Chapter Three
"After the Emperor dispersed the Imperial Senate, the defunct Senators sought passage off of Imperial Center, wishing to flee from those who would have them answer for their crimes."
--The Imperial Chronicles, Chapter Two
"We fled in fear for our lives and those of our people. We sought to warn them of Palpatine's final step into a dictatorship."
--Pooja Lydonia, Senator of Naboo
The Imperial Palace had always had a poor lighting system. One of the many foolish superstitions behind it was that Darth Vader used the darkness to creep about in order to kill those who opposed the Emperor too vehemently. There certainly had been enough disappearances in the Palace over the past two decades. Still, regardless of the reason, many of its residents brought in their own forms of lighting to brighten up their respective apartments. However, that did nothing for the various corridors, thus keeping them a chilled and frightening place in the nighttime hours.
In this case, the darkness proved itself as an advantage, though, Pooja thought distractedly. Captain Peoly had split all of the remaining Naboo into two groups, one led by Niaé, Amarié, and Meliaé, and the other by himself. Amarié still wore one of Pooja's Senatorial traveling gowns, while Pooja remained in the dark blue cloak Meliaé had given her earlier that evening.
Peoly had ordered the two groups to take different routes to the hangars where the ships and the rest of their people were waiting. He even ordered the other group to leave without them if they should be caught. They had tried to argue, especially the handmaidens, but they finally held their peace when Pooja firmly backed the order.
"You three know all that has gone on here," she whispered to them fiercely. "If I am captured, you must make it home to warn the Queen! Do you understand me?"
All three of the handmaidens nodded reluctantly, though Meliaé still stood there, fuming mutinously. Pooja gave them one last small smile before she set out into the darkness with Captain Peoly.
Getting to the hangar was the most difficult part. They had to move silently and quickly, all the while avoiding the guards who patrolled the Palace during the night. Still, the men who were with her had been excellently trained and knew their craft.
Suddenly Captain Peoly, who had moved to the front to lead the group, whipped up his gloved hand, signaling the rest of them to stop. While they waited tensely, he peered cautiously around a corner. Abruptly, the Captain jumped back, turned to them, and waved his hand wildly, urging them to scatter.
Reacting immediately, Pooja rushed to a nearby balcony. Ducking low so none of the troops stationed outside would spot her, she quickly crushed herself into a shadowy corner. Her view of the doorway was soon obstructed, however, when Captain Peoly and two of the guards, Lieutenant Sesslyn and Corporal Aidan, firmly planted themselves in front of her.
For several moments, there was silence until Pooja began to hear it. Footsteps. Many of them, marching rapidly as they came closer to their hiding place. Slowly, the Naboo Senator reached into the confines of her cloak and pulled out her blaster. If this turned into a fire fight, she knew she had to be ready. In the darkness, she could see her three protectors doing the same, bringing their blasters up.
Back out in the corridor, she could hear one of the running stormtroopers yelling, "Their quarters are deserted! They may have split up, but the Emperor wants them found immediately!"
The pounding of feet matched the rapid beat of her heart, but the sound slowly faded as the stormtroopers hurried down the corridor, away from them. Lieutenant Sesslyn crept silently towards the doorway and glanced around the corridor. After a few seconds, the man turned back to them and nodded. He then slipped inside.
Pooja stayed low to the ground and followed. Once she was back within the confines of the Palace, she straightened back up to her full height. As the rest of the group came to join them, Pooja turned to Captain Peoly.
"Captain," she said in a low, urgent tone, "it seems that our absence has been discovered. We must hurry before they find the Senator."
The brown-skinned man nodded. "I agree with you, Laraé. Everyone," he glanced around at the guards, " Double your pace!"
They formed back into a cohesive unit and continued. Only this time, they were practically running and paying little attention to the noise they made.
The group was only a small distance to the hangar when they heard the distant sound of blasterfire. Pooja gasped softly. The other group was in trouble. When they burst into the hanger, she immediately barked out orders, "Take up positions to provide the Senator cover fire! Stay as close to the ramps as you can!" Following her own advice, Pooja moved beneath the nearest ship, right next to the ramp. She noticed out of the corner of her vision that Peoly had followed her.
As the sounds of running and blasters grew louder, the Captain hissed softly, "Senator, get onboard!"
"Not without the Senator, Captain," she snarled loud enough for several nearby guards to hear. She didn't have to look at him to know that he was glaring at her for taking her safety out of his hands. He'd no doubt lecture her extensively when – if – they got away.
