The atmosphere in Leia's pod for the rest of the session was less than inspiring. Luke didn't slip out to his own one, though he probably should have. He stayed with Leia, sitting through the whole hour or two left to go by the time theirs had been concluded, and exited with the rest of the occupants.

She caught his arm before he went and said in a hushed voice, "I'm disappointed."

"Yeah. Very." He sighed. "But not surprised, either."

"No." Leia shared a sympathetic look with him. "We have another shot, at least. We'll have to schedule another committee meeting to reopen it along this line of enquiry, but we can think about it in the meantime and bounce ideas off of each other beforehand. I just can't believe…" She broke off. "I can't believe we have to justify why Imperial citizens deserve a fair trial. They're not even pretending anymore."

Luke stormed back to his office the moment his feet touched carpet again. By now, he had surpassed anger. He was well into desperation instead. Amidala was never going to let their proposals gain traction; she was stringing their committee along rather than let it die a quick death to give him the honour of the killing blow.

"Luke?" Sabé slipped in just behind him. He wondered how long she'd been right behind him, keeping pace. "How are you holding up?"

He collapsed onto his sofa. "I should have expected it to go like that."

"You shouldn't have." He gave her a look. She amended it to, "You shouldn't have had to. The way she conducts the Senate… it's an insult to what that organisation used to be. It's blatantly controlling."

"I thought you said the Senate have always been fairly toothless?"

"They were. Unless Palpatine needed more money for the Clone Wars, then suddenly they were full of bloodlust." Sabé hissed out a breath. "But at least the people who cared only had to cut through apathy to get a bill passed. With how she discourages anyone she doesn't like from speaking up, I'd give anything for it to be that simple now."

"I think apathy is still such a big issue," Luke said. "What use is democracy when everyone involved in the democratic body would prefer an autocracy? So much of the Senate supported her!" The clapping would haunt him for weeks. "They either supported her, or they just didn't care. The amount of people who blatantly didn't listen…"

"Facts and figures are never going to garner the emotional engagement you want, Luke," she sympathetically. "But it's a testament to how little they take their jobs seriously that they won't even try."

"Emotional engagement?" Luke asked. "Why do I have to rely on manipulating other people's emotions to make them believe the truth? Why is the Senate so inherently out of touch?"

"Not everyone in the Senate. I presume you noticed how much Amidala was influencing who the speaker selected to speak, and how she pushed through a resolution before allowing for any debate whatsoever."

"I did notice that," he admitted. "I thought it was even more disheartening that nobody else seemed to care."

"So many people care. There's just nothing we can do about it." She clasped his face in her hands. "Careful. Don't let yourself grow fatigued." She moved her hands back to her lap. "Your quiet faith is one of the best things about you."

"They believe so fiercely in something so wicked. I wish I had that certainty."

"No, you don't. Ethics are murky. If you're ever one hundred percent certain about anything when it comes to them, you're wrong."

He scrunched him his nose. "I hate it."

"I know." Her arm went around his shoulders, and her fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck, just escaping his bun below the headpiece. "Stay your course. It's exhausting, but it'll be over soon."

"What course?" Luke asked. "When she gave that address at the end, she looked me right in the eye. Said that the events unfolding on Tatooine and Naboo would no doubt deeply impact the findings of the committee." He took a shuddering breath. "She still wants me to condemn or give up this project—maybe even association with Leia."

Sabé stiffened. "You shouldn't," she said. "The moment you cave to what she wants, you have lost."

"I know. But Naboo is counting on me. I have to think strategically." He gritted his teeth. "I think this committee is going to fail anyway. If we can't convince the Senate that sentencing innocent people to death for crimes they didn't commit is bad, what can we do? Isn't it better that I cut our losses and take what help she can offer for Naboo?"

"She won't offer help for Naboo. She'll find a way not to. And then you'll have burned your bridge with Leia, she'll move to isolate you further, and strip you of any power as an opposition senator. This isn't just about pragmatism. At this point, maintaining your image as the young idealist is holding your career together."

He bit his lip and stared at the door. Absentmindedly drummed his flesh fingers against his left, artificial wrist. When he'd been stressed as a kid on Naboo, he used to steal Darred's tools and fiddle with his own hand, feeling the physical changes he was making to himself as he did.

"I have to make a decision," he said. "I need to save Naboo."

Sabé seemed to reach some form of resolve. "No, you don't." She rubbed his back with her palm again. "I'll handle it."

"What?" He jerked his head up to stare at her. "How?"

