Author's Notes: We're on bloody chapter 45! 45 God-damn chapters, and I'm not finished! Sheesh. We're sort of on the up, now, if there is such a thing in this story. I actually wanted to write more of the Vader bit of this fic, but I really can't think of ought more to write, and I do need to get this finished! I think the story's more about Padmé than about Vader, anyway, so it makes sense. I'll leave the rest to your imaginations.
This might be the longest chapter I have ever written, too, at about 10,000 bloody words, and I quite like it, so I hope you do, too. And it's too long for me to keep re-reading, so if there are mistakes, then they're gonna be staying for a while. ;) Heh.
Kynstar: You don't agree with one scene? Is that a scene in the movie or just in the book, or don't you know yet? You will tell me about it once I've seen RotS, won't you? I'm curious now! If it's in the film, I might disagree with it too - who knows? - but, still, it ain't my story to tell. I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one who's taking tissues with me to see the film, though! Comrades in arms are the Dook'-fan lobby! Heh.
REV042175: I like getting inside people's minds, and I thought we ought to take a trip into Padmé's just to get to the heart of the matter. And she is finding answers, slowly but surely.
HRHPadmeAmidala: It is a bit like a soap opera, isn't it? I don't even watch soaps in RL. Perhaps this is making up for it?
Padawanmage: You know I'm not gonna answer your questions. ;) You'll just have to keep reading.
Silverwolf47: I'd say another 5 chapters, maybe, but don't take that as a definite because I'm not sure how it'll all play out. It could go on for another 10 depending on how I write things, and what I include or delete.
Part 45 - Rekindled Hopes
Padmé had little freedom in the apartments of the senate, a place that she had to call home whilst the Emperor and his protégé waited for a more suitable and luxurious palace to be built for their uses elsewhere. This didn't mean that the senate no longer existed - Padmé knew that Palpatine wasn't stupid; he couldn't make too many radical moves in one go - things just wouldn't last if he did. The senate was still in existence, albeit disbanded right now, but, even still, its powers were mightily reduced. The senate was (and would remain until the Emperor had the power to do away with it) nothing but a nod to the old ways of democracy, just a structure of pretence representing a system that no longer existed or functioned; the senators were the yes men of the Emperor, and those who couldn't be brought to say yes would never say anything else ever again once Palpatine's right hand, Lord Vader, was through with them.
Lord Vader wasn't home. He hadn't been for many weeks now. Though the Jedi Temple stood empty, a monument to the great slaughter of General Grievous, and a bitter memory of the days of old, there were still Jedi yet alive. The Emperor knew this. He was a man of unspeakable powers and he didn't need any proof other than the mar that living Jedi left on his senses, like blips on a radar, to know that there were still some of them out there. With Grievous, the great Jedi-killer, dead, there was only one man left who could fulfil the Sith Master's desires of having the Jedi Knights, his bitterest of enemies, eliminated - and that man was Darth Vader. Anakin. The Chosen One.
And so Padmé saw very little of the man who looked set to be her future husband. This was both a relief and a punishment. She was relieved because the man twisted by the dark side wasn't here to leave his savage marks on her, yet, at the same time, she was left without company or without purpose. The Republic she had campaigned and worked for had been taken away from her, and she had no place in this new Empire. Without Anakin here, she had no one to talk to, no one to interact with, nothing. The royal guards didn't speak to her and the droids that serviced this great place seemed to have no business talking to her, either. She felt that she was slowly going to go insane, having nothing with which to work her mind except her terrible thoughts and fears. And they were of little comfort or satisfaction.
Padmé couldn't deny that her quality of life had improved - she had a whole new wardrobe, the best food, a bathroom free to use at any time, but… it made no difference. She was still numb and unhappy, and she was definitely not with the man she loved. Darth Vader was not Anakin Skywalker, no matter what he said to her or tried to convince her; he was merely a shade of the man she had once loved, the remnant of the man she had once loved. He was different and she couldn't love him as she had loved Anakin…
It was all so difficult and so heartbreaking. And there was nothing she could do about it.
/"Padmé, things have been happening in this galaxy for a long time that you are unaware of, and that you possibly don't even comprehend. I am not the man to explain them to you, nor do I have any wish to. All I ask of you is to understand that I am very, very sorry. It does not compensate for anything, but it is all I can offer you right now."/
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, wiping the tear from her eyes, "Why didn't you just tell me?"
The sky was overcast this day on the capital. Padmé was stood in one of the hallways of what she could call nothing but her prison, and there she stood, for hours on end, simply staring out of a window, trying to collect her thoughts and find that thread of hope she had long ago dropped. Life with Darth Vader had started off badly and things didn't look set to get any better any time soon, but one would be hard pushed to believe that things could get any worse. Unfortunately, it had become apparent to Padmé in recent days that they just might. Her body was telling her things that she didn't want to know, and as soon as Lord Vader came home, she wasn't sure how long she could keep this secret from him. She was just afraid, so very afraid.
The Imperial mutineers were still present at Bail's manor, waiting patiently for Yoda's return. The days had gone by, and then the weeks, but still no one had heard from the Jedi Master. That was all until one day when Obi-Wan, who had been practising some simple lightsabre techniques in his bedchamber, was disturbed by a sudden commotion in the outer corridor.
The Jedi lowered his weapon and flicked off the switch. There were raised voices outside, coming closer, and he couldn't help but listen in. Both parties were clearly being obstinate and reluctant to yield to the other, and he could tell straight away that it was Bail and Yoda whom he was listening to.
Hooking his 'sabre back to his belt, Obi-Wan thus made for the door; he had never been a particularly nosey Padawan when young, but Master Jinn had always commented that he had seemed to like listening in to far too many conversations that weren't his concern. He was only human, anyway - it was natural to be curious - and considering that, right now, everyone currently gathered under this roof was meant to be keeping a low profile, Kenobi felt that he had a right to know why two of this revolution's figureheads were now causing such a disturbance. He accordingly settled on his knees by the door and leaned against it in an attempt to catch a snippet, or more, of the conversation beyond.
