Fun fact: While writing this chapter I found out that Naboo's days last for 26 hours instead of 24. However, I was far too lazy to bother calculating how the 26-hr Naboo days would mesh with Coruscant's 24-hr days and then adjusting each of the chapters to fit that so... you'll just have to stretch your imaginations a bit, lol. Speaking of which, I've been going by the Star Wars standard calendar and just assumed everybody knew it, so in case you don't know, the standard calendar is as follows: 24 hours in a day, 5 days in a week, 7 weeks in a month, 10 months in a year.
The Liberator was relatively quiet as it drifted near an uninhabited gas giant. In one of its side hangars, which had been converted into a training room, Rahm leaned against a support and watched his Padawan spar with some droids. The boy was quick on his feet, though he wasn't particularly graceful. He utilized the sixth lightsaber form, Niman, and as such his fighting style was more of a mixed bag than Kota's. Rahm was a Juyo user, plain and simple. Juyo was aggressive, almost too aggressive for a Jedi, but Rahm had favored it both during the Clone War and especially now. He knew he had to release his emotions to the Force, so he often reserved the release for battle.
Rahm frowned as he watched Galen. Niman was a good fighting form, but he didn't particularly like it. It mixed too much together: defense with attack, acrobatics with stillness, precision with randomness. Niman was primarily utilized by those who either preferred not to fight or those who wielded more than one weapon; the other forms were too demanding for such people. Galen had primarily used Shii Cho, the basic form taught to all Jedi younglings, until recently. Rahm wasn't quite sure why he'd made the change, and he wasn't sure it was a wise decision.
Entering the sparring area, Rahm removed his saber from its place on his belt. Galen paused, sensing his approach. Upon closer inspection the boy looked tired, as if he'd been training all day.
"Preparing?" Kota surmised.
Galen nodded, taking a deep breath as he faced his master. "I want to be ready for Vader when he comes."
"You should strengthen your Form I combat, then," Rahm noted, activating his lightsaber. "You've had more time to perfect it than Form VI."
Galen smiled. "I wanted to surprise you, though."
Kota barked a laugh. "Surprise me? With what? You've been working on Niman for two years now, Padawan, and you've done well with it, but you've spent fifteen years perfecting Shii Cho."
Galen's smile increased, and his eyes narrowed. In the blink of an eye, another lightsaber appeared in his left hand and he activated it. Kota raised his eyebrows.
"How long have you had two?" he asked slowly, both unnerved that he hadn't noticed his Padawan had constructed a second weapon and that the boy actually wanted to fight Vader with two sabers when he was still mastering fighting with one.
"Almost two years," Galen replied, flourishing the blades. "Remember when you sent me to visit Master Ti and check on the status of the other Padawans?"
Rahm stood stiffer, affronted. "You're telling me that Shaak Ti knew about it and didn't say anything to me?"
Galen shrugged. "Maybe she figured I'd tell you."
"Yet you didn't."
"Like I said, I wanted to surprise you."
Rahm gripped his hilt more firmly and assumed an aggressive fighting stance. "Then by all means, Padawan, surprise me."
The fight began quickly as Rahm immediately rushed forward. He wanted to test the boy's defenses. Galen blocked and it was a solid stance, but he had to use both blades to do so. It wasn't surprising; most two bladed users used both weapons in tandem; it was nearly impossible to think separately for each weapon. Kota backed off briefly and aimed a horizontal blow that Galen once more blocked. As Kota tried for different areas of attack he observed how his Padawan retaliated. The boy was quite proficient with two blades, but he wasn't a master of them yet. Many attacks were coordinated between the two weapons, but sometimes the non-dominant one would hang by his side as he used his right lightsaber more. Eventually Kota called the fight off. Shaking his head, he deactivated his blade. "You're not ready to fight Vader. Not with both weapons."
Galen tipped his head in acknowledgement, but he didn't seem perturbed. "I didn't expect to be. I'm saving this second blade for the emperor."
"Palpatine is reserved for the Masters, my young Padawan," Kota replied, carefully adding emphasis to make his point clear.
"I'll be ready by then." Galen answered confidently.
Kota smirked. He admired the boy's determination, and he often did little to detract it; Rahm himself was often called a little too brash for a Jedi, but he was a general first. He had been for a long time. Overconfidence was a weakness, but bravado sometimes was a good thing… and it was definitely an inspiration to the soldiers. But had he gone too far this time? He knew Galen was strong in the Force; stronger than most Jedi, to be honest. Nevertheless, Rahm wasn't sure Galen's power was enough to face Palpatine; the Sith was a master of combat, the Force, and, most importantly, manipulation. Rahm could easily see Palpatine tricking Galen somehow. After all, Galen was a powerful warrior, but… he wasn't a particularly bright strategist. Or anything, frankly. Galen was no idiot, but his primary focus and specialty was lightsaber combat. He often went crashing headfirst into situations, and Rahm knew he himself was to blame for that; he'd often encouraged a more straightforward and blunt approach. He preferred to fight that way. But even Kota knew that it wasn't always the right way… he just wasn't sure Galen knew that yet.
"In the meantime," Galen continued. "I'm still going to use Niman on Vader."
Rahm crossed his arms. "Why?"
"As you taught me, Master," Galen began with a small smile and a tip of his head in acknowledgement. "Niman is a form that mixes together the first five forms of lightsaber combat. It is a balance. The reason is so that those who wish to balance a single lightsaber fighting style with something else may do so. Some choose to use a second weapon as the other half of the equation. I do intend to do so, but in the meantime, I've found another alternative."
Rahm was about to ask what that was when he suddenly sensed an attack coming. Activating his blade, he leapt back as Galen charged forward with his own lightsaber. He was about to chastise his Padawan for such a lazy attack when something suddenly slammed him into the wall. Grunting, he looked over to see a crate that had been tossed at him.
He had to laugh. Even he hadn't been expecting that. "Impressive, Padawan. You think you can focus enough to use both Force techniques and lightsaber combat at once in a real battle?"
"I've done it so far," Galen answered smugly. "It's what happened on that destroyer's bridge."
"Huh. Knew something seemed different than normal about that," Kota muttered as he stood and brushed himself off.
"I can handle Vader." Galen suddenly said, eager to make his point clear. "I know how much is riding on this."
Rahm watched the boy carefully. Ever since he was a youngling Galen had heard stories about the Sith and how they poisoned the galaxy and almost destroyed the Jedi. He knew that Jedi weren't allowed to take revenge, but Rahm and Galen both wanted to see justice served. Rahm wanted to finally see the Jedi Temple in its full glory again. Originally Palpatine had been the main enemy, but in the past few years the appearance of Vader had caused quite a stir among the Jedi, and Kota had been the one to decide to take the wannabe Sith on. He figured it would be a good smack in the face to Palpatine… particularly since he had a sinking suspicion Windu wouldn't let him have the honors of killing the Sith Master himself. Kota, after all, was a Jedi Knight, not a Master. In either case, Vader was Rahm's primary target, and the man's death was key to ensuring Coruscant would be weak enough to attack. Galen knew this as well, and he was eager to take part in such an important mission. Rahm just wanted to be sure he wasn't so eager he started being careless.