"I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"It's best if you don't know."

"Auntie—" He broke himself off. "You said no more secrets."

"And I said I wouldn't keep secrets from you if it wasn't necessary. I won't. But it is best if you don't know. Can you trust me?"

He paused but nodded. "Yes."

"Then I'll handle it." She kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry about this. Worry about changing a few hardened hearts with your next appeal and surviving the vipers' nest. Everything will be fine."

"Will you be fine?"

"I'll live." It wasn't reassuring. "You need to get changed for the ball. It's in less than two hours." She looked him up and down. "Unless you want to go in that dress?"

"A Naboo senator being seen in the same dress twice?" he teased. But—"Yeah. I wanna keep this one on. It works as a ballgown."

"What are you trying to say with it?"

He pursed his lips. "The same as before. I'm going to fight for liberty. I'm going to drag it back from the dead with my bare hands. And I'll do it within the Senate, or without it."

Sabé smiled.

Bravado or not, Luke's pessimistic mood dogged him right into the hall that was being used for the ball. It was one of the largest halls in the Senate building, he thought, with six mezzanine levels above the main floor before reaching a skylight; it was the main thoroughfare through which senators and staff streamed throughout the day.

Despite its importance, it was an unusually small gathering. He wondered if Padmé had a habit of picking out her favourite senators and throwing these functions to emphasise their exclusivity. There wasn't really another reason she would have a function in a public hall so many people used but were encouraged to avoid if they weren't invited. Your place in the Empress's favour would be undeniable. It was just another way that she kept people wanting to do her bidding, he supposed, so they could keep their privileges. He did wonder how furious the other guests must be that he and Leia got in immediately after their rebellious bill.

The hall itself was decked out extravagantly, though. Great tapestries and banners had been hung in the arches and levels above, some mezzanine levels shut off entirely by fabric an inch thick. The bold stamp of the Imperial cog was everywhere; when he viewed them out of the corner of his eye, they seemed to turn, teeth bristling. The marble floor had the same pale gold pattern as the pillars that lined the walkways on the outside of the hall. When he walked around it, Luke's gaze zeroed in on the incongruous black and red stones that made up the mosaic in the centre of the floor. The Imperial cog had ignominiously replaced the Republic cog, it seemed, but they hadn't bothered to change the floors themselves.

It was stuffy in the ballroom. Luke, hanging around the edges, was already starting to sweat from the people milling about. His anticipation had been that there would be dancing, but it didn't seem to be that kind of ball, which offended his Naboo sensibilities. At least he was wearing comfortable shoes.

Sabé hadn't been invited, of course, so Luke had come alone. He hovered on the edge of the crowd, gripping the glass of elderflower wine he'd snagged from the drinks table, and looked for someone he knew.

The only person he knew was looking right back at him. Pooja's gaze looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he hadn't changed out of Amidala's dress, and her eyes crinkled slightly in confusion. He didn't offer a shrug, or anything that might answer her query at all, and turned away.

Too late. She forged her way towards him and was at his elbow in no time. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Am I not allowed to?" he asked coolly. "Or was it a backhanded gift?"

She stiffened. "Aunt Padmé wants to know," she retorted. "It seems scandalous, to wear it now, to two events. She wants to know why."

"And you'll be asking and doing the dirty work for her, as always?" That was petty, but Luke was allowed to be petty with his sister.

"That's what a handmaiden does, Luke. Serves her mistress."

"And that's what you want?"

"It's an honour."

He didn't know why he'd expected different: he hadn't done anything except argue with Pooja since he got to the Senate. She would still be infatuated with the Empress; it wasn't like he'd made any attempts to change it. Pushing her away had only pushed her further onto that path. Isolating her had made the issue worse.

Was that Padmé's scheme? He couldn't outthink his mother. She had layers of manipulation going on at any one time.

He tried to smile, but it wasn't genuine. Pooja could tell. "I'm happy for you."

"I thought you hated lying."

"I do."

"Why can't you be happy for me?" she asked. "I have a job. I'm proud of what I do. My boss is proud of me, pays me well, and makes sure my work is rewarding. I get to work with my brother. I get to make a difference in the galaxy. That's everything I could possibly want."

"My concern is what difference you're making in the galaxy."

She rolled her eyes. "A good one."

"Really? Aren't you the one who convinced Aunt Padmé to go back to Naboo?"

"Yes? And?"

"Look what's happened now. You must have known that would inflame tensions."

