And you're not weak."
He shook his head in frustration. "It was stupid. Just plain stupid."
She giggled. "Well, you do have that problem sometimes."
He chuckled and squeezed her against him. "I seem to recall you saying something to that effect in the past."
"Once or twice."
He laughed. "Yes, once or twice."
She lifted her head off his chest and rolled on to her back, keeping her side pressed against him. "I know I should've told you right away I was pregnant. I'm sorry I didn't."
"I know you are."
"It was inexcusable. I'm really, really sorry."
Bryon reached out and took her hand. "I forgive you. It's okay."
"I was going to tell you," Sarré said. "I really was. It was the first thing I was going to tell you. And then I saw you, and I just couldn't."
"I looked that bad, huh?"
She squeezed his hand. "You really did, Bryon. I'm sorry, but it's true. From the first second I saw you I knew how much you needed me. And not just before the mission, but during it too."
Bryon nodded in understanding. "And if you'd told me about the baby, I wouldn't have let you come with me."
"Exactly."
He propped up his head on his hand and looked intensely into her lavender eyes, and saw them glistening with tears. "You risked your life, and our baby's, to help me."
She blinked. "I shouldn't have. Not with the baby. I'm sorry."
"Promise me you'll never do it again."
"I promise."
"I want you to understand," he whispered, "that if you had told me, it would've gotten me through, even if you hadn't been there by my side. It would have been enough, just knowing what I have to live for."
"I know that now," she said. "Bryon?"
"Yes?"
"Let's promise to always tell each other the truth, no matter what."
"Tell the truth. No matter what."
"Yes," she said. "No matter what. I promise to always tell you the truth, no matter what."
"Okay. I promise too." He leaned over and kissed her, long and tenderly.
"Kessa's jealous of me," she said when he finally stopped. "I think she's attracted to you."
"Too bad for her," he laughed as he rearranged his body on the bed. "I'm taken."
"You sure are," she laughed too. "And don't you ever forget it."
He brushed her cheek with his fingertips, rested his other hand on her hip, and settled his head down gently on her abdomen looking up at her. "I couldn't. You are my whole life, Sarré. My whole life."
"Me and our baby, you mean," she smiled down at him.
"Yes," he smiled back happily. "You and our baby."
"Bryon, I have a confession to make."
"What's that?"
"On our honeymoon, when you wished for a baby…" Her voice trailed off.
He brushed his fingers through her hair. "I love you, Sarré."
A tear rolled down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. "I was wishing for a baby too," she whispered. "I wanted to have a baby as much as you did."
"Really?"
"Remember that afternoon in the market the day after the wedding? When I went into the grocery for a minute? I lied. It wasn't really for the snack." She sighed and looked like she was about to cry. "I also went to their pharmacy, Bryon. I bought the counter-injection. I had it with me the whole rest of the time on Naboo."
He had to remember to breathe. "Why… Sarré… why didn't you tell me?"
She frowned, chagrined. "As soon as I got outside with you again I panicked. I thought it would upset you. I thought you weren't ready."
He laughed. "I thought you weren't ready."
"Well, you never asked me."
"No, I guess I didn't," he said. "I'm beginning to see the value of this promise."
"Me too," Sarré said. "No more secrets."
Bryon cuddled protectively around her – and especially around her still-flat belly. "No more secrets."
---
Leia stood alone on the terrace of the Skywalker residence, her elbows propped against the railing and her unbound long brown hair swirling crazily in the brisk nighttime wind. Her eyes gazed at the towering skyscrapers around her, the hundreds of tiny dots of light from zooming airspeeders, and the distant, brilliant streaks of ascending and descending starships against the dark sky. She cupped her face in her hands and closed her eyes.
In her mind she heard the familiar deep, warm voice. "Well, are you going to ask me or not?"
Leia sighed. She spoke aloud, if only to herself. "What do you think I should do?"
The voice chuckled. "I think you should follow your heart."
"You would say that," she laughed. She shivered a little and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Hey, it convinced you to marry me," he laughed too. "I think it's very good advice."
"What about Luke?"
"What about him?"
She frowned. "You don't think he has a point?"
"Of course he has a point," the voice conceded tenderly. "But I have a point too, don't I?"
"Yes," she said. "Yes, you do."
"So the choice is yours."
"It is."
"And you, Leia Skywalker, of all people," the voice teased, "are afraid to make a decision."