The other group burst into the hangar at that point, firing madly behind them. Pooja instantly spotted Amarié, Niaé, and Meliaé as they bolted across the hangar, but also noticed with dismay that their number of guards had been greatly reduced.
Then the stormtroopers came. Their skull-like helmets were extremely unsettling as they moved closer and closer to the ships. Of course, things were not improved by the fact that they were shooting wildly as they came.
Pooja fired methodically, struggling not to wince when she saw two of her guards go down as they were shot from behind. Clenching her teeth, she continued shooting as her three handmaidens shot up the ramp next to her.
"Laraé," Captain Peoly shouted as he grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward. "Go!" He then pushed her a few steps up the ramp and whirled around to continue to fire on the still-approaching stormtroopers.
She fired off two more shots as she backed up the ramp. Before she could fire a third, however, strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her the rest of the way onboard.
When she was released, Pooja whirled around, ready to deliver a stinging reprimand, only to find both Meliaé and Niaé both glaring at her angrily.
"Laraé," Niaé hissed, "the Senator bids you attend to her in the conference room. Come quickly. We should be taking off momentarily."
With so many security guards rushing onboard as well as Captain Peoly's arrival, Pooja knew she did not dare to object. Nodding in affirmation, she allowed the two women to lead her quickly through the corridors to the conference room. Behind her, she could hear the ramp coming up and the airlock sealing.
When the three of them entered, Amarié was already seated and attached to the crash webbing. Pooja hurried over to one of the nearby benches and strapped herself in.
The take off was far from smooth. They could all hear and feel the weapons' fire striking the hull of the ship. The engines struggled and strained against the planet's gravity. But slowly, after several tense minutes, the ship began to level off. But just as Pooja thought they were about the make the jump to lightspeed, the ship bucked and shuddered violently.
"What is going on," Meliaé yelled in frustration as she struggled to free herself from the crash webbing.
"Someone has opened fire on us, obviously," Pooja replied as she broke free of her webbing. She stood up, holding onto the wall of the room. "I'm going to find out who."
No one protested her departure, but she did note that Niaé had also freed herself and was following close behind. She didn't really mind. If the ship was destroyed, it would not matter what room they were in, Pooja thought as another blast caused her to stagger against the wall.
When they finally reached the cockpit, Pooja heard their pilot shout urgently, "Shields are down to fifty percent!"
Glancing inside, she could see that there wasn't room for two more bodies. Quickly motioning for Niaé to wait outside the door, Pooja slipped into the cockpit and asked, "What's happening?"
"There's a Star Destroyer in orbit," Peoly answered distractedly. "It appears to have taken a special interest in our two ships."
Pooja stared out at the monstrous ship that stood in their path. "What do you mean by 'a special interest?'"
It was the co-pilot who answered her question, though not intentionally. "Two more ships just when down, Captain," the man reported. "The rest are staying with us."
Pooja blinked in surprise. More ships? She turned to the monitors connected to their sensors. Immediately, she saw dozens of different ships surrounding their own. Some were small, one-man ships, while others were larger and more similar to the two Nubian ships.
Abruptly, one of the ships on the monitor winked out. Gasping in horror, Pooja whirled around to say something, anything, when their ship was rocked by another blast. Pooja was tossed forward. She would have hit the pilot's chair had Captain Peoly not managed to grab her upper arm and jerk her back.
"Shields are gone," the pilot warned, a note of despair entering into his tone. But suddenly, an alarm sounded on the console.
What now, Pooja wondered as she fought the urge to scream in desperation.
"We're being hailed!"
"Open the channel," Pooja managed to order, ignoring the fact that Peoly had said the same thing at the same time.
The co-pilot flipped a switch and almost instantly, a small blue hologram appeared.
It was Corr Lassiter.
"This is Senator Lassiter to the Nubian Starships. I do not know which ship has Senator Lydonia onboard, but you must get her out of here now! You – look out!"
-
What happened next occurred so quickly there was hardly any time for it to register before it was all over.
The four that were present in the cockpit could only watch as the Star Destroyer fired yet another shot at them. Their shields were down, there was no time to maneuver.
But just before the shot hit them, a desperate war cry was belted out over the still-open com channel and a small, blue, one-man ship, from seemingly out of nowhere, darted in front of them-
It exploded in a ball of flames.
Pooja stared out the cockpit window, wide-eyed, unable to blink at the brightness of the explosion. She could faintly hear Captain Peoly, the pilot, and the co-pilot speaking – or were they shouting? – and suddenly she could see the stars begin to streak by as they jumped to lightspeed.
