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Chapter 11

One

Escaping wasn't hard. When the Sith fleet entered hyperspace, Landon jumped also, simply setting a different course. Now the ship was on autopilot, leaving nothing to do but wait until Coruscant.

Padme sat on a bench. Miler was on the floor, trying to make sense of R2's insides. He was skilled with technology, but the damage was severe.

"Do you think you can fix him?" Padme asked.

Miler grunted behind his flashlight, peering into the droid's gullet. "I took a few robotics classes. But my attendance was… sporadic."

Padme smiled slightly. "I find that hard to believe."

"Had trouble payin' attention. I'd be loggin' flight hours or out on the shootin' range."

Padme played with a pant thread, watching it unravel. "Do you like that part of it?"

"Which part, ma'am?"

"Shooting people."

Miler switched off the flashlight. He found her looking down. "If they deserve it. I sleep quite nicely, if that's what you're wondering."

Padme frowned at herself. It was such a cruel question. This was the Senate's war. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "For everything."

Miler's face softened as he rubbed his tired eyes. He flashed a smile that reminded her of a day long ago.

She felt ridiculous in her makeup. The ornate head dressing pressed her neck into her spine. She felt like the punchline of a vaudeville act. Nevertheless, she respected what it represented: countless centuries of democratic monarchy.

Panaka led her through the cobblestone plaza to a waiting congregation. Royal guards escorted a man in a cloak.

They met by a fountain, which babbled soothingly. The cloaked man drew back his hood, revealing a clean-shaven Jedi with closely cropped hair and a padawan braid. Padme smiled nervously, immediately taken with him.

"Your majesty," said Panaka, "this is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

There was something familiar about him. She could swear she knew him, that she'd even dreamt of him.

Obi-Wan said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness."

Padme extended her hand, a strange practice for a queen. Manners called for a kiss, but he simply shook it. His palm was firm yet gentle.

"The pleasure is mine," she said.

"We're eight hours from Coruscant," Landon announced.

Padme looked at the bacta tanks where the Jedi floated. She'd never felt so helpless.

Miler said, "When we reach Republic space, I'll send out a beacon—let 'em know we're the good guys."

Landon smirked. "Good guys, huh? I like that about you Republic types. No shades of gray."

Miler scoffed, "Ya don' think there's a clear difference?"

"Everyone's got a moral compass, kid. They don't all point in the same direction."

"I suppose moral relativism is essential in your line of work," Padme remarked.

"Says the politician whose war has killed billions," Landon retorted.

Padme's tone grew bitter, full of pain and frustration. "A war I did not seek! And my moral clarity has no bearing on your own. You're a common thief. You tried to leave them behind!"

"Kenobi told us to leave if he didn't make it! We almost burned alive waiting! I tried to do exactly what he wanted!"

"Don't you dare speak for Obi-Wan! You don't know him!"

There was a long silence. Padme suddenly understood the lure of the Dark Side. Anger was consuming, planting roots in our deepest parts. Padme wasn't Force-sensitive, but she pictured it filling the cabin, spiraling her in its will.

Miler tested his mouth twice before speaking. "I believe he's right, ma'am. The Gen'ral values your safety more than his survival."

Padme frowned at his lack of deference.

Miler explained gently, "His life means very little t'him where others are concerned."

Landon looked out the window at the beauty of hyperspace. Padme felt herself shrinking under Miler's gaze. In a matter of hours, he knew Obi-Wan's core. She felt ashamed to be reminded. "He's extraordinary," Padme said.

Miler turned to the bacta tank. Even skirting death, the Jedi was formidable. If there were a thousand Kenobis, this war would be over. But there weren't. Just him. Just one.

"He adores you," Miler said.

Padme's breath caught. For the briefest moment, heart and brain were aligned. What madness in men and women that so much is unsaid. What purpose is served, what safety gained, by denying what's plainly there?

"I was adored once," Landon murmured.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a monument to serenity. Truth be told, she'd dreaded his coming. But he had none of the Jedi arrogance she'd wrongly expected.

"Your planet is lovely," Obi-Wan said.

"For now. There are those who would make it otherwise."

"The Separatists?

"Them especially. But they're not the only ones."

"Who else?"

Padme grinned. She was accustomed to stares, but it was truly rare to have someone's attention. "I'll wait until you've solved my first problem, before I tell you of others."

"My mind has room for many thoughts, m'lady," Obi-Wan replied.

Was he flirting with her? She wondered if all Jedi were like him. And if he could seal the rift on her world. Somehow she knew he'd come through. Obi-Wan could move stars, were the duty assigned him.

He said, "It is not my place to make promises, your majesty. But I will do what I can."

"Thank you, Jedi Kenobi." Her face soured. "I only wish I could assure your safety during negotiations. I don't know who to trust, who supports the separatists, who's fanatical in my ranks."

"Then I shall treat them all with equal disdain," Obi-Wan deadpanned.

Padme giggled. "You aren't what I expected."

"And what did you expect?"

"Someone less… engaging," she admitted, a tinge of color on her face. "And older perhaps."

"Would you prefer I were older? More experienced?"

