Padmé's eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Her neck was a little sore, and her body felt stiff. She shifted slightly, moaning in discomfort, before sitting up and rubbing her face with her hand. Opening her eyes blearily, she glanced around the room. It was extremely odd to be waking up to a room that was brilliantly lit with midday sunlight. Glancing at the chronometer, Padmé noted that it was 1600 local time. Sighing, she stood and stretched slowly, feeling her body ache as she did so. At least she felt a little better; she'd still have to go to bed early to adjust, though.

Glancing at herself in the mirror she was rather set on just abandoning any pretenses at looking respectable. Her hair was tousled everywhere, frizzy beyond belief, and her clothes were wrinkled. Well, she should at least wash her face.

Going to the refresher, Padmé looked herself over once more. She was wearing a simple blue dress that went almost to her ankles. Pale blue silk embroidery was woven throughout the bodice, and billowing sleeves flowed to her elbows. It was a very comfortable outfit and she wasn't keen on changing it, but it was time she started doing what she had been intending from the beginning: getting Vader's attention.

But not today. Today was adjustment time. She was just going to be concerned about herself today, since she figured it would be the last bit of sanity she'd have for a while.

Staring at herself, Padmé suddenly felt incredibly alone. It was a feeling she sometimes was a little too familiar with, and she hated it. She'd grown up in a loving and wonderful family, but the Naberrie clan was also very oriented to caring for others and had instilled that quite firmly into Sola, Obi-Wan, and Padmé. As a result, they'd all spent their time doing community service, politics, or anything else that involved most—if not all—of their time, and as Padmé grew older she saw less and less of anybody she knew and more of everybody she didn't know. She was in community service throughout most of her primary school years, joining the Youth Refugee Movement (a branch of the Junior Service Corps) at the age of eight, then the Legislative Youth Program two years later, then she became Princess of Theed at thirteen, Queen of Naboo at fourteen, and Senator of the entire Chommell Sector at eighteen. Age wasn't as much a concern on Naboo as was maturity; anyone was able to emancipate themselves by the time they were twelve, if they so desired (and if their families deemed them ready), and everyone in Padmé's family had done so.

Padmé wasn't sure when her loneliness had started, but she knew it had never quite left. Obi-Wan, being the eldest, had left the home when he turned twelve after joining the Naboo Service Corps and was gone for two year periods. Sola remained with the refugee movement, constantly going on trips. It was no wonder that by the time Padmé herself turned twelve, she felt ready to get out of the house and take on the galaxy; she'd essentially already been fending for herself. She didn't regret anything she had done, she still thought her parents had been amazing to her, and she was eternally grateful for the lessons they had taught her, but… she still sometimes felt empty. It was practically miraculous when Obi-Wan had returned to be close to home when she became queen, and the addition of having her friend Siri as a handmaiden seemed to be a dream come true… but she was always so busy just dealing with the generic day to day routines, let alone any sort of crises that may have occurred during her tenure, that she spent all of her day focusing on anything but herself. Her duty and her love for her people always motivated her, and she told herself that she was leading a very fulfilling life, and she always believed that. She still believed that. But there were times when her hectic life would pause just long enough for her to start wondering what the blazes fulfilling even meant.

Even having Obi-Wan and Siri around her now still didn't quite make her stop feeling empty. It had most certainly helped, though; whenever she felt uncertain, she knew she could always turn to them. But they had each other, and she was still just left… alone.

Padmé sighed heavily and splashed her face with some cold water. She needed to snap out of her little pity party. There were infinitely more important things for her to worry about than herself.

But the problem still remained: what was she going to do while stuck at Varykino?

One thing at a time, Padmé thought to herself as she dried her face. Running some water through a comb she attempted to make her hair at least look like it hadn't exploded in all directions, and she pinned down anything that refused to be tamed by the comb. Nodding to herself, Padmé exited the refresher and looked outside the window in her room. The day was absolutely gorgeous; she could see the breeze playing with the grass, and there were just enough clouds in the sky to bring comfortable shade to multiple parts of the island.

Blast, she wanted to be outside.

Indulging herself, Padmé smiled and rushed out into the hall before she stopped abruptly. Where was Vader? Would he be outside too?

Padmé remained still, her senses alert. She didn't hear anything apart from the breeze, and it enticed her all the more. Still, she didn't want to be caught off guard; now that she was well rested she was far more concerned with what kind of stunts Vader might pull… especially since he probably had gotten enough sleep too.

Although she stood for a few minutes, she still heard no indication of the Sith Lord, and she eventually began to relax a little. Making certain, Padmé crept over to the guest room to see if he was in there. She wasn't sure she should peek in; if she intruded and he was in there that would bring a whole host of problems and questions and headaches that she didn't want to contend with now. Still, she just had to be sure…

Padmé quickly reached the door that led to the guest room. It was closed, but she could see it wasn't locked. Pulling at the handle, she slowly opened it and poked her head around it.

