Warning - mild profanity in this chapter.
Chapter Seven - Klions
"There she is. Can you get audio?"
"Working on it."
Yané wasn't going to tell anyone, but she was nervous. The last time she'd seen firewalls this tight had been when she had been helping Claria and Ceidron to investigate a suspicious financial trail within Bakurcom. The lot of them had nearly been hunted down by unsavory types that night, and the systems she was playing around in now had all the same fingerprints. Whoever was running security for these terrorists was either the same person or had gone to the same school of sneakiness.
"Just a sec..." Yané said aloud, knowing that the others were breathless with the ignorant impatience of non-slicers. "There."
"What do you call yourselves?" Jessa asked to the other man in the room. Yané had only found the room Jessa was sitting in a few minutes ago, and now, judging by the way she and her companion were standing, they would be moving on.
"Just in time for the million credit question," said Joppa, leaning forward to watch the feed eagerly.
"After you've proven yourself, then we can tell you that."
"What tedious caution," remarked Captain Barris dryly.
"Captain," said Desmé, "I think I've got something."
"Stay on her, if you can," he instructed Yané, who nodded. He turned to Desmé. "What is it?"
"I did what you suggested— five of these non-profit organizations appear consistently in the cross-reference. Keren Peace Organizaition, Landmark Preservations, Ithrin Charities, Oxon United, and New Naboo Outreach."
"And what else?"
"Well, they all have Naboo names and Naboo-centric mission statements, but if you look past the surface, most of their outlays go offworld. And from there, who knows."
"The hiring of offworld assassins, perhaps?"
"That's a leap, sir, but anything of the kind and you'd lose the trail very quickly."
"That's what I thought. Still, let's see how far we can take it. I want something that we can arrest someone for and get warrants."
In the early morning hours, Richard was awoken by Captain Barris and Agent Kal.
"I take it there's news?" he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Yvenne was not with him in the security bunker, instead choosing to sleep in their regular quarters. It made sense, really. If the queen was known to be in residence, it might raise curiosity if she spent the night away from her own bed, but somehow the fact of it felt like a blow against him. She felt so far away.
Barris turned on a light above the table in the bunker's all-purpose living area. "We've been up almost all night. It will be dawn in three hours, but in Keren that won't be for another six."
"Why should it matter what time the sun rises in Keren?"
"That all depends on you, sire." From his pocket, Barris pulled a datachip and inserted into the reader. "Earlier this year," he said, "a non-profit organization called New Naboo Outreach made a three-million credit outpay to a contractor on Coruscant called Forvian Industries. Purportedly, the money was to be used to draft plans for a new museum in Keren commemorating that region's part in the siege and the Battle of Naboo."
"I don't know anything about a museum."
"It would have been something to come across the Keren governer's desk, sire, not yours."
"Of course. So why are you telling me about it now?"
"Because Forvian Industries is as much a shell of a company as New Naboo Outreach."
"Indeed? And how does Forvian Industries truly conduct its business?"
"By whatever means Black Sun demands."
Richard straightened. "Barris are you telling me that you can link Naboo citizens to Black Sun?"
"I have nothing that would illicit a conviction. Yet."
"But you have enough to sieze records."
Barris hesitated. "Or people." He looked at his watch. "Governer Veruna is resting comfortably at his private residence here in Theed in anticipation of tomorrow's funeral. Jessa is still on his estate in Keren, but we know at least two others involved in this organization by their faces. In the case of Acsah Numan, her true identity."
Richard got up from his chair and paced across the small room. "You think there's a chance we can crack this nut open tonight. That's an awfully big gamble, Barris."
"It is, sire. I have faith in my team. Now that I know where to point them, I believe we can finally solve the mysteries of the past. But this organization— whatever they call themselves— have done an extremely good job up until now covering their tracks. I won't deny that there is a risk we may just embarrass ourselves."
"Let's consider for a moment that we agree to proceed. What exactly would happen?"
"We would arrest the Governer and all the others who made contributions to New Naboo Outreach on charges of criminal collusion. We would raid all of their residences and freeze all of their assets and accounts here on Naboo. I can't do anything about offworld properties very quickly."
"Property seizures are a lot easier to do when everybody's sleeping," Richard agreed.