"Confidence is a good thing," Rahm explained carefully. "But so is caution. We don't know anything about Vader's fighting style or ability, Padawan, so don't make assumptions."
"He's a Sith apprentice," Galen deactivated his blade. "He's on the same training level as me. I can beat him. We will beat him."
The boy did have a point; Vader was only an apprentice. Still, the man's track record was quite impressive. Kota didn't want to go into this blindly. Unfortunately, he didn't have much information to go on apart from official Imperial records. Kota's men were soldiers, not covert agents, and so they had no way of hacking secure Intelligence files and learning more about their foe. They'd just have to wait and see when the man showed up. Besides, as he'd thought before, Vader seemed more like a lapdog of the emperor than an actual Sith, so this shouldn't be too difficult… hopefully.
Blast it, he needed a drink.
It was late by the time the family returned to Varykino. Much to Padmé's concern, she immediately noticed that one of the boats was still missing. The others saw it as well.
"I wonder if he left Naboo altogether," Siri muttered. "Not that I'm complaining, but some notice would be nice so we don't have to constantly worry if he's coming back or not."
"I know where his shuttle is," Padmé offered halfheartedly. It was probably a little too late to travel to Oxon and back, but she wanted to see if Vader really had left. Did Obi-Wan and Siri's presence bother him that much? He hadn't really fled from them before; she vividly recalled their first dinner together when he'd shown no discomfort around them at all. Was it because he'd opened up to her? He didn't want to be around if she told Obi-Wan and Siri? Did he think she would tell them? Honestly, Padmé wanted to; she needed the advice and the help, but… after Siri's reaction earlier today, she didn't think it was a good idea. She just couldn't see either Siri or Obi-Wan accepting it. Siri would outright think Padmé was crazy and even probably try to keep her from seeing Vader, and that was the last thing she wanted. Obi-Wan… she wasn't sure what Obi-Wan would do. She could imagine he wouldn't trust Vader, though. At all.
Padmé sighed heavily. What would this mean for her and Vader? If he really left, was he waiting for her on Imperial Center? How would they get in contact with each other? She didn't want to leave without him if he was still on Naboo for some reason, though why he would have disappeared the entire day and remain on the planet was beyond her. She just needed some confirmation on something.
"Can we go to Oxon and check?" she asked her brother.
"It's an hour to midnight," Siri noted a little exasperatedly.
"It's better to know for certain," Obi-Wan sighed. "You can stay here if you like, Siri."
"Oh no," Siri shook her head. "I don't think it would be healthy for either me or Vader if he did show up while I was here alone. I'm coming along."
Padmé had to laugh; Siri was definitely right about that. She couldn't imagine her sister-in-law and Vader being stuck on the same island together with no one else to serve as a buffer.
Siri guided the speeder boat into open water once more and it wasn't long before they'd reached the rental docks. Padmé asked the person manning the docks whether they'd seen someone matching Vader's description and the person said no. Padmé did notice that the third boat was sitting innocently in the dock, though. The trio then took a taxi to Oxon, mostly traveling in silence since they were all exhausted. Once they reached the city Padmé led the way into the spaceport and towards a large holographic information center; since she didn't have the pass card given to Vader to ensure he was the owner of the shuttle, she herself couldn't enter the hangar. She could, however, check to see if the hangar was occupied.
It wasn't.
"He left," she blurted, shocked.
"Thank heaven," Siri muttered under her breath.
Had Obi-Wan and Siri bothered him that much, or was something else going on? Maybe he was trying to make sure there wasn't a mess when she got back. After all, if he knew she was a Rebel spy, who else knew? She'd asked last night what would happen after Naboo, and Vader hadn't been too specific, but he'd at least implied that they'd still be working together. She just didn't know how she'd get in contact with him; if she asked Tarkin he might suspect something… but she… she was so lost. She didn't know what to do.
"Padmé, are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked, watching her carefully.
"I'm fine," she hastily answered, looking at the ground. She'd at least tell her brother when they got back. She'd tell him when they were alone in her apartment, when Siri wouldn't be around, when she sorted out what in the blazes would happen next.
"Come on, let's head back to Varykino," Siri advised. "We can rest up without a care in the universe for one night, so I'm going to enjoy it, blast it. Tomorrow we head back to Imperial Center."
"Our ride is in Theed," Obi-Wan explained with a smile. "So we can stop by home before we go."
Home. There was nothing more that she wanted than to go home and see her family. But she couldn't. Not with everything going on. She didn't think she could stand to look into her parents' eyes and lie to them about her safety. "I… can we go home another time? There will be other vacations."
Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged glances. They probably understood her sentiment, but she knew Obi-Wan would push anyway. "They want to see you, Padmé. It would greatly reassure them."
"I just can't," she shook her head. "Let's at least wait until we can sort out the… issues we have."
Siri snorted. "If you wait for that I think we'll never see them again." Before Padmé could argue further, though, Siri held up her hands in acquiescence. "But it's fine. Let's just go back to Varykino and get some sleep, okay?"
Padmé nodded, thanking Siri with a smile. Then the three Naberries departed together, and they all agreed to not think about anything related to the Empire or the Rebel Alliance until tomorrow morning.
None of them held to that agreement.
Imperial Center was in its most depressing part of the wet season; it would rain for days on end, causing a massive stir in the city. Imperial Center's weather tended to get a little volatile during this time; all the chemical and technological control always battled with nature for supremacy, but during this part of the year it always seemed to lose. It was a pity it occurred during the New Year's festivities, but everyone was used to it. Besides, meteorologists and meteotechnologists always did their best to ensure the opening night of the fete week was perfect, so the rest of the week was often thought of as the period that brought in the worst of the season. Every few years a thunderstorm would even occur. This happened to be one of those years.
Tarkin took a hesitant step back as a loud clap of thunder rattled some of the supports in the hangar. He wasn't exposed to the elements, and there were plenty of lightning spires to absorb any strike, but he still didn't like the storms here. On his native world thunderstorms were often a nice occasion for a relaxing evening with a good book, but here a thunderstorm was the personification of nature screaming and tearing against the technological cage in which she was placed. They were quite violent, and he wasn't particularly fond of them.
