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CHAPTER TWO

Two days later, Lord Vader had endured his fair share of irritations and complications due to his new involvement with the Senate. He was, however, no closer to knowing the identity of the Alderaanian girl. Alone in his office at last, Vader scowled out the tinted transparisteel wall and, not for the first time, plotted how he might discreetly find the information he sought. Clenching and unclenching his right fist, he considered his options. He couldn't involve any of the Emperor's spies - the last thing he needed was to alert the Emperor to his interest in the girl. He couldn't have that. There was no telling what the Emperor would think… and Vader knew from hard experience that it was best if the Emperor thought well of you and never suspected even the hint of weakness. He clenched his gloved fist again, glancing at it with an unconscious shudder.

That was a disappointing display, young Skywalker. Lord Maul, teach him a lesson.

He swallowed past the sudden queasiness in his stomach and relaxed his fingers, listening to the quiet whir of the mechanisms hidden beneath the glove. It was the only artificial limb on his body. Shaking off the memory of a lightsaber slicing through his forearm, Vader dismissed any and all ideas that involved the chance of Palpatine finding out.

Weakness will not be tolerated, young Skywalker… it is a blemish which must be removed. Cut away, if you will.

He had been building up his own network of spies, but that could be risky as well. If Palpatine found out that he was sending his spies to gather information without Palpatine's awareness, he might suspect worse things than mere curiosity about a girl.

Weakness, Lord Vader, is a luxury you cannot afford. Kill it now. Or I will.

He wondered if he might discreetly obtain a list of the names of Bail Organa's associates. He could start a preliminary investigation into Organa's possibly traitorous activities since the beginning of the Empire.

You think you can hide your thoughts from me? Young fool…

Vader slammed his fists onto his desk, hoping the superficial pain of the action would drown out his fears about Palpatine finding him out. The artificial limb made a much deeper dent than his own fist. He uncurled the droid fingers and stared at them, concealed as they were beneath the glove. His fist ached, but that limb felt no pain. Of course it didn't, he reflected bitterly. Because Palpatine had cut away all the weakness. By removing that piece of Anakin - the name seemed foreign even in his mind - he had strengthened him.

He had killed him.

The last thought echoed through Vader's mind, startling him. Where had that come from? Was he questioning his master? He one day planned to overthrow his master, but that was the way of the Sith. He had never questioned his master's methods before, never questioned the way of the Sith.

Choking on uncertainty, Vader clenched his droid fist until the gears began to squeal in protest. He stood up abruptly, coming to a decision. This girl didn't matter. He wasn't entirely sure why he had been so interested in the first place. She was an object of curiosity and that was all. He would put her out of his mind forever and save his energies for pursuits more worth his while… and more worth the lurking possibility of incurring Palpatine's wrath.

Feeling secure in his decision, Vader swept over to the doors of his Senate office, suddenly feeling cramped by the chamber and the thousands of beings in the halls around him. He needed solitude and meditation. He must clear his mind before the Emperor could even suspect that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. He gestured toward the doors and they unlocked and slid open. Gathering his thoughts, he strode forward into the corridor, turning toward the fastest route to his private landing pad.

He encountered a bit of resistance. There, in his path, was the petite brown-haired creature that had managed to send anger like a bolt of Force lightning in his direction. She was deeply engrossed in a data pad and was rapidly scrolling through a document. Vader simultaneously felt the thrill of fate handing him precisely what he wanted mingled with the tug of impending doom at the corners of his mind. He suddenly heard his master's voice crawling through his memory like a venomous spider.

Cut out the weakness, young Skywalker.

He took a step in the girl's direction. She came forward, still absorbed in her work.

Cut out the weakness, Lord Vader…

Only a moment remained for him to make his choice. So much could hinge on so little.

Rise, my apprentice. You shall be the epitome of strength. You shall be…

He made his decision. Feet firmly planted, shoulders squared, he faced the girl.

…Darth Vader.

The girl from Alderaan looked up from her data pad and saw him too late. Eyes wide, she stumbled directly into Lord Darth Vader.