"Good!" Pooja clutched his arm. "Luke, we were walking on eggshells for so long. You were nearly"—her voice hitched—"assassinated by the discontents in Naboo society. And I was the Senator of Naboo as well, remember. I know exactly what sort of fatigue you're feeling."

"Do you?"

"Yes! It's exhausting. There is so much to consider—such a delicate situation at home—so many people you have to do justice in the Senate. I can see you getting more tired each day, and I understand. It's not just your injury." She glanced at his torso. "How is that, by the way?"

"Almost healed. So long as I don't bump into anything."

"I'm glad," she said. The sincerity in her voice hurt. "I was worried about you. I still am."

"You always are."

"You're so passionate. You run headlong into danger with no thought for yourself, only for others. Listen for once, you hard-headed idiot."

He should say no. Walk away. He couldn't trust Pooja. She might be spying on him again. What if he gave something away, or she suspected something? Her words might as well come straight from the Empress.

No. That wasn't fair. Her words were her own. She'd just swallowed so many of Padmé's that she couldn't regurgitate much else.

That would all always be true, even if he wished it wasn't. But she was his sister. He had come here to save her—how could he do that without talking to her, truly?

"I'm listening."

She blinked at him, startled—then smiled. He hadn't seen her smile like that in months.

"You're exhausted. The Senate and the process is eating away at you. Don't think I can't tell." He made to interrupt, but she shushed him. "I've been there, Luke. Working as a senator was horrible. Politics on Naboo is frustrating enough, and I don't think I would have lasted much longer there. But there are so many people in the Senate, and none of them care about us." She bit her lip. "They never have. I tried to make them listen so much, but they never did. I'm glad I'm not a senator anymore. Someone needed to make them listen. That's what Aunt Padmé does."

Luke looked at her sceptically. "Aunt Padmé shot down my proposal today."

"She stopped it from being shot down. She kept it open. No one would have cared without her backing. I do support your aim—"

"You never gave me that impression."

"—but you need to stop acting like your democratic way of doing things is going to work. I was trying to get you to wear it down into something that would. Senators are happy to sit and get paid, without really addressing the tensions and problems in the galaxy. You need someone to make them listen. And as a handmaiden, I don't have to deal with that. There's only one person I need to convince, and she always listens."

"But can you convince her?" Luke challenged.

"Yes. With evidence. If it's obvious how much it means to me. She's a good person, Luke, and she uses her position to do good. The Empire is so much more effective with her in charge. I like working for her. I like getting to actually enact legislation and get things done, rather than argue about them until it's too late."

Luke's heart ached. He was so tired of giving everything and getting nothing.

"If you can convince her," Luke said, "can you convince her to free Naboo? People are dying, Pooja."

"People were always going to die, Luke." He closed his eyes at that. "I told you—the violence on Naboo is not new. We've been about to explode for years. No queen or treaty or election was solving it. Debate just brought it out into the open. We needed something like the Empire to come in and solve it indisputably. How much worse would the violence be if there weren't soldiers to de-escalate the situation?"

Luke could understand that point of view. From Padmé and from Pooja. Democracy had failed to resolve that issue. He wanted to give it more time, but it had had years. It hadn't done it.

But that didn't mean invasion was the way forwards.

"How much worse are you making this for yourself, pushing everyone away?" Pooja whispered. "I miss you. I know that you miss me—you can't hide your emotions. The more we avoid each other because we disagree, the more it hurts us. And I know you call her Aunt Padmé. It's clear you've grown to love her as I have. How much more exhausted are you because you try to keep us and your feelings at arm's length, for fear of losing your perceived moral purity?"

Luke shook his head. "I'm not exhausted, Pooja. I'm angry. That's why I'm wearing this dress."

"We're all angry, Luke. And I know you're angry at me—on the spying front, you have every right to be. I preach at you to trust me, but I didn't trust you." She took his hand. "But why do you hate my position? Is it because you're angry at the government I'm a part of? Or because I can actually do something about the things I'm angry about, rather than gutter out like a candle flame?"

Luke took a drink of his wine. "Definitely both, Pooja."

"At least you're a little bit self-aware."

"I can't trust you," he said. "The spying thing aside, you were actively trying to stall and sabotage the project we were working on. At least half of my exhaustion is because of you."

Pooja flinched and took a step back. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "I didn't agree with it from the start. I had a job to do, to make it presentable."

"You still did it. And now we're back into committee meetings, because you're not convinced that executing innocent people is wrong."