He recalled the first time he'd witnessed one of these famous storms; it had been back during the Republic. He'd been in a military compound discussing the Clone War. The next time there was a storm was many years later; it had been Vader's first storm. The boy had been with Tarkin when it had begun, and when the lightning flashed so close to the building it lit up the entire room, the boy had flinched and had asked if the emperor had somehow gone berserk outside. Tarkin had laughed for a solid minute. Then he'd stopped and realized that a six-year-old youngling knew of one of Palpatine's most painful torture methods yet had never seen the emperor use it on anyone… which implied that the boy himself had been the recipient. Tarkin hadn't known what to feel; he'd supposed it wasn't really a surprise considering the boy was Palpatine's pet project, but it left him feeling… odd. Nevertheless, Tarkin never truly did a double take over the boy's behavior until he was almost nine. Tarkin marveled that it took him that long to question the emperor's methods, but again, the training served its purpose.
Amidst the pouring rain, Tarkin caught sight of a diplomatic shuttle flying smoothly. The storm's fierce winds didn't seem to bother the pilot at all; that had be to Vader.
Tarkin took a few expectant steps towards the hangar entrance and watched the ship enter. It landed smoothly, steam rolling off near the engines, and the landing ramp eventually opened. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited.
Vader appeared in the entranceway, and Tarkin jumped slightly, automatically taking a small cautionary step towards the young Sith. Vader was white as a sheet, he still had those dark bags under his eyes, his face was gaunt, and he was filled with nervous energy.
"Milord?" Tarkin asked softly; the man looked like he was ready to fall to pieces.
Vader took a deep breath and stilled his hands, but he suddenly swayed in place as if dizzy. Tarkin took three hasty steps up the ramp and reached a hand out to steady him, but the Sith shook his head.
"Did you get any information?" Tarkin asked. He was giddy with anticipation, both for the boy's sake and for his own goals.
Vader nodded, but he didn't seem pleased with it.
"Anything is better than failing entirely," Tarkin assured the man. "The emperor will want to hear of it."
Again, Vader nodded. He took a shaky step down the ramp, and Tarkin hovered just beside him.
"Did you sleep at all?" he asked. It was likely Vader hadn't slept the night before due to his concern, but he could have caught up on it on the shuttle ride back.
Vader shook his head.
Terrific. He was possibly running on fifty-two hours without any rest. No wonder he looked awful.
"Did you at least walk?" he questioned. It was almost a rhetorical question; Vader always walked in the morning. Still, considering how perturbed the Sith was, it was possible that he let his routine slip.
Vader shook his head.
Tarkin put a hand on the man's shoulder, suddenly nervous. "Make your report to the emperor, and then come see me. I'll be right outside the throne room."
Vader nodded. He didn't look at Tarkin during the entire conversation. He shakily made his way towards the throne room, which was a long walk at his unsteady pace. Tarkin stayed two steps behind him, watching him carefully in case he collapsed, but the man held himself together. As they drew closer to the throne room he took longer strides, as if all the nervous energy in his hands had transferred to his legs. They eventually reached the throne room, and Tarkin stopped. He watched as the guards opened the large doors to Vader, and he felt his limbs turn to lead as the boy entered the darkness and vanished.
He certainly hoped the boy came back out alive.
Padmé stared forlornly at the villa. It seemed so empty now, so devoid of life. It had felt safe and warm just a few nights ago, but now… she sighed and shook her head. There was no point in looking back, she supposed, but she felt an overwhelming emptiness within her. It just wasn't the same.
She missed Vader.
"We're ready when you are."
Padmé turned to face the dock. Siri and Obi-Wan were down there waiting expectantly for her. She needed to head out.
"Are you sure you don't want to stop by home?" Obi-Wan asked again, watching her carefully as she approached. He'd been doing that ever since she and Siri had quarreled yesterday. What was he up to?
Padmé nodded, giving a soft, sad smile. Entering the boat, she sat behind Obi-Wan and Siri and gave Varykino one last longing glance. The round towers stood proudly in the warm summer morning, glittering against the sun's light. The ivy growing on the balcony's edge swayed gently in the breeze, and she vividly remembered when she and Vader had waltzed on that balcony. She remembered the talks, the training, the games, the amusement, the confusion, the anger, the frustration, the understanding… everything. She wanted this vacation to last forever. She wanted to sort out everything. Life was moving too fast all of a sudden, as if the gods had somehow sped up the clock of the universe and she was scrambling to keep up.
Obi-Wan and Siri began a conversation between each other, talking about the handling of the speeder boat. The two then reminisced about their vacations in their youth. Their youth; they spoke as if they'd already seen five decades of time pass them by. Maybe they too felt like life was moving too fast. Despite this idea, Padmé somehow felt jealous of them; they talked so calmly, so carelessly, as if they could simply bask in nostalgia and then move on with their lives without a qualm. They had each other. They understood each other. They knew each other's secrets, shared each other's strengths and weaknesses.
Then she shook her head with a small moan that was drowned out by the boat's engine. She was the one putting herself in this position; she was forcing herself to be on her own. It wouldn't last for long; she'd tell Obi-Wan once they were alone. He'd advise her, and they'd sort this entire mess out. But how would she explain it?
Leaning back against the seat, Padmé closed her eyes against the sunlight. She wished she could go home. She wished she could tell Obi-Wan and Siri everything right now. She wished neither the Empire nor the Alliance existed. She wished there was already peace, that it didn't have to be fought for with every last breath of her being. She wished Vader wasn't the enemy.
She wished life wasn't so blasted complicated.
The boat slowly lowered into the water and floated to the rental dock. Padmé opened her eyes and grabbed her luggage. Obi-Wan helped her out of the boat as Siri called for a taxi. Though he watched her keenly, he said nothing. Whatever was on his mind, he wouldn't voice it now. Padmé wondered if he would ever voice it; Obi-Wan was always good at cutting to the heart of a matter in most situations, but he was unbelievably passive when it came to handling family. If he was called upon to mitigate a situation he would gladly do so, but if he saw something he wasn't sure about in what seemed to be a normal situation, he would always wait for the person in question to bring it up. At the most he would hint at something, but if the person didn't take the bait he wouldn't push the matter. Padmé often appreciated it, but right now she really wished he would be the one to start the conversation. She didn't know what to say, but she knew she wanted to talk to him about it.
She remained silent during the entire taxi ride to Oxon, but eventually Siri included her in the conversation as they chartered a shuttle to Theed.
"Padmé was there for that, wasn't she?" Siri asked, getting her attention.
Obi-Wan sighed. "I believe so."
Siri then faced Padmé as they waited to board the shuttle. "Okay, you have to tell me about it."
Padmé looked at her confusedly. "Tell you about what?"
"Obi's first piloting lesson."