Padme hurried through the corridors, dodging Senators, aides, droids, and tourists. She was trying to absorb the details of Lord Vader's new position in the Senate, which were outlined in the Emperor's latest decree. The Imperial Proclamation was currently streaming across the screen of her data pad, which she was fruitlessly trying to read as she avoided the traffic of the corridors. Glancing at the time, she realized with a sigh that she was running late and Bail needed her today. Slipping the data pad under her arm, Padme stepped out of the flow of beings flooding the main corridors and headed for the secure corridors for politicians and staff only. Once inside the much more sparsely populated halls, she resumed reading, trying to suppress exclamations of disgust at the obvious abuse of power.

At Vader's special session of the Senate a few days before, she had practically been seething with anger. What right did he have to be so flippant? One after another, every person in power had failed her and had failed her people. Valorum, Palpatine… and now Vader. And with his attitude, he was shaping up to be the worst of the lot. She exhaled loudly in frustration and returned to reading.

She didn't notice when she wandered into the emptiest hall of the building. She didn't notice when the doors opened just ahead. And she almost didn't notice the very tall, black figure looming up before her. When she did glance up, she was too late to avoid disaster.

One startled cry, several stumbles, and one very embarrassing situation later, Padme found herself seated in Lord Vader's private office with the man himself smirking across the desk at her. She ground her teeth and tried through an act of will not to blush.

"Do you always attack political figures in the hallways, milady?" he began with a very sarcastic tone. Padme did not appreciate it.

"Certainly not, Lord Vader." She glanced at the door, trying to remain cool and unconcerned. "May I go now, milord? I have pressing business to attend to." She silently urged him to let her go. She was in the presence of the second most powerful being in the known galaxy, a man who could do almost anything he pleased with impunity, and she was extraordinarily uncomfortable with it. But she would never let him know that. She forced herself to relax and tried to look slightly bored.

Lord Vader ignored her, leaning forward with a question of his own. "Who precisely are you, Milady?"

Why do you care? she thought desperately, her agitation - and irritation - increasing with every passing moment. Still, she couldn't very well refuse to answer.

"I am Padme Naberrie, an assistant to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan."

Her unrest increased when he seemed determined to continue the conversation. "You're from Alderaan, then? Not royalty, though, I suppose. Not as an assistant."

"I am not from Alderaan, Milord. I am… I am from Naboo." The statement caused her unexpected pain, particularly when the light of understanding dawned in Lord Vader's eyes. She could almost see his thoughts. Ah, she's from the planet that was destroyed by the Trade Federation…

She could not bear his knowing scrutiny, or the confusing motives behind his impromptu interrogation. She stood abruptly. He looked at her, utterly unperturbed, but irritated. "I really must be going, Lord Vader. I am needed elsewhere. If you will excuse me." She took shelter in the cold etiquette and fled the office as quickly as dignity would allow.

Once she reached the hall, she rushed toward Senator Organa's chambers, her thoughts flying faster than her feet. What in the galaxy was that about?

Back in his office, Lord Vader tapped his forefinger against his lips. He frowned for a moment, then with a great shrug he stood and stared out the window. A flamboyant caravan of vehicles making up a procession for some diplomat or other passed fairly close to his window, but he saw none of it. When he returned to his desk some minutes later, he was unaware that any such event had occurred.

He picked up the data pad within easiest reach and began to read. It was a very dull document - some sort of treaty. The frown didn't leave his face.

The next day, the incident with Lord Vader had all but faded from Padme's mind. Resolved to forget the entire thing, Padme threw herself vigorously into her work. She was all but welded to her desk throughout the morning, burning through stacks of flimsiplast documents and data pads like there was a bounty on her head. Bail Organa was in and out of the office, casting a few curious glances in her direction. He was kind enough not to mention the sudden change in her demeanor. About midday he threw a friendly "goodbye" and a smile over his shoulder at her along with an admonishment not to work too hard. He had lunch and meetings to take up the rest of his afternoon.