"Master Yoda, I understand your concerns, but I cannot allow myself to do this!"
That was Bail's voice, and he clearly wasn't pleased about something… Trust Master Yoda to come back and bring a mountain of problems with him.
"So give me help, you will not?" Yoda now said, his voice as calm as ever, but with that edge of authority to it, the authority of the greatest Jedi in the Order.
"I can't, Master Yoda," Organa replied with exasperation.
The voices were getting nearer now, so Obi-Wan gathered that they were heading this way down the corridor, going passed all the dorms where the 'rebels' were temporarily being housed. 'How very tactful of them,' Obi thought, sure that he couldn't possibly be the only person in this hallway listening in at their theoretical keyholes.
"Only one medic-droid do I need," Yoda said, "All I ask, that is."
"Not for him. Not under my roof. I cannot condone it."
"Then a death under your roof, you shall have!"
Obi unintentionally leant in closer to the door; death? Who were they talking about? Was this Jedi whom Yoda had found very ill? It would be of little surprise if he was, with the jihad of the Jedi now happening at the Emperor's behest. Any Jedi Knights still around were just lucky to be alive - still being in one piece would just be an added bonus.
Bail seemed to be struggling to make plain to Master Yoda that he was adamant about his decision. "But Master Yoda, after everything…? After everything?"
"A time for grudges, this is not. A time for action it is. Difficult I know this will be for all involved - difficult it has been for me too - but aside our feelings we must put. Priority do our needs take now." - Obi imagined that Yoda was now giving Bail his wise and all-knowing look - "Old I may be, but not yet stupid, am I. Not yet crazy. Know what I'm doing, I do."
There was a long silence, and Obi-Wan was sure he could just hear the edges of Bail's distraught, almost angry, breaths as they tumbled, one after another, from his lips. Organa then finally emitted one great sigh and said, "Okay," in a terribly tense voice. "I shall trust your judgement, Master Yoda, but I do not for one minute agree with it. And as soon as he is fit, I want him out of my house."
"The right decision you have made, Senator Organa," Yoda said conclusively, "Most wise you have been."
Obi-Wan then heard Bail's footsteps recede down the corridor.
He frowned, sitting there for a moment and thinking on what he had heard - what had all that been about? He was so lost in his thoughts, though, that when his door swished open without warning, he fell with a thud backward into the hallway, landing right at Master Yoda's feet.
He looked up at Master Yoda and it dawned on him, a little too late, that he had been discovered. He sighed and offered the Jedi Master his first true smile in a long time; "Sorry," he murmured.
"Hmph," Yoda grunted, shaking his head and trying not to smirk as he looked down upon the eavesdropping Jedi, "Old habits die hard, yes, Master Kenobi?"
Obi sighed and climbed back onto his feet. "They do, Master Yoda," he said, "I just couldn't help myself."
"Gathered that much, I have," Yoda replied, prodding Obi-Wan's shin with his cane. He then, after a moment's thought, gestured for Kenobi to follow him. "With me, you shall come, Master Kenobi," he said, "Satisfy your curiosity I shall, if trust in my decisions you do."
For some reason, Obi now felt a little afraid and his brow furrowed; what was the source of Bail's anxiety? It wasn't like him to be unreasonable, but something and really ruffled his feathers. And yet Obi-Wan knew that Yoda would not be one to take any decisions lightly, and that, whatever had happened, it couldn't possibly be of any danger to him. Besides, he trusted Yoda with more than his life, and knew that, as long as Yoda was in control of things, he should have no doubts about the situation. "Lead the way, my Master," he therefore said, following Yoda back down the corridors from whence he had come.
Padmé felt suddenly sick - many more slow days had crawled by and, at long last, her dreadful wait was at an end. Darth Vader was back. His latest jaunt had ended in grim success, and he had come home to see her - and, of course, his master - before he went off on his next mission. As soon as he came back through those doors, though, she could see the realisation in his eyes almost straight away, the fact that, just as she had feared, he could sense there being something different about her, something abnormal, and she was unable to do anything to conceal it. He hardly said a word of greeting to her, therefore, before he burst into a round of questions and thus decided, almost instantaneously, that this required the attention of the Emperor, his idol and his God. It couldn't mean anything without Palpatine's seal of approval, of course.
Padmé was sure that Palpatine was perhaps her least favourite person in the galaxy. He was rather frail and weak at a first glance, and his voice could be quite tender and comforting if one allowed themselves to be lulled by his soft tones, yet all of this made the contrast of the monster within quite horrific. She had never been a big fan of Palpatine, but she had at least had a certain degree of trust in what he had done as a Senator, and then as the Supreme Chancellor, a position she had practically offered him on a plate.
'I pray you bring sanity and compassion back to the senate.'
By the stars, had she said that? The words melted in her throat like poison now. How naïve she had been, how truly naïve.
Vader ushered her along the corridors like a young child, lugging her by the elbow and briskly pacing past royal guards and the odd clone trooper. The way he held her brought back a memory she had almost forgotten by now, of being dragged down murky tunnels from the Geonosian arena by a certain Count:
'You don't have to pull so hard!' she had griped as he'd dragged her roughly down a dark stairway. She wouldn't dare say even that to Anakin now.
Dooku had then promptly stopped and pushed her on before him. 'Take the lead, then!' he had snapped. She'd then stumbled on ahead and had begun to slowly step onwards; 'Where am I supposed to be going?' she had asked.
'Forward,' he had told her.
It was almost funny, to think on it now. It hadn't been at the time, of course, but just the way he had said it, and the way she had bitten back at him constantly. The bastard.
Anakin continued to tow her along, now up a flight of stairs, dragging her up each step like a piece of excess baggage. She was hardly going forward any more, was she? She felt as though she were just going back, back, back, to a point of no return and of no salvation.