Padmé blinked a few times, processing the statement and then laughed as she recalled the incident. Obi-Wan looked a little annoyed at her amusement; apparently he'd been keeping the matter to himself, which naturally made Siri all the more curious. "He was really nervous, so Sola and I were there to cheer him on. He was in the student pilot's seat, the instructor was beside him, and Sola and I were behind them. He went through preflight checks and everything just fine, but as soon as we were in the air he got really uncomfortable and refused to take the ship anywhere. We hovered there for a good ten minutes before he was convinced to fly the thing. Then we spent the next half hour slowly moving forward. I think we moved the length of the plaza in an hour. When it was all said and done he couldn't even remember how to land the thing so Sola and I offered to parachute out, but the instructor guided him through it."
Siri chuckled and glanced at Obi-Wan. "Honestly, and you made it sound like it was a travesty. What have you got against flying, anyway?"
"Perhaps the fact that only a thin sheet of durasteel is between you and oblivion," Obi-Wan crossed his arms, looking at her irritably. "Or the idea of anything going wrong; you can't exactly pull over and hop out and check the situation. On top of that, when you're in atmo you have to worry about atmospheric conditions, whether the vehicle will stall… and that doesn't even bring up entering and exiting a planet's atmosphere."
Siri shrugged. "That's why you're supposed to make sure everything's working fine before you leave."
"Yes, well, I still remember that incident over Kostaaburo." Obi-Wan remarked.
All Padmé knew of whatever he was talking about was that Kostaaburo was a planet in the neighboring sector. Siri, however, seemed to be in on the joke. She grimaced. "Yeah, well, that was the pirates' fault, not the pilot."
As the trio boarded the shuttle, Padmé asked, "What happened?"
Obi-Wan found seats for them and then sighed as he sat down. "We were going to Kostaaburo to bring food; there was a famine. Apparently that sector is known for its pirates; they found it quite entertaining to fire upon our ships."
"We had to land in escape pods," Siri continued. "It wasn't pleasant."
Padmé gaped at them. "Why didn't you ever tell me? Or anyone?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "It was an isolated incident; we didn't want to worry anybody."
"Honestly, most of our jobs were pretty mundane in comparison," Siri laughed.
As the three continued to talk about their experiences in both the service corps and the RRM, Padmé found herself relaxing. It was nice to have her mind occupied by something aside from her current situation. Once they arrived in Theed, however, her concerns returned, especially as they approached the spaceport. She grew silent until they reached the correct hangar. Padmé vaguely recognized the ship; Siri had dealt with Almusian Brek the most, and Padmé had only seen him two or three times, so she wasn't particularly familiar with him or his ship. She recalled the last time she'd seen him; it had been when he'd burst into their apartment to tell them about the spy and the Naboo operatives. Padmé wondered what had happened to Athia; it had been almost two weeks. With a wave of nausea she surmised the poor woman was probably dead by now.
"Al!" Siri called as the Zabrak exited his ship with a smile.
"Hey, I see everything turned out well," he said cheerfully. "Glad to see you're alright, Padmé."
"I'm sorry if I worried you," she said politely with a nod of her head. Sincerely, she added, "Thank you for taking care of Obi-Wan and Siri."
"It's what I'm here for!" Al replied cheerfully, putting his hands on his hips. "Now hop aboard the Invariant Beauty, the express way to travel for all those with sensible heads on their shoulders."
Padmé laughed and followed Obi-Wan and Siri up the landing ramp. The pleasant atmosphere remained until Al had guided the ship into hyperspace. By then everyone unstrapped from their seats and gathered around the table in the lounge.
"I presume Al's taking us to the spaceport rather than any personal hangar," Siri surmised.
Padmé shrugged. "Our ride looks more like a private charter, so he could land in the apartment hangar."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Al shook his head as he reached the table. "I kind of picked up a tail before we left Imperial Center."
Obi-Wan and Siri whirled on him. "What?"
Al laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I handled it, which is why I didn't bring it up, but… it might not be a good idea to associate myself with you guys publicly. I can land near a refugee sector; you guys can pick up a taxi from there."
"Sneaking around Imperial Center," Siri sighed and shook her head. "Business as usual, then."
"Besides, I've got someone to find," Al continued, garnering Padmé's attention.
"Who?" she asked.
"Some Imperial Intelligence agent," Al explained. "Obi-Wan saw him making a clandestine deal on Nar Shaddaa and one of my people tracked him to Imperial Center. If I can find him and tell him I saw the transaction, we might be able to get an agent in our pocket. Also, I'm looking to get into the market for Kelathik serum, anyway."
"Kelathik serum?" Padmé looked at them in confusion. "What is that? And what were you guys doing on Nar Shaddaa?"
"Al's ship needed repairs," Obi-Wan explained calmly. "We ran into an Imperial fleet, most likely the one that hit Yavin 4."
Siri started. "Sithspit, we didn't tell you about Yavin 4."
"No, but I…" Padmé was about to explain that she found out on her own, but the next question would be how, and… that would bring up interesting conversations about Vader. She wasn't getting into that now, especially with Al around. "I… figure it's not as bad as it sounds if you guys forgot to mention it first."
"Well the base is destroyed, but our people got out before the Imps arrived." Siri explained. "So yeah… we've got no base, and Mothma's in prison."
Padmé sighed heavily. "Is there anything we have going for us? What about that Jedi protector?"
"We don't know when he'll be arriving," Obi-Wan shrugged. "Senator Organa said he would have to get him out of hiding first. It could be a few days."
"I've got the means to contact the Alliance directly now," Al offered. "At the very least I can try to coordinate with them on a rescue for Senator Mothma."
"I thought you were going to be busy looking for our spy friend," Siri glanced at him.
Al shrugged. "I can do both."
"I wouldn't hold your breath," Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's highly unlikely the Alliance will able to do anything to help Senator Mothma until they can establish a base of operations once more."
"She may not have that long!" Padmé protested.
"No, but I assume Palpatine will want to make her execution public," Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat, his eyes bright with thoughts. "The news of her capture will have to be on HoloNet first. We've heard nothing about it publicly, only through Senator Tlenden. We have some time."
"Yeah, and speaking of him, are there any other planets anyone knows of that we can turn to for aid and supplies?" Siri asked the group in general.
"I guess that's another question for the Alliance," Al offered halfheartedly.
"Considering how important it was that we establish an agreement with Tlenden, I doubt it." Obi-Wan sighed. "The Alliance put a lot of stake in that deal, which implies they don't have many other options."
"Maybe I can convince him," Padmé suggested, though she wasn't sure how she'd manage to do so if Obi-Wan hadn't.
"I don't see that happening," Siri replied. "Tlenden is too stubborn; the only sympathy we got was from the warlord, and even she was more concerned with her clan than anything else. It's a moot point."