"Leia Organa."
"That is your choice as well," he said.
"It is." She took a deep breath. "You're right. I am afraid to decide."
"Why?"
For a long time she didn't answer. "I miss you."
"I know you do. What does that have to do with anything?"
The chilly gusts had made her cheeks icy and her lips dry. "It makes me doubt that I'm ready."
"You love him." It was not a question.
"Yes," she said.
The voice was as gentle and reassuring as it had ever been. "And have you changed your mind about what you told me before? About what Sarré said?"
"No."
"She said you've met your match in him. You admitted to me how much you love him already. And that you know someday you could love him as much as you loved me."
Leia felt two tiny teardrops leak from beneath her closed eyelids. "Maybe more."
"Indeed," he rumbled. "Then it would seem the choice is illusory."
"I should follow my heart," she said.
"Yes, darling."
"I'll do whatever it takes to find Han. I'll find him, and then I'll rescue him."
The voice chuckled. "Woe unto those who stand in your path, for they shall suffer no mercy at your wrath."
Leia laughed long and happily. "Who am I now? Some ill-tempered Alderaanian deity?"
"You? You are far more powerful than any mere deity."
"Very funny." The streaks of her tears had evaporated in the wind, and now her face was even colder. "I'll find him, I'll rescue him, and no one will stop me."
"Your mother and father would be proud, if you told them," the voice said.
Leia shrugged. Now was not the time for that confession to her parents. "Why do you say that?"
"You chose wisely."
Her eyes still closed, she smiled. "My mother does not have the highest opinion of my wisdom when it comes to matters of the heart."
"Your mother understands the difference between matters of the heart and matters of the flesh," the voice laughed robustly, matching her earlier mirth. Then he became profoundly serious. "They have sacrificed more to sustain their love than you will ever know. Of the trillions of souls in the galaxy, they above all others would understand and honor your choice."
Leia furrowed her brow, pondering the undeniable truth of his words. "They approved of you," she chuckled after a long moment. "What does that say about their judgment?"
"Nothing good."
"Exactly." Leia leaned into the wind. "I'm going to get him back, whatever it takes."
"And you will succeed. Of that I have no doubt."
"You will always have a piece of my heart," she said quietly.
"And you mine," the voice said softly in return.
"I will never forget you."
The voice smiled. "Han would never ask you to."
She nodded. "Goodbye, Jarren."
"Goodbye, Leia. May the Force be with you. Always."
Leia opened her eyes, pushed off from the railing, and turned around to walk toward the door to the comforting warmth of family inside. "And also with you," she whispered back over her shoulder, out into the night. "Always and forever."
---
Master Offee smiled warmly. "The Council has reviewed your report. Is there anything you wish to add?"
"No, Master," Danaé said. She stood in the center of the circular Council chamber, her hands clasped over her belt buckle. After a few weeks with her family, dealing with the consequences of the horrible Battle of Gimna 3, she had decided it was time to begin to restore some sense of normalcy in her life. Accepting her responsibilities as a Jedi was first on the list.
The golden-skinned, near-human Mirialan woman nodded. "You faced one of the most difficult challenges a Jedi can confront, Danaé. Each rogue Jedi is a terrible loss to the Order, and many of us have trouble taking action against our friends and colleagues – even when we know what must be done. The duty to slay one's former Master is a terrible tragedy."
Danaé knew the Council's new chairwoman spoke for all of them. It was surreal to see Master Offee seated directly in front of her. It seemed as if Master Kenobi had been there forever, and now he was gone. There was an empty seat behind Danaé, the one closest to the chamber's wide door, that soon would be filled by a deserving Master. And off her left shoulder was her father's empty chair. When he would return to the Council she did not know. "Thank you, Master," she said. "At the time I had no real opportunity to comprehend it. Everything happened so quickly. I have meditated on those events considerably, and I do not regret my actions."
"As well you should not, Danaé," said Master Secura from just behind her left shoulder. "We have no doubt that he would have kept his word – if you had not joined him, he would have killed you."
Danaé nodded.
"Oga Trill was my friend," Master Secura continued. "He was a friend to all of us. Of course his loss falls most greatly on you, but we all mourn him. Never doubt that we grieve with you."
"Thank you, Master," Danaé said.
"Difficult as it may be," Master Offee said gently, "you should be proud of what you have done. Over the centuries many Jedi have been unable to perform their duties as you have. Your achievement is a significant one."
