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The party had been going on for almost four hours. People were finally starting to depart, and Tarkin felt his insides churn. He still hadn't heard a report about Yavin 4. If it was taking them this long, there was little doubt in his mind that they were trying to rectify some sort of mistake that they had made.

Rubbing his sweaty palms against his tunic, Tarkin refilled his glass once more. He had been drinking steadily since his conversation with the emperor, and while he had been doing so at a slow pace, the alcohol was starting to take effect. The room was warmer than the set temperature, and what should have been a panic attack just felt like an uncomfortable pestering train of thought in his mind. And then finally, he heard it.

Beep, beep.

Tarkin hastily walked out of the ballroom and entered a cavernous but blissfully empty hallway. Activating his comlink, he said with a minimal slur (which was admirable considering how much wine he'd had), "This is Grand Moff Tarkin."

"Sir, this is Admiral Ozzel. I'm calling to update you on the attack on Yavin 4."

It's about bloody time, Tarkin thought irritably. "Well?"

"We found traces of a Rebel base, sir—"

"Traces?! Intelligence had solid evidence that the Rebel base was on Yavin 4 and all you found were traces?!" Tarkin immediately snapped. Yes, definitely too much wine… still, his hide was on the line and this was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Sir, they were already gone—"

"Enough!" Tarkin interrupted, feeling disgusted and panicked at the same time. He had to do something, somehow he had to do something—he wanted to teleport across the galaxy and strangle the idiotic admiral and then hunt down the Rebels himself. Anything that would get him away from here was a good idea at this point.

But wait… Mothma. That hag was still here, wasn't she? Tarkin knew she was a Rebel—yes, he would get her to tell him, and if she didn't know he'd just shoot her.

"You can explain your failure in the formal report," Tarkin said curtly and cut the line, immediately running back into the ballroom. His gaze flew from one end of the room to the other and out into the balcony, but he didn't see the red headed senator anywhere. He could have sworn she was still at the party; he saw her before exiting the ballroom!

Rushing out of the room, Tarkin ran to the landing pad that was being utilized for the party. Entering it, he caught sight of a speeder departing. Tarkin immediately ran as fast as his legs would allow, shouting for them to stop, but the vehicle continued. He was already out of breath as it was as he watched the speeder leave, but his breathing hitched in his chest when he saw the passenger, Senator Mothma herself, glance in his direction ever so briefly. She looked slightly worried, but she seemed to have just enough confidence to offer a small smile and a nod.

"Damn that woman!" Tarkin swore, rushing to the side area where the landing pad guards would be. Although the pad was rather large and the guards had to watch many different things, they had begun to notice the commotion and were already heading towards him. "Get that speeder and bring it back here immediately!"

The guards jumped and looked at where he was pointing, but the speeder had joined the myriad of traffic lanes and was quickly vanishing from view. By the time the guards had gotten aboard some swoop bikes, the speeder was long gone.

Tarkin swore even more harshly and then ran back to the ballroom. He immediately singled out the head of Imperial Center's security forces and walked purposefully towards him, feeling sweat trickle down his face from all the exertion. The chief realized something was wrong as the grand moff approached him and he hastily excused himself from the conversation he was having.

"Governor, what's wrong?" the chief asked.

"Senator Mothma is a traitor and must be arrested." Tarkin ordered. "She's just left the party—she's trying to escape—this is a matter of Imperial security and I need you to get all your forces working on it."

The chief looked at Tarkin in confusion. "Senator Mothma? This is awfully sudden, governor—is this approved by—"

"I am a grand moff of an entire oversector," Tarkin interrupted callously. "You are nothing more than the head of the planetary security force; a naval lieutenant has more clout than you. Now do as I say. Every second matters!"

The chief's face flushed in anger and his mouth became a thin, tight line, but he clicked his heel, bowed, and departed nonetheless. Now, though, Tarkin had a bigger problem…

How in the blazes was he going to explain this to the emperor?

Looking around wildly, Tarkin ensured that Palpatine was on the other side of the room, and then he took it as his opportunity to leave. He would have to organize his thoughts and ensure that Mothma was taken into custody—and probably sober up a bit—before he could face the Sith Master.

What a mess.

Padmé was exhausted.

