Chapter Four: The First Mission
Han Solo was in a bad mood.
Chewie said he should be thankful they had landed safely on Naboo before the Falcon's sublight engines had given out, but the pessimist in Han was on a roll. All he could think about was that he was being forced to leave Leia within the clutches of Darth Vader for another month – maybe even longer if the parts he'd ordered from a Theed dealer were backordered.
With his luck, it was a very real possibility.
Han and Chewie were staying with Leia's friend and her family. The Naberries were a happy, relaxed clan, but there was also a slight air of sadness around, especially at the end of the upstairs hallway that Han and Chewie's room was on.
He asked Pooja about it one day. "That was my aunt Padmé's room," the young Senator explained. "She was one of our greatest leaders, first as Queen, then as Senator. She died the day Palpatine declared himself Emperor; nobody knows why. Legend has it that she died of a broken heart over the loss of the Republic."
"A martyr," Han muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.
Pooja glared. "She was pregnant, you know. That's why we don't believe the rumours – Aunt Padmé would never have destroyed her baby. Something killed her, you an be sure about that. Something killed them both." She sighed. "Her room has stayed in perfect condition all these years. Some of the newly elected Queens like to make pilgrimages here, and on top of that it would probably kill Grandma and Grandpa to take it apart. So it stays the same."
Han never broached the subject again. He had no use for dead, pregnant Queens or murder mysteries surrounding Senators.
What he did have use for was replacement parts for his sublight engines. He had a Princess to protect.
As much as Leia wanted to believe that Anakin was a horrible human being, the stories Luke was forcing her to listen to were convincing her of just the opposite.
". . . built Threepio to help his mother . . . Jedi prophecy about balancing the Force . . . wasn't supposed to marry, so it was secret . . ."
It had been like this all day. As soon as Rieekan and Anakin had taken off on their mission, her brother had sought Leia out, begun chattering about what Threepio had told him about their father, and hadn't stopped.
". . . gave Threepio to Mother as a wedding gift . . . her name was Padmé . . . she was a Senator like you . . ."
Leia's head snapped around to face Luke. "What?"
Luke blinked.
"Repeat that part about Mother."
"About Father giving Threepio to her?"
"No! Her name!"
"Padmé."
"As in Padmé Amidala?"
Luke nodded. "Yes; how did you know her last name? I never mentioned that."
"Luke, Padmé Amidala was one of the most influential Senators of the Old Republic! She was a friend of my – of Bail Organa's. He always spoke highly of her. When I decided to run for Senator, I incorporated many of her theses into my campaign! I – oh, Luke, I never dreamed she was my mother!"
"Wow," Luke commented. "Sounds like she was pretty incredible."
"She was! I wonder how she ended up with him."
"Father," Luke stressed, "is a pretty incredible person, too."
"Then why did he go to the Dark Side?" Leia demanded.
Luke looked away. "That," he replied quietly, "is something Threepio doesn't know."
Anakin stared out of the viewport as the cruiser came out of hyperspace. He found the stars soothing; they reminded him that there were bigger problems than his personal crises out there.
Yet now he couldn't help but feel that if it hadn't been for him, a lot of those bigger problems wouldn't exist.
Despite the numerous faces he presented to the universe – the strong father face, the confident Jedi face, the commanding warrior face – in his heart, he wasn't any of these things. He was untrustworthy, traitorous; he was a criminal, a murderer; and he was so very, very guilty.
The Alliance, however, insisted on trusting him, on accepting him on covering up his tracks . . . on forgiving him.
He didn't deserve it, any of it: not trust, acceptance, leniency, forgiveness, Luke, Leia, Jix, Piett, R2-D2, C-3PO . . . nothing. No one. Not after everything he had done.
He envied his son his temperament. Luke found it natural to let go of the past and move on with the future. Anakin had always clung to the past, unable to come to terms with his mistakes.
Leia, on the other hand, Anakin could understand perfectly. No matter how much she looked like Padmé, or how interested in politics she was, she was his child through and through.
Just don't make my mistakes, Anakin begged her silently, even though she couldn't hear him. He was confident she wouldn't. Like Padmé, Leia learned easily from the mistakes of others.