"I would also point out that the longer we are forced to maintain the ruse of your death, the poorer it will play with the people."
"I know that," Richard said, throwing Barris a terse look. "You stick to the logistics, let me worry about the politics." He tapped his fingers against his side and resumed pacing. "Are there any material benefits to waiting, apart from the ability to investigate more cautiously?"
"Jessa has been allowed a grudging position within the organization. Her infiltration could pay off more than it already has, but although they want to use her, they still don't trust her. They told her she still needs to prove her loyalty."
"And who knows what they'll ask her to do for that."
"We also run the risk of them finding the holes in her story, no matter how small we tried to make them."
"If we raid Veruna's estate, you'll get her out?"
"And offworld, as quickly as possible."
Richard stared at the floor, considering all of the information together. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "All right. I can see which way you're leaning on this, Barris, and I agree. Let's move. Let's do it."
"Yes, sire." Barris turned heel and almost ran out the way he'd come.
"Maybe by sunset, my children will finally be safe," Richard murmured.
Yané dressed nervously. It had been a long time since her duties had required her to go into harm's way. It happened on occasion, but Yané usually did her fighting from behind comfortable walls and even more comfortable computer screens. As always, the nerves brought back strong memories of the occupation and the nightmarish days full of hunger, pain, uncertainty, and adrenaline.
She finished strapping on her body armor and added the outer garment. Like all things Naboo, it was as elegant as it was functional, and heavier than it looked, as the material was specially treated to resist fire. Finally, she strapped on her holster and headed for the armory to retrieve on of the trusty pistols that Captain Panaka had long ago commissioned for Queen Amidala and her handmaidens. She often got teased about it by Joppa and Desmé and the others, but she had devoted quite a number of hours to learning all the best ways to use that weapon. She knew she was safer with something she knew.
On the way to the armory, she passed the large assembly area where the various strike teams were being organized. They were all dressed much like Yané. While she walked, she kept an eye out for her team. Joppa would be staying in Theed to help Captain Barris with logistics in coordinating the overall strike, but Yané would be on the same team as Desmé, which was traveling to Keren to raid Governor Veruna's holdings and, among other things, retrieve Jessa safely back. If Yané knew her teammate, then Desmé would have been one of the first ready to go.
Since she was looking for Desmé and not looking where she was going, the next thing Yané knew was that she was tripping into something tall and hard. Distantly, she recognized that she and someone else were tumbling together to the floor.
"Ooowwwww," she groaned as soon as the spectacular collision came to an end.
"Yeah...I agree."
Yané clambered up and sat down on the floor, rubbing her elbow with a wince. She turned to look at the person she'd run into.
It was no wonder it had hurt so much. He was already dressed in full gear, including a long gun, which she was pretty sure was the cause of the current pain to her elbow. "Sorry," Yané muttered.
With a huff, he sat up as well, and then got to his feet, offering her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her easily to her feet. Then he squinted at her. "I know you. You're one of Sabé and Eirtaé's friends."
Yané peered at him more closely. She supposed he looked familiar, but he was wearing a helmet, so it was hard to say. "I'm Yané."
He snapped his gloved fingers and pointed at her. "That's right! You were the one with Saché during the occupation. Sabé and I rescued the two of you from a battalion of battle droids on our recon mission to Theed."
Recognition clicked into place. "Rizzo?"
"The one and only." He grinned proudly.
"I guess we really haven't ever met since then. You were on Coruscant as part of the Senator's security detail for a while, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Weren't you dating Eirtaé?"
"Let's not talk about that."
"All right."
Out of the corner of her eye, Yané spotted Desmé's profile and glanced toward her. Rizzo followed her gaze. "Oh, are you on the Keren team? So am I."
"Great," Yané responded automatically. "I've got to get my pistol."
"Okay, I'll see you later, then."
"See you. Sorry for running into you."
He grinned over his shoulder. "It could have been worse."
When Yané returned, comfortably armed, the team sergeant was already calling out the team roster. Yané hurried into place beside Desmé and stood at attention. After they were all accounted for, the sergeant then took them through the basics of their mission, including access points and contingency plans. Yané's job was to slice through whatever security obstacles they might encounter to get them inside, and then to dump as much data as she could from Veruna's private servers and security files. It was going to be a long day. She was kind of resentful that she hadn't had any sleep since the night before yesterday.