That was Corr's private ship. Corr's dead.
She felt as though she was being choked. All the air seemed to have escaped from her lungs as she sank, boneless, into a nearby chair. Her world had gone mad. In the space of just a few days, she had seen nearly everything she knew, everything she had worked for, crumble to dust.
Peoly's face appeared in front of her, filled with concern. He said something and although she had no idea what, she nodded faintly. He then reached out and slowly pulled her back up. The grief-stricken woman allowed herself to be guided out of the cockpit by her Head of Security and handed over to Niaé's care.
Pooja vaguely heard Peoly's tenor voice speaking and Niaé' horrified gasp, but she paid them little heed. She couldn't think straight. Her mind was going in circles and none of it made any sense.
Leia had been murdered. Palpatine had disbanded the Senate. She was running form those who would falsely accuse her of treason. Now Corr was dead.
How had things fallen so far?
Niaé eventually led her to her quarters where the chief handmaiden instructed Meliaé to give Pooja a mild sedative. Though a small, frantic instinct urged her to protest, Pooja did nothing to stop them and quickly fell into a drug-induced sleep.
Her slumber, however, was not particularly restful. Her dreams were plagued by deep uncertainty and ominous shadows. Still, Pooja did manage to wake up with a much clearer frame of mind.
Amarié was the only one of the three handmaidens present. No longer dressed to impersonate, she now sore a simple black outfit and cloak. When she heard Pooja's waking movements, she looked up from the data-pad in her hand.
"Milady," she asked, standing up from her chair and moving closer, "Are you alright?"
"Not really," Pooja croaked, wincing at how terrible she actually sounded. This was the reason why she normally refused to take sedatives. They made her feel worse, rather than better. "But I'll be fine, eventually. What has been happening?" She slowly stared to crawl out of the bed.
Amarié took her hand and began to assist her. Once Pooja was seated at the small mirror and dressing table, a brush in her hand as she struggled to remove the tangles, the woman began to explain.
"We stayed in hyperspace for nearly three hours. After we were certain we were not being followed, we dropped out to make repairs. Both ships were moderately damaged. The pilots have hidden us on the night side of a moon orbiting a gas giant. Meliaé and Niaé are assisting with the repairs."
Pooja nodded and continued to work through her hair. Finally running the brush through the brown curls one final time, she quickly twisted it into a simple bun. Turning around in the chair, she gave Amarié a small smile of approval when she saw what the handmaiden had pulled out of the closet that housed both hers and her three attendants' garments. The woman must have sensed that Pooja had no plans to leave her room because she pulled out a simple sea green day gown and its accompanying sheer over-robe.
Pooja stood up and took the clothes from Amarié's out-stretched hands. "I have to put together a report for the Queen and the Council, so I won't need anything else for some time. You're dismissed, Amarié."
The other woman nodded. "Yes, Milady. However, I will bring you a tray of food. You must eat."
Seeing the firm, unyielding, and yet slightly teasing, expression on Amarié's face, Pooja did not bother to object. "And when you're done with that," she added more solemnly, "Could you assemble a casualty list?"
The teasing sparkle left Amarié's eyes at that point as she nodded, curtsied, then departed silently.
Pooja quickly slid off her nightgown and replaced it with the dress and over-robe. She then moved over to the small desk, the last piece of furniture in the room.
She stared at the terminal in front of her, suddenly feeling helpless. How did a person tell their ruler and friend that their world was now at the mercy of a dictator? How could she explain that they had been forced to flee with their lives after it had been discovered that Pooja would be framed for treason? How could she explain the lives it had cost to save her own?
Pooja took a deep, shaking breath, trying to keep herself from losing command of her emotions. Her teachers at the Royal Academy in Theed had instructed her quite thoroughly that control was paramount for a successful public figure. She had flouted those teachings completely just a few hours ago, she had no desire to do so again. It was not a pleasant feeling.
Straightening up in her chair, Pooja pulled up a blank document on her terminal. Attaching the small microphone that had been adapted for the machine, she slowly dictated the beginnings of a report.
"Your Majesty and esteemed councilors,
Only a few days ago on Imperial Center, a great and terrible tragedy occurred. Something that will strike at every being who holds democracy dearly in their souls…"
Pooja focused solely on her report for the next two hours, detailing the events that had taken place over the past two days. She stopped only when Amarié returned with a tray of fruits and bread. She ate enough to satisfy her attendant, but again continued with her work once she was left alone. Once she finished with the report and stored it, Pooja opened up the ship's database.