"Do as he says, Padmé," Anakin suddenly told her as they reached the top step and made for the lift to the throne room, "He won't like you to be disobedient."
Padmé felt like rolling her eyes - did he seriously think she'd dare be noncompliant with that man!
"I'm sure of my senses," Ani' went on, regardless, "Force, I hope I'm right - but he'll just verify things."
They stood side by side as they stepped into the lift together and Padmé took this opportunity to steal a quick look at Anakin, just to see his face. He looked very happy, but there was such a darkness in those eyes, a terrible glee that made her feel uneasy. Yes, he was delighted, but she could see that there were ulterior motives contained there within, his mind twisted by the dark side and already making sinister plans for a future that was, as yet, uncertain.
As the lift came to the top of the shaft, they walked out of it together and stopped at the door to the Emperor's chambers. Here Vader embraced her and kissed her on the forehead. "Here we go," he said, and he then waved his hand at the doors, watched them slide apart, and escorted her into that dreadful chamber beyond.
Palpatine sat there in his dark throne, almost as if he never moved from that spot. He looked over his apprentice and Padmé then smiled. "So," he said, getting to his feet and pacing down from his dais toward them both - or, more precisely, toward her - "It would seem that we may be in for a happy occasion." He stopped before her and offered her one of his terrible smirks. "Lord Vader seems quite excited."
Padmé couldn't understand how he knew already. Anakin hadn't had time to tell him, or to even say that he was coming, yet… Palpatine knew. He always knew. It was his duty to know.
The Emperor then stepped far too close to Padmé for her comfort, and she would have stepped back if some irrevocable force hadn't held her in place; "Now, let us see..." he mused.
Padmé swallowed nervously and closed her eyes as she felt the Emperor's hand reach out and press against her belly. She squirmed, her stomach somersaulting and her face contorting into a disgusted, fearful knot. The man put pressure here, then there, probing her with his many senses, his palm sliding beneath the layer of her clothing and making contact with her bare skin, checking for certainty.
Force, it was agony - his touch was just so, so cold and so painful… but, in contrast, the way he was actually touching her could only be described as gentle. It was an uneasy combination of sensations that made the bile rise to her throat, and she cried out in anguish. She thus felt Anakin's hands come beneath her shoulders to keep her steady and to, more importantly, keep her on her feet.
"There, there," Palpatine murmured in his most awfully soothing of voices, "There's no need for that…"
Yet she couldn't help but gasp again and again as those icicles launched through her veins and dug into her abdomen. She had to look down to see what he was doing, and wondered, when all she saw was his hand, as she expected, how it was that these dark side conjurers caused her so much pain.
"Hmm…" the Emperor soon mused, running his hand slowly up and down over the slight curve of her belly. "Well, well, well…" He laughed quietly and looked her straight in the eyes.
Padmé swallowed again, feeling his hand draw back from her abdomen and reach up to pat her softly on the cheek. Their eyes didn't break from one another's, and she felt as though, even as he looked at her, he was till probing her and searching her. At length, he finally murmured, "Congratulations would seem to be in order."
Padmé exhaled in some form of relief as the Sith Master finally turned and walked away, though this relief was mingled with terror, and she felt her body sag; she was half willing to collapse straight onto the floor, right now. She even might have if Vader hadn't kept a firm hold of her. The Emperor's words had hit her hard - her recent fears were now all but confirmed - but she didn't turn to look at Anakin's face, to see his reaction; she couldn't bear to see it.
"Well," the Sith Master went on again, rubbing his hands together and looking back at her, "Aren't you a lucky girl? What an honour this is for you. Lord Vader shall soon have a son to carry on in his footsteps." He smiled at her, far too nicely for her comfort. "Think of it, my dear. Just think of it."
Padmé couldn't share Palpatine's enthusiasm, and her thoughts of the future were far from elated - suddenly all she could imagine was her giving birth to a child which would then be torn straight from her arms and moulded into a monster, like the one his father had become.
Or worse, into a monster like the Sith Master. To think that he had been a child once…
Padmé continued to stare at Palpatine, that deceptive monolith of evil, and found herself pondering on this, wondering if he too had been torn from his mother's arms once born, and then been raised into this creature that now stood before her. It hardly bared thinking about…
She felt sorrow clog her throat and a cry escaped her lips as her heart sank in her breast - this was all so badly timed. But the Emperor did not care how she felt; she was the means by which he and his apprentice would gain a further successor; she was merely the woman who would carry and gave birth to a child they saw as but another pawn on their game board. This detachment terrified her so deeply that she could not express it in words, nor could she even articulate it with her very thoughts. She had never believed that Anakin would change so much and would allow himself to fall so terribly in the first place, but to now be faced with the prospect of this man not just perhaps being her husband, but being the father or her child…? It was horrific. Though, as a boy, Anakin had never had a father, there was no chance that he would now make up for that loss with his own son. Anakin had become the Emperor's willing student, and it was the Emperor's will that came before his own. Anakin's son would be treated as the Emperor saw fit, and there was no reason to believe that Ani' would object to that.
"We must take care of you, my dear," she heard Palpatine go on as he now lounged back in his throne, "You carry our future." He gave her one final, long look before he wafted a hand toward her and said, smirking, "You may go."
It was a surprisingly bright, sunny day over on Alderaan. The fields looked lush and green and the sky was a brilliant blue. It wasn't really appropriate, considering what was happening in the galaxy, but the weather would have its way.
Bail's glorious mansion, built of beautiful white stone, with its curved walls and large, bright windows, looked almost angelic in the sunlight. It did not reflect the misgivings that Organa was having about Yoda's 'Jedi friend', or his concerns about what Yoda might spring on him in the future. It was only a matter of time, therefore, until, a week or so after his return, Yoda confronted Bail in the dining hall and revealed the next stage of his plan.