It had absolutely nothing to do with her emotional state this time. No, it was the inevitable crash after a long trip. Padmé glanced at her chronometer, which still retained Imperial Center time whilst showing the local time beside it, and she groaned. It was midnight back at her apartment. She wanted to go to bed. That nap from earlier had helped her deal with her midday loss of energy after such a stressful day, but now she just wanted normal sleep.

Unfortunately, her chronometer picked up the local Oxon time zone while the ship simultaneously dropped out of hyperspace, telling her that they had finally reached their destination.

Padmé tiredly looked out of the viewport in her bedroom, watching the kaleidoscope of hyperspace fade as if washed away by the dark waters of space. A bright light shone in one corner of her viewport, and she knew it was her homeworld glowing in the darkness. Standing, she grabbed her luggage and headed towards the lounge. As soon as she entered it she sat at a table and strapped herself in, awaiting the breach into the atmosphere. Glancing at her chronometer, she groaned; it was seven in the morning local time, which meant she'd have to deal with a new day without any sleep. Planetary lag was a pain sometimes.

The shuttle shuddered a little and the viewport clouded with a bright red color as they entered the atmosphere. The jarring movement was minimal, far less than Padmé was accustomed to; blast, Vader was a good pilot. Padmé knew basic piloting, and entering atmospheres was always her biggest issue; even when it was a professional pilot, it was one of the hardest tactics to master.

Eventually the engines grew louder, raising their sound from a dull moan that was constant throughout the trip to a loud cry as they fought against gravity. Padmé glanced out the viewport once more and watched everything turn blue. Scooting closer she looked down to see villages and hamlets scattered across the forests and hills of the area. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't help but smile; it was so nice to see Naboo after being on Imperial Center for so long. Too bad she would be spending her time with a murderer.

Taking a deep breath, Padmé leaned back as the large city of Oxon came into view. The shuttle circled the spaceport a few times as Vader was no doubt trying to get clearance to land. Eventually the shuttle hovered over the large square shaped structure. The spaceport had three enormous non-overlapping circles that formed a quasi triangle. These circles were openings to deep underground trenches that were shaped just like their entrances, and they all led to four or five levels of underground docks where ships could land. The last side of the square was dedicated to the spaceport itself where everyone could meander and access or exit the docks.

The shuttle hovered in place and then began to descend straight downward into one of the large circular tunnels. The viewport grew pitch black as they flew underground and then bright blue lights emanating from ray shields began to blind Padmé. A red light shone at the edge of the viewport, which indicated one of the ray shields was deactivating so they could enter. The ship smoothly sailed into the dock and the engines gave one last roar as everything bounced on the landing gear. Then everything grew quiet.

Padmé unstrapped herself and stood, grabbing her luggage. The door to the cockpit opened and Vader entered the lounge. He walked by her without saying a word, leaving her standing there awkwardly waiting for him. The man returned quickly with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and he led her to the landing ramp.

After Vader lowered the ramp, Padmé was immediately hit with the smells of a dock: engine grease, burnt paint, fuel, and stale faux atmospheric air leaking out of the ships. She breathed it in gratefully; despite the unpleasantness of the aromas, they gave her some comfort in knowing that she was at least out of the confining space that had held her captive with Vader for nine hours. There were other people here, the dock was enormous, and she now had an entire planet in which to flee if she just finally lost it while dealing with the Sith Lord.

Following the man's lead silently, Padmé walked to the dock manager's area. Vader spoke with him briefly, paying for the use of the dock, and then he led Padmé through the security scanning area and then to the turbo lifts. Once the two were in them, Padmé felt her heart rate rise a little once more. She glanced over at the man, but he wasn't paying her any mind. He was staring lazily at the door, his eyelids looking a little heavy. He was probably just as tired as she was.

"We should take a nap once we get to Varykino," Padmé suggested honestly. She was desperate for some rest, and Vader certainly looked like he could use some.

Vader nodded in agreement. Padmé was too tired to bother stimulating any actual conversation from the man, and so the rest of the lift ride was spent in silence.

The lift doors opened and the two entered a brightly lit hallway. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all durasteel grey, but it was somewhat welcoming in that the walls were lined with advertisements and pictures of the local attractions. The air was growing fresher as well since they were now above ground. Once they passed through a doorway, the walls finally turned into windows, allowing Padmé her first ground view of Oxon. The city wasn't as big as Theed, but it had similar architecture, though it held a less grandiose feel to it. Oxon was more industrial and, for lack of a better word, "city-like" than Theed; it was probably as close to Imperial Center as Naboo could get.