"We can't give up that easily," Padmé shook her head. "You said yourself their civil war was almost over."
"Unless it ends within the next day or two I don't see anything improving."
"The best thing everybody can do is lie low for a while," Obi-Wan finally said. "With Senator Mothma imprisoned there will be extra scrutiny on us; we should just mind our own business for the next few days."
Padmé wanted to argue, but honestly she had enough on her plate. If she and Vader were to continue their training on Imperial Center she didn't need to be juggling that with secret Rebel missions. Still, she felt helpless; the Alliance was drowning and it seemed like there was nothing she could do to save it.
Siri took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed. She didn't seem very happy with the decision either, but she didn't argue. "Fine. We'll lie low. But only for a short time – with all the worry about Bail we're basically the Alliance's best chance of getting help."
The Alliance's last hope. Vader's only hope. No pressure.
Padmé sighed heavily.
He would always remember this moment. It was such a beautiful sublime feeling. The dark ocean in which he existed was suddenly tossed about. Waves crashed against each other. The room was filled with energy. The Force rippled; to the untrained acolyte it was a subtle whisper, a soft change, a hair-raising uneasiness, but to him it was a glorious storm.
Vader was finally tapping into his emotions.
That microscopic pressurized box in his mind was bursting at the seams. He had failed his mission. He was reeling from the realization that he wasn't able to serve his master. Palpatine nearly giggled with excitement; finally he was getting the results he wanted.
There were so many different emotions to choose from. The most apparent was anger, which delighted him to no end. Vader was so angry it made his insides burn – it was his own fault and the senator's fault that he'd failed. Palpatine expected to feel fear as well, and while it was there, it was a different kind of fear than the one he'd been anticipating – it wasn't the cold dread of the punishment to come, but the sheer panic of not knowing what to do or how to control himself. He felt the cold trickle of a secret, and he grew curious. What was Vader hiding from him? Did it have to do with the senator? Had the woman managed to pierce the boy's defenses? It seemed so; Palpatine had expected she would be able to outwit the boy, but he wasn't sure if she'd be able to manipulate his emotions. It seemed he'd chosen the right target.
Vader had been on one knee awaiting acknowledgement for almost a solid minute. He was still as a statue, but through the Force his raging internal war was as loud as a TIE fighter's engines.
Palpatine leaned back in his throne, basking in the fury within his apprentice. The boy was finally growing into the young man he'd wanted. He'd always tolerated the boy's coldness before, but it was time he started to grow into a true Sith. It was time he lived up to his destiny. It was time Palpatine finally had a true reason to be proud of him.
"Rise." He commanded in a neutral tone. He let his presence in the Force fill the room with an icy chill. Vader didn't shudder; he was so used to Palpatine the emperor wasn't sure the boy even knew how to tell himself apart from the man.
He had to admit he was impressed; even with everything going on, Vader still held himself with dignity. He wouldn't beg for forgiveness or try to plead his case. He stood there, internally falling to pieces but externally showing no sign of issue. The only physical indication of his war was the exhaustion on his face and the occasional twitch of his hands. Palpatine could sense the boy steeling himself for his end. It was strange, though; amidst all the turmoil of emotions, Palpatine could sense one particular emotion that burned more than any other, and he couldn't identify it. Regret? Something else? Carefully, he pried into the boy's mind, but there was too much chaos for even Palpatine to make sense of it. He caught images of Amidala, of their time on Naboo, but it didn't seem to be the entire reason for the strange feeling. No matter; Palpatine sensed enough to be satisfied with the results.
"Report." He said softly. He had to give the impression that he was upset with Vader; if he showed his pleasure, the boy would immediately calm, and that was the last thing Palpatine wanted. He needed to keep these emotions out longer, long enough to fester and consume the boy so he couldn't hide them anymore. Then he'd learn how to use them.
Vader lowered his gaze in submission. "I have a written report of what little information I gathered, my Master, but I did not get anything substantial. I failed."
Pulling out a data pad, Vader made it float to Palpatine, not daring to take a step towards him. Vader knew how much contempt Palpatine held for failure; he probably figured Palpatine would be so disgusted with him he wouldn't even want to speak to him about the matter. Much to Palpatine's surprise, the boy seemed quite resigned to his fate; he still didn't have the fire of a Sith, the burning desire to survive at all costs.
No, resignation wasn't even the right word… willingness? Vader was almost eager to eliminate himself as if he were a diseased growth on Palpatine's finely tuned Empire.
The boy pulled out his lightsaber, but he didn't activate it. He was awaiting Palpatine's kill order. He actually thought Palpatine would want him dead. It was a reasonable assumption; after all, Vader was told that he was the Empire's primary method of finding out any information about the Rebels. He apparently did gather something, but he didn't think it was enough to satisfy Palpatine. What did he think would satisfy Palpatine?
The emperor stood and waved his hand aside, dismissing Vader's weapon. The boy looked slightly surprised, but he latched the hilt back to his belt.
"Tell me what you learned, my apprentice," Palpatine said, forcing some anger into his voice. The surprise on Vader's face turned to something else that the emperor couldn't quite recognize. It was so odd; he could read anyone's emotions so easily except for the one person whose emotions he needed to understand the most. He would almost call it frustrating, but at the same time it was intriguing – Vader himself didn't know how to express emotions, so was that making itself evident through the Force? Was Palpatine's inability to detect certain feelings due to Vader's inability to identify them? That didn't seem right, though; the Force was blatantly honest – it didn't give false information unless someone purposely put it there, and even then that false information was fed into someone's mind, not into the Force itself. An interesting mystery, then. Palpatine loved mysteries, but he also watched them warily; any situation could be turned against him, and while he enjoyed the challenge (after he finally obtained the entire galaxy as his plaything he needed a challenge on occasion), he wouldn't be foolish enough to let it fester without his interference.
"Senator Bail Organa is one of the political leaders of the Rebel Alliance," Vader reported, forcing the emperor to return his attention to the present matter. Palpatine felt mildly amused; he'd suspected Organa of being a traitor, though he hadn't been aware that the man had been at the top of the Alliance. "That's the most pertinent information I could gather."
Palpatine was quite impressed – the Naboo senator had been alone with Vader for almost two weeks and this small tidbit of information was all he could show for it? The woman was quite formidable; a pity she was on the wrong side of this conflict. He doubted he'd be able to stomach her much, anyway; her relentless optimism was sickening. Nevertheless, she might still prove useful; no sense in killing her off just yet. But Vader definitely needed some time away from her; despite his brilliant façade, Palpatine knew he was about ready to shatter. The Sith Master wanted the boy on his knees, overwhelmed with the inability to shove his emotions away, but he didn't want him to be a useless wreck. Besides, that nagging emotion still bothered Palpatine – what was it? What was he sensing? And why did it feel like he was reciprocating it?