Vader was asleep; that was immediately clear from the lump under the covers. Padmé flinched, pulling away as if just staring at him would awaken him. But then she grew curious; what did a sleeping murderer look like?

Padmé quickly shook her head. Okay, first off, you don't know if he killed Sabé, so stop calling him a murderer. But at the least, he did murder an Intelligence agent… more importantly, though, don't be stupid. Or crazy. Or both.

But blast it, she had to look.

Peeking once more, Padmé opened the door just a hair wider. Darth Vader was indeed thankfully still asleep. Padmé wasn't sure if she had any expectations as to what he would look like while sleeping, but if she did have any, they didn't match what she saw. Vader was curled in a tight little ball, barely taking any space up on the bed. He had the blanket wrapped just as tightly around him, and his face was barely visible on the pillow. His expression somehow seemed to convey more when asleep than it ever did when he was awake; it looked… so, so young. He looked like a child.

Padmé suddenly felt awkward looking at him in such a vulnerable state. And intrigued. And terrified. She actually felt like a little kid trying to enter a forbidden room, and her nerves were making her heart rate rise and her stomach do somersaults as if her parents would come around the corner any minute now and catch her in the act.

Good grief, this was weird.

Holding her breath, Padmé slid away, closing the door silently. She felt like she had witnessed some sort of once-in-a-lifetime sight, but she still felt like she had done something she shouldn't have. In either case, she was glad Vader hadn't awoken.

Once she was a few steps away from the guest room, Padmé hastily went outside. The summer heat enveloped her gently as if she had fallen onto a warm pillow, and then a breeze blew it away. She slipped her shoes off, letting the soft, cool grass tickle her toes.

It was so odd being back at Varykino. The last time Padmé had been here she had been in primary school. The entire family had been with her; it was their last vacation together. After that, Padmé had graduated primary school, become Princess of Theed, and the rest was history. It wasn't like she hadn't seen her entire family since then, but they just hadn't all been together since then. Her parents came to visit her occasionally while she was queen, and she spent time with Sola, Darred, and little Ryoo (who had been an infant back then… by heaven, time flew…) between her term as queen and the start of her term as senator. Still, the place gave her a strange mix of peace, loneliness, and nostalgia.

It didn't help that Darth Vader was snoozing inside.

Sighing, Padmé pushed the thoughts out of her mind. Surely she could just enjoy being alone and in the moment. It felt wonderful outside. The breeze played with her hair and dress, and she smiled, closing her eyes.

And then she realized just how kriffing hungry she was.

Chuckling to herself, Padmé reentered the building to go to the kitchen. She could make a sandwich for herself for now, she supposed; she had dismissed the servant who typically looked after the place long before their arrival, so they were on their own out here.

As Padmé practically skipped to the kitchen, starting to finally relax, she almost ran headfirst into Vader.

"M-milord!" she stammered, startled. Her heart rate was probably close to a thousand beats per minute at this point… "I—I'm sorry, I—I didn't see you!"

Vader watched her silently. He looked much more alert now than before, and his appearance was well groomed as if he had never been in bed. He must have been up for a while… probably just after Padmé closed his door. The thought of whether he had awoken while she was still watching him made her get a shiver down her spine. Despite all these thoughts, Vader gave no indication of knowing what she had done earlier. Instead, he stepped to the side to let her pass.

Padmé didn't let his offer go to waste. She hastily walked by him and entered the kitchen, almost slamming the door behind her. Trying to catch her breath, Padmé leaned against the door and moaned. If her entire vacation with him was like this, she'd have a nervous breakdown before it was over.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, Padmé slowly stepped away from the door and looked around the kitchen. She was safe and alone for now; might as well make something to eat. And stay here. By herself. Without Vader.

Wandering the kitchen, Padmé grabbed some ingredients to make a sandwich and then paused, looking at the door once more. Was Vader hungry? What was he doing? Where was he going? She suspected that his entire reason for joining her was to keep an eye on her (after all, he had shown no interest beyond acting like a predator ravenous for its food), so he no doubt was either lingering nearby or plotting some way to keep her in his sight… or worse. Padmé shuddered.

But then that image of him sleeping crept back into her mind, and the shiver down her spine vanished for just an instant. It was only an instant, but it was long enough to make her wonder what in the blazes was wrong with her. Just because he looked cute and cuddly when he was asleep did not mean that was what he was actually like.

Come on, Padmé, she admonished herself internally as she shook her head. Start thinking.

Appearances were not how one was to judge somebody. If one judged Darth Vader simply based on appearance, they'd see he was a calm, cold man who had impeccable self control and was highly intelligent.

Well, stang. That was him.

"Ugh, that doesn't mean anything," Padmé muttered irritably. It certainly didn't mean that he had a soft, adorable interior just because he looked cute when he was sleeping.