Vader and Padmé reached the end of the hallway and entered a room filled with queues. Thankfully they weren't too long, and most of the work was done without any prompting from personnel. Vader and Padmé quickly reached a customs console and checked themselves in. As soon as Vader entered his credentials, security walked over to them. The officers bowed deeply.

"Milord, we weren't expecting a visit," one of the officers said nervously. "We can arrange for some transportation for you if you—"

"I don't require transportation." Vader interrupted dully, grabbing his duffel bag and then waving his hand dismissively. "I was never here. Continue with your business."

"Yes, you were never here," the officer agreed, and his companion seemed just as compliant. "We'll continue with our business."

Padmé watched the exchange in bewilderment, but she had to quickly grab her luggage and chase after Vader, who had almost left her behind with his quick pace. She wasn't sure if Vader was trying to be subtle in telling them to back off or if he just wasn't interested in dealing with the lower ranking officials. When the two entered the spaceport proper, she saw no sign of any pomp and circumstance announcing Vader's arrival. There were no officials, no special treatment, or anything of the like. Did those officers take the hint, or was something else going on?

"What was that all about?" Padmé asked Vader as the two walked briskly.

"We don't need the attention of the entire planet." Vader replied.

For once, Padmé was surprised to find herself in agreement with the man. She definitely didn't want the queen or her people finding out that she was spending her vacation at a private retreat with the Empire's biggest enforcer.

The two exited the spaceport and Padmé blinked a few times. It was mid summer in Oxon, and so the sun was already over the horizon, imbuing the city with its light. Padmé stumbled slightly on some uneven pavement, sending her tumbling into the street where the numerous taxis flew by to snatch passengers.

Suddenly, Padmé felt a firm grip on her arm, yanking her off the street and back onto the sidewalk. She gasped slightly and looked at who had grabbed her to see Darth Vader. He immediately released her as soon as she was safely on the sidewalk once more, and his eyes never left the street. Considering how quickly he had grabbed her—her feet had barely touched the street—it was almost as if he had been reaching for her arm just before she fell. She shook her head subtly and tried to catch her breath – honestly, she was just being paranoid now. There was no way he could have known she was falling… unless he had intended to grab her for some other reason. A shiver ran down her spine, but Vader seemed completely unaware of Padmé's internal struggle, which made the likelihood of that motive very low.

"T-thank you," she stammered.

Vader said nothing.

Okay, she was too tired to do anything about it now, but by heaven Padmé was going to make this guy have a normal conversation with her before this vacation was done. Yep, that's it; she now had a personal goal.

Vader waved over a taxi, which eagerly flew to them. He slid in with his duffel bag, leaving Padmé to handle her own luggage. A little annoyed, Padmé was then happily relieved when the taxi driver helped her. She then slid in beside the Imperial and was suddenly overcome with nervousness when she realized just how small the space was. Inching as far from him as she could, Padmé then couldn't help her indignation as she remarked, "Thanks for the help with my luggage, by the way."

Vader glanced at her, his face still neutral, and then he leaned his head back against the seat. Padmé took a deep breath and calmed herself; exhaustion was making her speak before she could hold herself in check. "Sorry. I'm tired. It looks like you are too."

After Darth Vader remained silent, Padmé just sighed again. The taxi driver entered the speeder once more. "Where we heading, then?"

Vader glanced again at Padmé, who gave the driver the address. It would take them to the lake docks, and there they could get a boat to Varykino.

The taxi driver flew the speeder along the road. Padmé glanced out the window and watched as Oxon passed by. They were at the edge of the city, so it didn't take long for them to get on a freeway and leave the city entirely. The road grew smaller and less traveled as time passed, and Padmé felt her head bobbing as her body tried to make her fall asleep where she sat.

Trying to keep herself awake, she looked over at Vader, who had barely moved since they had left. "Is this your first time on Naboo?"

Vader nodded.

"I hope you enjoy yourself here," Padmé said with a small smile.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, and once they reached their destination Padmé happily slid out of the speeder. The taxi driver pulled out Padmé's luggage, making her quite content since it was one less thing for her exhausted body to handle, and then Vader paid the man. The taxi departed, leaving the two of them by the docks. There were about seven of them with a relatively large building and a myriad of different boats. A woman exited the building and asked if they wanted to rent a boat. Padmé, looking mischievously at Vader (Sithspit, she really was tired now if she was getting playful with him of all people), agreed to rent a boat.