Sighing, he walked towards Vader. "Come with me, my apprentice. You can make up for your miserable failure in another matter; though you couldn't obtain much from Amidala, I'm sure you can impress me with your investigative abilities on Mothma."
Vader latched onto the words immediately; he was filled with desperation and… hope? Palpatine watched the young man shrewdly; he felt as if he knew Vader inside and out except for one matter: his motivation.
Palpatine had thought for a while that he'd known Vader's motivation for obeying him so readily. It had seemed like it was just ingrained in him, like submission was ingrained in a slave. Occasionally, though, such as now, his behavior didn't quite match it; he wasn't cowering pathetically, he wasn't fearing for his life – he was so devoted he was willing to kill himself when he failed his master. It wasn't his concern over himself that motivated him, and that just didn't make any sense. Something to investigate later, he supposed; it was time to enjoy the show that Vader would provide in the prison.
He couldn't wait to see the boy unleash his fury on Mothma.
Tarkin paced the vestibule restlessly. The thunderstorm was forgotten to him. Whenever he heard it roar he always assumed it was Palpatine, and he'd jump and whirl to the door, wondering if Vader just met his end. He'd need a good stiff drink after this.
The Red Guard stepped aside as the throne room's doors opened. Tarkin immediately took several large steps towards the doors, but he didn't stand directly in the entrance. Instead, he waited with bated breath and was relieved beyond measure to see Vader emerge. He felt his knees tremble a little, and even Tarkin himself was surprised how happy he was to see the boy alive. He was about to go to him and guide him to bed (the boy hadn't slept in ages, after all) when he suddenly noticed that Palpatine was beside him. Tarkin paused.
"Is there something you require, Governor Tarkin?" the emperor asked him mildly, somehow amused at Tarkin's presence.
"I… wished to speak with Lord Vader, Majesty, but if this is a bad time…" Tarkin offered halfheartedly. He hadn't been prepared to explain himself to the emperor, which was a foolish blunder on his own part.
"By all means, accompany us," Palpatine offered with a condescending smile that made Tarkin's ire rise. "I'm sure you'll want to see the interrogation."
Interrogation? They were heading to the prison already? What about Vader? The boy looked haggard, yet his eyes were lit up with a strange fire. His expression worried Tarkin more than his behavior from earlier; he looked almost unhinged.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Tarkin bowed slightly in acknowledgement, but he didn't take his eyes off the young Sith. Would the boy even make it through the journey to the prison?
Palpatine continued walking, and Vader followed him obediently. Tarkin pushed protocol aside and walked right beside the man instead of behind him; if Palpatine was going to run the boy ragged he at least needed someone with sense to be his advocate… though Tarkin wasn't sure how he'd talk reason into either person. Vader had none by nature and nurture alike, poor lost fool that he was, and Palpatine… well, Tarkin was fairly certain psychopaths had an entirely different definition of the word sense anyway. Tarkin was no psychopath; simply an opportunist amidst lunatics… and apparently at this moment the only person who seemed to notice that Darth Vader was in no condition to interrogate anybody.
The three stood silently in the turbolift as it sped to a private hangar. Eventually, the emperor spoke, facing Tarkin.
"You will be returning to your duties as grand moff," he explained. "However, I'm sure you'll want to see this mission through, so I'm giving you one last order on the matter: contact Intelligence and have Senator Bail Organa detained immediately."
Organa? The senator from Alderaan? Tarkin shouldn't be surprised that the man was a traitor, but seeing as he'd been so fixated on Mothma and Amidala lately, it still was a jolt to the system. Nevertheless, he bowed his head. "Of course, sire."
The lift arrived at its destination and the three took a private shuttle to the prison. Tarkin's mind whirled with the different possibilities and how he could seize this opportunity. He and Palpatine would be alone to observe Vader as he interrogated Mothma, and so he would be able to speak privately with the emperor while the subject of Amidala and Vader's mission was still fresh. This was his moment; Vader had survived his encounter with Palpatine, so now it was Tarkin's turn. When they reached the prison, Vader was guided to Mothma's cell while Palpatine and Tarkin went to an observation room, which was emptied for their privacy and security.
"Majesty," Tarkin began carefully as they watched Mothma get dragged into an interrogation chamber. She looked on the brink of starvation, and her face was white as a sheet and worn thin. "I was curious as to how Lord Vader's assignment went."
"Were you?" Palpatine glanced at him. Tarkin held the man's gaze. "He failed to get much of anything substantial. Perhaps your advice to him was not good enough."
Typical; of course Palpatine would use Tarkin's own scheming ways against him. He'd told the emperor that he'd helped Vader so he could find a way to distract Palpatine from the issue of the Rebel base – now it was a possible weapon against him. He needed to fix that. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but the boy is… untried in matters of politics. Perhaps Your Majesty could allow me to teach him more rigorously? I would ensure he does not fail again."
"Really?" Palpatine raised his eyebrows and smiled in cold amusement.
"If my advice before was not clear enough, I wish to remedy that." Tarkin explained.
Palpatine examined him silently for a moment. Tarkin held to his resolve; Palpatine was a formidable foe, but when Tarkin had circumstances within his own control he had nothing to fear from the man. There was a reason he'd risen in the ranks, after all. He was no fool. He knew how to survive amongst the insanity.
"Very well," the emperor eventually answered, his gaze slowly tracing back to the interrogation room as Vader entered. "But after Lord Vader returns from his assignment."
Assignment? He was being sent somewhere? He'd just gotten back; Tarkin wasn't even sure he'd make it through this interrogation. Between Vader and Mothma, Tarkin was willing to bet Vader would collapse first.
Ah. The Jedi. "You're sending him to eradicate the Jedi fleet."
"Since the navy seems incapable of doing so, yes." Palpatine remarked, and coldness was so evident in his irritated tone that Tarkin shook off a shiver. "But enough of that; let's enjoy the show."
Tarkin finally let go of the subject and fully faced the screen. As soon as Vader entered the room, Tarkin suddenly realized he didn't have to worry about the Sith collapsing anytime soon. His movement was rapid, though jarring, and he immediately began the interrogation. He held his hand out in front of Mothma and demanded to know where the Rebels would be hiding. The woman looked tired, hollow even, but she said nothing. Then she started to scrunch her face. Tarkin crossed his arms in slight distaste; interrogations were not a form of entertainment but a necessity. He didn't feel any remorse for it, but he also didn't take much pleasure from it either. He supposed he should take some satisfaction in this, though, considering how much trouble this woman had brought him.
Mothma's face quickly morphed into agony and she opened her mouth gaping wide as if to scream, but nothing came out. She fell onto her hands and knees. Vader repeated himself, yelling at her. Yelling. That man never yelled. Tarkin took a small step towards the screen, wondering just how much Palpatine had broken Vader… how much he'd broken Vader.