Shaking her mind of the disturbing thoughts, Padmé tried to ponder other issues. She wondered if Obi-Wan and Siri had reached their destination yet. Would they be able to figure out why Senator Tlenden wasn't willing to help the Alliance? Would they be able to convince him to assist nevertheless? Would they be able to accomplish all of this quickly so they can come help her out? Padmé could admit she was headstrong at times, but she wasn't unwilling to ask for help when she needed it… and stars did she need it right now. She thought she would at least have today to herself, and the one encounter she'd had with Vader after the nap didn't even involve any conversation… but her thoughts were lingering too much on the man and she didn't like it. One minute she was calling him a murderer and the next she was imagining him cuddling in his bed.

Cuddling. She just used the word cuddling with context to Darth Vader.

"I need food," Padmé moaned. Maybe if she increased the amount of glucose in her system it would make her think logically again.

She finally made her sandwich and munched on it happily. As she did so, her mind began to go over what had happened before the nap. Although she was fairly certain Vader's reason for joining her was to find a way to kill her, he had saved her back at the spaceport. Why? She hadn't been in any immediate danger, honestly, but it was still obvious that his intent was to prevent her from getting hurt. At least that was the impression he gave.

And then it clicked. He still needs information from me.

Padmé barked out a laugh and then jumped, looking at the door to ensure Vader didn't hear her. So he was trying to wring as much info about the Alliance out of her as he possibly could. As if she'd ever tell him anything.

As she cleaned the dishes, Padmé decided it was probably time she leave the kitchen. She couldn't hide from him forever, and this new defiance that blossomed within her made her confident. She could face the Sith Lord now.

Exiting the kitchen, Padmé looked around the lake retreat, but Vader was nowhere to be found. His bedroom door was wide open, the bed neatly made. There was no sign of him anywhere. As Padmé exited the building to see if he was somewhere outside, she heard a speeder boat flying over the water. Turning, she peeked around the building down the stairs that led to the dock. The speeder boat was missing.

"What in the…?" she muttered as she hurried down the stairs. Once Padmé reached the dock she looked around confusedly. Where was the boat? What was going on?

She began to walk back up the stairs when she heard a speeder boat coming close. Turning around, Padmé caught sight of the boat she had rented, but she couldn't see who was driving it. Had someone hijacked it for a joyride? If that was the case, it was pretty stupid of them to drive it near the people they had stolen it from.

The speeder boat came close, hovering above the water. As it turned to avoid crashing into the dock, it disengaged its repulsorlift, plopping into the water right as it was turning. This sent a huge wave of water flying towards Padmé, who quickly fled the dock—though not fast enough to avoid getting soaked. Now thoroughly annoyed, she ran back to the dock yelling at whatever blasted delinquent had decided to prank her like this when she suddenly recognized the driver.

It was Vader.

The Sith Lord was sitting in the speeder boat, which he had piloted just beyond the dock before stopping and looking back at her calmly. That smug son of a Hutt did that on purpose!

"I told you I can pilot this." He said nonchalantly.

Padmé was fuming. "It's driving and why in the blazes did you feel the need to get me wet?"

"Water is essential to life." Vader remarked in his usual dull manner, though Padmé could swear he was trying to annoy her even more. "Getting wet isn't dangerous."

Trying a different angle, Padmé folded her arms, growing even more angered when she heard the squishy sound her clothes made. "It's certainly unnecessary. Surely you can understand that."

"True," Vader conceded with a nod. "It wasn't necessary to get you wet. But it wasn't unnecessary, either."

What in the blazes was that supposed to mean?!

Vader's expression changed, his brow furrowing slightly. "You don't like getting wet, do you?"

Padmé's jaw tightened. "No, what gave you that idea?"

Vader sighed, looking at the controls and then back at her. "I would expect someone who vacationed in the lake country to like lakes."

"Liking a lake isn't the same as wanting to drown in it!"

"You're not drowning."

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it."

Padmé stomped her foot. "Don't assume what I'm implying."

"You're awfully grumpy for a senator."

Grumpy?! "I am not!"

"Grumpiness is a form of irritability. You're displaying it. Or should I just say you're irritable? Either word implies the same meaning."

Storming to the edge of the dock, Padmé said, "So if we're playing 'guess each other's temperament' can I say you're rude, intimidating, and completely unlikable?"

Her anger immediately vanished. Did she just say that?!

Vader blinked, staring at her for a moment. "I'm unlikable?"

Seriously? Did he seriously just say that? He almost sounded legitimately puzzled! Padmé couldn't help it—she laughed out loud. "Sorry, milord—I'm sure there are some people who don't mind being interrogated and bullied, but I'm not one of them."

Oh, blast it, she had spoken before thinking again. "Uh—I—what I meant to say was—"

Well, screw it. She had meant to say that, so she just dropped whatever cover up she was going to spit out.

"I'm only proving I can drive," Vader replied. "That's not bullying."

They were really having this discussion now? "I meant before just now, milord."

"That was Imperial Center. This is Naboo."

"So your temperament changes on different planets? You didn't seem that different on the ship."

"I didn't interrogate you on the ship. You were interrogating me."

"No, I wasn't!" Padmé immediately replied, growing irritated again. He had the gall to say such a thing after all the crap he'd put her, Obi-Wan, and Siri through?!