She quickly accessed the stored copies of the Imperial Constitution and the Codes of Law. She then moved to the area dealing with the powers and duties of the Emperor.
Article III, Section One.
Clause One: The executive Power shall be vested in the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. He shall hold this office for the term of his natural life…
Clause Five: The Emperor may, in times of peril, assume command of the assembled forces of the Empire over the Supreme Commanders of the various branches of the military…
Clause Seven: The Emperor…
The Articles, Sections, and Clauses all started to run together, but Pooja continued to read, taking in all the information. As her eyes drifted over the words, she could not help but feel as though she was a young student again, reading the texts for the very first time. It was almost chilling, what she now felt as she read them. Instead of an eager thirst for knowledge, a bitter chill enraptured her spirit, squeezing her heart as she continued to reflect upon each word.
It was not until Niaé, Amarié, and Meliaé entered her quarters, their expressions fraught with concern, that Pooja stopped reading. Amarié stepped over to her and handed her a small data-pad and she numbly scanned its contents.
The casualty list. Just as she requested.
After several tense moments, she looked back at her terminal, then up to the waiting handmaidens. She had read all she needed. Her face was pale and her lips were pressed together in suppressed fury. Then, without warning, Pooja stood and walked over to the door to the walk-in closet, barely waiting to see if they would follow.
A plan was slowly forming in her mind. She could only hope it had a chance of working.
--
Pooja rifled through the many garments, pausing occasionally to glance at an outfit, only to continue her seemingly mad search.
"Milady," Niaé spoke up cautiously, "what is it that you are looking for? Perhaps we can assist you?"
"We're about two hours from home," Amarié added, her eyes drifting over the many racks of clothing. "We should start planning what you should wear -"
"Burgundy," Pooja muttered, cutting the handmaiden off. "Where are all those burgundy bodysuits we packed?"
Meliaé moved over to one of the racks that she had yet to search through. "They're here, Milady. But what do you want them for?"
"To wear, of course," Pooja replied, reaching out and pulling one of the four outfits off the rack. Holding it up against her body, she looked down at the suit. She frowned. IT was made just a little too long, meaning that it belonged to either Meliaé or Niaé. Putting the suit back, she pulled out another and repeated the process. Satisfied, she turned around to face her three confused attendants.
"Grab yours and come with me," Pooja instructed as she swept past them. Just before she left the closet, she opened a drawer in a small chest and took a pair of black stockings.
Stepping back into her room, she shrugged off her sheer robe and with a little assistance from Niaé in unbuttoning her day gown, quickly pulled on the burgundy garment.
Just as she was sitting down on her bed to pull the stockings on, Pooja heard Amarié speak up.
"Milady… Pooja, what do you exactly have in mind here?"
She stopped. For a moment, she did not lift her eyes to meet theirs. Sighing softly, she slowly replied, "I need to convince them of the seriousness of Naboo's situation."
"Then would it not be more prudent to wear something a little more elaborate?" She asked, her expression one of bewilderment.
Pooja shook her head. "Perhaps," she admitted, "but I feel that these outfits will strike a chord with many in the government." She looked at each of them in turn, a wane smile drifting over her lips. "Especially those who remember the recent history of our world."
She then continued to don the stockings, knowing she would not have to wait long for them to understand her message. They were all very intelligent women. They would see it.
Meliaé was the first. She let out a stream of obscenities, words she had no doubt learned as a child and had not been broken from during her training. Pooja smothered a laugh.
Niaé and Amarié both began to comprehend a few seconds later and stared at her in shocked amazement, perhaps even a little horror.
"You think there will be an invasion," Niaé observed incredulously. "Do you believe that it will come down to war?"
Finished with the black stockings, Pooja looked up at the chief handmaiden. "I think it is a distinct possibility," she answered honestly, but with growing heat. "The Emperor has been gathering more and more political power ever since the early days of the Clone Wars. Now he has expelled an entire branch of government, planned to declare me and our delegation traitors, and murdered the Great Mother only knows how many Senators as they fled for their lives. In my opinion, war has already been declared."
She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm her turbulent emotions. Slowly, she opened them again and continued in a much calmer manner. "Still, even if the Queen and the Council do not share such an extreme view, they must see that dark times are falling on Naboo, the likes of which have not been seen since Senator Amidala's death nearly nineteen years ago."
Pooja stood up from the bed and motioned for them to come closer. "My friends," she said gently, "We must show our people that Palpatine has betrayed our most sacred beliefs. We must show them that it was not the Senate who betrayed the people of the Empire, but the Emperor and his supporters."
