The small hut is full of little trinkets and interesting oddities. A worn cloth of criss-cross pattern covers a plain wooden table. Stones of different sizes and textures rest in a simple ceramic bowl at its centre. Pipes that jingle at the slightest touch hang from the ceiling. The room is small, yet bursting with so much life. It makes her feel safer somehow, because for some reason, it feels as if a natural warmth exudes from these sandy walls. She pulls her cloak closer as the kind looking woman enters the room, a bowl of seeds in her hand.
"Don't worry, sweet. I'm sure your friends are fine," the woman named Schmi says with a smile, handing Padme the bowl.
Padme smiles and takes the bowl, though inside she's torn. It's obvious that this woman doesn't own much; she doesn't want to take anything more from her. Yet She doesn't want to seem rude or impolite, something a Queen should never be, in disguise or not. End the end, she resorts to a compromise; take the bowl, but eat no more than one seed.
She picks up a seed and pops it in her mouth. It's softer than she expected, and tastes slightly sour. Something beeps in the other room and Schmi leaves to tend to it, leaving Padme alone. This planet feels innately dangerous to her, and that sick feeling she's had ever since the blockade won't go away. She wonders if her nieces Ryoo and Pooja are ok. She hasn't seen them in what feels like months. The thought of her family sends a sharp spike of anger down her chest; the trade federation are monsters, forcing such young children to endure a military blockade. Why are they doing this?
The chimes closest to the door clink gently together, bringing Padme back to the present, in this little hut. She plays with the loose tethers of her peasant disguise, and looks around the room again. But she finds herself feeling no better, because this world she is sitting in is poisoned with poverty. It makes her sick to think that such a kind woman is forced to be a slave, and must live in such poor conditions. She breaths sharply out of her nose. Everywhere she goes, people are suffering. Why? Greed. Greed punishes the kind. Greed rewards the cruel.
Greed ignores the impoverished and takes what it doesn't need. Why can't the galaxy see that greed is slowly tearing it apart, limb from limb? Padme frowns as a new wave of determination washes over her; she may be fourteen, but that won't stop her from marching to Coruscant and doing everything in her power to secure aid for Naboo. Those corrupt leaders of the federation won't get away with this. She sits back into her seat, and starts to mull over her speech for the senate. She'll have to start with the logistics; how many are dead, and how many will die if Naboo doesn't receive aid. Then she'll show how the Republic has ample resources to help her people, and implore the senate to listen to her. They will listen to her, they have to. Right?
She puts her hands on the table and rests her head upon them. Oh, who is she kidding? The Republic won't help. Deep down she knows it. If they wanted to intervene they would have. This speech, the war, it's all so emotionally exhausting. Sometimes it feels like all the good in this galaxy has been drained away by corrupt politicians and businessmen. Leaving behind nothing but vultures who will attack the innocent for no other reason than to make a quick few credits.
The chimes sing softly by the door, Padme watches them sway gently. She sighs, a deep sadness resonates within her; this galaxy is one big joke. Tiredly, her lost eyes wander along the walls, and land on the small wooden frames decorating them. Frames built by under-paid workers, no doubt. She looks at the old and tarnished shelves; the shelves of a slave who has nothing because her master has already taken everything of value. She stares at a bare spot on wall, empathising with its emptiness. It's only then that she notices a small blue scribble near the floor. That shouldn't be there. She learns forward a bit, to try to get a better look. Soon, she realises it's more than a scribble; it's a drawing. A tiny, blue space ship has been scrawled onto the wall, judging by its rough lines and crude design; it was probably drawn by a child. A small face smiles from inside the cockpit.
Even after staring at it for minutes, Padme can't seem to pull her eyes away. It's so innocent, so devoid of any sort of political influence or agenda. It's so simple, and she hasn't seen anything like it in so long. Even in the beautiful palace of Naboo, her world is filled with nothing but advisors, agendas and speeches. Her every waking moment is occupied with politics and debates. Yet here, surrounded by squalor, she sees a drawing filled with pure bliss. Sure, it's nothing like the antique paintings that line the palace's walls. But for some reason, that small, smiling, face in the cockpit awakens more inspiration within her than any commissioned masterpiece ever did.
Without realising, Padme finds herself smiling back at the stick figure, and wonders if the little child who drew it ever did end up finding his spaceship.
"Padme?"