"You were asking me personal questions."

"That's not interrogating, that's just curiosity!"

Vader shrugged. "Same thing."

Honestly, if Padmé had been in her right mind she would have been astonished that she was capable of having an argument with Darth Vader without getting strangled… but she was frankly too pissed off at this point to be thinking such a thing. "You seriously believe that's the same thing?"

"Interrogation is simply a means of obtaining information."

"A forceful means!"

"Prying questions can seem forceful."

Padmé opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly stopped. Surely—no—surely not—Vader hadn't felt like she was being aggressive when she'd been asking those questions, had he?

Well, to be fair, she had forced herself on him back at the senate building. But… he was Darth Vader. Surely he wasn't intimidated by her. Surely. No, it was far more likely that her questions annoyed him or made him a little uncomfortable, but not nervous. Honestly, what did he think of her?

Taking a deep breath, Padmé calmed herself as best she could. "I'm sorry if my questions seemed too personal. My queries were simply for curiosity's sake; I had no ulterior motive."

"Then why would you ask them?" Vader sounded surprisingly sincere with this question.

Padmé shrugged. "Because… I just wanted to know."

"Why?"

"Just… because." Again, Padmé shrugged. Getting acquainted with someone was just something you did; it felt odd trying to explain it. Admittedly, sometimes her questions towards him were to throw him off guard, but other times she really was legitimately curious.

Vader only looked confused. "That doesn't make sense."

Padmé sighed, shaking her head. "Why don't you bring the boat back over here and we can talk about it?"

Vader watched her for a moment, deciding whether he should return to the dock, and then drove the boat back slowly. When he pulled in front of the dock, he didn't get out of the boat. "We can talk about it here."

"At the dock?"

Vader pat the seat beside him.

Padmé suddenly felt claustrophobic. She'd rather have the entire island than just being confined in a boat. That inner defiance began to peek out again, however, and she suddenly grew sick of being scared of Vader. Bolstering her confidence, she agreed, hopping into the boat and sitting beside the Sith Lord.

Vader reengaged the boat and began to drive it away from the dock. Despite her best efforts, Padmé still felt slightly nervous, and so she asked, "Where are we going?"

Vader shrugged. "Anywhere."

Folding her arms, Padmé quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't that unnecessary?"

The Sith Lord paused, unable to answer. Ah, it was so satisfying beating him with his own logic. He may be a masterful swordsman, military strategist, assassin, and Sith Lord, but wordplay was Padmé's arena.

"I guess it is," he replied, his voice very quiet. He almost sounded dejected.

Suddenly feeling guilty, Padmé touched his arm lightly. "It doesn't matter. You can, uh, practice driving. That's got a purpose to it. Also, we can see the perimeter of the island this way."

Vader gave her a glance as he pulled his arm from her, his eyes a brilliant blue in the sunlight. His face was smooth and placid, but not cold. Her words seemed to legitimately cheer him up. This was kriffing weird.

"I suppose there's merit to that." Vader finally replied, steering the boat around the island.

Padmé smiled and nodded, feeling odd. She had just reassured him that it was okay to do something trivial. Never mind the rest—she had just reassured him. Either she was going crazy, or he was. Or both.

Or maybe he was right; maybe he just acted differently when he was away from the stifling atmosphere of Imperial Center. But he hadn't acted much differently back at the spaceport. Tired to be sure, but not different.

Finally just throwing caution to the winds, Padmé asked, "Why do you act so differently?"

"Differently from what?"

"From anyone."

Vader looked at her briefly, his neutral mask back on. "Why do you ask such questions?"

"Curiosity."

"What's the purpose of that?"

"If you're not curious, you won't learn anything," Padmé replied.

"You learn for a reason." Vader rebutted. "If you need to understand how something works, you learn everything pertaining to it. What are you trying to understand, senator?"

"You." Padmé said matter-of-factly. "You're a mystery."

"Mysteries are unknown, unsolved. Sometimes they're meant to be kept that way."

"And sometimes people find them all the more appealing because they're mysteries."

Vader was silent for several minutes before he finally stopped the boat at some obscure spot near the island. He faced her. "You are the strangest mix of contradictions I've met."

Padmé jumped slightly, befuddled by his description. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You said back on Imperial Center that you found me intriguing. I presume now that it has to do with what you said about mysteries… but then you stated earlier that I'm unlikable. Why would you want to solve the mystery of an unlikable person? Why would you find someone unlikable and intriguing at the same time? From what I've seen of people, they don't associate with things and beings they don't like."

Sithspit. Now he had cornered her with her own logic.

"I suppose it's because I… don't understand you." Padmé said carefully. "Sometimes I find you interesting… and sometimes I find you frustrating. It's natural for someone's opinion of a person to change as they get to know them better."

"You don't know me."

Padmé laughed. That was what she had been trying to say! "That's because you won't tell me anything."

Vader watched her for a very long time. Her mild mirth began to fade, and she squirmed uncomfortably. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't like you." He said abruptly.