"Have you ever driven a speeder boat before, milord?" she asked softly as the woman arranged everything.

Vader shook his head, his eyes locking with hers briefly. She recognized the dark circles that indicated his sleep deprivation and for a fleeting moment felt genuinely sorry for him. He somehow looked more exhausted than she felt. Still, it was very fleeting; the next moment she relished in the thought that he felt that way; it was the least he deserved.

Blast, stop it, will you? She internally admonished herself. Being vindictive to people she didn't like was Siri's job, not Padmé's. Trying to distract herself, she glanced at her chronometer and almost moaned. It was now 0710 locally (they had fallen back an hour from Oxon when they traveled to the edge of the Lake Country), which meant it was 0110 back on Imperial Center. She couldn't wait to get her circadian rhythm readjusted to the local time zone.

The woman returned with a small chip for the speeder boat and handed it to Padmé, who offered to pay for the rental. Vader didn't argue, and in no time the two were standing at the edge of the dock staring at the boat bob in the water. Padmé tossed her luggage into the back seat and motioned for Vader to do the same. Then she clambered into the driver's seat. Vader suddenly tensed his muscles and he stared at her.

"You're driving?" he asked.

Padmé smiled up at him, squinting against the sunlight. "Well you said you hadn't driven these before. I have."

The man didn't move. "I can drive."

Padmé let out a genuine laugh. "Don't tell me you're nervous?"

Vader stared at her almost glumly. Eventually, though, he climbed in and sat beside her. "I can still drive it."

"You've never even seen this kind of vehicle before," Padmé taunted him with satisfaction.

Vader looked at the machinery, his glum expression gone. Instead, his face was placid, but his eyes were darting quickly between different instruments. Suddenly, he started pointing to different handles, buttons, and dials and listed them off. "This is the accelerator. This here engages the repulsorlift. This is the fuel gauge, this is the information on the rotor if you choose to go on the water, and this is the speed gauge. The brakes are here, the piloting controls for flying are here, and the warning screen is there."

Padmé stared at him in shock as he spoke. When he finished, he lowered his hand and continued to stare at the dashboard for a moment before he finally looked at her. "I can drive it."

Feeling slightly out of control, Padmé suddenly clamped tightly onto the steering device. "No. I'm driving."

Vader's brow twitched. "I'm driving."

Padmé's gaze grew into a defiant glare. "No. I'm driving. End of story. I don't care if you're able to decipher what all of it is, that doesn't mean you know how to drive it."

Now the corner of his lip twitched along with his brow. "You don't know anything about me. I can drive this thing. I will drive it."

"Do you have a boating license?" Padmé asked, a smug smile growing on her face.

Vader said nothing, looking away.

"Well, I guess that settles that," Padmé chirped happily as she activated the engine.

Round one goes to me, she thought delightfully, though why Vader would choose to fight over this was beyond her. Then she belatedly remembered she was supposed to be acting as if she liked him. Sighing, she reached her hand to pat him lightly on the arm. "Don't worry, milord; if it bothers you that much we can practice driving the boat after we both get some sleep. I think it would be fun."

The Imperial tensed at her touch and remained silent, but he at least didn't seem to be brooding. Instead, he just looked tired again, as if he had already forgotten the confrontation. It didn't matter; winning even such a small argument gave her a great amount of satisfaction, and it would end her day (well… start it, technically) perfectly before she went to bed.

It had been a long time since Padmé had been in a boat, and she was more than happy to just bounce along the water instead of hover over it. The ride was relatively peaceful rather than tense, and Padmé was finally beginning to relax as she saw Varykino quickly come into view.

"There it is," she pointed the island out to Vader, who followed her gaze. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

After receiving no reply, she figured she'd tried enough for the day. The two pulled in to a small unmanned dock and Padmé tethered the boat to it. The two climbed out, grabbed their luggage, and began the short walk to the retreat itself. Once they'd entered it, Padmé pointed out a room Vader could use before dragging her feet to her own room without another word; it wasn't as if he was conversational, anyway.

Padmé felt such an immense relief and joy in seeing her own bedroom and her own bed. She closed the door to her room and, just as she had on the shuttle, tossed her luggage carelessly to the side and collapsed on the large comfortable bed, immediately falling asleep.