Danaé tried her best to smile. "I know, Master. In time I am sure I will accept it." She took a deep breath and let her hands fall to her sides. "I am ready for my next assignment. I will report to Master Windu when we are finished here."
Master Offee laughed lightly. "That will not be necessary."
"I'm sorry, Master?"
"That will not be necessary. You may report directly to the Council for future assignments."
Danaé furrowed her brow. "I don't understand, Master."
Master Offee shook her head in bemusement. "Danaé Skywalker, you are a Jedi Knight."
Danaé gasped.
"The Council congratulates you," Master Offee said, spreading her hands to indicate her colleagues.
"Thank you, Master," Danaé finally managed to say. Before she could stop herself, she thought it: I don't deserve this. I'm not ready. But in the next moment she brushed the doubt aside. Corellia. Dagobah. Gimna 3. She had undergone her Trials. She had confronted not only her lost Master, but also her own greatest weaknesses. And she had prevailed. She took a slow, deep breath. I deserve this, she thought proudly. I deserve this.
"Master Trill – our friend, your mentor – would be proud, Danaé," Master Offee said sadly. "Your triumph honors the memory of the good man lost to us. Your success is his as well."
Danaé smiled, accepting the somber truth. She squared her shoulders. "What is the Council's wish for me, Master?"
"For the time being, the Council believes the most appropriate assignment is for you to continue to serve on the Supreme Chancellor's security team." Master Offee met her gaze. "If you would prefer a different mission, the Council will honor your request."
Mom! Inside Danaé burst with happiness and surprise – so much so that she winked at Master Offee. She winked. She actually winked at the chairwoman of the Jedi Council! She hadn't even understood why she had done it until the words left her mouth. "That will not be necessary."
Master Offee laughed. "Very well. The assignment is approved."
"Thank you, Master."
"That is all for now," Master Offee said. "May the Force be with you, Danaé Skywalker – Jedi Knight."
---
Master Offee leaned forward, braced her elbows on her knees, and interlinked her fingers. "The Council has reviewed your report. Is there anything you wish to add?"
Luke swallowed hard. He'd included everything – everything except the physical and emotional bond he and Mara had formed. The bond he'd tried to push into the background. The bond that was always in his thoughts, no matter how much he fought to avoid it. The bond through which he still could feel Mara's pain – anger – at his request that they not seek the approval of the Council for an attachment. All this he had omitted from his report. But if Mara had included it in hers… Then this would be his only chance to avoid a severe penalty for intentionally misleading the Jedi Council. "No, Master," he said.
"Very well, Luke," replied Master Offee calmly.
Luke suppressed his sigh of relief. Apparently Mara had followed his request. "I will not stand the Trials at this time," he said. It should have been a question, but he knew the answer was a foregone conclusion.
"That is correct," Master Offee nodded as she sat up straight again. "The Council further believes that it would be wise to remove you from assignments in the war for now."
"I accept your judgment, Master."
"You will continue your rehabilitation with your cybernetic hand, as well as meditate on your actions on Tatooine and Gimna 3." Master Offee looked closely into his eyes. "You have exceptional skills, Luke. On talent alone you are more than ready to advance. You should understand that we do not believe it will be long before you are ready to stand the Trials."
Luke closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and nodded. "I have paid a high price for my failures, Master," he said quietly. "A price I never want to pay again."
"Then you will soon be ready, and you will succeed."
"Yes, Master. I won't let you down."
"We are confident you will not," Master Offee said. "You will be assigned to a new Master. The Council will consider your wishes, if you have a preference."
Luke shook his head. "No one could replace Master Kenobi. I defer to the Council's wisdom."
Master Offee glanced briefly around the circle of her colleagues. "A close friend of your father's has offered to assist. The Council will assign you to train with Master Windu."
Luke blinked.
Master Offee waited patiently.
He blinked again. Then the realization hit him like a punch in the gut – Danaé had been Knighted. No wonder she hadn't made eye contact with him when they'd passed in the antechamber. "Master Windu deserves his retirement," he finally said. "I am sure there are many things he would rather do than clean up the messy lives of the Skywalker children."
Master Offee only smiled at his self-deprecation. "And I am sure Master Windu is a fine judge of how best to spend his time, don't you think?"
He nodded, chagrined. "Of course, Master. I would be honored to train with Master Windu."
