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CHORPTOR FOURNTORN:
After Anakin's footsteps had long faded, Padme stood still, hearing the bits of falling silt, or a halting grind of metal shards, or a final collapse of a façade's edge. The distant air sirens choked up into wailing again, as if they were persuaded into reactivity by whoever started them the first time.
She blinked, realizing she'd been in shock this whole time. Whirling to face Obi-Wan, she found immediate solace in the blue of his eyes, like an instant connection he received her into his gaze at once, like sinking into a deep pool of water, or a cool drink from a stream.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked.
Obi-Wan glanced down at the little droid in her hand.
"I believe Anakin has given us what we presently need," said Obi-Wan, approaching her and peering at the droid.
"Can you talk?" he asked the droid.
The droid released a series of beeps in a high, but intelligible, register: OF COURSE I CAN.
"It's like Anakin's particular attitude is coded into everything he touches, isn't it?" smirked Padme.
I HEARD THAT, beeped the droid.
"You can't deny your creator has certain proclivities," said Obi-Wan, looking a little amused.
WHAT DO YOU WANT, it beeped, perhaps growing tired of Padme and Obi-Wan's banter.
Obi-Wan considered a moment.
"Where is my friend?" he asked. "The one Anakin sent you to follow."
HOW SHOULD I KNOW?, it blooped, I'M WITH YOU.
"Yes, well," said Obi-Wan, "Where might I look if I were to want to find him?"
WITH THE REBELLION, blooped the droid.
Padme gasped.
"It's real!" she said to Obi-Wan.
OF COURSE IT'S REAL, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?, the droid bleeped.
Padme gave the droid a sour look.
"And where might the Rebellion be?" asked Obi-Wan.
THE RED SMOKE CANTINA, it beeped.
"Do you know where that is?" Padme asked Obi-Wan. He nodded a little, and his glance wandered towards the end of the street.
"Let's hope it's still standing," he said.
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It was fortunate, the fortitude with which the old buildings of Southern Coruscant were made. Most of them were quite solidly constructed, despite being derelict from centuries of neglect, and so most of them were still standing after whatever destruction had befallen the upper city proper.
Though picking their way through the debris slowed them considerably, it was still daylight in the alley near the end of the street, where within was an arch made quaintly of red bricks and a sign that denoted the name of the place, "The Red Smoke Cantina". The double doors hung ajar and, there being no power currently anywhere that they could see, the inside appeared dim and quiet.
Obi-Wan removed his lightsaber hilt from his belt.
"Stay behind me," he said, though Padme drew her blaster pistol.
"I'm the one with the shield," she mentioned.
"I don't believe we will need it," he replied as they crossed into the darkened room.
With a rich hum, Obi-Wan lit his lightsaber and the room around them was illuminated by a faint blue.
"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone here?"
"Over there," said Padme, pointing to a way that seemed to lead towards more light.
The passage led them into an old, worn courtyard with various steps and byways in different states of repair and disrepair, which lead to doors or balconies or common rooms, with too many entrances and exits to observe at once, and thus it was very unnerving.
"I'd probably put that away now, if I were you," said someone, and Padme immediately ignited her lightshield, spanning it guardedly in front of Obi-Wan and herself.
"Whoa," said the same voice in response, who turned out to be the shifty man from before with the chip, standing on a platform distanced from them by a short flight of rickety steps.
"Why?" asked Obi-Wan.
"You really want to hide that, Kenobi," he said, glancing behind him. "Like, now."
Obi-Wan followed the man's advice and put the hilt in his robes and Padme released the charge on her lightshield.
"Come with me," said the man, beckoning them to the platform and to follow him under a balcony into a door.
Padme looked at Obi-Wan to ask, wordlessly, if he was to be trusted.
Obi-Wan nodded to her slightly, and they followed him.
Once they were inside, the man glanced around outside for any observers, then came in, locked the door, and pulled the blinds shut.
"You could at least tell me what your name is," said Padme, feeling a bit annoyed with the mystery of this man.
The man looked her over and smirked, "Is that the least I could do, huh? You have no idea what I've just done. I might very well have the last Jedi and last Senator on Coruscant in this room, and you certainly wouldn't be here, or alive for that matter, if anybody knew where you were."
"Wait, what?" asked Padme.
"There's been a bit of a coup," said the man, to which Padme bristled.
"You had better not have-," she began, but he cut her off.
"Now, I had nothing to do with any of this," he said, holding out his hands to calm her. "Though I was pretty sure it was coming sooner or later. I just didn't think it'd be so soon. Or so blatant."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Padme, wanting straight answers.
"I was so right about her, wasn't I, Kenobi?" the man asked Obi-Wan, grinning lopsidedly.
"Please inform us, if you would," inquired Obi-Wan, who seemed strangely solemn. "What exactly has happened?"
Despite all the man's bravados and roguish not-caring, he did seem to regret having to impart the coming information.
"There've been two bombings," he said. "First was the Jedi Temple…"
Though Obi-Wan displayed very little outward reaction, Padme felt his deflation, like a person inflicted with a sucker-punch right in the gullet. The lake-surface of him tremored with a dissonance she could feel him struggling to control, but she didn't have time to further observe because the man went on to say, "… and second was the Senate Capitol Pavilion."
"The Pavilion?" asked Padme, feeling panic rise in her, "But they were having a hearing today… the entire Senate was there… How bad was it?"
The man looked at her for a moment, as if he didn't want to go on, but he did after a pause.
"Both buildings were completely destroyed, as well as the surrounding area. No one can imagine there were any survivors from either site."
No survivors… the entire Senate… gone.
To say Padme screamed would be an understatement. She released a keening cry that wrenched from deep within her that she couldn't even hear, that she didn't even know she did until it had reached near its end and she'd curled in on herself, lost her balance, and fallen on her knees. There she wailed, then wept, the first outburst of a person's mourning, if that's how one does it, like the burst of a supernova – an expenditure of energy, wild and untamed, sorrow in its purest form.
When she came back to herself, to being aware, and began the first steps of putting herself back together as a person, she pushed stray strands of hair from her face and wiped her face on her sleeve. From the floor she looked up at the man, who looked like he was regretting the fact that he had gotten up that morning and he shifted his weight against the door.
"Who are you?" she asked, feeling weak after her outburst.
He gave her a small, conciliatory smile.
"I'm with the Rebellion," he said, and then, after glancing between Obi-Wan and Padme: "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore if you know my name. It's all changed. Mal Shin. You can call me Mal, okay?"
She felt another tear fall down her face as she wondered how it had come to this.
"Look," he said, turning his attention to Obi-Wan, who had silently maintained his position through it all, "Kenobi. I've been told there might be a warrant out for Jedi. You need to lay low."
"Well," said Obi-Wan, and Padme turned to observe him for the first time since her breakdown. He seemed very still, but like the world falls silent just before a storm. "I will not."
Mal gave a grunt and remarked, "Jedi."
"Who is behind this coup?" Padme said, standing and finding her strength beginning to resurge, feeling an inner outrage swell behind the mourning.
"We don't know," said Mal. "Not yet."
Obi-Wan, pulling the microchip from his robes, held it up and said, "This might help."
Padme looked around and at Obi-Wan, at the humble room around them and the cards with which they had been dealt. If there was one thing Padme could do, it was summarize a situation and deal the best odds.
"Mal," she said, her hand with the lightshield apparatus coiling into a fist, "We wish to join the Rebellion."
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