She looked all of three of them steadily in the eye. "Will you help me? This is your choice. You may decline, if that is your wish."
They all knew what they had seen. Pooja knew she did not have to convince them of the terrible deeds of all that had happened on Imperial Center. She only had to let them decide for themselves.
They did not let her down.
The ships docked in the Palace hangar nearly two hours later. Pooja led the way down the ramp, Niaé, Amarié, Meliaé, and Captain Peoly all gathered closely around her. Some of the other security guards followed as well, but many stayed behind with the ships.
At the doors of the hangar bay stood a lone figure clad in a royal blue cloak. Pooja moved quickly towards her, secretly glad she had decided on the simple burgundy bodysuit and was not slowed down by heavy brocade robes and a cumbersome headdress.
"Senator Lydonia," the robed figure – obviously one of Queen Kylantha's handmaidens – greeted in a soft, quiet tone, "Her Majesty bids you welcome and asks that you join her in the throne room if you are not too tired from your journey."
Pooja nodded. "Of course, Handmaiden. Please, lead the way." Besides, she added silently, I have no desire to sleep at all any time in the near future. As they entered the Palace, she could hear Captain Peoly quietly instructing the remaining guards that they were dismissed until he recalled them.
As she followed the handmaiden, she had to admit that things were going well, so far. At least there hadn't been a few dozen security guards waiting in the hangar to arrest her the moment she stepped off her ship.
Of course, those guards could just be waiting in the throne room as opposed to coming directly to the hangar. Perhaps they want it done officially in the presence of the Queen, as a warning to others about what happens when a political figure turns traitor, she thought wryly. But she kept going.
They took the lift up the multiple floors of the Palace, coming to a stop just outside the throne room. The faceless handmaiden once again took the lead and swept ahead into the spacious room. She curtsied slightly to the Queen, then took a seat in a high-backed chair just outside the Council area.
Pooja's gaze fell on the Queen first. She had known Madlyn Kylantha since before the younger woman's elevation to the throne after Queen Apailana had chosen to abdicate. Pooja had been two years ahead of her at the Royal Academy and had been her Student Mentor during her last year. They had corresponded in the following years and Pooja had, as then – Princess of Theed, supported Kylantha's bid for the throne. It had only been a year later, after her term as Princess had ended, when Madlyn had asked her to serve as Naboo's Senator on Imperial Center.
Gradually, her eyes drifted over the members of the Advisory Council. Arani Korden, the Minister of Education, was present, as were, Cordin Talsha, the Minister of Music, Captain Sintar, the Queen's Chief of Security, and many other members of the Council.
But it was the final person present in the throne room that made her pause. In the chair close to the Queen's left sat Hugh Panaka, the Moff of the entire Chommell Sector.
He was also a great supporter of Palpatine.
Inhaling deeply, Pooja sought to calm her sudden sense of nervousness and unease. She bowed respectfully to the Queen and then strode over on unsteady legs to the only remaining empty chair in the Council area.
It was the Queen who broke the silence once she was seated with her handmaidens and Captain Peoly arrayed protectively behind her.
"Senator Lydonia," she said in crisp, professional tones, "we thank you for attending us so quickly after your arrival. Communications with Imperial Center have been garbled and confusing for the past several days. We would appreciate an explanation for the reasons of this lapse."
Pooja nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. I expected that this would be the case and took the liberty of assembling a report for your and the Council's consideration." She reached down to a small compartment in her belt and pulled out a tiny datachip. She handed it to Meliaé, who stood closest to the Queen.
The handmaiden glided forward, her unveiled face inscrutable. As she slid the datachip into place and adjusted some of the controls, Pooja allowed her eyes to be drawn back over to Panaka.
He was sitting stiffly in his chair, his former military training very much apparent. His dull, grey uniform was impeccable, even though it stood out horribly from the bright and beautiful costumes of the Queen and the Council. But it was his eyes that captured her attention.
They were the eyes of a man who had seen far too much in his lifetime. And he had indeed experienced many things. He had co-led the resistance against the occupying Trade Federation, had served with distinction in the Clone Wars, and had served personally on the Emperor's staff before being appointed Moff and Regional Governor of the Chommell Sector. But at that brief moment, Pooja saw Hugh Panaka gaze back at her, taking in her burgundy bodysuit and tightly pulled back hair. He then looked back up at her, his own dark eyes filled with a great sense of wariness. As though she were a volatile reactor that could erupt at any time.
But when Pooja's recorded report began to filter through the throne room, the moment – such as it was – was broken and they both turned away to focus on their present reality.