Padmé . . . he didn't miss her as much as he once did, and he felt guilty about that, too. Hadn't he vowed to love her all the days of his life?
No, a nasty little voice whispered in his mind. You vowed to love her as long as you both shall live.
Anakin shoved the voice aside. If he was learning to let go, then that was a good thing. Letting go didn't mean not loving. It meant he was moving on. That was a good thing, too.
Then why did he still feel so guilty?
General Rieekan approached him, and Anakin arranged his features into a welcoming smile. For someone who had spent half his life under a mask, he was a damn good actor.
"Master Jedi."
"General."
They watched the stars in silence for a few minutes, then Rieekan spoke again. "So, Skywalker, what do you know about diplomacy?"
Anakin grinned ruefully. "That I'm not very good at it."
Rieekan chuckled. "Don't worry; I'll do the talking." He and Anakin were on their way to draw up a treaty with the planet of Jurn.
"And I'm the poster boy? Oh, good. I can be a poster boy."
Rieekan laughed again. "Ah, yes. The Clone Wars. The Hero With No Fear and other publicity stunts."
"Indeed. The Hero With No Fear – not for myself, perhaps, but for others . . ." He trailed off, unwilling to go there.
Rieekan nodded in understanding. "It was just propaganda to make the public feel better, you know."
"I know." Anakin sighed. "That didn't relieve me of the need to live up to it, though."
Striding purposefully down the hall, Leia kept an eye out for C-3PO. She wanted to ask the droid what else he knew about Padmé Amidala.
My mother. She grinned.
She turned a corner to go down another corridor --
-- only to run straight into a brick wall.
She nearly fell, but the brick wall reached out to steady her. Only then did Leia realize it wasn't a brick wall at all, but the man she had heard Anakin call Jixton.
"Careful," he cautioned, releasing her. After their argument, Leia expected to hear some variation of irritation or resentment in his tone, but there was none.
"Thank you," she replied. "I'm sorry I ran into you; I wasn't looking where I was going."
"Don't worry about it," he replied airily, brushing off her apology. "It's as much my fault as yours."
Leia smiled.
"So you're Uncle D's daughter," he continued thoughtfully, studying her. "I was blown away when I found out he had one kid – finding out about you nearly gave me a heart attack."
Her smile vanished, but she waited, wondering if this little spiel was going anywhere.
"You're a lot like him, you know."
"What?" Leia demanded, shocked out of her silence. She was nothing like Vader – Anakin – whatever he was calling himself!
Was she?
Jix nodded wisely. "You have his passion, his stubbornness, his strength, and his temper . . . and you have his incredible leadership abilities. He's a born leader; people follow him because they know he won't let them down."
Leia frowned in disbelief at the big man. "Luke said nobody dared to even walk through his wing of the Executor, and now you're trying to tell me that his crew loved him?"
Jix paused. "Well . . . love is a very strong word . . . and just because they didn't want to take their chances doesn't mean that they didn't respect him."
She gave a snort that, coming from any other woman, would have been unladylike. "I'd respect him, too, if I woke up every morning wondering if today was the day I'd be choked to death by my commander."
He sighed. "It's not like that, Leia, it's really not. He's tough, yes, but he's fair. He's demanding, but he knows exactly what needs to be done and exactly when it needs doing; he's a strategic genius. He works hard, and he expects hard work in return. He's loyal to his people – he tries to do what's best – and he expects their loyalty to him." Jix stopped, trying to find the words to express Anakin's complicated personality. "It's not a death sentence to serve him, Leia. He only killed those who threatened to endanger the ship – or Luke. His moves are daring, and they must be carried out perfectly or they could kill everyone involved. That is why failure of any kind is intolerable; one day, failure will be fatal to more than the person who failed. He tries to prevent that." Jix tilted his head to the side, thinking. "And he knows if he'd done it himself, it would have been done right, and he gets mad because his officers aren't as competent as he is."
"That logic is so twisted I cannot tell where it begins."