"Very well," Master Offee said. "It is done. May the Force be with you, Luke."
Luke bowed respectfully, then departed the Council chamber and headed toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate. He pledged a silent vow to focus exclusively on preparing for the Trials. His failures had cost Master Obi-Wan his life – and the shameful truth that his idol would never see him Knighted tore at his soul with a pain far greater than the severing of his hand. And Danaé had been Knighted before him. His younger sister was a better Jedi than he. It would be the talk of the Temple. The disgraceful feeling made him want to retch.
He was a complete failure – a complete disappointment.
His Trials took precedence now. He owed Master Obi-Wan – and himself – that much. Only after that would he resolve his feelings for Mara.
---
Master Offee rested her hands on the sides of her chair. "The Council has reviewed your report. Is there anything you wish to add?"
Mara scowled. You mean besides the fact that right now I'm ready to kill Luke Skywalker? She clenched her fists at her sides and took a deep breath. "No, Master."
"Very well, Mara," Master Offee said.
Before the Council's new chairwoman could continue, Mara spoke. Despite her best efforts her voice conveyed far more of her simmering ire than was advisable. "Will I be removed from war assignments?"
"For the immediate future, yes."
"Why?"
"The Council believes it is in your best interest that your emotional well-being first be assured," Master Offee said calmly. "We do not anticipate a lengthy delay."
"With all due respect, Master, I'm one of the most powerful warriors in the Order," Mara hissed. "I can make a difference on the battlefield. I can make a difference against the Sith."
"There is no doubt of that, Padawan Jade," said Master Secura's voice from behind her left shoulder. "But skill alone is not sufficient. A Jedi Knight must have a serious mind – the deepest commitment to act from duty and serenity, not prejudice and passion. Until you have learned to master your feelings, your presence at the front is not an advantage but a liability."
Mara understood the implication perfectly. "My opportunity to stand for the Trials has been suspended as well."
Master Offee nodded. "It has."
"So be it, Master."
"We have confidence in you, Mara. We believe you will soon be ready for the Trials, and to return to missions suited to your particular talents as a Jedi."
"I see," Mara frowned. "And who will supervise my training?"
Master Offee only raised her eyebrows.
Mara crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't be serious!"
"We are," said Master Offee calmly. "You remain Master Skywalker's apprentice."
Pinned between her elbows and her chest, Mara's fists clenched again. "He betrayed me."
Master Offee did not say a word. All ten members of the Council sat silently.
"He betrayed me! He betrayed all of us. Don't you see that?" Mara's left hand shot out and her finger pointed at the empty chair to the side. "That is all I need to know."
"Your lack of discretion serves you poorly," Master Secura said quietly. "You would be wise to take a moment to regain your composure."
Mara crossed her arms over her chest again, closed her eyes, and took several long, deep breaths. Then she opened her eyes and glared at Master Offee. "My wishes are to be given no consideration, Master?"
"Your wishes were entirely clear from your report," the kind master healer said. "They were considered. Nevertheless the Council stands by its decision."
Mara gritted her teeth and tipped her head in the slightest of respectful acknowledgments.
"Your pain is understandable, Mara. Do not think we fail to understand it, for we do." Master Offee leaned forward and rested her palms on her knees. "Sometimes it is the Padawan's duty to help the Master."
Mara dug her fingernails into her palms. "I will obey the Council's instructions."
"Very well, Mara," Master Offee said. "May the Force be with you."
After a stiff bow Mara spun on her heel and strode quickly from the Council chamber with her black cloak billowing behind her. She ran her fingers several times through her loose red-gold hair and tucked her thumbs into her belt. Without so much as a word to the other Jedi waiting in the antechamber she stormed into the wide, brightly lit corridor and turned in the direction of the Temple's speeder docks. She needed to be alone, and speeding heedlessly through the crowded skies of Coruscant seemed like just the right therapy for her mood.
Keeping her eyes on the floor, she snorted in disbelief at the Council's decision. You'll regret this, she growled in her thoughts. The Council. Her Master. Luke. You will all regret this.
---
Anakin's gaze briefly lifted to examine the dark nighttime sky beyond the wide and tall windows of the Jedi Council chamber. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd stood in the center of the circle – alone, without Mara at his side. Unconsciously his eyes drifted in the direction of the Galactic Senate complex; although the majestic domed structure wasn't visible from here, he knew exactly where it was all the same. He took a deep breath and kept his hands where they were, clasped behind his back. Then he lowered his gaze to his trusted old friend in the seat always given to the Council's chairperson.