Padmé jumped. "Oh… uh, why not?"

Vader continued to watch her, his eyes hard. "I don't trust you."

Padmé felt a smile tug at her lips. How ironic, considering she didn't trust him farther than she could throw him. She had to admit: at least he was being honest. Still, she needed to make him trust her, and considering they were going to be stuck together at Varykino, she needed to make the vacation somewhat tolerable. "You can like someone without trusting them implicitly; I like several people, but I don't know them well enough to trust them too much."

Vader cocked his head to the side just a hair. "Explain."

Instead of going through some tiresome explanation, Padmé tried a different angle. "Who told you that you needed to trust someone to like them?"

"The governor." Vader replied, as if that was self explanatory.

Governor? What governor? "You mean… Governor Tarkin, perhaps?"

Apparently she guessed correctly; Vader nodded.

"Do you trust him?"

Another nod.

"So by your logic, you like him."

Another nod.

Gazing at the Sith Lord intently, Padmé then asked, "Do you like the emperor?"

Vader nodded again, though his eyes hardened a little.

Padmé held back a sigh. She didn't want to get into that right now, so she just let it slide. "So why don't you trust me?"

"I don't know you."

That was a fairly amusing and ironic statement, considering she had said the same about him earlier. She suspected he assumed she didn't trust him either, then. Smart man. Not that she thought he had made any sort of preconceived notions, but… in either case, she needed to swing this conversation to her favor. Besides, his statement was a little too fat of a lie for her to swallow. "You have all of Imperial Intelligence at your fingertips. You're telling me that with all those resources you don't know me? Every time you ask me a question you already know the answer."

Vader folded his arms. "Then perhaps I know you too well."

Sithspit, she had opened herself up to that one. Time to fix that. "I think the former assumption might be correct, actually. I thought I knew everything possible about you from your exploits, but you're quite different in person. Why don't you give me a chance?"

The Sith Lord grew pensive, finally looking away from her. Padmé released a breath she didn't even realized she had been holding. These conversations were going to age her a decade. It would be nice to have a conversation where she didn't feel like she was back in the senate dealing with some untrustworthy politician, but she supposed this would be the norm until Obi-Wan and Siri could rescue her.

Blast, those two couldn't come fast enough. Still… she seemed to have won this match. Vader continued to gaze elsewhere, leaving Padmé a little relieved. She leaned back into her seat, relaxing, and she gazed out onto the lake. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a stomach growling. Clutching her own she let out an embarrassed chuckle (as if Vader would even bother to notice such a trivial thing, anyway), but then she remembered that she had just eaten. She wasn't hungry.

"Milord?" Padmé looked at him. Vader glanced back at her, saying nothing. She assumed he was waiting for her to speak. "Are you hungry?"

The question seemed to wash over him as if he wasn't expecting it, as if the thought of being hungry was a novelty. Then he nodded, almost sheepishly. His behavior soothed Padmé's rattled nerves like a balm, and she gave him a smile. "Let's go back to the retreat, then. I'll make you a sandwich."

"I'll make my own meal." Vader replied, returning his attention to the controls. He drove the boat back to the dock in silence. Once they arrived at the dock, Vader hopped out, not bothering to wait for or help Padmé. After she clambered onto the dock once more, she looked up to see that he had already vanished.

Climbing the stairs, Padmé wandered onto the balcony, watching the slow descent of the sun. Was it dusk already? How long had they been out on the water? Looking down at her dress, she was at least happy to see that her clothing was finally dry. Padmé entered the retreat in contentment, glancing towards the kitchen. Should she go check on him? Probably not. He seemed like he'd had enough socializing for one day, and honestly, Padmé felt the same. This was supposed to have been her day to avoid him, anyway. Sighing, Padmé walked to her bedroom and closed the door. Pulling off her shoes, she laid across the bed, blowing out a deep breath and pondering the day.

Her interactions with Vader after that nap were probably the closest to normal she'd ever had. She guessed there was some merit to what he had said earlier, then; being on Imperial Center bogged down everyone, apparently, even Sith Lords. Or was that just a ploy? If it was, it didn't make sense to be likable now. And even so, he hadn't necessarily been likable today; just tolerable. Or maybe Padmé was growing used to dealing with him. She didn't know. She just knew it hadn't been that bad.

Hopefully the rest of her time with the Sith Lord would be like this. It was still a little stressful, but it at least wasn't as bad as she had originally presumed.

She still couldn't wait for Obi-Wan and Siri to come to her aid, though.

Despite only being in her early twenties, Siri had seen many worlds. Her four years spent in the service corps had taken her to no fewer than fourteen planets. They had all been badly affected by some sort of catastrophe, whether natural, war-related, or Imperial. Due to this experience, she tended to think she couldn't be surprised by much.

Blast, was she wrong.

Siri coughed harshly. The most noticeable and pungent thing about Nar Shaddaa was its smell. She literally felt her lungs fill with gunk as she took a step down the ramp. "Don't they have air scrubbers here?"