Siri awoke with a jolt. The ground beneath her vibrated softly, and the gentle hum of the hyperdrive could be heard. She felt some of her hair moving rhythmically as someone breathed against it, and she felt her husband shift slightly beside her, his head comfortably atop hers. Siri's neck ached a little from leaning on Obi-Wan's shoulder for so long… what time was it?

…And what was that noise?

Siri belatedly recognized a low but loud sound clanging rhythmically from the level below. That must have been what had awoken her. Shifting slowly, she realized she was stuck in this position unless she woke Obi-Wan up.

Sighing, she nudged her husband with her shoulder. "Obi."

Obi-Wan didn't budge.

Growing slightly annoyed, Siri poked him with her finger. "Obi, get up."

"Hmm…?"

"Do you hear that?"

"Mmm…"

Siri grumbled and then shoved Obi-Wan. "Wake up, you big shaak!"

Obi-Wan jerked away from Siri with a gasp. "Ouch! What's wrong?"

"Do you hear that noise?"

Obi-Wan blinked blearily, rubbing a hand over his face. He paused as he seemed to register the sound as well. "What is that?"

"That's what I was going to ask you."

Obi-Wan looked like he was going to argue, but he just stood instead. Siri followed suit, and both went to the crew quarters and climbed down the ladder. The noise steadily took a more recognizable shape as they grew closer to the main floor until they finally realized it was ridiculously loud music playing from the lounge. Obi-Wan entered the lounge first, flinching at the volume, and Siri quickly followed.

Al was in the kitchenette making some sort of sandwich and was bellowing the lyrics to whatever song he was listening to.

"RAISE YOUR HANDS!" Al shouted even louder than before, throwing his hands in the air. Some of the butter he had been just smearing all over his bread flew across the kitchenette, but he didn't seem to notice. "When you wanna let it go—RAISE YOUR HANDS—"

"Al!" Siri yelled over the music. Al jumped nearly a meter in the air, scared out of his wits; the butter knife went flying, his sandwich toppled off the plate and onto the counter, and Al landed in a heap on the floor.

Al said something, his mouth moving quickly, but for the life of her, Siri couldn't hear it over the racket. "What?"

Al's mouth moved again, and Obi-Wan finally sighed and found the source of the music, shutting it off.

"You two scared the heck out of me!" Al remarked as he stood.

Siri snorted. "Yeah, well, your music woke us up."

"Oh, sorry," Al laughed sheepishly. "I'm used to being on this baby by myself. I gotta keep myself sane somehow."

"It's all right," Obi-Wan sighed, making Siri even more annoyed; it wasn't okay that she had been woken up. Still, she just let it slide, blowing out a breath and trying to force her anger out with it. Besides, his remark was also rather amusing; as Siri stared at the wall where Al had written math equations as long as the sofa she thought it was such a silly thing to say that he had any sanity at all.

"So how long till we get to Salkende?" Siri asked.

"I'd say we're about…" Al referenced his chronometer briefly. "Ten hours out."

"Ten hours?" Obi-Wan repeated. "We were asleep that long?"

"Well it's about seven in the morning where we'll be landing, so you should be grateful for the sleep; your bodies certainly will be once we land." Al shrugged.

"So we'll be there around dinnertime?" Siri surmised.

Al nodded. "Yeah; I hope they've got some good food there; I've never been to Salkende before, so—"

Suddenly, the ship lurched harshly, throwing everyone to the ground. A high, loud grinding sound emanated in the air, piercing Siri's ears. The ship continued to lurch horribly even after the initial jolt, and Siri and Obi-Wan tumbled around the lounge, slamming into each other and the walls. Thankfully the furniture was bolted into place for situations like these… Siri sure as heck was wishing she was bolted in place, especially when she smacked her head harshly into the wall. Eventually the sharper movements stopped, but the grinding sound continued and grew steadily louder. The ship trembled violently, but it wasn't nearly as badly as before; everyone could at least stand up.

Al rushed to the cockpit, swearing the entire way. Siri rubbed her head, and Obi-Wan touched her shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Siri said through gritted teeth. "I'll just have a headache for a while…"

"Kark!"

Siri and Obi-Wan both jumped at the very strong expletive, running to the cockpit. "What's wr—"

Siri's question died in her mouth as she and Obi-Wan both immediately saw the problem. The viewports that lined the cockpit walls were filled entirely with Star Destroyers.

"What the hell is going on?!" Siri demanded. "How did we—what—where are we?!"