"You know why I'm here," he said as much to the other nine as to Barriss. "I formally request that I be granted a leave of absence from my post on the Jedi Council."
Barriss raised her eyebrows. "I had expected you to tender your resignation." She held his gaze intensely. "Which I would have under no circumstances accepted."
Anakin glanced over his left shoulder and gave a resigned smile to the blue-skinned Twi'lek. "I had intended to do exactly that," he chuckled. "This morning, however, Aayla made it more than clear to me that such a course of action was not an option."
"I see," Barriss laughed. "Then let me say I am pleased you have listened to her."
"For once," teased Aayla.
Anakin laughed too. "I appreciate the consideration I have been given," he said seriously after a moment, "but I refuse to treat my situation lightly. Were any other Master to do what I have done, expulsion from the Council would not even be debated."
"Perhaps," Barriss said, refusing to concede even that. "But you are not any Master."
"I don't want special treatment," Anakin insisted, meeting the eyes of the other Council members within his range of vision. "I cannot allow you to ignore the severity of my failure."
Barriss only shook her head. "We have no intention of ignoring anything, Anakin." She leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees, and interlinked her fingers. "You must admit," she said with a mischievous grin, "that special treatment for you is inevitable at this point."
Anakin frowned, but he nodded. "I suppose that's true."
"You are the Chosen One, Anakin," said Aayla from over his shoulder. "None of us doubts it. And more than that, you are our friend. We value your insights and confidences and wisdom. None of that has changed."
Anakin bowed his head. "I don't deserve this."
"Yes, you do," Barriss said in a stern tone that compelled him to meet her gaze again. "None of us is perfect. Each of us makes mistakes – sometimes terrible ones. We do not hold you to an unattainable standard, and hope that you do not hold yourself to one. Nothing good can come of it."
"My mistake was more terrible than most," he said.
"In your eyes, perhaps," Aayla said. "But not in ours. Oga Trill's betrayal – his concerted and premeditated attempt to lure your daughter to join him among the Sith – was far, far worse than your single moment of weakness. In my eyes the two cannot even be compared. Yours I can forgive; his I could not."
If Anakin was certain about one thing, it was that sometimes his judgment was in error. So despite his doubts he knew it was prudent to trust the judgment of his ten friends over his own in this instance. He nodded. "Very well. I accept the Council's wishes with humility and respect."
"I propose your leave of absence be for three months," Barriss said. "With an opportunity for you to seek an extension, should you desire it."
"I agree to the proposal," Anakin replied calmly. "I will of course keep the Council apprised of my intentions."
"Of course," Barriss nodded. "Now, in the meantime we must fill one seat with a permanent member, and one seat with a temporary appointment. The Council would appreciate your opinion, Anakin."
Anakin scowled. "It's not appropriate for me to…"
"Your opinion, Master Skywalker," snapped Aayla with false displeasure, "has been requested by the Council."
Anakin flashed her a bemused smirk. "There are many worthy candidates. I suppose my favored choice would be Master Brith. His judgment is impeccable, and it's time we begin to include some younger Jedi among the Council's number." He paused for a moment, his eyes watching a speeder zip past outside. "As for the temporary post… Why not Valin Halcyon?"
Barriss' eyes widened in surprise. "A Corellian? That certainly would liven things up in here."
"A pleasant side effect," Anakin grinned. "Mostly I was thinking of my own interests."
"Ah, yes, of course," Aayla laughed. "Married. Children. Starpilot. Swordsman. Maverick."
"There aren't many of us," Anakin laughed. "We look out for one another."
"Thank you for your thoughts, Anakin. We will consider them." Barriss shook her head and whistled in disbelief. "Only you would propose Valin Halcyon."
"I'd propose Qui-Gon Jinn if I could," Anakin winked. "You lucked out."
The hearty laughter of the eleven Masters was most refreshing to all of them.
---
Padmé strode quickly through the nearly empty corridor of the Senate building. Outside the wide windows she could see it was well past sundown. Her mind-numbingly long day of meetings finally was over, and she was headed back to the office to issue a last batch of authorizations before she could go home. She knew that by now Anakin would have begun his audience with the Jedi Council, and she wondered how it was going. Quickly she squelched the thought – she would see him soon enough. First she had to finish the tasks at hand.