"I… I don't know anything… please… I…" Mothma gasped.
"You are part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor," Vader snarled, and every muscle in his body tightened. "Your bases are gone. Where is your fleet?!"
His open outstretched hand suddenly clenched, and Mothma screamed. The sound was so loud Tarkin was fairly certain the walls were vibrating. He took a step back, unfolding his arms and doing his best to avoid being visibly shaken by what he was witnessing. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Vader break someone, but it was the first time he'd seen the man be so ferocious. He supposed what disturbed him more than Vader's fury, however, was the absolutely delighted smile on Palpatine's face. Tarkin felt his insides harden and grow icy cold, and he turned away from the sight, directing his attention to his comlink. He could bear to watch Mothma fall to pieces – she'd caused him enough pain and trouble, after all. He could even tolerate to watch Vader act so out of character, even if it was slightly disconcerting. However, he could not stand to look at Palpatine in such a gleeful state; Tarkin didn't particularly hate the man—he had no need for such a strong emotion against anyone, really—but somehow the sight of the emperor taking pleasure in watching his apprentice (who was so much more than just an apprentice) fall into insanity made Tarkin sick.
"I don't know!" Mothma wailed as Tarkin glanced at the screen once more. She was holding out her hand in a pitiful gesture for mercy. "I don't know where they are! I was arrested before I could contact them!"
"They would have allies who could hide them. Where would they fall back to?"
"We don't have allies! You destroyed all of them!"
"Then what about the Jedi?" Vader snapped, and he twisted his hand as if it were squeezing and breaking her. Mothma screamed again.
"We—thought—they—" Mothma tried to say but she screamed again. Vader took a sharp step towards her, kicked her, and pressed his hand firmly against her forehead. The show was over; he would rip her mind to shreds searching for the information. Tarkin returned his attention to his comlink. He was just telling Intelligence to arrest Organa when he heard Vader's lightsaber activate. He flinched; what was the man doing? Had Palpatine given the kill order and he'd missed it? It didn't seem likely. Despite this, Vader immediately cut the woman down. Everything in the room was crushed under some sort of invisible pressure, and Vader stormed out of the room, deactivating his blade.
"Sire?" Tarkin asked slowly, looking at Palpatine.
"She served her purpose," Palpatine remarked calmly. "The Alliance has no doubt figured out she's been captured; they'll have changed everything she'd have known, and everything else she stated was truth."
So he did give the kill order? Or had Vader just lost it and killed her out of anger? Tarkin had long suspected the boy had all the emotions associated with a Sith, however well hidden they were, but he'd never expected them to come out in such an uncontrollable way; he'd figured Vader's command over himself was on purpose and was calculated as such – he wouldn't just go berserk on someone like this.
What the blazes did Amidala do to him?
Shaking his head, he looked back at the emperor. "Intelligence has been informed, Majesty. Senator Organa will be in custody shortly."
Palpatine nodded and waved a dismissive hand in Tarkin's direction. Apparently he was done humoring him. It was for the best anyway; Tarkin had a great deal of planning to do. Although he was resuming his old job, everything had changed.
This was just the beginning.
Siri glanced out at the grey surroundings. Imperial Center was beautiful from the skies, but once one's feet hit the ground it turned into a duracrete mess crammed full of stressed and unhappy citizens. That was the better part of the city; the richer districts were full of backstabbers and corruption. Siri would rather take the poverty, crime, and misery, however saddening it was. Anything was better than those kriffing politicians.
Turning to Al, she hugged him gently. "Thanks for everything, Al. The vacation was about as fun as we could make it given the circumstances."
Al returned the hug wholeheartedly. "Stay safe, Siri, and keep an eye on Obi-Wan and Padmé; you've got the best aim out of the three of you, so be sure to blow those Imps to the stars and back if they try anything."
"Way ahead of you," she smiled, releasing him. "Good luck finding your agent."
Almusian nodded and watched the three depart before returning to his ship. The engines roared to life and the Invariant Beauty tore into the sky. Siri watched it go and suddenly felt trapped. She really didn't like being back on Imperial Center. The heart of the Empire had the foulest sensation in the galaxy; Siri could never quite put her finger on it, but just setting foot on the planet gave her headache, and it always had the coldest chill that tore to the bone no matter what season it was. Besides, she'd been feeling uneasy for the past few days; ever since the start of the New Year she'd had the strange sensation that someone was near her or following her or something – she didn't even know how to describe it, but something was different. She didn't know what it was, and she didn't like not knowing. Were they being followed? Were they in some sort of danger that they weren't expecting?
As the three walked Siri continued to glance around nervously, wondering what it was that she was feeling. She'd always had a kind of sixth sense that would tell her when something was wrong, but this time it was odd; it wasn't that something was wrong, just different.
"You alright?" Padmé asked softly, noticing her behavior. Obi-Wan had noticed too, but he didn't even have to ask; his curious expression spoke more than any words ever could.
Siri nodded. She didn't want to tell them anything until she had a concrete reason to explain whatever she was feeling. Since it wasn't her usual alarm for danger, she didn't tell Obi-Wan, but… she'd certainly investigate. She had to be sure they were safe. "I'm fine. You two go ahead. I'll make sure we don't have any uninvited guests."
"Al said we weren't followed," Padmé pointed out.
"I know," Siri sighed. "Just… please go ahead."
Obi-Wan caught her meaning and guided Padmé ahead, but he still glanced at Siri curiously. Apparently whatever was bothering her didn't seem to be affecting him at all, which was odd; typically they both caught on to trouble, not just one of them.
Despite her worry, their trip back to the apartment was devoid of any problems. They walked a few blocks and took a taxi the rest of the way, and Siri didn't detect anything wrong. As they settled back into the apartment once more, Siri sifted through messages and noted one from Representative Rekk Svoule. Why would the representative call during the final recess? She activated it and read the note.
Senator Amidala,
I wanted to thank you again for saving me on CC4. Words cannot express my gratitude, and I confess I was a little too shaken to try and show my thanks for you back on the colony. I'll continue to serve the colonies I represent to the best of my ability and will hopefully be as helpful to you as possible. In line with that, I took the liberty of hiring a new handmaiden for you; I know how much the loss of Sabé affected you and I didn't want you to worry about the process of finding another to do her job. Please accept this action as a small token of my appreciation. Her information is enclosed with this note.
With sincerest regards,
Rep. Svoule
"You saved Rep. Svoule's life on CC4?" Siri blurted out, turning to face Padmé. Both Padmé and Obi-Wan paused.
"Yes," she replied. "He was being held hostage by the slaves."