"The Jedi sent you for a reason. I do not doubt them."

Obi-Wan smiled warmly. She quite liked the sight of it.

They lapsed into companionable silence. Being with him was so different. It felt peaceful and genuine.

When the sun began to set, Padme thought about the future. It was unbearable not to know it. Did Obi-Wan feel the same? She'd heard stories her whole life.

"They say Jedi can see the future. Is that true?" asked Padme.

"It's overstated. But to an extent, yes." He, too, watched the sun sink. "I don't know when I'll die, or the winning swoop-bike at the races. But I see bits and pieces. Sometimes it's hard to make sense of them."

"Is that frustrating?"

"It can be," he admitted. "But I shouldn't intervene with the will of the Force."

"So you believe in fate then?"

Obi-Wan smiled enigmatically. And she was sure his eyes could swallow a star.

Padme watched helplessly as they transferred Obi-Wan from the tank to a gurney.

Bail Organa gently pulled her from the path of the stretcher. She touched Obi-Wan's hand, before the medics hurried off.

"I called in the chancellor's personal physician," Bail told her. "He's in good hands. And we both know he's stubborn as hell." Padme nodded through a sheen of tears.

Bail turned to Miler. "You must be Lieutenant Crata."

"That's right. It's very nice t'meet ya, Senator."

"The feeling is mutual," Bail said. "I've known some resourceful men in my time. But rescuing two Jedi and a senator from a war zone in an enemy ship? That's a new one to me." Landon scowled at the misplaced accolades.

"It wasn't just me, sir." Miler said of the smuggler: "He also had a hand in it."

Bail smiled humbly and extended his palm. "Then my thanks to you, as well. You've done a service to the Republic."

Landon stared at his hand before cautiously taking it. "Yeah, sure. Happy to help. But now that I've done you a favor, maybe you can scratch my back."

"What is it you need?"

"Well, I'm an entrepreneur—" He ignored Miler's snort. "—and the Sith just destroyed my entire operation. Matter of fact, I ain't got a thing in the world but what I'm wearing. I figure since boss man—" He gestured to the absent Obi-Wan. "—is kind of a big deal, me saving his life might be worth something."

Bail said, "We'll work something out. Until then, you're an honored guest. I'll see that you're given quarters in the Jedi Temple."

"Senator," Miler interjected, "I'd like to get in touch with my commander. Meet up with my squadron. Do you know where they are?"

Bail's mouth pinched at the corners. He didn't want to be the one to deliver this news. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. But you're the only member of your legion to survive. The rest were killed in combat."

The words hung in the air, dancing around Miler, before reality set in. He'd been so relieved to survive Sarna that he glossed over all the dead. Millions perished, including Leona and his brothers in arms. What was left for him?

"You're on stand-down," Bail said. "I know you were stationed on Taris. But for now, you're welcome here. Familiar faces might do you some good."

Padme rubbed Miler's shoulder. She despaired at his eyes, dry and lifeless. "Come on," she said gently, grasping his elbow. "Let's get cleaned up."

Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi strode down the hallway. Yoda rode a hover-pad, grave and sullen.

"He's our best tactician," Mundi said. "But even his strategy can't change the tide of war."

Yoda grunted. "More to it, there is, than his skills as a general."

"What are you saying?" Mace demanded.

The green Jedi sighed, adjusting his hair wisps. "Recall, do you, the day Obi-Wan was brought to the temple?"

"That was thirty years ago," Mace said, arching an eyebrow. "I remember you canceled our training to oversee his arrival. I found that… unusual as a padawan."

"Tell anyone the reason for my interest, I never did."

"Why?" Mundi asked.

"Knew, I did, that the information was dangerous," Yoda said. "When born was Obi-Wan, an echo in the Force I felt. As though his presence were redundant or unnatural. And when brought to the temple, he was, overwhelmingly strong the feeling grew."

Mace's forehead sloped in confusion. "I don't understand. What do you mean by redundant? How was his birth unnatural?"

"More to tell you, I do not have. Substantiate the feeling, I never could. Meditate on it for many years, I have, but it has brought me no closer to the truth."

"Was it the Dark Side you sensed?" Mundi asked.

"No!" Yoda replied, startling in his emphasis. "Farther from the Dark Side than Obi-Wan, a Jedi cannot be."

Mace paused as they neared the infirmary. He gave Yoda a pointed look. "You said we couldn't afford to lose Obi-Wan. Why?"

"Felt those things in the Force, for a reason, I did. And resolved they have not been. Sense, I do, that his fate and the Jedi's are inextricably linked."

Mace nodded slightly. He swept a hand across his mouth, lowering his voice as younglings walked past. "Have you told Obi-Wan?"

"No. Never."

"Perhaps you should," Mundi suggested.

Yoda shut his eyes, sliding into the porous Force in search of its will. But where he was searching, it was empty; and where he was open, it was closed.

His ears flattened against his head. "Perhaps."

Padme observed him staring at the grass. He seemed in tune with the motion of each blade. She wondered if a person could feel the Force by watching it be felt. Perhaps not. All she felt was her fixation with Obi-Wan.

He smiled. "It's a lovely day," he called to her.