"Here," said Desmé quietly, as together they headed toward the transport that would take them to Keren swiftly and silently. She handed Yané a small white pill. "It's a stimulant. It'll keep your brain clear until we're done."
"You read my mind." Gratefully, Yané ripped open the foil protecting the pill and swallowed it down, making a face at the bitter flavor. "Do you think it will be over after tonight?" she asked quietly as they took their places side by side in the transport.
"No. But maybe the skies will clear, for a while."
Yané pondered these words for the duration of the journey.
They put Jessa in a small, windowless room with a single bed, a refresher off to the side, and some holobooks. She made a pretense of reading one, but in the background her mind was cataloguing everything that had happened today, over and over. She wouldn't risk writing any of it down, or even repeating it aloud as there were undoubtedly eyes watching her, but she knew from experience that memory was a fickle thing. If and when she got the opportunity to report back to Richard Naberrie's people, she didn't want to overlook even the smallest, seemingly insignificant detail.
Alas, memorizing details with no form of visual assistance was exhausting, and it wasn't long before Jessa's eyes began to droop. She didn't even bother changing her clothes or washing her face when she curled up on the bed, just to rest her eyes...
When she woke, the room was dark. The motion sensors must have calculated her to be sleeping. She lay there, her heart pounding inexplicably in the blackness, trying to remember a nightmare that her body was recalling but her brain was not.
Jessa sat up and the lighting in the room rose to a gentle level. She found herself wishing they would just stay off. She craved the anonymity of sleep, the comforting nothingness of the dark, where she didn't have to see the walls that reminded her how far away she was from home and everything she'd ever loved.
She sat there, breathing hard, until the breaths came more calmly. Still, the restless feeling lingered as she slowly lowered herself once more.
One day at a time, she reminded herself. Tomorrow, you can go back home.
She forced herself to focus on these thoughts until uneasy sleep claimed her again.
When Yané's boots hit the ground there was a slight crunch of frost. She shivered and hurried away from the transport to make way for Desmé, who was right behind her. It was still dark out, but with the particular silent calm of the hour just before dawn. She had never been to Keren before. Unfortunately, there was no time to enjoy the scenery.
"Val Argon!" called the sergeant in a loud whisper. Yané hurried forward.
"You're third, after Drist and Rizzo. They'll cover you. Get us inside. Preferably before anyone knows we're there."
"Yes, sir."
The transport had landed in a field about three-hundred meters from the outer perimeter of Veruna's estate. As quickly and silently as possible, she followed the two leads and they hurried to a console. This was one of five registered "back doors" to the estate that had been available from public records of the place. Yané didn't anticipate any problems getting through.
She was right. Within two minutes she had cracked the entry codes.
"The alarm is down. We can fly up to the house now."
"All right, everyone back on board. Hurry."
The small advance team hustled back onto the transport, this time not bothering to strap in, but clinging to the handholds as the pilot lifted them smoothly in the air and carried them toward the mansion. The rest of the strike force was preparing themselves—double-checking their weapons and gear, shuffling and assuming stoic expressions. Yané was feeling a mite calmer. Having already passed her first hurdle, she had already shed the better part of her nerves. Now her mind was full of soothing code— an opponent she knew very well how to fight.
Their target was the docking doors behind the house, adjacent to the kitchens and the servants' quarters. Yané had a good view of the loading dock as the transport carefully bore down on it. She tightened her grip on her handhold and fixed her sight on the lip of the dock. As soon as the ship came to a stop, she would be hopping onto it with the others.
"Go, go, go!" shouted the sergeant as soon as they landed. Yané tightened her grip on her pistol with her right hand and her slicing gear with her left. Her feet hit the duracrete of the loading dock hard, but she didn't stop.
An agent manning the private security station near the doors was already talking hastily on his intercom. The strike team point men hustled forward and trained their weapons on him. "This is an authorized property seizure per the Naboo Planetary Constitution, Article forty-five," called the sergeant on loudly. His headset amplified his voice so that the security agent could be sure to hear it.
The agent, whose hands had shot into the air in alarm upon being surrounded, slowly lowered one hand to reach for the intercom again. "Do you have a warrant?" he asked.