Al laughed. "Yeah, near the Promenade, maybe. You buy your own for your apartment, if you can afford one."

"How do people live here?" Siri asked, covering her nose with her sleeve. Obi-Wan hadn't spoken; he was too busy trying not to inhale the air.

"One day at a time," Al sighed. "I've been here a lot because of business, but I've never liked this place. Setting foot here is like seeing the worst of the galaxy all thrown into one moon. It's really kriffing depressing… though I'll admit the women are blasted gorgeous."

Siri shot Al an irritable look, and he quickly added, "I mean the ones at the casinos—the ones betting—not the slaves—I—"

"You're only digging your own grave all the more," Obi-Wan sighed.

Al laughed shakily. "True. I'll just shut up."

Known as the Smuggler's Moon, Nar Shaddaa was similar to Imperial Center in that the entire moon was one big city. Unlike Imperial Center, which—to the Empire's credit—was relatively clean and well kept through most of its levels, Nar Shaddaa was a cesspool of criminals, pollution, and poverty. People on Nar Shaddaa typically fell into two categories: those who made trade there, and those who couldn't afford to get the heck out of there. Unfortunately the latter was the dominant population, and it led to a miserable atmosphere all around.

Siri coughed again. The smell was almost unbearable. It reeked of fuel, exhaust, sweat, sick, and other smells that she couldn't even identify… probably different kinds of spices and stims. Blast, at this rate she'd either get high or catch some disease just standing here.

"Let's just find somebody who can fix the ship." Siri said through her sleeve. "The sooner we get off this moon, the better."

"Tell you what: I'll find the mechanic. You two take a taxi to the Promenade before you pass out." Al smiled sympathetically. "It takes a little while to get used to the atmosphere."

"How many times have you been here?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Enough to know that I can't die from the stench."

"That's debatable." Siri remarked sarcastically.

"The Promenade's much better, I promise."

"Why?"

Al shrugged. "It's where most of the people with money interact. Just be careful; if you're seen there, you're either a customer or a slave. Be the former. Please."

"You think we're stupid enough to get ourselves into that bad a situation?" Siri rolled her eyes and then she pat the blaster that was sitting in her holster. "I told you, we can take care of ourselves."

"All right, then." Al nodded and smiled. "I'll meet you at the Slippery Slopes Cantina. You'll see it when you get there; biggest joint in the area."

Siri nodded and wandered out of the hangar. It was amazing to her that they were inside a hangar and could smell the city to such a degree. She couldn't imagine how horrible it would be once they got outside.

The spaceport itself was surprisingly decent. Although the corners were filthy and the walls, floor, and ceiling were colored in a grungy brown, the place was still lit relatively well and populated enough to make it respectable. There were guards who bore insignias of different crime lords for whom they worked. Most of the insignias were the same, indicating that the spaceport was owned by one crime lord with some lower level lackeys lending a hand. Because that's who ran this moon: crime lords. Lots of them.

Siri and Obi-Wan were both dressed in traveling clothes, so neither held any indication of their status. Both were also noticeably armed. In any respectable spaceport, this would immediately catch the attention of security, but here it was stranger to not be armed.

Obi-Wan paused, sniffing tentatively. "Is that food?"

"Probably nothing that's actually edible." Siri replied.

"I have no intention of eating here," Obi-Wan smirked. "I was just relieved to smell something that didn't make me nauseous."

Siri laughed. It felt nice to laugh. After everything that had been happening, she had barely felt any mirth. Between losing Sabé, leaving Padmé with Darth Vader, finding out that Yavin 4 had an Imperial presence, and getting sidetracked by maintenance issues, she hadn't had much to laugh about. Despite wanting to be with Padmé to help her, Siri was glad she was with her husband. Obi-Wan always managed to make her smile.

Squaring her shoulders, Siri walked alongside her husband as they exited the spaceport (there was of course no customs to go through, so they could just enter and go as they pleased). Two burly Weequay guards watched them warily before looking elsewhere, and that was essentially the most attention they garnered as they waited for a taxi to arrive.

Siri stretched and was tempted to lean against the railing, but heaven knew what kind of diseases were on it… or other less savory stuff. Shuddering, she didn't even want to think about it. She had to admit; of all the places she'd been to, this one definitely took the spot for being the dirtiest.

"Kind of like when we went to Kerlin 7, don't you think?" Siri remarked, recalling the little known planet.

Obi-Wan pondered it for a moment and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Yes, I suppose. Except that wasn't the entire planet."

"Well it's as close as it gets."

Obi-Wan offered a small nod as Siri remembered the planet. She had gone when she was fourteen years old; she and Obi-Wan had been part of a group sent there to help house and supply the refugees. A disease had slammed the population, and entire cities were under quarantine; people were fleeing the cities to make camps in the outskirts, and doctors had to check them over to ensure they weren't infected. If they passed the numerous exams, they were processed at refugee camps, where people like Obi-Wan and Siri helped take care of them, organize them, and supply them. The camps had been overcrowded, dirty, and full of terrified or angry people who were ready to snap at anybody who got near them.