"You didn't say it was that serious," Obi-Wan remarked.
"The issue is settled now," Padmé shook her head dismissively. "It doesn't matter anymore. Did Rekk leave a note?"
Siri nodded. "He said he got a new handmaiden for you."
Padmé raised her eyebrows, surprised. "That was awfully nice of him."
"Sabé was your personal handmaiden," Obi-Wan noted. "Cordé serves the representatives. Rekk was a little out of line doing that."
"He was just trying to be nice," Padmé argued mildly. "Besides, I hired Cordé, so I could always make her my personal handmaiden and this new woman can serve the representatives."
"Fair enough," Obi-Wan conceded.
"In either case, I'll be the one meeting and training her," Siri glanced at the note once more. It was strange talking about something as mundane as training a new employee after everything they'd been through. And it was even stranger to imagine that this woman would be replacing Siri's friend. She felt a twinge of pain, but she fought it off. Vacation was over; she couldn't afford to be consumed by grief anymore.
"Siri," Padmé said slowly, as if she were considering something as she got her attention. "I know we've only just arrived, but…"
Siri immediately read her mind. "You want me to find out if Tlenden is in town yet."
Padmé nodded.
Sighing, Siri grabbed her cloak. "Sure, I'll check it out."
Well, it was time to get back to work.
"That's not exactly lying low, you know," Obi-Wan noted, crossing his arms irritably as his wife left the apartment.
Padmé gazed at the door where Siri had just exited, her eyes unfocused. She was pondering something, obviously, though Obi-Wan wasn't sure what it was. Padmé had been acting oddly since their reunion, and he didn't like it too much. He'd figured it was exhaustion, relief, and being cooped up for so long with one of the Empire's worst enforcers. But when she started talking about Vader yesterday… Siri had been appalled and upset, but Obi-Wan had been worried, far more worried than he'd been when they were doing their separate missions.
Obi-Wan was known for being kind and caring to others and for always trying to help, but even he knew he had his limits. He couldn't save every individual in the galaxy, even if he could try to save the galaxy as a whole by eliminating the Empire. Padmé, on the other hand… though she, like Obi-Wan, intellectually knew she couldn't save every individual, she still managed to find her charity cases that she would throw all her energy into. When she'd been eight years old she had befriended a woman at one of Theed's refugee centers; the woman had been hopeless and defiantly refused any assistance from anyone. Even Obi-Wan had tired of her stubborn self pity. But Padmé had been adamant and continued to help the woman, making excuse after excuse for her and trying to help her in every way possible. To everyone's surprise, the woman did finally get her head on straight and started trying to make a life for herself instead of wallowing in misery. Padmé had considered it a victory, and ever since then she'd always get these random urges to help some poor soul or another… or perhaps the urges themselves weren't random, but the people she chose. He wasn't sure. Obi-Wan often admired her for her kindness, but he also knew it was a dangerous game; people couldn't be fixed – they had to fix themselves, and he was afraid that was something Padmé never seemed to understand.
"Obi-Wan," she said softly, still staring at the door. "I need to talk to you about… about the vacation."
Obi-Wan remained silent, but he faced her fully. He'd been waiting for this conversation since yesterday. He figured she'd open up to him eventually; he rarely pushed matters when he noticed something.
"It's… about Darth Vader."
Obi-Wan sighed heavily. He knew it. He blasted knew it. Walking to the couch, he sat and motioned for her to accompany him.
"We… I learned a lot about him while you were gone," Padmé paced around the sofa, filled with nervous energy, but she eventually noticed Obi-Wan waiting expectantly. She reluctantly sat beside him.
She didn't seem to know how to continue, so Obi-Wan prompted her. "Such as?"
Padmé took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "He likes piloting."
Obi-Wan crossed his arms. She was avoiding the main point. "And?"
"He's… not as evil as we might have previously thought," she finally admitted.
"Because he likes to pilot?" Obi-Wan asked with mild sarcasm, watching her intently.
Padmé shook her head, frustrated with his behavior. They both knew he was leading her on, but he wasn't sure why she wasn't just getting to the heart of the matter if she knew what he was doing.
"We talked. A lot." She tried to explain. "He… told me things that… that convinced me that he's not as bad as he seems. He's just very lost."
"I should think so," Obi-Wan remarked dryly. The more Padmé tried to talk about Vader, the more Obi-Wan started to notice she was far more emotionally invested in him than she normally would be with her charity cases. His stomach knotted, and he instinctively grew colder in his manner. Typically a situation like this would elicit some sort of brief flash of panic and he would blurt out a protest, but the sinking icy dread in his heart was far deeper than a burst of emotion. Padmé was becoming infatuated with Darth Vader. Standing, he decided he needed to stop this right here and now. "After all, he is responsible for countless atrocities. Need I remind you of what he did to Sabé or the Naboo operatives? That's only his most recent actions. He's not very loyal to anyone from what I can tell; he kills Rebels and Imperials alike, or have you forgotten how he killed an Intelligence agent?"
Padmé's face flushed. "He couldn't help it, Obi-Wan. You don't know what he's really like."
The cold dread in his heart turned to an electric shock to every nerve in his body. "Padmé… this man is a murderer. He has killed thousands of people, innocent people—and Rebels! He murdered your friend, and his only purpose in his interaction with you is to kill you!"
"He wants my help!" Padmé argued, standing as well.
Obi-Wan blanched. "What?"
"He asked me to help him," Padmé explained, her eyes hard with conviction and stubbornness. "And I will help him."
"Why does he want your help?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously, his heart rate increasing.
"Because he…" Padmé suddenly trailed off and shook her head.
"Because what?"
"I don't… he's… I don't know if I can tell you," Padmé sighed. "It's very private."
Obi-Wan gave her a flat look. "Naturally you should keep a lunatic's secret from your own brother, then."
"He's not a lunatic!" Padmé snapped.
"Padmé, listen to yourself," Obi-Wan urged, and his panic finally started bubbling to the surface. "It doesn't matter if he asked for your help or not – his mission is to kill you as soon as he gets what he needs."
"He won't kill me," Padmé argued.
Obi-Wan almost gaped at her. Did she really believe that? "He's an Imperial and a trained operative. Every move he makes is calculated. Do you think he's going to suddenly fall in love with you in a span of two weeks?"
Fall in love. Oh shavit. "Padmé… you… you fell for your own trap."
Padmé looked as if she wanted to argue, but she suddenly grew quiet and her eyes grew distant. His words cut into her and made her realize something, and she shook her head and started to walk towards her bedroom. He was tempted to call out to her, to continue the argument, but it seemed his point had been made.
At least he prayed it had been made.
Let me know what you thought of the characterizations - for some reason my addled brain can't put this chapter together coherently so I want to make sure everybody's consistent and believable.