The sergeant jerked his head at Desmé, who whipped an encrypted datachip and stepped forward, passing it to the agent through a deposit slot below his window. He took it out, and Desmé stepped back.
"This is already taking too long," she said to Yané.
"He's stalling on purpose," Yané said. "But we have to play it by the book."
Desmé's lips pressed together, disapproving. "Work as fast as you can once you're in," she said finally. Yané nodded. She didn't need to be reminded.
A laborious minute later, the security agent said something else into his intercom and then turned his attention back to the strike team. "Opening the door," he said reluctantly.
The door slipped open and Yané followed behind the others. "Good luck," Desmé whispered.
Rizzo fell into step behind her. "Lead the way, oh, tech-saavy one."
"We need to get upstairs," Yané said. "Three stories, and then to the office suite. We'll take the stairs. This way." She pointed to the left and hurried on.
Drist and Rizzo followed. "The stairs, really?" Rizzo complained.
"You're the one with all the physical training," she shot back. "Turbolifts are too easy to manipulate, and you know there are probably people trying to slow us down."
"Stairs it is," he agreed.
Three flights later, Yané was more inclined to share his complaints. She noticed she was easily the most winded of the three, which was a bit annoying, but hardly surprising.
The door to the office suite was locked when they arrived. "They were supposed to unlock everything," Yané observed. "Well, they didn't figure on me." She made short work of the override and the three of them hurried forward again.
"If the blueprints we got are to believed, then they keep all the servers in the dry seal room at the end of the corridor. Hurry."
They ran to the end of the long, clinically-white corridor and thudded to a halt again at another locked door.
"Really, this is getting ridiculous."
When Yané got them through that door they burst in with a lot of clamor. The room was not empty.
"Everybody's hands in the air!" Rizzo shouted, waving his blaster menacingly from one person to the other. There were four in total. "This property is being seized under search warrant. Any further action on your part is suspect for obstruction of justice and you will be arrested!"
Obediently, the four technicians raised their hands into the air, though they didn't look too happy about it.
"Put 'em on your head," Rizzo continued ordering. "And file out of the room, single file. "My friend Drist here will be making sure you stay quiet out in the corridor. Let's go, people!" He looked at Yané. "All yours, specialist."
Yané didn't even wait for the four of them to finish clearing the room, but headed straight for the central data console. In less than thirty seconds she had her case open and she was tapped into the system.
The first thing she looked for was the time stamp for the last backup. To her satisfaction, it was less than six hours ago, and she was willing to bet that Veruna's tech people hadn't had had sufficient time to delete everything they'd wished to in the last fifteen minutes. She was even more willing to bet they hadn't done it correctly, and above all, she was quite certain that someone somewhere else in this building was working just as hard as she was to make sure she wouldn't be able to find or keep everything she was after.
It was a race against the clock. Yané cracked her knuckles. "You wanna play?" she muttered to her unseen opponent. "Let's see what you've got."
This time, Jessa did not wake from a nightmare, but was pulled from her fretful sleep by distant, shouting voices. She sat up and listened to the sounds for some time, deathly curious about what was going on, but knowing that trying to leave the room was a fruitless gesture. Any attempt to force her way out would certainly blow her cover. She did put her ear to the door, hoping to glean some sort of clue as to what was going on outside, but this was almost no help at all.
She would just have to wait it out.
"Ah, Your Majesty, welcome." Agent Kal did not look surprised to see Richard enter the room.
Unwilling to wait a moment longer blind and ignorant in the bunker, Richard had ordered Barris to take the necessary measures to bring him here to the 'war room' without anyone being the wiser. It was an inconvenience to the captain, but Richard figured it was no less a bother than having to come report every half hour.
"How is it going?"
Governor Veruna has been apprehended with no problems. He's been escorted to the municipal holding facilities here in Theed.
"We can't hold him in the palace?"
"No, sire. Not according to the correct due process. Technically speaking, the crown doesn't have judicial autonomy in this matter."
"I see. And the others?"
"Of the twenty-three names on our list, we report the successful arrest of twelve so far, but not all of the teams have reached their destinations. And we're still unable to determine the whereabouts of Lady Malleon."