Siri remembered one night specifically where she was on dinner duty, serving meals to the people there: one of them had suddenly collapsed and started seizing. Siri had called for help, and doctors had rushed in from everywhere. Every person in that room had been placed under quarantine, and Siri had to undergo what had seemed like a million different checks, immunizations, and exams to ensure she didn't catch the disease too. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, to say the least.

But it had been totally worth it to get all the pampering from Obi-Wan following her release from medical custody. He had been frantic the entire time she had been under quarantine, and all the doting she had received afterwards just made her laugh now. And melt from the sweetness. Not that she'd tell Obi-Wan that.

A taxi finally arrived, relieving Siri; she really was relying on Al's word that the Promenade had more air scrubbers than the spaceport area. Obi-Wan and Siri were about to step in when the taxi droid stated that the fee had to be paid up front.

"Settah do tchutta. State your destination." The droid ordered.

"The Promenade." Obi-Wan answered, trying to hide his Coruscanti accent; the last thing they needed was to be identified as Imperials. Most people outside of the Empire didn't speak a lot of Basic, let alone with an accent that denoted high education and status.

The droid held out its hand. "Fifty-two bronze peggats."

Siri and Obi-Wan exchanged wary glances. Al hadn't told them what currencies they could and couldn't use.

"Do you accept other kinds of payment?" Siri asked.

"The following are the acceptable forms of payment: bronze peggats, silver peggats, gold peggats, death sticks, bloodcurlers, slaves, the express, and indentured servitude."

Siri groaned. "Well that helps."

"Is there an exchange in the spaceport?" Obi-Wan asked the droid.

"My programming is for the taxi service. If you are not taking a taxi, move along." The droid replied.

"Thanks," Siri muttered. "Come on, Obi. We can find an exchange."

"Perhaps not so much like Kerlin 7, then," Obi-Wan sighed as the two reentered the spaceport.

"Yeah, well, back then the service corps took care of the details for us." Siri replied. "Miss those days?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I suppose. It's amazing how much simpler our lives were. Still, there's no point in lingering on it."

The two finally managed to find a place where they could exchange some Imperial credits for peggats. After doing so, they obtained a taxi and finally arrived at the Promenade. As promised, the air was much fresher here, bringing great relief to Siri. The two ventured around the large plaza, which was centered by an enormous golden statue of some big name Hutt, before finding their way to the enormous cantina Al had mentioned. The place had about five floors, which were all completely full of people enjoying drinks and socializing with fellow clients. Slaves were everywhere, dancing for the clients' delight. Siri sighed heavily, looking away from the sight. "I need a drink."

A red skinned Twi'lek female who was barely wearing anything walked slowly to them, swinging her hips as much as physically possible. A thin slave collar dangled around her neck, decorated with jewelry. Sitting on the counter where Obi-Wan and Siri were, the Twi'lek rubbed Obi-Wan's thigh with her foot. "Hey there, handsome."

Siri stiffened, and her hand slipped to her blaster. "You've got two seconds to get lost."

Obi-Wan jumped, noticing his wife's action. "Siri, calm down." Turning to the slave he gave a small, polite smile. "I'm taken, I'm afraid."

Looking at Siri, the slave smiled. "You can share, can't you? I've got a friend just for you."

Motioning her head, Siri felt rather than saw another slave approaching behind her. She didn't bother turning her head; she was too busy burning holes through the slave woman's skull with her glare. "I said get lost."

Obi-Wan slowly stood, putting a hand on Siri's shoulder. "We'll move."

The slave seemed to notice her life was in danger and departed before Obi-Wan could coax Siri to get up, so the situation resolved itself. Siri still felt her blood boiling, though, and she threw a death glare at anybody who dared breathe in their direction. Obi-wan sighed heavily. Siri ignored him. She wasn't mad at him; she knew her husband well enough. Obi-Wan never had eyes for anyone but her; he had had at least three other girls who had been crushing on him during their time in the service corps, but he had shown no interest in them. He had shown little interest in Siri beyond a friendship, honestly, until they had almost died on a mission. It was amazing what facing your mortality would do to you.

That didn't mean Siri wouldn't get seriously pissed off when flirtatious woman got near her husband, though. Because she did. Every kriffing time. Obi-Wan was harmless, but he was also way too polite, and women would take advantage of that.

"You shouldn't be so jumpy, you know," Obi-Wan admonished. Siri detected a little annoyance in his tone.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Siri shook her head, knowing why he was growing irritated. "It's that you don't seem to know how to be firm with people."

"I'm quite capable of being firm with people." Obi-Wan said indignantly.

Siri laughed at the slight whine in his tone. "Yeah, right. You can convince people to eat out of the palm of your hand with appeasing words and the like, but if somebody refuses to stop butting heads with you, you don't know what to do."

"Well I certainly don't do what you would do."

"What's wrong with pointing a blaster at them? Gets the point across. That slave wouldn't have backed off unless I did so."

"You can diffuse such situations without threats, you know."