"It's not like that!" she snapped. "It's a sacrifice—"

"For the larger regime?" Leia materialised at Luke's elbow. He wasn't sure whether to scream or cry from relief. Another sister was both everything and the opposite of what he needed right now. "I've heard that before. Strangely enough, it's only used to justify sacrifices imposed on innocent people, not the sacrifices politicians themselves make."

Pooja sighed, her vulnerable expression gone. "Princess Leia, you should just be grateful your precious reforms might still be adopted. Your initial proposal was rejected on sight, and only dug out of the dumpster because Luke found a way to salvage it. Even with all the work we have done, this would have been dismissed too, had my intervention and rigorous opposition not given it a second lease of life. For once in your life, take the gift given instead of seeing enemies everywhere."

"I don't see enemies everywhere," Leia said. "Luke and I are friends, after all. I only question the motives of people who say one thing and do another."

"Is that an attack on me or Empress Amidala?" Pooja asked coolly. "I still find your hatred of an empress rich, coming from a princess. Even your concern with the courts is hypocritical, considering what Luke discovered about Alderaan's own courts."

Leia didn't bat an eyelash. "You can find whatever you want. Make a treasure hunt of it." She gave Luke a tight smile. "We'll start work on the presentation again next week. Having you on the team might actually be useful for once: finding out what persuades you to care about sentient life will give us an insight into the minds of other such soulless people. This will get passed."

They glared at each other and looked to Luke for support. He didn't respond. Padmé's ultimatum still left him staggering.

It might get passed. But what would the cost be?

"Pooja! Luke!"

The tense moment was broken by, again, the last person Luke wanted to see. By this point, he was wishing Vader was on planet. At least he wanted to talk ships with him, not politics.

But the reminder of Vader—and where he was—sickened him. He was in an even worse mood when he turned to greet Padmé and the entourage that followed her. Dormé gave him a gentle smile that he felt bad for clenching his teeth in response to, but his gaze caught on the dark-skinned man just beside her circle of handmaidens. Dressed finely in Naboo security forces' pale blue dress uniform and a cap, he cut a dashing figure, though he was surely too old to be an active ranking officer anymore.

"Your Majesty," he chorused through gritted teeth at the same time as Leia. She glowed in the gentle amber lighting at the ball: her dress was sleek and a vivid white, with short, angular sleeves and circular gold patterns embellished diagonally across her close-fitting, floor-length skirt. A gold silk train trailed behind her, patterned similarly. The gold headbands holding back her hair, along with the crown she always wore, gave the impression of ascending hoops.

He didn't know what it meant. He didn't really care anymore.

She was looking at his dress just as closely. "It's wonderful to see you wearing that," she gushed. "It really does suit you."

Leia gave him a strange look, but he just inclined his head.

"I must compliment all three of you on your presentation in the Senate earlier. You clearly put a great deal of work into it." Leia bristled. Amidala turned to the man accompanying her. "Captain, these are the senators I was telling you about. Senator Luke Naberrie and Princess Leia Organa."

"Good to meet you," was his initial response, unimpressed. It made sense that an affiliate of the Empress's wouldn't be interested in a few dissident senators. He hadn't been looking at them, really—he was scanning the room, like he was expecting a threat. Luke swallowed. The Millaflower Movement had needed the details of this celebration for a reason, he supposed.

Then the captain turned his head to actually take in Luke and Leia with sharp, dark eyes, and he froze. Likewise, with a full view of his face, Luke realised who he was. He inclined his head a little too late.

Leia had been examining him sharply. Before Luke could say anything, she tested the waters with, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain."

He laughed a short, deep laugh. "That's not been my title for a long time, Princess." He held out his hand to her, and then to Luke, to shake. As they did, he stared at them both intently. "Moff Quarsh Panaka, at your service. You must be my senator."

He shook Luke's hand extra vigorously, and all the pieces fell into place.

This was the Governor of Naboo. Of the entire Chommell sector.

This had to be the person that the Millaflower Movement were here to target.

"I am," he said with a smile. "It's an honour to serve you and Naboo." Pooja's gaze bored into his back.

"Well, thank you for bringing Her Highness—Her Majesty—back to Naboo." He looked at Padmé, who gave him an exasperated look, then back to Luke. "Your reputation precedes you in other areas, Senator—both of you—and I'm not a fan of troublemakers. But you coming back to celebrate our most important festival did bring back our most important queen, so I'll be forgiving."

Luke's smile stiffened. "As I said, it's an honour."

Panaka studied his face, his expressions.