Padme had paperwork. She skipped lunch and continued to work, barely making note of the time. It felt… good to pour herself into something again. She didn't look up when the door slid open an hour after Senator Organa had left.

"Back so soon, Bail?" Padme asked, not looking up. "Did you forget some-" her last syllable died on her lips as she finally raised her eyes. "Lord Vader," she acknowledged, but it came out like a question. Her words would have been better translated as "Why are you here?"

Lord Vader, cloaked as always in black, examined the office with bored eyes, before finally focusing on its sole occupant.

"Milady," he said with a fractional nod. He swept forward and settled his tall frame into a spare chair across the desk from her. "Are you occupied?"

An hour later, Padme found herself in Vader's private office – again. She crushed the urge to squirm in discomfort and sat unmoving, her datapad clutched between her hands. Vader was shuffling through the stacks of flimsiplast on his massive desk, and – to Padme's intense annoyance – was making no effort at all to hurry.

Her anxious thoughts drifted back to the bizarre conversation that had led her to these intensely uncomfortable surroundings for the second time.

"I'll come straight to the point. I need an assistant for the day – and I'd like you." Vader's gaze was very direct.

Padme swallowed, trying to decide if there was any way to turn down the second most powerful man in the galaxy without being impolite or starting a political incident. She couldn't think of one.

"I'm afraid I'm very busy today-"she tried, unhopefully. Vader immediately cut her off.

"Just for the day. I'm sure Senator Organa could spare you if I asked him nicely." There was a certain amount of malice in the word "nicely" and Padme shivered.

With a growing sense of inevitability, Padme finally said yes. She was extremely confused by his request.

And even more confused by how relieved he seemed when she finally agreed.

"Ah." Vader's voice pulled Padme's thoughts out of orbit and planted them firmly on the ground. He handed her a stack of documents and gestured to a desk with a terminal that was situated a short distance from his own. "If you could organize those for me. This will be your station." He settled into his chair and began digging through another pile of documents. Padme ignored the whirl of questions in her mind and took the seat he had indicated. The stack of flimsi was a collection of reports which he had apparently had printed instead of using the original holographic format. Why in the galaxy he wanted hard copies, she couldn't imagine. But she filed away her questions and went to work, steadfastly keeping her eyes and her thoughts from Lord Vader.

Lord Vader couldn't decide if he was angry with himself or merely disgusted. He couldn't comprehend his own motives – and that was never a good thing. He restrained a grunt of irritation and glanced to his right for the thousandth time. Padme Naberrie sat at a tiny desk placed almost in the corner of the enormous office, exuding an air of quiet efficiency. She hadn't looked at him once. Annoyed that he was even aware of that fact, Vader returned his venomous gaze to the desktop which was piled with datapads and flimsiplast and wished that the sheer force of his frustration would incinerate the entire mess. He had brought the girl here on a whim, deciding that if the Force had placed this girl so blatantly in his path, she must be someone worth knowing. And he had never been one to ignore the strange workings of the Force. Not to mention that he was burning with curiosity about this quiet, unimportant girl whose anger had burned so bitterly, searing even his calloused mind. But curiosity was a dangerous thing, he knew. And he suspected himself of something infinitely worse – weakness. The girl – Padme – was very pretty, and he didn't mind looking at her one bit.

Lord Vader ground his teeth, and focused on the fact that he had brought her here in response to a sign from the Force. He had noticed her, intended to ignore her, then she was thrust unexpectedly into his path. It was a sign and that was all. Perhaps she had some connection to his plan to overthrow his master… he had often thought that the Force itself would have to be on his side for any such plan to succeed. Maybe this was the first moment that would begin to tip the scales.

He hazarded another glance in her direction, mentally abandoning any thoughts of productivity. He wondered how to gather some information so he could try to understand the girl's significance. The girl was extremely uncomfortable around him, so she wouldn't spontaneously spill her life story. And he had no intentions of involving his spy network – yet, anyway. Besides, he needed to keep this entire ridiculous situation as quiet as he could. The Imperial Court was a nesting ground for wagging tongues, and if even one of them wagged to Palpatine about Lord Vader and a senator's assistant, his master would be most displeased. Swallowing through the sudden chill that swept over him, Vader continued to ponder in silence.