Al was frantically working with the many controls that surrounded him. "We're in the Outer Rim, but we're nowhere near the Tsograda Sector yet—I don't know what's going on—one of their Interdictor-class ships must have yanked us out—I don't know why—we're stuck, we—"

One of the consoles beeped loudly, cutting Al off. The three looked at it warily. Shortly after the beep, a voice was heard. "Guaea-class frigate, identify yourself immediately."

"I don't understand—I'm not on anybody's hit list, and you two—you don't think Athia…?" Al looked at them worriedly. "I mean, Athia—she wouldn't, right?"

"How would she know we were going to Salkende?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to think the situation through.

"Is this ship armed?" Siri asked abruptly.

"We can't take on an entire fleet!" Al yelled frantically.

"I didn't say attack them; I was just asking if this ship is armed?"

"I've got one cannon," Al replied nervously.

"Better make sure it looks disarmed, then," Siri said quickly. "We don't want to make them jumpy."

"Guaea-class frigate, identify yourself immediately or you will be brought aboard one of our destroyers."

Obi-Wan looked worriedly at the console and then to Al. "You'd better do as they say; the last thing we need is to be boarded."

Al took a steadying breath and reached a tremulous hand towards the communications console. Pressing a button, he said, "Imperial fleet, this is the Invariant Beauty. I'm just passing through this system, sir; I have no business here."

"What is your destination?"

Al looked nervously at Obi-Wan and Siri. Obi-Wan sighed. "Just give the sector."

"Tsograda Sector, sir."

"What planet in that sector?"

Al paused briefly and then said, "Ferrasco, sir."

There was silence for a while, and the trio tensed. Al motioned for Obi-Wan and Siri to strap into the sofa (which thankfully had straps for occasions like this) in the lounge. "You'd better be ready for anything; I can't outrun a fleet, though… I don't know what we're going to do."

"Why are they here, though? How would they know we were here?" Obi-Wan asked no one in particular.

"They can't know," Siri shook her head. "It makes no sense for them to be waiting for us in some random sector between Imperial Center and Salkende. If they were expecting us, they'd be waiting in the Tsograda Sector."

"You make a valid point," Obi-Wan conceded. "But then what's going on?"

"This route doesn't have any mandatory checkpoints," Al skimmed over his navigation console. "I planned it just so we would avoid Imperial problems like this. It was enough of a pain in the Coruscant Sector; I didn't want to run into more of this."

"Invariant Beauty, come in."

The three jumped when the same voice spoke again. Al pressed a button once more to reply. "This is the Invariant Beauty."

"You may proceed. Leave the premises before reentering hyperspace."

"Understood." Al replied, cutting the connection and shrugging in utter bewilderment. "Whatever—just as long as we get the heck out of…"

Al's expression turned sour and alarmed in a matter of seconds, making Siri nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Those blasted Imperials!" Al slammed his fist down onto a console. "We'll never make it to Salkende at this rate!"

"Al, what is it?" Siri repeated, getting his attention.

"The hyperdrive was damaged because of their kriffing Interdictor-class ships! We'll be lucky if we can get anywhere at this point!"

"You said you wanted to go Nar Shaddaa to get some parts," Siri suggested.

Al let out a strained groan of frustration. "This isn't the way I wanted to do it, though!"

"How far from Nar Shaddaa are we?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Depends on the route you take," Al replied, sighing heavily in resignation. "And with the state the hyperdive's in, we'll be lucky if we can get that far."

"Seriously?" Siri raised her eyebrows. "They did that much damage? How do they expect us to go anywhere if they know their ships do that?"

"They don't," Al shook his head. "I mean, getting thrown out of hyperspace still does murder on the hyperdrive, but… my hyperdrive was already kind of crappy."

"Along with the engines?" Siri put her face in her hand, growing steadily more annoyed. "Seriously, Al… do you just let your ship fall to pieces before you finally do something?"

"Hey, business hasn't been that well since Kuna died!" Al snapped. "For the past two years I got most of my work from him!"

"All right, let's just calm down," Obi-Wan said a little loudly. Siri glanced at him; his eyes were sharp, and his muscles were taut. He was starting to grow irritated. "Al, how much longer will our ETA to Salkende be with this side trip?"