Padmé laid a hand on his shoulder. "I need to go and greet Senator Falynn. I'll return shortly."

"Of course," he said distractedly, then turned to Leia. "Leia… Organa, you said your name was?"

"Yes." Leia was watching him just as intently. She likely didn't have the same mythology surrounding Panaka's role in saving Naboo to contend with; she just saw an Imperial Moff and was suspicious of him. "My parents are Breha and Bail Organa of Alderaan."

"The queen and viceroy." Panaka nodded.

"Have you met them?"

"No. But my wife did—she accompanied the Empress on a trip to Alderaan, once, when she and your father were senators together. And I've seen holos of them." He paused. "You don't look much like them."

Her mouth tightened into a thin line. "No, sir. I was adopted."

"Adopted, huh?" He nodded. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

Panaka glanced over his shoulder, to where Padmé was charming a handful of senators with ease. Then he looked back at Leia's face.

Luke's entire body tensed.

"You'd have been adopted right around the start of the Empire, then," he said.

"At the end of the Clone Wars," she subtly corrected. "I was a war orphan."

"The Organas adopted a war orphan for their princess." His little huff seemed almost snide. "That's very sweet."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "It is."

Panaka turned to Luke. "And you? Forgive me for prying, but I knew the Naberries well. You don't look much like them, either."

"Luke is my foster brother," Pooja chimed in, rescuing Luke from having to answer. "He came to Naboo when he was twelve."

"Twelve? Are you twenty-two as well?" Luke nodded. "Why did you change families ten years ago, then?"

"My family said I deserved a better life than a war-torn one."

"That's also very sweet of them. Where were you from? There aren't many planets at war, these days."

"There are still too many."

He smiled. "Well, you won't see me disagreeing with that. But there's only a few compared to before. The Empire's been very good for that."

Luke nodded again. He stayed silent until Panaka gave him another look, evidently not happy that his question hadn't been answered.

"I was from Tatooine," he said. Panaka's face went blank—whatever that planet meant to him, it wasn't good. "The Rim Relief Movement got me off and arranged a family to take me in on Naboo."

"It was kind of the Naberries to offer. They're a wonderful family. Though I understand they don't speak to Her Majesty much anymore. Don't hold with Imperial ideals." He shook his head in disappointment, still watching Luke.

"No. They don't."

Just like earlier, he didn't know whether to be relieved or dismayed when Padmé returned, her handmaidens trailing her. Luke subtly leaned against a pillar, shivering slightly.

Pooja noticed and cast him a look. He ignored it.

"These functions are always so busy," Padmé was saying, "I get utterly run off my feet." She smiled around at them. "I thought you'd like speaking to Luke and Princess Leia though, Captain, they're fascinatingly strong-willed individuals."

"They are," he agreed. "I've heard that much." He gave her a hard look. "They both remind me a lot of someone else I used to know."

"Surely you don't mean me."

"You know full well I do, Your Highness."

She took a sip of her glass of wine. "All our mischief was in the name of Naboo. It turned out fine in the end."

"It did." He looked around the hall, eyes alighting on the banners and drapes. "But I still got a few grey hairs along the way." He shook a finger in Luke's direction. "Senator Naberrie as well—don't you think he looks familiar? What was the name of that boy who destroyed the Trade Federation control ship?"

Padmé stopped drinking. Stared at Panaka, deadpan. "Anakin?" she asked, voice now dripping with irritation.

"They could almost be related."

"I think you need a drink, Captain," she said lightly. "Do you have an aide with you?"

"Not really, they're all on leave—my nephew should be around." He craned his neck to look over the crowd. "Diric!"

A boy, perhaps a few years younger than Luke, materialised out of the crowd. "Uncle?"

"Fetch your uncle a drink," Padmé ordered. The boy looked at her warily, unsure how to react to being addressed by the Empress, but at a nod from Panaka he took right off.

The conversation ebbed and flowed from there. Luke had a headache. Leia and Pooja had put aside their differences to shoot him increasingly worried looks at the way he rubbed his temple, but he ignored them and tried to follow along what Panaka was saying. Even with all his reasons to distrust him, he was a little giddy just being in his gargantuan presence. His no-nonsense attitude was refreshing as well.

"I hear you're concerned about the Empress's occupation of Naboo," Panaka said at last, and Luke almost groaned. His head hurt too much for that. "Ah, sorry to upset. But it seems like a relevant topic. I feel I should know my senator's stance on what's happening in our sector."