Bail had been in the middle of his meal when Yoda had begun talking. He still hadn't eaten anything more once Yoda had finished. All he could do was place his knife and fork down and gape at the small Jedi in disbelief. "I thought you were crazy going to Coruscant the first time," he said, as soon as he found his tongue again, "but you want to go back? Again?" He scoffed in further astonishment. "Whatever for, Master Yoda? Your luck won't last forever - you may not have been caught last time, but what makes you think you'll be so fortunate again?"
The Jedi Master sighed and gave Bail a long look. "Some things must be done," he said, "People are there to be saved, and others to be confronted. Only my old friend and I shall this time be going. No other lives shall we risk."
Bail clicked his tongue and rubbed his chin. "I hate to say it, Master Yoda, but what makes you think he won't turn on you?"
"Penitence is not lost to all, Senator Organa."
"Come on, Master Yoda! We're talking about --"
Yoda's spoon hit the table. "Enough. No changing my mind on this matter there is. Tomorrow we depart, and then, to a new location must the people of this 'revolution' relocate. Too long have we stayed here."
Bail pursed his lips, knowing his opinions would have no bearing on Yoda's decisions this time. "I wanted him gone from my home, Master Jedi," he uttered quietly, "but I never meant for you all to go. You can stay as long as you see fit."
"Then seen fit I have. Too dangerous for us here, it is now. Too dangerous for you, too, senator." Yoda nodded to himself. "A new place, we have already found. In charge of the relocation Master Kenobi shall be. Arranged this already I have."
Bail allowed himself a sigh and nodded in silence.
Yoda now decided to leave and he picked up his cane and turned to depart.
"When are you leaving, then?" Bail asked, "Right now?"
"As soon as can be, senator," Yoda replied.
Bail's chair creaked back as he shot to his feet and watched the diminutive Jedi hobble away. "Try to be careful, Master Yoda."
"There is no 'try', senator. Just do, or do not."
Bail allowed himself a smile. "But of course," he nodded, "How could I forget?"
"We'll have to bring things forward," Anakin rambled on as he repacked his trunk for his impending next voyage, "We must be married before our boy is born."
Padmé sat on the bed, watching him skitter here and there like a crazed mynock.
"Oh, I can't believe it!" he laughed, slamming the lid of his trunk shut as the last cloak went in. His bright eyes flashed onto her and he made his way over and gathered her up in his arms, hugging her tight. "Me and my Angel and my boy," he mused, "It's going to be so wonderful."
Padmé just froze up in his clutches; his grasp was so cold and his body pulsed as though filled with a terrible power. She could feel it flowing beneath his skin like a virus, a dark infection that filled one's heart and ate its way through one's body until there was nothing left uncontaminated. Her body repelled the very essence of it.
"What should we call him, do you think?" he then went on, wheeling away and looking at himself quickly in a mirror, "We could name him after the Master, but that might just be confusing."
'No, that would just be wrong' Padmé thought to herself, sickened by the very notion.
Anakin rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "Luke. I've always liked Luke." He looked at her. "What do you think?"
She smiled weakly. "What if it's a girl?"
He shook his head. "It's not - you heard the Emperor, he said 'son'. He knows, Padmé - he knows everything."
She sighed and looked down, fidgeting with her fingers, trying not to cry anymore, or to even think of crying. Her hands were soon taken away by Anakin, though, as he knelt before her, by the bed side, and looked at her dotingly; "I'm sorry that I have to go away again," he said, misconstruing her worry, "But I'll be back soon, for good. Then we can be wed, and start planning for our son." He smiled at her. "It'll all work out great."
Again, she tried the weak smile. He was so ecstatic that he hardly seemed to notice her unmistakable fear and distress.
"Take care of yourself now," he said, leaping to his feet and grabbing his trunk, "I'll be home again soon." He pecked her cheek as he walked past and then, was gone.
Padmé sat and watched the door for a long time. Night had again set in by the time she looked away, and she lowered herself back onto the bed, slowly and stiffly, trying to get her head round the past twenty-four hours. She was glad that she was to be alone again tonight - she needed the time and space to think.
As she lay there, she held her belly unconsciously, as though cradling the growing foetus within; she didn't want them, the two Sith Lords, to take her baby away. She was afraid for it, and felt guilty that she was to bring a child into the world who would suffer as his father had, a child who would become just another tool in the Emperor's arsenal. She couldn't let that happen…
She swallowed and leant over the side of the bed, searching beneath the mattress. Dooku's lightsabre was here today, safely hidden, and she pulled it free from its enclosure for the first in a long time. It had been remarkably safe there; with Anakin rarely being home, she had had no need to fear its discovery.
She lay back as she held it above her, looking at it through the gloom. It helped her meditate, to have this in her hands, to feel its cool metal in her grasp and its finely crafted edges beneath her palms. As she rolled the weapon between her fingers, she lapsed back into her thoughts and tried to find an answer to this mess.
It hurt her so deeply to think that now, finally, she was to have a child. She had always wanted children - she was sure she had told Anakin that before - but her mother and father weren't here to hear the news, nor was her sister there to give her the friendly sibling shove and say 'Finally!'. Yes, a child was what she wanted, but not here, and not now. It was all so wrong…
And that was when her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened in terror. A terrible notion had leapt forth into her mind like an unbidden demon: What if she lost the baby?
She felt her tongue run over her dry lips as the idea leapt forth into her mind, and her hand grasped the lightsabre ever the more tightly as she tried to ground her wandering thoughts; would it be so wrong to purposefully lose this child if it saved the unborn baby from the ordeals he would otherwise face after his birth?
She hesitated - but even if she did lose her child, by whatever means that might be, what then would happen to her? Wouldn't Vader be angry? There was no doubt of it, and she would be blamed; Anakin and his master would find out that it had been no accident. And then Lord Vader would only be able to get another child on her, and he and his Emperor would ensure that she carried it to term, and it would all happen all over again... There was no way out, for her or her unborn child.
She shook her head and clutched the lightsabre close, wiping the tears from her eyes. She couldn't do it, anyway - she could never consciously kill her own child. She would rather kill herself.