"What about Keren? Veruna's estate?"
"No report for fifteen minutes. The last we heard, they'd successfully gained entrance to the complex. But no word on any arrests or the data that Specialist Val Argon is hoping to retrieve."
"Miss Kennich?"
"No word on her either, Your Majesty."
"All right." Richard crossed his arms and forcefully kept himself from pacing. So much depended on the outcome of the next couple of hours. If this went badly then they might not have another chance for decades. He was worried that he'd made the wrong call.
"Gotcha!" Yané grinned and actually hopped a little bit into the air.
In her peripheral vision, Rizzo gave a start, from where he was posted by the doorway. "Force, Argon, you scared the jeeps out of me. What, exactly, did you get? Are we done?"
Yané was already unplugging all of her cables, lest whoever she'd been network-wrestling with went looking for her plug-ins. "Yes," she said. "I got everything I possibly can. Everything else has been irretrievably purged. I hope we arrest this guy. He's good. Maybe even better than me, but he didn't know I was coming."
"Really? Better than you?"
"I don't have a big head, Rizzo. Arrogance is an invitation to get caught with your pants down."
"Or a skirt, in your case."
She gave him a weird look. "Are we done with the chit chat? We need to be getting back."
"Right, let's go."
Yané and Rizzo hurried out into the corner, where Drist was still guarding the technicians. Three of them were sitting against the wall of the corridor with their hands still on their head. The fourth was slumped unconscious on the floor.
"Someone try to run?" Yané asked with a frown.
Rizzo laughed. "You didn't hear the yelling and the blaster going off? It's a good thing we had your back, Specialist. Once you computer nerds get going there is no penetrating your heads."
"I did my job, you did yours. We all go home winners. Let's get going."
"What do we do with them?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately, we have to bring them along for questioning. Where are they collecting witnesses?"
"In the staff room."
"Staff room it is."
When Jessa's door opened, she was ready. She didn't get to her feet, but she knew her tension was clear.
The man who'd questioned her yesterday was back. He looked decidedly less pleased to see her.
"Get up," he said harshly. "We need to move." He threw something at her. "Put that on, quickly."
Jessa shook it out and blinked in surprise. It was a uniform of some kind, by the looks of it, Naboo.
"I managed to get a couple of them before they realized it," he said. Jessa assumed he would go on to explain who 'they' were and why he had needed to get them.
She also sensed that quibbling over modesty at this moment was probably not a good idea. "What's happening?" she asked, as she stripped down to her underwear and began grappling with the closures on the jumpsuit he'd provided.
"Somehow, the Royal forces have caught on to us. They're conducting a raid even as we speak. I'll be questioning you about the timing as soon as we're safely away from here. Move!"
Jessa was still finishing with the jumpsuit as she hurried after him. She concentrated every effort to show surprise at the fact of the raid. Inwardly, she marveled that it was happening. Clearly, King Richard had decided knowing where to look was good enough for now. She hoped that the raid included a plan to rescue her.
Her escort led her through several twists and turns, but he couldn't seem to dodge the sounds of shouting and blaster fire in all directions. They were herded steadily up, enough that finally they passed by doorways that had pale morning sunshine spilling through. They were aboveground. Jessa could tell her companion was not pleased by this fact.
They rounded a final bend in a hurry, and almost ran smack dab into a group of people. Instantly, Jessa recognized Yané, decked from head to toe in elegant black gear that exactly matched the costume that Jessa had just donned.
Yané's eyes lit up in recognition. She looked at the two of them, and excitement and relief came over her. In one sickening moment, Jessa realized what the other girl was assuming, but had no time to warn her otherwise.
"Jessa, oh, good! I was so worried. I—" she stopped short in alarm at the look on the face of Jessa's escort.
Jessa tried to run for it, but she was too slow. He seized her painfully by the elbow and brought her crashing back against his chest, the business end of a heavy blaster cutting sharply into her throat. The two guards escorting Yané raised their blasters in reflex, but did not fire.
"I knew it," the man hissed into his ear. "I knew it had something to do with you. Don't come any closer!" he shouted. "I'll kill her. Move aside."
Yané looked like she was going to throw up. Cautiously, she stepped back.