Luke smiled at him weakly. "Thanks for your concern. I understand why Her Majesty thinks it's a good idea. But I don't."

"She says you're convinced it will cause more bloodshed."

"That's the impression I'm getting from my sources."

Panaka nodded, looking sceptical. "I—" He cleared his throat, swallowing, then suddenly looking around. "Where is Diric?" He glanced around. "One moment."

"Of course, sir," Luke said to his retreating back. Diric had been gone for quite a while. It didn't take a whole ten minutes to get a drink, even in the knot of the crowd.

But Panaka was back soon, pulling the boy by the hand.

"Got lost," he said affectionately. Diric flushed. "Perhaps you could help him out, Senator? I can't imagine it was easy figuring out all these halls."

"It wasn't."

"Perfect. We'll be here on Coruscant for several months. I'll expect you to show him around." The boy looked at Luke in surprise; Luke tried to smile at him. "Now—we were talking about the occupation of Naboo."

Luke grimaced. "It's an extreme move. It won't endear the Empire to the citizens."

Panaka grimaced in return. "I understand that. I'm trying to make it more attractive."

"It's working."

"After the Trade Federation's invasion, I tried to argue with Her Highness about increased security on Naboo. She shot it down every time. There are some extra measures like the shield and pulses that knock out droids, I assume you know about them. But I wanted more than that. We were threatened. She said no, over and over." He took a sip of his wine. "I disagreed with her. I still do. But she refused to even risk more violence than necessary."

He met Luke's gaze, hard. "Trust me. Whatever she's done, she's tempered it. She's careful. Her Highness doesn't want bloodshed any more than we do, and she knows how to handle it."

Luke knew he shouldn't trust him on that, but his gruff honesty made him want to. It reminded him of Uncle Owen. "That does make me feel better."

Panaka sipped more of his wine. "Do you know why she's so interested in you?"

"What?"

"I didn't understand it. You're a troublemaker. But I like you, so she'll have her reasons. Good luck, Senator."

He put out a hand and leaned against the pillar.

Luke blinked, reeling slightly. "Thank you, sir."

Panaka didn't move.

"Sir?"

Panaka blinked. He shook his head slowly, as if trying to clear the effects of tipsiness. But he'd barely drunk anything. "Sir—"

He fell slowly, which was what made everyone around them notice. Luke caught his arms as he slid down the pillar, to the ground. Pooja had the sensitivity to hold Diric's hand and convince him to cover his eyes.

Luke propped Panaka against the pillar and peered into his eyes. They were unfocused, like he was half-asleep. Something was wrong.

"Medic!" he shouted. Panaka's shoulders shook. "Medic!"

"They're coming," Padmé said, appearing above Luke. "What is it?" She looked down at Panaka. "Captain, are you—"

"Padmé," he said slowly.

She fell to her knees beside him, her dress's train fanning out behind her. "Captain—"

He reached for her. His hand, clumsy and weak, splashed his glass of wine over her. It sloshed along her dress and stained the white the same dark purple as Luke's own dress.

"Luke," he said, staring Padmé in the eye. "The boy… you were looking for…"

"Quarsh, save your strength. The medics are coming."

He kept shaking his head. His eyes streamed, but he didn't look away from Padmé. Luke had to avert his gaze.

"It has been an honour to protect you, Your Highness," he heard him say.

The medics were there moments later. They took his pulse, temperature. One of them dabbed samples of his wine and took it away as evidence.

It was only then that Luke realised he had witnessed an assassination.

He stood up, shaking. Stepped back. Pooja was still soothing Diric, who seemed inconsolable.

Panaka was dead. Or not—they might still revive him.

And Luke felt awful for thinking it, but if they did revive him, then they had another problem. If Panaka knew what Luke suspected.

Luke backed away. He felt for the nearest corridor, stumbled until he found a 'fresher, and vomited into it.

"My lord," Piett said, "message from the surface. They have finished evacuation of the civilians to predesignated safehouses in the caves."

Vader stared out at Tatooine from the viewport. He remembered watching it recede from the viewport when he first left: the dry, dusty world he knew suddenly made beautiful by distance in time and space. But it no longer looked like that: war took its toll on it, and on the eyes he viewed it with. It was a scar, now.

But it was a scar that meant something to Luke.

"Good. Ask among them for any relatives who sent children to Naboo during the Rim Relief Project." He turned, his cape swirling behind him. "And ready the men for battle. This must be quick and painless."

Piett frowned. "Painless, my lord?"

Vader strode past him. "You heard me, Admiral."