Siri laughed again and then motioned to a drunken patron stumbling over. "Sure. Let's see how well that goes."

Obi-Wan followed her gaze and stiffened slightly. The man sat in the chair beside Siri and flashed a lopsided grin. As he exhaled, Siri was blasted with the smell of alcohol. This guy was totally plastered.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Siri looked over at Obi-Wan pointedly. "What do you think?"

"Kindly leave my wife alone," Obi-Wan said coldly.

"Aw, I'm just offering her a drink!" the client replied jovially. "What's the harm in that?"

Siri continued to watch her husband, placing her elbow on the counter and leaning her head on her hand. It was too amusing watching Obi-Wan struggle with this situation.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Siri recognized that look. He was starting to lose patience. When he opened his eyes and locked his gaze with hers, she gave a sly smile and tapped her blaster with a finger. Come on, I told you this was the only way. Just admit it.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and gave the man stern look. "I said leave."

"Free drinks for everyone!" the man shouted, lifting his arms in triumph. People nearby cheered, and Obi-Wan's brow twitched.

"You don't want to give us free drinks. You want to leave." He said sternly. "Now go."

The man suddenly paused, making Siri's smug smile falter. What was wrong with him? Too much to drink? His eyes clouded for a second, and then he shrugged, standing. "Yeah, I don't want to give you free drinks. I want to leave."

The man stumbled away before tripping over some stairs and landing on top of some other clients. There was a large raucous and people started yelling at each other angrily, but Siri ignored it, gaping at her husband. "What did you—how did you—"

Obi-Wan seemed similarly baffled at the man's sudden change in attitude, but then he just smiled in triumph. "Well, there's your proof, Siri."

"That was a fluke!" Siri snapped.

"Well don't start bringing the entire cantina over," Obi-Wan muttered as he finally got the bartender's attention.

As the two ordered their drinks, Siri and Obi-Wan turned in unison as a fight broke out between the people the drunk had fallen on. Security rushed in to break the fight up, but most of the cantina just ignored the fiasco, though some who were closer to the action watched in amusement. As some Gamorreans pulled fighters apart from each other, Siri caught sight of Al slipping through the crowd.

"Hey, what did I tell you? This place is the best watering hole on this dump of a moon." Al said with a big smile. "Also, I managed to get in contact with some friends who told me how things are going with our fellow Rebels."

Obi-Wan and Siri immediately gave him their full attention. "You found out what happened on Yavin 4?"

Al nodded. "Yep. As soon as they figured out Dantooine was compromised they packed up and cleared house. Maybe an hour or two later they found out the Imperials were there. Talk about a close call, huh? Anyway, they tried to get the word out to everybody on Imperial Center, but with Athia out of commission they couldn't reach us."

"They couldn't contact you?" Siri asked curiously.

Al shook his head. "Not how it works. I was recruited to get supplies by Kuna, who was recruited by you guys. Athia is the only other Rebel I've had contact with, apart from the poor sod who was drowning his sorrows out there. I'm totally with the cause, but I'm technically still an outside party. It's better for business."

"Business?" Siri raised an eyebrow. "You're not a fan of your business."

"But it pays the bills," Al shrugged. "And I haven't gotten a lot of jobs from the Alliance recently, anyway, not with the mess that's been going on. Hence why my ship's falling apart. And speaking of which, I did find a place that can fix her up, but it's going to take a day."

"A day?" Obi-Wan repeated. Siri glanced at him. His tone was relatively neutral, but it held that you've got to be kidding me edge to it. His jaw muscles were tight, and his finger was tapping the bar incessantly. He wasn't expecting this delay. Siri was, though; a day was actually better than she expected. She placed a hand on his knee and gave him a small smile.

"Afraid so," Al replied as he sat beside Siri and ordered a drink.

"So the ship's in the shop," Siri sighed. "We have to find a place to stay, then."

"I think I'd rather stay here all night," Obi-Wan said with a shudder. "I can't imagine what their sleeping accommodations are like."

"The places near the casinos are pretty good, I hear." Al offered.

"You got enough money to afford a place like that?" Siri asked shrewdly.

Al laughed sheepishly, rubbing his hands together. "Well…"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and then downed his drink in one gulp. Siri leaned her head against him. That was enough for his muscles to relax, and she felt herself calm as well. She understood his concern, though; they wanted as little of a delay as possible. A day wasn't too bad, though. Besides, it would give them time to figure out what was going on with Tlenden and Salkende in general; if they figured out what the problem was before they got there, they could solve it much faster. Siri didn't like sitting around doing nothing, anyway; not when there was work to be done.

"We can sleep when the ship is fixed. Let's find out what we can about Salkende." She said to Obi-Wan, closing her eyes.

She felt him nod. "I agree."

Al groaned. "I hate all-nighters."

Tarkin rubbed his head, sighing. His hangover was finally departing, allowing him to actually look at the information provided for him earlier in the day. As he leaned back in his chair, he read the first few lines and immediately smiled, all previous inconveniences forgotten.

They had Mothma.