A hand lands on her shoulder, and presses against it tightly. The roar of speeders whizzing by the landing pad thunders in her ears, a gush of cold air blows against her face. He's gone.
"Padme, what happened?" Obi-Wan asks, his hand moving to turn her towards him. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Obi-Wan, thank you," She replies absently.
"Someone destroyed the guard droids; did you see who it was?" He insists, his silver eyes jumping between hers in a flurry of energy.
Padme simply looks back at him. Yes, she knows who it was.
"This is important. If you know anything, please tell me. Whoever did this could lead us Bec's assassins," Kenobi implores.
She is acutely aware of the snippet in her hand as memories of Schmi and the blue spaceship flash through her mind.
"Was it Senator Skywalker?" Kenobi asks under his breath.
Padme closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.
"No, I don't know who it was,"
Little light reaches the ground beneath Raxus' towering buildings. The bit that does is unwanted, for all it illuminates is grime and rust. Vader stomps down another nameless alley, scarcely avoiding the puddle of gloopy, brown vomit as he passes. His hands reflexively clench and unclench at his sides. He is pathetic, an utter embarrassment! To think that something as simple as a name could cause him such vulnerability is unthinkable!
Nothing burns like the stinging feeling of hot yellow energy surging through your irises; the pain is so concentrated that the corners of his eyes become raw and bloodshot. The sensation only serves to heighten his anger. With an unholy roar he violently kicks over a nearby bin, before picking it up again with the force and slamming it against the dishevelled metal wall opposite him. It bursts open and plastic jumps into the air, while rotten bits of food and force knows what falls to the floor.
He turns from the mess, his breathing is harsh, and his teeth grind together so tightly they hurt. What a fool he is! Darth Vader, Sith apprentice, does not care for names, no matter who's they may be. That stupid girl and her stupid story are so utterly pathetic that he has cause to go back to the senate building and cut her down where she stands for even daring to speak of such cowardly tales in his presence!
A soft thud sounds behind him, and his eyebrows knit together. Mauls unmistakeably dark force signature reaches into the small alleyway and quickly starts to suffocate it. Vader breaths out a sharp breath. The false apprentice is another problem that needs to be solved. Maul's very existence behoves the fact that his masters do not consider him a true Sith. For if they did, they would only need one apprentice, him.
"Fool," Maul condones.
The muffled sound of footsteps signals his approach. If that minuscule fool even dares to challenge him, he's dead. This is his mission, not Maul's. Perhaps the true test taking place here is one to determine which apprentice is the strongest. Maul's hand lands on Vader's shoulder, and instantly he swipes around to knock it off.
"Don't touch me!" He yells, feeling the dark side greedily gorge on his rage.
Maul is knocked back a step at the strength of Vader's swipe, but he quickly recovers. He bares his pointed teeth at the younger apprentice, a menacing scorn betraying his frustration.
"Petulant child!" Maul retorts angrily, and moves to grab Vader by the collar.
Quickly, he sidesteps Mauls grasp, and grabs him by the shoulder. With an animalistic growl he shoves Maul back into the toppled rubbish bin. Maul loses his footing at the unexpected turn of events and ends up falling unto the rubbish.
"I am not a child!" Vader rages back, pointing a menacing finger at the furious Zabrak.
Maul roars and charges at Vader head first. He tackles the younger apprentice with all his might while grabbing him by the waist and slamming him into the wall behind. Vader grunts on impact, and before he can respond Maul has him cornered. The fierce looking Zabrak holds Vader's arms against the wall, and leaves him no room to struggle.
The two lock eyes. Each is as yellow and bloodshot as the other, each as full of contempt. Mauls hot breath beats against Vader's face at a break-neck pace. The Zabrak glares at him, as if daring him to try to escape his hold.
"Sidious will hear of this," Maul finally utters, before releasing Vader and stepping away.
Vader grunts as he is released, but doesn't pursue the Zabrak. He needs his strength to complete the mission and prove himself to Sidious. Maul continues to glare at Vader from a few paces away. That feral mongrel is just waiting for him to attack. Vader fixes his tunic, and steps away from the wall. Maul's glowing eyes follow every step.
"What?" Vader barks angrily at him; the stupid Zabrak came and said what he needed to. If he stays here much longer Vader is sure he'll snap and draw his blade.
"Fix your mistakes, before I have to," Maul replies threateningly.