"You four, get out of here, if you can." At his words, Jessa realized that the other people with Yané and the soldiers were in fact prisoners. They eagerly scrambled off. One of the two soldiers followed their escape with annoyance.
"Now stand aside," barked Jessa's captor. "Let me pass."
Grudgingly, the three of them backed against the corridor and made way for him.
"Yané," said Jessa, her voice tight with the press of the blaster.
"Shut up!" hissed the man.
She ignored him. "Tell Larkin I love her. I'll always love her."
He pressed the barrel even more tightly into her windpipe, enough to make her want to choke. They brushed passed Yané and her two friends. Jessa's heart was thumping loudly in her ears. She didn't think her usefulness as a hostage was going to last very long. Her captor had no idea how much information she had been able to memorize in her short tenure with the organization. Apart from any vendetta he might harbor, it would not be expedient to leave her alive.
They reached the end of the corridor. He hauled her a few more rooms and then dragged her into a small, abandoned break room.
"For betraying the Klions, Jessa Kennich, I have just become your executioner. I would love to interrogate you, but I can't have you dragging me down now."
"No, please," she said desperately. She opened her mouth to tell him about Larkin, and then another fear crossed her mind— that confession would put her daughter in danger. "Please don't kill me."
"You should have thought of that before you came here," he said. He looked over his shoulder. "I don't have time for this."
They were the last words she ever heard.
Drist was still in the middle of reporting their encounter with Jessa over the intercom when they heard a muffled blaster fire coming from the direction where Jessa and the man holding her captive had disappeared.
"Oh no," Yané whispered.
"Wait!" Rizzo yelled after as she took off toward the sound. He reached her just as she reached the intersection of halls and seized her forcibly by the elbow to haul her back. "Just wait," he said urgently into her ear.
Standing still in that moment was almost the hardest thing she'd ever done. Rizzo listened hard for a couple of minutes, until the sound of fleeing footsteps had faded even further into the distance, running away from them. Then he peered cautiously around the corner, took a few steps into the open, and silently beckoned Yané to follow him.
She kept a few steps behind as Rizzo checked each room along the way with equal caution. At the fourth door, he tensed, and then his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked at Yané with sympathy.
She forced her feet to move, one in front of the other, and then forced her eyes to look inside.
"Oh, Jessa," she said sadly.
He had shot her in the face. Since she was wearing the Naboo security uniform, a blaster shot anywhere else might not have killed her. Yané couldn't look for longer than a moment. She closed her eyes and tried not to be sick. This did nothing to mask the scent of charred flesh, still smoking.
"Bastard," Rizzo muttered. Yané opened her eyes again when she sensed him pass her and watched him crouch down to feel the woman's neck, as if there was some hope she would still be breathing with half of her face blasted away.
By now, Drist had arrived and took in the scene. "I'm going after him," he said. HE hurried away as quickly as he'd come.
Rizzo got to his feet again and "Sergeant, this is Rizzo. Kennich is dead. Repeat, Kennich is dead. Requesting retrieval team to take the body back to Theed. Drist is in pursuit of her killer. I'm taking Specialist val Argon back to the convoy." He gave them instructions how to find Jessa's body.
"Acknowledged, Rizzo. See you at rendezvous."
"What?" Yané said. "No, we have to stay. I'm not leaving her!"
"Right now getting those files out of here safely is the most important thing left for us to do. Do you want her to have died for nothing?"
"No," said Yané in a small voice.
"I don't like it any more than you do, but we can't help her anymore. Let's go."
Coruscant felt cold and lonely without Ben. Sabé found it difficult to explain. She was used to life without him, but being on the same world with him always made her feel better. It was a testament to the great chasm in their relationship that an entire planet felt like a small distance.
Ordinarily, she would have taken solace in her sister's company, but Padmé was distracted and moody. She wouldn't say, but Sabé knew it was because of Anakin. How strange, to feel the unease surrounding him through not one, but the two people whom she loved more than any others in the galaxy.
Distance and distractions notwithstanding, she could not depart for Naboo without first taking her leave of her twin. When she parked her speeder on the private landing platform of Padmé's apartments, it was Dormé who came down the stairs to greet her.
"Sabé," Dormé greeted with a serene embrace. "I'm glad you're here."
"Is Padmé all right?"