"No more than yesterday."

He chuckled softly. It was a hymn to her ears. "Perhaps not," he conceded.

"Why do you like it here?" asked Padme , a little meek as she added, "If you don't mind the question."

"Not at all, m'lady. Though I mightn't have an answer." He paused, looking pure as a newborn. "I suppose I find peace here. There's an... energy I can't explain."

"Energy?"

"A point of calmness. Like I find in you."

Only her diplomatic training prevented a blush. "The calmness is yours," she said reverently. "How you resolved our conflict without blood, I'll never fathom."

He shrugged humbly. "I simply conveyed the cost of war in credits and lives. These men are corrupt, but they're not beyond reason."

"You act like it's nothing," Padme remarked with a giggle. "I tried to tell them that, too."

"Yes, but I' m a Jedi, My credibility surpasses that of a mere queen."

She saw through the deadpan. Obi-Wan had no sense of grandeur; in fact, he treated himself too poorly for her liking. Obi-Wan was comforting, unintimidating, and she wanted to dispatch his misgivings about himself.

"I'll miss you when you're gone," she said.

Padme watched him sleep. His arms were covered in gauze, sealing the burns from air. His heavily bandaged chest was flecked with red blotches. "Will he be all right?" she asked.

"Yes—thanks to you," said the doctor. "Any longer without bacta and he wouldn't have survived."

"His burns aren't as bad as I thought."

"We have the Jedi healers to thank for that. As a man of science, I can't account for the Force. But I'm content not understanding."

"You and I both," Padme said.

The doctor excused himself when Yoda, Mace, and Mundi entered.

"Senator, we're pleased to see you're all right," Mace said.

Padme smiled slightly. "Only because of Obi-Wan."

"Knew, we did, that he would succeed," Yoda said. "Refuse, he does, all other outcomes."

She was glad to hear him say it. Sometimes she thought they didn't realize how extraordinary he was.

"You and he are very close," Mace said.

Padme's lips pinched together in a warning to tread lightly. "He's a good friend. His strength is a comfort."

Yoda smiled serenely at the heart she wore carelessly. He lifted his hover-pad to eye-level, staring at her intently. "Senator, discuss, we would like to, a matter of great importance.

"Of course," said Padme.

"Better, it would be, to discuss it privately."

"I need to stay with Obi-Wan."

"I'll look after him," a voice called from the doorway.

Aayla Secura entered the infirmary. Padme had never met her, but she'd seen her speaking with Obi-Wan. She remembered feeling irrationally possessive. Obi-Wan spoke fondly of Aayla, having supported her when her master fell to the Dark Side.

The infirmary lit the veined tentacles folded behind the blue Twi'lek's head. Padme was immediately struck by her beauty. Hazel eyes anchored a soft face, with a small, pointed nose and full, pink lips. She, like Obi-Wan, emitted strength and compassion.

"I'll find you if he wakes up," Aayla promised.

Padme nodded reluctantly. She followed Mace to the door before turning back.

Aayla touched Obi-Wan's head in a motherly way. Then she sat beside Eisley, grasping her hand. Only then did Padme realize she was Eisley's apprentice. She wished she'd known. She might have said something kind.

If he had to choose one word to describe the temple, Miler would pick "sterile." It was all so clean. The wide, polished hallways seemed to go on forever. Skylights in the ceiling brought the light of day.

He looked out an oval window, staring until clock time gave way to the uncertain increments between thought and thought. At some point, he heard a rough voice behind him.

"Hell of a view," Landon said.

The temple spires grasped at the sky like a dreaming toddler. Below them was the wing where the younglings lived. Miler thought it must be strange to grow up a Jedi, to accept a proscribed path without any input. "Aye, it ain't bad."

Landon looked at him sidelong. "You doing okay, kid?"

"I'm fine," Miler said dully.

"Look, I don't do that 'life goes on, they're in your heart' shit. But since her majesty is with Kenobi—"

Miler scowled. But he looked more scared, more lost, than he did angry.

Landon watched him sadly. "Kid, there's no reason. So don't look for one."

"There has to be a reason," Miler said.

"Well, if there is, it's bigger than both of us."

"It doesn't make sense. I'm not special."

Landon thumbed at some stubble, staring at the spires. They looked like bayonets wielded at the sky. "We're all special," he said, thinking of his mother. "Don't it mean something that in a galaxy with a trillion stars, and tens of trillions of galaxies like it—that in all of that space, there's only one of each of us?"

Miller dipped his head. A small smirk tugged at his mouth. It occurred to him that being okay is a state of mind, and people can impose on themselves any state they choose. So Miler decided he was fine.

He'd always been practical.

The briefing chamber was less than she expected. The lack of windows made it cold and foreboding. At the room's center was a projector, used to display maps and plan strategy. She imagined Obi-Wan looking grim, rubbing his beard as he developed battle plans.

"I can't imagine what's so urgent," Padme said, dryly adding, "I hope you don't want my advice on troop deployments."

Mace walked to the projector, pausing indecisively. His hand hovered above the console before he squared his shoulders to her. "Senator Amidala, what we are about to tell you cannot leave this room."