Then the Zabrak draws his hood and with the aid of the force, jumps several stories. Within seconds any trace of his presence is gone; Vader can neither sense him through the force or by physical means. He looks towards the sky. The only things occupying the space above are the thick black wires hanging between the buildings. One day, that Zabrak will get what he deserves, one day he will relish gutting Maul. One day. But now, he must concentrate on other matters. Vader looks down to the ground thoughtfully; it's paramount that he returns to the senate immediately to cover his tracks. Those destroyed battle droids need to be handled.
Inside, he can feel the familiar call of the void, its embrace is at first somewhat startling. It quickly drains him of any weak emotions. Any trace thoughts of Schmi or Padme are sucked away into the darkness, leaving his mind clear and free to ponder higher thoughts. Ambition and hatred take residence in their wake, and soon Vader finds himself embracing the void back. His eyes mays sting, but the pain is good. It gives him strength. He turns and briskly walks down the corridor, an ugly frown on his face. That Zabrak won't win. He is destined to be the most powerful Sith to ever exist. How could he lose?
The stolen speeder comes to a quick halt a block away from the senate building. This part of the city is much nicer; the sun reaches the streets, and beautiful brown trees line every street. The roads are littered with leaves, upon which varying species of middle-class separatists amble about at a relaxed pace. Everyone, except Vader of course, who marches down the street, pushing people out of his way if he has to, though most seem to find the sense within them to keep their distance. He doesn't care that he draws their eyes, walking fast helps him think. And right now he really needs to think his way out of this hole he's found himself in.
The spires of the senate peek over even the tallest of buildings to watch his approach. Vader locks eyes with them, grandeur scares him no more; the richest of buildings hide the weakest of characters just the same as a crumpling huts does. He takes a final turn to find himself at the base of the gigantic senate building. A pair of battle droids approach, but he brandishes his false pass and marches past. The senate building rounds a large open courtyard that is closed off to the street outside. The paved expanse is occupied by small battalions of battle droids and a large number of workmen.
"Good day senator!" A cheery protocol droid exclaims with a thick core accent and a jolly wave.
Vader looks its direction to see that it's standing at the helm of one of many transport speeders which are bringing people up to their respective floors of the senate building.
"May I ask which level interests you today?" the droid continues rather loudly, further worsening Vader's mood.
He looks around the landing pad one last time, and seeing as here doesn't appear to be any other way for a simple senator like him to possibly reach a higher floor, he begrudgingly steps onto the transport. The droids arms jig excitedly as he steps aboard.
"Top level," he growls impatiently.
If he were in a position to use his force abilities he could scale the building in the time it takes for the droid to detach from the ground and hover into the air. He drums his fingers against the railing, and blows out a puff of frustrated air at the droid.
"Top level it is! We'll be there before you know it, sir!" The droid exclaims confidently. He doubts it.
The familiar arches decorating the top level of the senate building greet him on the landing pad. Everyone else it seems is inside. A battle droid runs over to him seconds after he steps off the transport. It stops a few steps away from him, and raises its hand, signalling for him to stop.
"Halt! There has been an attack on the senate building, no one may enter," the droid orders.
"Attack? What do you mean attack?" Vader snaps back. Are they seriously branding the incident with the droids earlier as an attack?
"Someone destroyed a battalion of battle droids protecting the senators. TV-23 thinks there's an assassin in the building," The battle droids explains, seemingly forgetting all pretence of formality and switching to a much more casual tone. Dooku's right, Vader thinks, battle droids are really stupid.
"An assassin? Do they have any security recordings of the incident?" Vader asks hesitantly. If they do happen to have recordings, this is going to become a living nightmare. What will master Sidious think of him?
"Uh, I don't know, I was outside the whole time," The battle droid replies, scratching its head.
He sighs harshly, great. He'll have to get inside and try to find out who knows what about the attack himself, especially that Jedi Kenobi.
"Who's in charge of the investigation?" he asks, hoping he will find somewhere to start.
"TV-23," The battle droid replies instantly.
"Can you take me to him, I think I might have something interesting to tell him," Vader asks quickly, as he comes up with a plan in his head on the go.
"TV-23 is interested in anyone who has information! Roger, roger!" The battle droid says with vigour, before turning a leading Vader inside the building. Damn, battle droids are really, really, really stupid. How in the name of the force does Dooku expect to fight trained republic soldiers with these stupid things? He shakes his head at his own question, who cares? All that matters is that he stays in his master's good books, what they do doesn't really concern him at all. The only important thing in his mind is completing the mission before Maul finds a way to one-up him.
