Geonosis

The Chase for Count Dooku

It had only been scant moments since she'd fallen from the clone gunship. Her entire body ached. She'd been badly hurt, her back lacerated by the claws of the rat like Nexu creature set upon her in the Geonosis Arena. The fall into the rough scorching sand and the shock of the impact had stunned her, leaving her weak in the blazing unforgiving desert sun. Luckily, a clone had shared her fall. He'd insisted on returning to base and seek safety, but she's refused. They had to reach the hangar, help confront and capture Count Dooku. The clone managed to find another gunned transport, speeding to reach the place where the traitor would seek to flee. Where the two Jedi she had previously been with would be.

Soon, their destination was within eyesight. A platform hangar doted with an ornate arched entrance, giving way to a bleak obscure tunnel. As she and the other clones disembarked, armed and alert, ready for confrontation, they stood in position ready for orders. Blaster in hand she gazed in utter determination and shock as a small solar boat made its way through an adjacent opening, dashing away into space.

Dooku… She had been right all along. The assassination attempts upon her life, the murder of her handmaid and friend Sabé, then Cordé on Coruscant… The Separatist causing havoc through the multitudes of star systems of the Republic, undermining its millennia long democracy. There was poison.

Her bones and head ached with anger. How dare the coward, once a revered Jedi master, scurry away after causing so much carnage! The vile turncoat simply couldn't spare innocents from the ramifications of his downfall, he had to drag the Republic and the galaxies peace with him. Targeting the ship, she knew all too well the distance between her blaster and her target meant she could do no damage. Her shots could not hinder the traitors escape, yet they were a catharsis.

The memory of her fallen friends and the eerily certainty that something dreadful had just occurred within the dark hangar fuelled a rage she had never believed possible for her to experience. Even during the invasion of Naboo, Padmé Amidala had never let go of her control, let passion dictate her actions or ability to think. For once, by shooting fiercely and flutily at the disappearing ship in the blazing horizon she let herself be rash.

Nevertheless, this was not to last. Letting reason speak to her once more she lowered her blaster. It felt smoldering in her firm grasp, scalding the skin of her palm. But she could not feel the pain. Her heart was beating feverishly, the anger soon replaced by terror and apprehension. Every breath of air seemed to be heavier, damp, sinking and crushing her throat.

The fact the two Jedi hadn't pursued the Count outside the hangar was a sign that something was amiss. With every step the sensation of emergency increased, grew until her vision couldn't focus upon anything but the foreboding entrance. Her pace transformed into a sprint. Now inside and submerged in darkness, she could barely manage to spy a faint illuminated space. Within it stood a little green form, Jedi master Yoda. He seemed to be staring sorrowfully at the ground, towering over two injured figures lying limply on the ground…The older man was struggling to raise himself to his feet, covering with his hand his slashed and burned leg and upper thigh. All the while, desperately trying to shoulder the visibly younger man. If the first man's face was marked by obvious pain, the others was riddled with pure, utter agony. Her gaze immediately intensified upon him.

Oblivious to her surroundings or the presence of Obi Wan Kenobi and Jedi Master Yoda, she let out a deafening cry:

-Anakin!

Rushing towards him, enclosing him into a tight hug, she was attempting to identify the source of his suffering. At first glance he didn't seam to bare any flesh wound, yet his skin felt pale and clammy. He was trying to whisper something, but as soon as he found himself in her arms his body crumbled. Catching his fall, she couldn't withstand the added charged and it wasn't long before he once again fell to the floor. She could sense something warm and fluid smeared all over her already ruined flight suit, then it dawned upon her. She couldn't help but gasp in terror. Anakin had fallen unconscious due to severe blood loss, caused by the wound left by the space of his now severed arm. Cradling his head between her lap, she became aware of the disregarded limb at the other side of the room, the glittering lightsaber handle still in grasp.

Regardless of his injury, Obi Wan rushed towards his Padawan. Yoda directed the clones that had accompanied Padmé towards the injured Jedi, while she kept on trying to reassure the unconscious Anakin. The clones lifted the young man onto a medical stretcher, while Obi Wan placed himself in another and the party made their way towards the gunship that would take them to a secure Republic base. Padmé still managing to stand by herself, took a seat beside Anakin. Hopefully it would not be long before they could reach Republic headquarters then Coruscant and the proper medical care they all so desperately needed. Otherwise, death could soon be upon them…

Authors notes:

Thank you for reading this intro to my second fanfiction. This is meant to be the first chapter of 3 to 4 elements of a story. I already have a pretty detailed and mapped out plan of what is to come in the next chapters, but I'm always eager to hear new ideas or suggestions. Please tell me what you think of this story and maybe the general direction it should take.

As a side note, I don't intend to make descriptions of injuries gory or untasteful, so let me know your impressions.

This narrative is meant to explore the feelings and experiences of one of my absolute favourite characters in the Star Wars prequel era Padmé Amidala. This is my second fanfic where she is the main character (just in case you haven't previously read my first one).

Let me know what you think of the depiction of Padmé, considering she will be fleshed out more as the story goes on.

Thank You and may the force be with you!

Que la force soit avec vous!

PS: I apologize if there are mistakes associated with grammar or language. My mother tongue is French, and I only recently started writing fiction/short stories in English.