"Well, let's see," Al leaned back in his seat, glaring at the ceiling. "It's a rough trip to Nar Shaddaa. There are ton of planets between us and them, but they're definitely the safest place for us to be in comparison to every other place between us and them. I'd say eight hours to Nar Shaddaa if we can make it one piece. Finding somebody who can get the right parts and install them will probably take a good two to four hours… the installation itself will take a day at least. I'd say it pushes us four days back."

Siri was tempted to snap about the situation, but she held herself in check. It wasn't entirely Al's fault, and it would do little good at this point anyway. Besides, Obi-Wan was finally starting to lose his patience as well; it was best she didn't set him off. Siri hadn't seen Obi-Wan legitimately angry since they were teenagers, but his temper could potentially be pretty violent, depending on where it was aimed. Siri wasn't in the slightest concerned that her husband would get violent with her or Al, but they also didn't need to make the situation escalate.

The console beeped again. "Invariant Beauty, what is your status? Why haven't you left?"

"Stang," Al muttered, pressing the communication button. "Just prepping for the jump, sir."

"Did your ship sustain damage?"

Siri and Obi-Wan both shook their heads fervently. The last thing they needed was the Empire offering its services to help a lost little freighter; they would vanish so quickly Padmé wouldn't even know what happened until the recess was over.

"No," Al quickly replied. "Like I said, just prepping. I'm leaving now. Sir."

Al sighed heavily after cutting the line and began to guide the ship out of the fleet. Obi-Wan and Siri tensed considerably, neither liking their predicament. At least if they got to Nar Shaddaa they'd be away from the Empire.

"Have you two ever been to Nar Shaddaa before?" Al asked as he began to plot coordinates.

"No, actually," Siri answered.

Al barked out a laugh. "Oh boy. You're in for some fun, then. Just stick close to me."

"We've been to the lowest parts of Imperial Center," Siri rolled his eyes. "Nar Shaddaa is only a microcosm of that."

"It's still not a good idea to be anywhere on that moon without a handy blaster." Al remarked.

"Pity we're not armed," Obi-Wan said mildly. Siri gave him an exasperated look; he didn't like violence and preferred not to carry a weapon, so their lack of blasters was far more agreeable to him than being armed.

"I've got some arsenal, relax," Al assured them as they finally left the fleet's direct visual field.

"Terrific." Siri nodded with a smile. Obi-Wan sighed. Looking at her husband, she said, "Oh come on, Obi; don't be foolish. Just because you don't like weapons doesn't mean you should run around without them when they're obviously needed."

Al pulled the ship far from the fleet and any sort of gravitational bodies and fiddled with the consoles a bit before muttering to himself and activating the hyperdrive. It gave a low moan, but it eventually brightened and grew loud, and the stars streaked into the familiar kaleidoscope of hyperspace. Al blew out a sigh of relief and then faced the two of them hesitantly. "Obi-Wan, you do know how to use a blaster, right? I know Siri can; we ran into Imps on a deal one time. Not really fun, but krif can your wife shoot."

Obi-Wan said nothing, simply watching hyperspace thoughtfully and worriedly, so Siri answered for him. "Yeah, he's a pretty good shot. Really good, actually… still not as good as me, though."

Al acknowledged her remark with a grunt and then followed Obi-Wan's gaze. "Don't worry; the biggest problem is getting into hyperspace. Once we're in it's pretty smooth sailing."

"That's fine," Obi-Wan replied softly. "But still… I wonder what that fleet was doing there. What sector were we in?"

"We're near the Gordian Reach," Al replied as he glossed over the information on his consoles. "The Gricho Sector."

"Gordian Reach?" Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged glances nervously.

"Yeah. Why?"

"That's where the Yavin System is, right?" Siri clarified.

Al paused, pondering it. "Oh… oh shavit. You don't think they…?"

"I have no doubt they've already hit Yavin 4," Obi-Wan leaned against the wall heavily.

"It's okay," Siri tried to reassure them as well as herself. "Dantooine was hit first; the Alliance would know that Yavin 4 was compromised. They'd be long gone."

They'd better be long gone, at least. If the base was hit… no, no, no they couldn't have hit it.

"I suppose you're right. They wouldn't have fleets acting as stop and search parties if they had already destroyed the base." Obi-Wan noted.

"Wait, we're in the Gricho Sector?" Siri suddenly registered Al's earlier remark. "Why aren't we on the Hydian Way?"

"The Hydian Way?" Al looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I keep forgetting you two are rookies when it comes to traveling."