And then, an idea struck him. An odd one, certainly, but as he considered it, he began to think that it might be the best approach. His eyes flicked to her desk, which was nearly cleared of its contents, and he realized belatedly that he was going to have to invent more tasks for her if he intended to keep her here long enough to finish formulating a plan of attack. Hefting an armful of flimsiplast documents, he replenished her stack of unfiled documents without a word and returned to his desk.

She didn't even look up, and search as he might, he could detect no hint of irritation from her. Where was her brilliant burst of anger from before? He stashed the idle thoughts away and returned to his planning. Every operation, whether covert or a full frontal assault, had to be perfectly planned. And Darth Vader didn't make tactical mistakes.

Padme was exhausted. It had been such a long, strange day, and she wanted desperately to sleep. But she knew sleep wouldn't come easily when she returned to her dark, empty apartment. It never did. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed quietly.

But not quietly enough. When she glanced at Lord Vader, she encountered a curious gaze. "You're tired," he began without preamble. She opened her mouth to protest, but he waved her unspoken protest away. "Go home. You've done all I needed." She nodded and began to collect her things silently. But the heaviness was coming. The heaviness she always felt when it was time to go home and face the long, sleepless night. It grew like a threatening storm cloud in the distance, filling her with a sharp sense of dread. Out of the corner of her eye, Padme saw Vader stiffen and cock his head, like a dog catching a strange scent. She saw him turn and study her as she stacked papers and swept away the clutter of the day.

"Unless," he began suddenly. His pause stretched on, pulling Padme's eyes to his face. He looked troubled, though she couldn't imagine why. He shook off whatever had momentarily silenced him and went on as though there had been no pause. "Unless you like the opera." He studied her again, apparently content to be enigmatic.

Padme was too tired for games. "I've never been to the Coruscanti Opera." When she had arrived on Coruscant, her heart had been much too full of her own tragedies, let alone any fictional ones.

Vader remained aloof, but in a way that was becoming distressingly habitual, he continued the conversation. "Naboo had a celebrated opera company, I believe," he observed lightly.

Padme blinked away a sudden rush of memories of plush seats, vaulted marble ceilings, and rich music filling the warm night air. "Yes," she said in a voice much softer than she intended. "We did."

"The Coruscanti Opera is performing a Nubian work tonight," he inserted smoothly, completely nonchalant, completely unconcerned. He might almost have been mentioning the weather for all the excitement he projected.

Padme was mystified. "I'm glad," she said quietly, slipping a datapad under her arm as she stood, and starting for the door. But the mention of her home had taken root and was straining against her thoughts of retreat. She suddenly turned back. "What is the opera?"

The look on Vader's face was somewhere between anger and anxiety when she suddenly faced him, but it quickly rearranged itself into detached boredom. "I'm not sure of the title – something about a lost queen-"

"The Bereft Queen," Padme supplied suddenly, her eyes growing distant and unfocused. She remembered the premiere of that particular work. She had been unable to attend the performance as she had been offworld at the time. If she had been at home she would have gone with her mother. Maybe she would even have talked her father into going… her throat ached and she quickly shut the door to those thoughts. She would not lose control here, of all places.

"I believe you are right," Vader replied, his eyes never leaving her face. Padme wondered what he was looking for. "If I asked you to accompany me to the performance," he began suddenly, "What would you say?"

Padme's mind turned to water. She had been appropriated as an assistant to Lord Vader, had her lost planet and her lost culture thrown in her face, she was exhausted beyond belief and she just missed it all so much…

"I would say yes." She was a little surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. And apparently so was Lord Vader if his slightly stunned expression was any indication. She wasn't even sure why she had agreed and she was much too tired to think about it. But the thought of going to her apartment was becoming increasingly unbearable and the thought of seeing a Nubian opera burned like a beacon of hope in the distance. Maybe, for just a little while, she could go home again.