"She's a little bit tired, but otherwise she's fine."
"Has Anakin been here today?"
"Yes, once." Dormé looked disapproving. "He wanders in and out of here so randomly, it's hard to remember at times. "She's in her bedroom."
"Thank you, Dormé."
Sabé made her way along the familiar route to the back of the suite. She waved her hand over the door chime outside the doors to Padmé's apartment.
"Who is it?"
"Your long-lost sister."
"Come in." Sabé could picture the tired smile on Padmé's voice.
When she entered the room, she saw Padmé sitting at her writing table, a small collection of datapads and papers spread out before her. Her hair was pulled up neatly, but she was still in her dressing gown.
"You look uncharacteristically comfortable," Sabé observed wryly.
Padmé looked up and laughed. "When you're this pregnant, then you can talk to me about twenty-five kilo gowns and temple-squeezing headdresses.
"I don't think I'll ever be pregnant."
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you will be."
Sabé opened her mouth and then closed it, hesitating. She had so many times wished to tell Padmé about Obi-Wan, and how she had long ago vowed to never devote herself to anyone else, at least as long as he was alive. But, as always, something held her back. Maybe someday. Maybe if the war ended soon and Ben decided to discontinue the Jedi order. He had hinted that he was giving it serious consideration. Anakin was no longer his apprentice, after all.
"We'll see," was all she decided to say.
She sat down on the bed, facing Padmé. "So—" she began, and looked at her sister's belly. "Do you ever wonder about your baby. I mean—"
"What about him? Or her?" Padmé asked, reaching to rub a hand over her stomach with curiosity.
"Anakin is so strong in the Force," Sabé said. "Freakishly high midichlorian count or some such, am I right?"
"Yes."
"So doesn't it follow that any children you have together would also be strong in the Force?"
"I suppose." It was clear from the tone of Padmé's voice that she'd already had these thoughts, but never before aloud. "I had been hoping Anakin would bring this up, but he can't seem to stop worrying about my safety." She frowned fretfully.
"Are you going to have the baby tested?"
"Undoubtedly."
"And what will you do if the Jedi want your child?"
Padmé's hand tightened ever-so-slightly. "I don't know," she confessed. "Why are you asking?" The question was defensive.
"I was just wondering, Padmé, that's all. You're my sister. I think about these things."
Padmé turned to look out the window. "Perhaps these worries are for nothing. Perhaps the baby will be as ordinary in the Force as you or me."
"And if not, then I can help you hide from the big, mean Jedi."
Padmé laughed.
"I'm serious. I don't want to see you go through what Danae did."
"It's very sweet of you, Sabé."
Sabé turned her attention to the work spread out over Padmé's table. "What are you working on?"
Now Padmé assumed a slightly alarmed posture. "Oh, it's— that is—" She looked positively frightful.
Sabé frowned. "What's wrong?"
Padmé looked around. "I had a meeting today. With Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila, Prince Organa, a couple others."
"Senator Mothma?" Sabé repeated. "She's so young."
"But eloquent," Padmé observed. "And right," she added softly.
"What was your meeting about?"
"Contingencies." Padmé didn't seem alarmed anymore. Now she seemed sad. "Some of don't like the way things are going in the Senate. I'm almost afraid to say it, but—"
"It's okay, Padmé. I know what you mean. And you're right to be talking about it."
"Even if it's in whispers?"
Sabé gave a grim smile. "For now. When I get back from Naboo, I'll help you." She looked around for the chrono. "Speaking of which—"
"You're all set to go attend Richard's fake funeral?"
"Yes. Are you sure you don't want to join me?"
"I'm still so angry at him. I think angry enough that I could stay away just out of spite. But the assassination attempt was very real. I'm not putting this baby within a planetary system of Theed right now."
"I understand. I'm sure the rest of the family will too."
"One nice thing, when Richard comes back to life, the people might be more upset with him than with me for a change."
"Only if he loses this silent war of his."
"I do hope he catches them," Padmé admitted.
"Me too." Sabé got to her feet, and Padmé did the same. The sisters embraced warmly. "I'll see you," Sabé said as she pulled away. "Keep a spot warm for me on your secret committee.
"I will. I love you, Sabé."
"And I love you."