"We've traveled quite a bit, actually," Obi-Wan said. "We were part of a service corps that served many planets."

"Well, a service corps can travel where it pleases as it pleases." Al replied. "I'm a smuggler; I don't take conventional trade routes. Why would I want to go along a route that forces you to stop because it passes so close to planets that your ship would get yanked out anyway? Then you get taxed or scanned or whatever else the Empire wants to do to you."

"Ships are programmed for certain routes depending on where you're going." Siri noted. "That's why trade routes exist; they're the safest paths through certain corridors."

"Yeah, that's how they get you," Al pointed to the viewports. "Every ship you buy has certain routes programmed in their navi-computers, and unless you have a droid or really know your space coordinates you're stuck with what you've got. After all, nobody wants to risk plotting hyperspace coordinates and flying right into a star or a planet. But, if you're really smart like me, you can figure out your own routes."

"Or hear about them from other smugglers," Siri remarked shrewdly, folding her arms.

Al shrugged with a smirk. "Okay, you caught me. Maybe you're not such a rookie, after all."

Obi-Wan's sigh interrupted their conversation, and the two glanced at him. "Relief corps can't go where they please as they please. There were plenty of times where we were denied access to certain worlds, depending on their standing with the Empire."

Al hissed in disgust. "Of course. Kriffing Empire. Can't wait for it to be gone."

"No kidding," Siri shook her head.

"Four days…" Obi-Wan muttered. "That's almost a standard week. We'll have burned half of the recess just getting there. Then we still have to talk to Tlenden and get back to Padmé before the recess is over."

"How long is it from Salkende to Naboo?" Siri asked Al.

Al laughed mirthlessly. "The conventional way is a day. The unconventional route is about a day and a half."

"So basically we have four days to talk to Tlenden," Obi-Wan surmised.

"That's still a good amount of time," Siri assured her husband.

Obi-Wan didn't look very happy with the prospect. "It depends. We still have to figure out why he won't join the Alliance, and then we'll have to try to solve his internal problem for him. Then the negotiations can begin."

"Or we can tell him to get his act together and realize there's more out there than just his planet." Siri grumbled.

"This galaxy is a very large place, Siri," Obi-Wan said. "People often just look out for what's closest to them. It gets too daunting otherwise. Why do you think we're so stressed? We're among the minority of insane people who want to look out for everyone and not just their own people."

Siri laughed. "Yes, we are definitely insane."

"Well heck, I knew that already." Al noted. "But since we're all in agreement about our insanity, let's go to the kitchen and get a bite to eat, eh?"

Neither Siri nor Obi-Wan could argue that they were starving, so the trio exited the cockpit and went to the kitchenette. As Al talked excitedly about how wonderful a cook he was, Siri glanced at Obi-Wan, who looked at her in return. She could practically feel his own concern spilling into her. She herself was worried as well; both of them were hoping they could back to Padmé quickly, possibly in a little over a week, if not within the first week. At this rate she'd have to spend the entire recess alone with Vader.

Siri sure hoped Padmé was up to it.

Ok, several things. First off, there will be a lot more Vader/Padmé interactions in the coming chapters, so don't fret about how brief their appearances were in this one. They're just tired. Anybody who's ever had a long plane flight will understand, lol; jet lag sucks. Secondly, the song Al was singing was an homage to (and basically the same as) Bon Jovi's song called "Raise Your Hands," and an homage to that introduction to Lone Star and Barf in Spaceballs - love that movie, lol. If you haven't seen it, I have two possible things to say to you: since I don't know the age demographic of my readers, let me just say that if you're younger than sixteen or seventeen, I'd wait, haha, but if you're older than that and haven't seen it, check it out. It's hilarious. XD Thirdly, I'm not sure if everybody's as nerdy as I am and knows a few things about how hyperspace works, but supposedly when you're in hyperspace any sort of large gravitational body will yank you out of your travel, which is why hyperdrive routes have to be planned carefully (though if that's the case, why can you still crash into a planet in hyperspace? Exit velocity is too fast to stop...? Hm...). In all honesty, what Al and Siri said about preprogrammed routes are my best explanation as to why a galaxy of interstellar travelers would still have "highways"and "taxation"on "trade routes." Roads aren't two dimensional in space, but neither are planets, so the route would still have to be set a certain way.

*cough* That absolute nerdiness/geekiness aside (anybody want to explain to me what the difference between a nerd and a geek is, anyway?), I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)