From her side she heard a voice. "You look tired," Sabé said. "Are you tired?"
"You need more sleep," said Jenny's voice from the other side. "Are you getting enough sleep?"
Padmé shook her hands over her head in frustration. "Of course I'm tired! Of course I'm not getting enough sleep! I'm here from before dawn until after dusk. And I don't sleep through these meetings, as much as I wish I could."
Sabé gently put a hand on her arm. "Shh. It's okay."
"It's not okay," Padmé barked more angrily than she had intended. "This is insane!"
Jenny put a hand on her other arm. "What's insane?"
Idly Padmé suspected she was being led along like an intransigent child. "We didn't have enough staff when I was just Senator-at-Large. Now I'm Chancellor, and we haven't had any time to hire more personal staff. It's been weeks. Weeks! Not that I don't trust the career staff; I do. They're remarkable. But I need more personal staff."
"We know," said Jenny reassuringly. "We're working on it."
"When?" Padmé tried in vain to keep her voice from increasing in pitch as they continued to walk along at a brisk pace. "When could you possibly have the time to work on it?"
"Here and there," Jenny replied evasively.
"Just the other day we met with over a dozen candidates," Sabé said. "Very promising young men and women. Recommended by people we trust."
Momentarily mollified, Padmé took a deep breath. "By whom?"
"Bail Organa. Beru Lars. Mon Mothma." Sabé was grinning triumphantly. "And Errol and Allimé from the University of Naboo referred me to several recent graduates."
Padmé sighed. She knew when she was beaten. "And how did the interviews go?"
"They went very well," Jenny smiled warmly. "We've already invited several of them back for another round of interviews."
Padmé raised her eyebrows. "And when do I get to participate in the process?"
Sabé and Jenny glanced at each other conspiratorially. "Whenever you'd like, of course," said Sabé with a perfectly straight face.
"Likely story," Padmé scoffed. By now they had reached the Supreme Chancellor's chambers – she still could not bring herself to think of it as her office – and continued on their way toward the main ceremonial office in the rear. Still pondering the conversation, Padmé strode through the open door.
And stopped in her tracks just inside the portal.
Standing in the center of the room three women in matching azure dresses and cloaks were facing her. In unison they drew down their hoods.
Luscious long blonde curls framed a beautiful face bearing a wicked grin and devious blue eyes.
Deep brown eyes twinkled in delight beneath a proper bun of brown hair held in place by three long pins.
The third had to brush her shoulder-length brown hair from her face to expose a sly wink of brown eyes.
Again in unison they bowed formally and greeted her. "It is our pleasure to serve you, Your Excellency."
Padmé gasped. "Saché. Dormé. Rabé. What are you doing
here?"
Her three dear friends only grinned.
Padmé glanced at Jenny, who smiled meekly and pointed a finger at the obvious culprit. Padmé propped her hands on her hips and spun to face Sabé.
Sabé's grin was even broader than the three former handmaidens' – which shouldn't have been possible.
Padmé cleared her throat and maintained the glare.
"I guess I forgot to mention," Sabé smirked, "that I called in reinforcements."
---
Anakin swerved his speeder through the narrow opening of the residence's private, secured docking bay and spun the nose around to face outward. Already loosening the restraints with one hand, he feathered the repulsors to a perfect landing beside the Lady Vader. As the massive blast doors clanged closed and plunged the gigantic chamber into nearly total darkness, he vaulted over the side of the open-topped speeder and landed cleanly on his feet. In his peripheral vision he saw a figure emerge from the shadows near the entrance to the turbolift.
Apparently she heard his stuttering footfalls and startled gasp.
"You weren't expecting me?" Padmé asked.
"I figured you were still at the office," he said truthfully. He'd scanned for danger, of course, but not for her Force signature. So he deserved to be surprised.
She closed the distance between them and joined him next to the speeder, where he still stood trying to slow his heartbeat. In the faint lights he barely could see her face, her slim flightsuit, and the single plait holding back her long brown hair. "Well, I'm not," she said.
He reached out and caressed her shoulders. "Angel?"
In her playful smile he saw that she clearly could read the confusion in his voice about her attire. "Do you remember when we first were married," she asked, "how we used to just fly around at night and talk?"
"Of course I do."
"Why did we stop doing that?"
He thought about it for a moment, and shrugged. "I don't know."