The battle droid leads Vader past the congregation hall he was in earlier and down a series of long corridors until they eventually arrive at an old, previously unused room, which is in the process of being turned into a makeshift command centre. Inside, a large strategy table displays the layout of the senate building in a shade of light blue. The walls are lined with old desks and dressers, all of which are covered in white, semi-transparent plastic sheets. Battle droids pass to and fro, carrying crates and command modules about the room, and an air of urgency permeates through the walls.
A T-series tactical droid stands in front of the strategy table, its arms clamped neatly behind its back, as if it were a solid mountain, ignorant to the storm surrounding it. It turns the minute Vader enters, to stare at him with shimmering white eyes.
"Sir, This senator says he has information regarding the assassin in the building!" The battle droid accompanying him exclaims excitedly.
"I don't recognise this senator," The tactical droid replies swiftly and dismissively.
The battle droid looks between Vader and the tactical droid hesitantly, as if it might do something stupid, like throw him out. And if he gets thrown out he'll fail his mission, which definitely isn't going to happen!
"Senator Skywalker, I was just appointed yesterday as Count Dooku's representative," Vader says with a forced smile. He extends his hand towards the tactical droid's in greeting, but the droid only looks at his hand and then back to his eyes, forcing him to lower his unshaken hand somewhat awkwardly. He has to repress the strong urge to slam the droid against the ground with the force, today really isn't his day.
"What information do you possess?" The droid asks.
"Well, I think I saw someone running down that corridor those droids were on when I went outside to get a breath of fresh air. Maybe if you, um, let me see the recordings, I could tell you if I recognise him?" He explains hastily as he makes his lie up on the spot.
The tactical droid stares at him silently for a few moments, which serve to make Vader start to feel somewhat nervous.
"That's impossible," the tactical droid barks, "Someone broke the security camera with a large ornamental vase approximately twenty minutes before the assault took place, we have no recordings from that hallway," The tactical says condescendingly, and straightens up in an attempt to reach Vader's height. Oh, well who cares then? Vader thinks to himself as he sighs in relief.
"Very well, I will take my leave then," He says and turns for the door.
"Wait," The tactical droid orders, causing Vader to stop and look back at it somewhat impatiently; there are other issues he needs to address; like find out what that blasted Jedi and his senator friend are doing.
"You said you saw someone running towards that corridor, you will give me a description of the suspect immediately,"
"Uh, he was wearing a hood, I didn't see his face," he mumbles in response.
"What was his race, and approximate height?" a battle droid asks from nearby, a data pad and pen at the ready.
"I don't know, I couldn't see with the… hood,"
"And his height?" The droid continues eagerly.
"Five foot seven," he says quickly as he edges towards the door.
"Ok so that's a five foot seven, unknown male, with an unknown appearance, unknown motives, wearing a nondescript hood, heading down corridor A-05 at um what time?" the battle droid asks politely as it writes.
"Probably sometime after midday, I didn't really check the time…"
"…at an unknown time, probably after midday. Thank you for aiding the Confederacy of Independent System's planetary police force, your help is very much appreciated!" The battle droid says happily.
The tactical droid shakes its head and motions for a battle droid to escort him out.
"No one may leave until we have found the assassin, you will remain with eh other senators in the hall of freedom," The tactical droid orders as he is brought to the door.
Vader nods in acceptance as he leaves. At least Padme will be, in all likelihood, in that hall. Maybe he can figure out what exactly she saw and who she told. To be honest, he's surprised he hasn't been arrested already, because she must have at the very least suspected that he had something to do with the droids. Though if he were to be realistic with himself, she would have to be an idiot to not put two and two together and realise that their destruction was his fault.
The battle droid leads him down the same set of corridors, and back into the large blue hall. Now that everyone is being forced to stay inside, it's even more crowded that before. He looks back at the exit reluctantly and maybe just a little bit anxiously, though he would never admit it to anyone. After the battle droid deposits him in the hall, its spins on its heels and marches straight back out into the comfortable freedom of emptiness outside, and suddenly Vader finds himself envying a battle droid. A kriffing battle droid.
HAPPY AFTER CHRISTMAS I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A LOVELY HOLIDAY! Guess who has a whole two weeks of no school like every other student in the world, yeah, me. (who woulda guessed it) SO I HAS LOTS OF TIME TO WRITE YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY.