Jix smiled faintly. "You know, many of Uncle D's subordinates, if given the choice, would choose to continue serving him, especially now that he's a Jedi again. I know most of what you've seen of him is his vicious side, but believe me when I say it's been a dream come true to watch him work and to be a part of that work." He clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Girl, your daddy is my idol."
And with that, he was gone, leaving a shaken and questioning Leia in his wake.
Suddenly Luke was by her side. "Hey, Leia!" he said excitedly. "Have you seen Jix, by any chance?"
No sooner had the Juran ambassador stepped over the threshold of the conference room than Anakin decided that he despised the man. Not only was his Force presence slimier than a Hutt's, but he obviously thought the Alliance was so desperate for allies that they would be total pushovers when it came to drawing up a treaty.
Dismissed by the Jurans as a mere bodyguard, Anakin stood back passively as Rieekan and the ambassador negotiated and drew up the treaty. With every hour that passed, the tension in Anakin's body seemed to double. By the time it came time for the signing, he had a splitting headache and couldn't remember what relaxed felt like.
The ambassador smirked as Rieekan raised his pen to sign the treaty. Anakin stepped forward. "Wait."
Everyone looked at him. "I request that we be allowed to show the treaty to our other political leaders." Anakin's lips curved in a cool smile. "We are a democracy, after all."
Realization dawned in Rieekan's eyes. He had lived in the Old Republic; he understood that Anakin had sensed something wrong with the treaty.
The Juran ambassador, however, sneered at him in contempt. "And who would care what the hired help have to say? Or are you a slave?"
Anakin's blade was ignited and at the Juran's throat in an instant. At Anakin's side, Rieekan could feel the rage emanating from the Jedi Master.
"Like I said," he replied with deadly calm, a muscle twitching in his cheek, "we are a democracy."
"You call this democratic?" the Juran demanded.
"I call it aggressive negotiations."
Despite his current position at the end of Anakin's lightsaber, the ambassador still had the nerve to look down his nose at Anakin. "Who do you think you are?" he questioned haughtily. "Darth Vader?"
There was no trace of humour or irony in the former Sith Lord's voice as he drawled, "Well . . ." His free hand rose, his fingers clenched, and the ambassador found himself unable to draw a breath. His two aides, eyes fastened on the shimmering azure blade, made no move to help.
"Master Jedi," Rieekan said, a sharp edge to his voice.
"Sorry, General," Anakin answered casually. He released the Juran and switched off his lightsaber.
Rieekan turned back to the Jurans. "Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker and I shall take our leave now," he said hastily, introducing Anakin for the first time. "Until the future, my friends." Treaty in hand, they bolted for the door in as dignified a manner as possible.
Back aboard their ship, Rieekan rounded on Anakin. "What was that about?"
Anakin rolled his shoulders, trying to unknot his snarled muscles. "I am sorry," he sighed, regretting his actions. Just another thing to feel guilty about. "But there is trouble in that treaty. I don't know what kind of trouble, but it's there and the Jurans know it's there – somehow, they managed to manipulate it in." His brow wrinkled in pain. "It gives me a migraine just thinking about it."
Rieekan absorbed that. "We'll hand it over to Leia. She's good at seeing hidden problems."
Anakin gave a nod before sinking into a deep trance, trying to rid himself of the pain, tension, and guilt.
Leia wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten pulled into this project, but with Jix's enthusiasm and Luke's delight, she'd found it easier to go along than to try and back out of it.
They were building droids. Not Leia's area of expertise, but according to Jix, these were duelling droids and needed to function for an hour at most. After that, they were scrap metal anyway.
"Do you think Father will like them?" she heard Luke ask as he and Jix put the finishing touches on the twelfth and final droid. Leia was at the lightsaber cabinet, which Luke had opened for her. Because of their lack of time and materials, these droids would wield blades that could be easily removed from their grip and placed on the next machine.
She jumped when she heard the voice that answered Luke's question. She hadn't heard anyone enter the gymnasium.
"He loves them," Anakin said, a childish grin lighting up his entire face. He loped over to Luke and Jix.
With the three men otherwise occupied, Leia quietly slipped away.