She felt suddenly guilty and unworthy to be a mother at all; how had she dared to even consider it…?
She looked at the lightsabre again, and more ideas, even more grim, soon began to take form in her forlorn heart. Her eyes were transfixed by the weapon, and she suddenly asked herself whether this, this dead warrior's laser-sword, was the way out?
Were things now so bad that self-sacrifice was truly the only other way? Would she be driven to this, to taking her own life, to escape this misery? Her thumb rubbed the metal casing up and down and, tentatively, she pressed the projector plate of the weapon into her chest. She then just looked at it as she held it in place - how awful an end this would be, to run oneself through with a lightsabre.
Another tear rolled down her cheek as she hesitated. It made a slight chink as it hit the metal weapon below and ran down into one of its grooves, mixing with the dried blood there, his blood.
"Don't do it."
Padmé shrieked in surprise and looked over to the doorway. Someone had entered noiselessly and unannounced, and she now perceived there, before her eyes, one of the Emperor's royal guards. She breathed heavily, taking great gulps of air in each breath, and moved the lightsabre away from her body. There was something about this man's calmness that made her listen to him and, suddenly, as if by magic, she could clearly see the error and stupidity of her ways, as if she had been lifted from out of the fog and placed in the sunlight.
Padmé looked over the royal guard again - she would normally fear an encounter with one of these red devils, but something was not quite right about this one. She was quite unable to put her finger on what that was, though.
Slowly, the guard came over the carpet to her and placed his hand over hers, prying the weapon from her grasp. "A dangerous weapon, my lady," he said, voice fizzling through his intercom as he looked at the hilt in his hands, "What possessed you to even contemplate doing such a thing?"
Her breaths slowed to a gentle panting and she frowned at him - she had never heard one speak to her like this before. It was very strange. "What business of that is yours?" she whispered anyway.
"None at all," the guard replied, "And you wouldn't have done much harm anyway, not with the safety lock on."
She looked at the lightsabre and took it back from him. She then almost laughed - that stupid fact made the entire situation look ridiculous, and, if she hadn't had so much to be concerned about right now, she certainly would have laughed.
It was then, as she looked at the guard once more, that she realised what it was that really made him different to the rest; "You're a bit taller than the others, aren't you?" she asked, looking down at his robes, which hung a little above the carpet and revealed the tips of his boots.
The guard looked down, his posture speaking of a certain humiliation about this, but he didn't answer. He just held out his hand to her and said, "I'm sorry, I don't have time to talk. I've come to rescue you."
She was taken aback - what kind of coincidental joke was this? "You've what?" she spluttered.
He proffered the hand again. "Come along. I'm here to rescue you! I don't have much time."
"Who are you?" she asked, though she placed her hand in his anyway.
Again, he didn't answer - he just pulled her to her feet and quickly began to lead her away, out the room, down the ominous stairs of the senate, and through the dark, deserted corridors beyond. He looked around every corner they came to and made sure to keep to the shadows, continuously glancing back to make sure that they hadn't been followed.
"Where are we going?" Padmé asked at length, her hand still clamped firmly in his, whilst her other held on to the lightsabre.
"Shh…" he hushed her, pausing before he made a dash across a wide and very silent hallway. It was then that their luck ran out...
"Hey, you!" shouted a voice from the darkness.
Padmé's royal guard cussed and drew his electro pike from out of his robes, holding it out before him as three other royal guards came rushing over. "That must be him!" one of them said, "The one who got R-116-9!"
The guard trying to 'rescue' Padmé moved her behind him and held his pike across his chest, ready for the ambush. As soon as the first of the chargers came in too close, he thrust his pike at their torso, and this guard fell, writhing in agony, to the floor. Seeing this, the other two decided to hang back, but kept their own pikes extended at the ready, held out toward the impostor.
"Let me help!" Padmé said, fumbling again with the old lightsabre hilt.
The faux guard glanced at her. "Do you really think you can use that thing?"
She shook her head candidly, watching as the temporarily felled royal guard got back to his feet and began circling both her and her rescuer with the others; "No, not really," she sighed, deflated, "But it's all I've got."
The three true royal guards began to close in with their pikes fizzling hazardously. Things were about to get ugly, and the faux guard knew it; "I'm sorry," he said to Padmé, "but may I borrow that?"
Padmé blinked at him. "My lightsabre?"
"Yes. Now." His hand stretched out to her as the guards closed in.
She looked unsure, and, little by little, began to hold the weapon out toward him.
He dropped his pike and snatched it sharply. "Sorry," he said, "But it's an emergency."
She gave him a dark glare, but backed up now that she was all but defenceless, and watched this stranger to see what he would do.
Little did Padmé realise the sheer scope of the matter at hand. Not only was she being rescued daringly, but her rescue also served as a distraction. With the royal guards busy with their faux counterpart, they left their master, the almighty Emperor, unguarded. And this gave Master Yoda leave to enter the man's apartments with little or no hassle. Locks and security systems couldn't keep him out.
This didn't all mean that he would find the Sith Master lying vulnerable in his bed at the end of it all, not by any means. In fact, as the small Jedi crept into Palpatine's apartments, the rooms looked relatively undisturbed, and he got all the way through his bed chamber without even the slightest sign of trouble. It was as if he had been expected…
As Yoda's green eyes searched the dark, silent bedroom of the Sith Master, the Force came to him and summoned his attention to the windows. Swinging his head about, he looked and saw there, silhouetted against the hazy light of the Coruscant night, the hooded apparition of Sidious himself.
Yoda drew himself up and placed his hand atop his 'sabre hilt, waiting for the coming storm.
"Master Yoda," Palpatine's voice drawled from the darkness therein, "It has been a long time. I was wondering when I would next have the pleasure of seeing you."
Yoda stood quite still in the room's centre, and pushed back the folds of his cloak, ready to grab his lightsabre. "Palpatine," he murmured.
"Yes, that was what you called me. What many called me, in fact." The man stepped away from the window, his hands clasped before him as though he was reasonably content with the situation. "You may still call me that, of course, if you so wish."