"I think we should do that again. I think it would be good for us." She took his hands in hers. "I think we need to make as much time to talk as we can."
"I'd like that," he said. With sudden swiftness he grabbed her by the waist and spun her up and around into the front passenger seat of his speeder, then in one seamless motion hopped into the pilot's seat next to her. As he began to activate the speeder again he glanced over at her. "Wait a second."
"What?"
"I don't remember when we stopped doing this, but I do remember when we started." He winked at her. "You're not pregnant with twins again, are you?"
"Shut up, Ani," she laughed, and slugged him in the arm.
Soon they soared through the nighttime skies of Coruscant at high speed, avoiding the sedate lanes of airspeeder traffic in favor of their own private tour of the maze of passages between the towering skyscrapers.
As she always had in the past, Padmé waited until she was sure he was comfortably letting the Force guide his flight before she spoke. "You're sure you're not upset about the Regal Prerogative?"
Anakin met her nervous gaze and smiled. "I'm not. I promise."
She reached over and put a hand on his knee. "You'd prefer if I were Chancellor Skywalker, though."
He shrugged. "Sure. But I'd prefer Millius were still alive so you didn't have to be Chancellor at all. I know this isn't what you wanted."
"It's not," she said sadly. "But I had no choice."
"Exactly," he said. "You did what was necessary."
"I'm worried about the war."
"So am I." For what must have been at least an hour, maybe more, they discussed the myriad of issues Chancellor Amidala faced in the coming days and months in the war against Argis' Vyhrragian legions. When they seemed to have exhausted everything Padmé wanted to talk about, Anakin took a deep breath and told her something he knew she wasn't expecting. "I've decided to stay out of the action for good. I'll serve on the Council when I'm ready, but I'll leave the missions at the front to others. I'll stay here with you, and keep you safe, and I'll just have to accept that the children can take care of themselves. Trying to do everything – trying to do too much – is what got me into trouble. I trust in the Force. Whatever fate brings to us is the will of the Force."
"That will be very difficult for you," she said. "Letting others take action while you stay behind."
"I know," he conceded. "It will be. But I've meditated about this a lot, and it's for the best. Plus, it gives me more time with you, and I know you'll need all the support from me you can get."
"You have no idea," she sighed in consternation. Then she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "There are so many unreasonable expectations, in the Senate and among the citizens. Argis is entrenched in his sector. There are almost six years of his conquests that have to be reversed. We're not going to win overnight."
He kissed the top of her head. "We are going to win."
"Yes. But the cost…"
Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. "Obi-Wan's life, already."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, not only to comfort him but also to ward off the chill of the air. "I know. I'm so sorry."
He blinked back his tears. Two of the three most important individuals in his life were gone now – his mother and Obi-Wan. If he lost Padmé too… He shuddered involuntarily.
Without words she knew what he was thinking; they both remembered the haunting nightmare only a few weeks earlier – and yet an eternity ago. "You won't fail again," she finally said softly over the thrumming of the speeder's drives and the howling of the wind.
"I can't afford to," he nodded into her soft curls. "I couldn't live with myself if Bryon had died… because I…"
"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay."
"Do you think Mara will ever trust me again?"
"Yes. I know she will." Padmé burrowed her hand inside his robes and rested her palm on his bare chest over his heart. "She loves you as much as Luke or Leia or Danaé or Bryon loves you. She's hurting now – I can't deny that. But she'll forgive you in time. She'll come to understand, and then she'll forgive you."
"Do you trust me?"
"I'm still hurting. But I understand. And I've forgiven you." Her hand slid out from beneath his robes to rest against the side of his face. "I love you, Ani. I have always loved you and I will always love you. I trust you with my life, my body, and my soul."
"I won't let you down, angel, I promise." He kissed her warm palm. "Knowing that I'd failed you… it was… it was the worst feeling in my entire life. I love you, Padmé. I'm nothing without you."
For a few minutes they didn't speak as he flew them on a path that gradually would bring them home again. He thought she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder when he heard her voice.
"I will never lose faith in you, Ani," she murmured. "The Force is with you."
"With us, angel," he whispered as he sensed her finally nodding off. "The Force is with us."
THE END
Coming Soon:
Six "Missing Scenes" from Hope and Darkness with Author's Commentary.
Followed by the conclusion of the trilogy: EPISODE VI: THE PATHS OF FATE