Yoda hadn't made a move - he just stood there en garde with a contrary no-nonsense manner about his small person. He was in no mood for Palpatine's habitual prattle.
"We're not in a good mood, are we, Master Jedi?" the man went on, beginning to circle Yoda, his chin and thin lips now visible beneath his Sithly shroud. "I am unhappy to find you in such bad humour. And what a host have I shown myself to be? Pray, tell me how I can be of assistance?" He stopped and his voice dropped to a more sinister tenor. "I don't believe you've just stopped by to say hello."
"An end to this there must be, Sith Master."
"Ah! He understands! He calls me Sith Master at last." He chuckled for a moment. "It took you all so long to work out the puzzle, I quite wondered if you'd ever get there!" He cackled again. "Well, the Force wasn't quite with you there, was it?"
Yoda just let the man laugh, his glare tightening further all the time. He gripped his lightsabre hilt and slowly brought it forth from his cloak, preparing to go one-on-one with his most deadly enemy.
"Ah," Palpatine nodded, his eyes catching the glint of Yoda's weapon, "I see. It's going to be like that." He opened his hand and his lightsabre hilt dropped smoothly into it from out of his sleeve, "Well, we could have been more civil about it. But I suppose we've been civil long enough."
Yoda's grip tightened on his weapon - he could hear Palpatine's courtesy gradually fracture with every word the man said; his tone was dropping, subtly yet noticeably, and it would soon reach a point where the man would become his true persona, and, like the nexu stalking its prey, would then lunge.
Whether it was wise to let a Sith Lord of this calibre have the first move was something Yoda doubted, so, with a flick of his finger, he ignited his blade and took the opportunity to pounce at the man first.
Sidious wheeled about, dodging the first assault, and cackling all the while. "My, my, we are quite a warrior, even after nine hundred years!" he goaded, swinging his wrist and bringing forth his red blade. "Come, Master Yoda. Teach me a lesson."
The dark chamber was filled by the glows of the red and green blades as the most proficient of the opposing Orders - that of Jedi and Sith - finally met in combat. Yoda was small and quick, but Palpatine had the most acute of senses and a superb combat ability, and was more than a match for Yoda. It was quite incredible - to think that every meeting the Jedi had had with the Chancellor of old, every time they were debating issues in his office, they had all been within arm's reach of their most hated enemy, and had known nothing. Yoda was too experienced a Jedi to allow himself to get angry about this, but it certainly put a sure-fire dent in his pride.
He leapt from the floor across the Emperor's bed, then, and, as the Sith Master followed, he bounded from a chest of drawers back to the floor, and swiftly across the room.
"So fast," Palpatine murmured, almost to himself, and, as he halted smoothly on the carpet, a short distance from Yoda, decided to change tact. "Let us try something a little different…"
Yoda watched as the Sith Lord rose his hand before him and, before he could even prepare to ground himself, he had been flung across the room and catapulted into the door! He hit it hard, then dropped to the floor, momentarily dazed.
Sidious slowly made his way across the carpet, lightsabre at the ready. "Surely that wasn't so easy?" he muttered, "Surely the great Master Yoda wasn't so easily overcome?"
Palpatine then thrust his hand up again and Yoda, thrown back against the wall, could do nothing as the Sith Master rose his hand and sent him sliding right up the surface until his head bounced against the ceiling, strung up by an invisible and overwhelming force.
Yoda's face contorted and he reached out for the Force, knowing that he had to get back on top in this fight. Closing his eyes, he gathered together his greatest of powers and steadily fought off those that came from the Emperor, until he landed gently back on the floor. Heaving a great sigh to recover from such effort, he then gave the Sith Master a glare and dared him to do better.
The frivolity of Palpatine's playful manner was gone. With a tight lip, the man now growled, "Then so be it," and, with a swing of his arm, one which sent his hood falling back from over his head, he conjured up a force great enough to sent Yoda physically through the door!
Padmé gaped in awe as she saw the mysterious royal guard pick up the lightsabre and use it with ease. He must be some sort of Jedi, she thought - there could be no other explanation!
As soon as the lightsabre had touched the intruder's hand, the other royal guards had suddenly become more wary, and were now circling only as close to the intruder as they felt was safe.
The rescuer wasn't impressed by their caution and fear however and he started to goad them on, saying, "Come on, you cowards! Surely you're not afraid? What would your master think?"
His taunts got one of the guards going, at least, and this one came charging at the intruder with full gusto, swinging his pike about around him like a circus performer with his baton.
"Capital," the faux guard murmured before he stepped into the attack and lunged at the incoming enemy.
The other backed off a little, dodging the intruder's first assault, before he wheeled about into a spin with his pike thereafter, aiming to dispatch the rescuer with one, sharp blow. The intruder was too good a warrior for this, though, and with just another swerve of his lightsabre, he lopped the attacking guard's pike into two, before he then decapitated the guard in another single blow.
As the first guard's head rolled across the floor, still enclosed within its red helmet, the other two guards got suddenly angry. Though they said nothing, the way their sinister masks turned onto the rescuer was creepy. Their hands gripped their pikes tightly in unison and, as one, they began to march at the intruder, a pair of faceless and silent killers .
The lightsabre-wielding guard simply held his blade out to the side and gestured for them to come at him with a waggle of his fingers. "Come on," he said, "Impress me."
It would seem that the two remaining royal guards took their cocky opponent rather too seriously - they suddenly picked up pace and ran at him, full on, pikes swinging, and aimed to impress their enemy with the fullness of their hearts!
The intruder clasped his lightsabre firmly in his hand then rushed at them in turn, his feet dancing across the floor in a fluid, smooth motion. He then threw himself into the air and dived down upon one of the guards, aiming to cleave him into two right out from the start.
The royal guards were too quick, though, and parted as the intruder flew at them, with the guard who had been under attack thinking and acting quickly enough to turn the situation to his advantage. He simply rolled himself away, before coming back up onto his knees, and from there, he thrust his pike back across into the space where the intruder looked likely to land from his assault.
And where the intruder did, indeed, land. The lightsabre-wielder screamed as his feet hit the floor and he consequently became subject to the voltage of the electropike. His knees buckled and he fell, with a thud, to the floor. Grumbling to himself for his clumsiness, he then flipped back onto his feet with a tremendous momentum, and then just managed to evade the incoming pike of the second guard.
The two guards again swung away and prepared for round two.
Master Yoda called upon the powers of the Force to aid him, but they just weren't there, not like they used to be. Even a year ago, he could count upon more assistance from that great, mysterious energy field than what he got now. The balance of the Force had long been shifting, and in the coarse of this, his powers were forced to diminish, whilst Palpatine's, favoured by the Force's current dark tendencies, only flourished.
Yoda picked himself up from the floor in the anteroom to Palpatine's chambers, and, finding his green lightsabre lain nearby, he drew it back to his hands and once again prepared himself for next the onslaught. The Sith Master, meanwhile, in true spectral style, simply glided across the threshold of the door into the anteroom, giving himself the appearance of a true creature of the netherworld. "Your powers are weakening, Jedi Master," he glowered, conjuring the Force to him, which, as it coiled about his person, sent great thunderous rumbles through the foundations of the building. Then, splaying out his fingers, he sent an invisible wave crashing toward Yoda!
But Yoda was determined not be sent flying for a third time. Folding his arms, the Jedi Master drew as much of the fraying, light fabric of the Force as he could to himself and caught Palpatine's gigantic ball of fury in his invisible net, holding his hands outward as he struggled to keep it in place. The power of the attack was so immense, though, that it pushed him back across the carpet, thundering against him like an unstoppable tidal wave. Yoda's tiny face screwed up in concentration, and his claws flailed at the carpet beneath his feet, trying their best to dig into the fabric and find there some firm grip. It didn't take Yoda long to realise that his Force-net could not contain this beast for long, so, with a deep-seated resolve and a tremendous cry, the Jedi Master simply threw all his strength behind the net and thrust the ball of energy back at Palpatine!
Sidious only laughed as it hurtled in his direction, and he merely wafted it away with a feeble wave of his hand, making not the slightest flinch when it consequently crashed into a wall and caused the plaster and permacrete to flake away. Yoda watched this with some dismay, knowing full well that that falling plaster and brick could have been his flesh and bones…
"So, we're not so lifeless after all," Sidious now growled, pacing a little in Yoda's direction, "It's been an admirable performance so far."
Yoda watched Palpatine wearily as the man rose his hands toward the ceiling. "Let's make things a little harder," he said.
Yoda watched him, unable to foresee or even guess what Sidious was to do next, so clouded had his senses become in this man's presence. The Sith Master was like the storm that caused radio waves and electricity lines to break down as he passed - his very essence interfered with the Force and sent it awry, and Yoda could do nothing to counteract the effect. It was then that he felt a tight grip take hold beneath his chin and he was, in tandem, sent flying back onto the ground.
Sidious watched as Yoda's little body slid back over the carpet, looking as if it were being pulled back by some cord strung round his waist. "It is really quite sad," the Sith Lord mused, "I truly thought you might have been a more equal opponent." He shrugged, continuing to send Yoda's body back, back, back until he let it loose, and watched him skid to a halt a little while later. "I may have been wrong, of course."
Yoda heaved himself to his feet once more, his skin burning from where it had rubbed against the carpet. "Far from over, the battle is," he assured Palpatine with a cold, slightly wry smile, before he then took up his blade again and torpedoed back into combat!
The 'sabre-wielding, fake guard stepped back, looking between the two guards that he faced, and sighed heavily, twisting his lightsabre round and round in his left hand. "I could cheat a little," he mumbled to the two guards. He then turned his head to the ceiling and, in turn, the two guards were tossed up into the air, screaming. The intruder then rapidly grabbed Padmé's hand and tugged her along behind him, before he then handed the two airborne guards back over to gravity. "Come on!" he urged her, and they ran.
Padmé heard the dull thud of the pair of royal guards hitting the floor as she and her liberator made their way into another corridor, and continued to sprint on. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"Forwards," he said.
His words stunned her for a moment and she receded into a sudden silence as an uneasy sensation overcame her stomach.
"My mistake," the guard then said, grabbing her attention again and skidding to a sudden halt, causing Padmé to bounce against his back. "We're going left," he added, and they thus took a left turning.
All the corridors looked the same to her as they passed through, travelling under the lighting of dull lamp after dull lamp, and proceeding through grey door after grey door.
"What did you say your name was?" she decided to ask him at length, glancing back for a moment to check that they weren't still being followed.
"I don't believe I did say," he retorted, then said no more.
"It's polite to introduce oneself."
"I'm not always polite."
They came out into a large hanger, and from here, Padmé had a better idea of where they were heading.
"Move!" her rescuer said, hurrying her along as best as he could, and urging her toward a certain shuttle. "That one there," he pointed "get on board."
She was halfway across the room when she skidded to a halt and screamed. A troop of four more royal guards were suddenly in the space before her, seeming to have materialised from out of nowhere!
The rescuing guard cursed, having been covering Padmé's back, waiting for the Emperor's reinforcements to have come from that way - he hadn't quite been expecting to face an assault from behind. Resorting to do something rather than waste time dwelling on the matter, he turned about and rushed toward Padmé, then leapt in front of her and took up Dooku's lightsabre again. He then charged.
The four new guards rallied themselves and surrounded the intruder…
Green and red lightsabres were again crossing down the hallway from the Emperor's apartments as the fight moved on through room after room. Unfortunately, though he was putting up a tremendous fight, Yoda knew that he was not likely to be victorious. The sheer strength of the Sith Master exceeded his very worst fears, and he had never imagined it to be possible, that the man could have been so powerful yet have managed to remain concealed for so many years.
Idle chatter had given way to ferocious combat on the scale that Yoda had never experienced before. At his mere will, with little effort or thought involved, the Emperor could send great chunks of brick and plaster flying from out of the walls, could collapse the ceiling and bring up the floorboards - anything he wished. And he did so. Frequently. The chambers they had since passed through were now only derelict ghosts of their former selves.
As bricks flew from the sides of the corridor, Yoda had to alternate between parrying Sidious's lightsabre to destroying the incoming missiles. Soon thereafter, the floor beneath Yoda's feet continued to give way, planks of wood and iron girders flying up from beneath him and forcing him to begin leaping all around again, an activity he could have done without right now. And then he still had Sidious's lightsabre to contend with at the end of it all.
Following this long bout of flying building materials and swinging lightsabres, Palpatine allowed a slight break to elapse in the battle. There was no reason to believe for one minute that Palpatine was being courteous, because he wasn't; Yoda could already feel a great swelling of the Force accumulating at the Sith Master's left hand. He couldn't stop the man from subsequently thrusting him down the corridor, like a rag doll, and hurling him into the next wall that happened to appear at his back.
With a nod to the ceiling, Palpatine next sent a large section of the roof down toward Yoda. Unable to stop it in time, the Jedi Master could do nothing but roll out of its path and try to regain some control over this one-sided battle. Breathing heavily, he watched Sidious for some signs, some hints toward his next attack; this was usually Yoda's most successful method of understanding and defeating his opponents, but Sidious, right now, was proving far too adept for even this, and it was too late by the time Yoda recognised the warning signs to defend himself fro the final assault. In a flash, raw lightning sprang from Sidious's fingertips! The Sith Master's ultimate power had been unleashed…
As the faux royal guard swung his lightsabre at his four opponents, he suddenly felt a ball of tension build up in his mind and explode, sending painful aftershocks rippling through his body. Screaming, he for a moment hit the floor and then shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
Yoda… he could hear Yoda. He could feel Yoda. Yoda was in pain… and that didn't happen a lot.
"You fool," he murmured to himself, before he was uncouthly refocused onto the task at hand by two of the royal guards, who had taken their chances and, as one, thrust their pikes into his chest! He yelled, feeling the two agonising jolts of electricity as they were sent coursing through his body, like a pair of flaming arrows, burning him from the inside-out.
As the shocks found ground through his feet, the rescuer was left with a savage anger smouldering in his chest, and, without thought or warning, he just attacked the perpetrators in two deadly blows, cutting them down and leaving their corpses blighted on the hangar floor.
This shocked Padmé, to see the sheer anger and might of the faux guard's sudden offensive, but it caused the remaining two royal guards much more concern. They both opted to move further back, needing time to consider the best way of going about facing this unruly, masked Jedi…
The faux guard was wasting no time on thought, however, and he dashed across the room, working himself between the two remaining royal guards and swinging his blade here and there, attempting to give them similar treatment to their dead friends. The two guards were on the alert, though, and managed to skilfully evade the rescuer's attacks, dodging and sidestepping with an admirable dexterity. It was now that Padmé could finally see a chance to intervene and help out her liberator, so, picking up a pike from one of the dead royal guards, she then rushed behind one of the remaining pair and - whilst this guard was otherwise engaged - thrust the weapon at his spine!
The guard screamed and, in the next instant, was swiftly run through by the mystery Jedi. "Nice work, madam," her rescuer said, before he soon made short work of the remaining guard, who fell after taking a nasty gash across his abdomen.
Panting a little, the faux guard deactivated the lightsabre and took Padmé by the hand; "Come on!" he said, and away they went again.
When they were but a few metres from the ramp leading into the shuttle, a small, green creature came hurtling toward them from another direction, his small cloak both smoking and frayed, and flaying out in his wake.
Padmé could hardly believe her eyes as she turned to watch him. "Master Yoda?" she gasped.
"Come on, Master Yoda!" her faux guard yelled in the meantime, urging Padmé on up the ramp, "We haven't got all day, unless you haven't noticed!"
"Such disrespect you show!" Yoda growled in turn, despite looking very much the worse for wear, "And what is there so bad on your tails? Royal guards? Hmph! A Sith Master there is on mine!"
"More fool you - that was your part of the plan, I seem to remember."
Yoda ignored him. "Almost here before you, was I! Hah! What fun it would have been for you to arrive to find Master Yoda having reached here first!"
Padmé was sure the faux guard made a little laugh. "Don't be absurd. Besides, I always leave things to the last minute. You know me better than that."
"Yes. Always to the last minute, the last day, the last year even with you. Too true, that is."
Their jibes at one another were only half serious, Padmé could see that much, and by the time they had finished ranting at one another, like old friends who'd spent too much time together, Master Yoda had made it to the ship and they were going up the ramp in unison.
The guard motioned Padmé toward the passenger seats of the shuttle. "Take a seat," he said quickly, before he leapt into one of the pilot's chairs and prepared for a fast getaway.
Padmé sat down, still quite overwhelmed - and even more so puzzled - by everything that was going on. Her feelings of uncertainty leaked away for a moment, however, as she saw Master Yoda struggling to climb into his seat in the cockpit, next to the royal guard; the small Jedi Master grunted, slipped, and tried again, but just couldn't quite get up into that chair. He really did look quite badly bruised and injured, but none of this seemed to effect him right now.
Yoda soon took his cane and reached across, prodding the faux guard in the shin. "Help I need here? See that, can you not, hm? Blind are you becoming again?"
Padmé watched in amazement as the little green warrior was thus levitated into his seat by the other, who hadn't even turned to look at him. The buildings of Coruscant were fast disappearing out the window, being replaced by a field of stars as the shuttle whisked them away into outer space, and to freedom.
"Better," Yoda nodded from his seat, clutching onto his cane as it rested in his lap.
"As long as it renders you quiet, Master Yoda, I'll quite happily do anything," the other said.
TBC…