Eleven hours after the strike had ended, Richard was still in the control room. The monitors were quiet now, but the rest of the room was still busy, assembled and waiting for Agent Kal to present the information they had obtained from Veruna's computer files in Keren.
Richard sat in the back of the room, mostly unbothered by anyone, reflecting on the day's events, wondering the precise timing of his return to the public eye and how he was going to tell Ciedron that he'd gotten his ex-girlfriend killed.
He hoped it had been worth it.
"Your majesty, Lady Nashira is outside."
"Let her in." He could use the company.
Nashira was dressed much more elegantly than anyone else in the room, and looked easily five times as refreshed. "Your Majesty," she said with a respectful nod upon approaching.
He waved at the hard, empty chair beside him. "Please, sit."
She did so, and then took a good hard look at his face. "You look exhausted."
"I'm pretty sure none of us here have slept in almost three days," he said, looking around the room.
"A dedicated effort. Why do you also look as though the sky has collapsed inward on you?"
"Someone died," he said. "Once again because they went where I asked them to go." Jessa had been the only casualty of the entire operation. As grateful he was that nobody else had lost their life, the fact that it had been her made it feel like the universe was exercising some kind of cruel vendetta against him.
"The mother of Lord Ceidron's child?" Lady Nashira asked delicately.
He nodded.
"I am sorry for it. How tragic."
He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I still have to tell Ciedron and—" he halted, his voice feeling harsh in his throat. "—I can't remember the little girl's name." A deep sense of despair came over him, and he put his head in his hands.
He could not afford to crumble, not yet. Not with so many people around. He wrestled against the tears and the sobs, clamoring for escape from his chest.
A soft hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder. "Her name was Larkin, my lord."
Richard sniffed loudly, and straightened, squaring his shoulders and blinking harshly. "Larkin," he repeated. "Yes, Larkin. I remember now."
He noticed Barris standing uncomfortably off to the side, watching the scene with hesitation. "What is it, Captain?" Richard asked.
"With your permission, sire, we're ready to begin."
"By all means. Proceed."
Yané and Agent Kal took their places near the front of the room, and Agent Kal called for quiet. There was a general scuffle and scraping of chairs as everyone heeded his request.
"Specialist," Agent Kal said, looking at Yané expectantly.
She cleared her throat. Richard noticed that the young woman looked even more tired than he was. "The agency we have been trying to track down these past few years is called the Klion organization, or simply, the Klions. Their mission is simple— to undermine the Naberrie dynasty. What leaders we've been able to identify are all from the Naboo aristocracy. They personally fund the enterprises of the group, disguising any illegal activity through businesses fronting as charities."
Agent Kal stepped forward. "The Klions' strategy seems to be twofold. One, to throw serious financial support behind legitimate, non-Naberrie candidates for the throne, and two, fear tactics to try and end the regime by force." Kal glanced back at Richard in the rear of the room. "Lately, as we know, they have stepped up these latter efforts considerably.
"We've made twenty-six arrests today," he went on, "and have warrants out for forty-three more confirmed conspirators."
Richard straightened and caught Kal's eye. "Is that all of them?" he asked meaningfully.
Yané shook her head. "I don't think so, sire. The records we found indicate that the organization was planned around a strict independent cell structure. We've only lopped of a few of the heads today. I'm sure there are more out there. There was a large chunk of information that I wasn't able to salvage."
"Did you get proof that they were behind the speeder bombing?"
"Yes, sire."
"Very well." Richard stood to his feet. He felt like just scowling for the rest of his life. "We've done all we can do for today," he said. "I'll be announcing my return from the dead as soon as this information is organized into an acceptable press release."
As quickly as it had come to order, the meeting began to break up again. Richard turned to Lady Nashira.
"You should take your own advice, Your Majesty, and get some sleep."
"Not yet. I won't be able to sleep until I've seen Ceidron and Claria." It wasn't a cheerful thought. The forthcoming confession to his sister and brother-in-law filled him with dread, an ache that seemed to be physically pressing into his chest.
Ceidron watched his daughter fighting to keep her breakfast on her fork. Larkin was frowning in deep concentration at the flava, willing it not to keep tumbling off the tines. He was curious how long it would be before she thought to use her spoon instead.
Finally, she seemed to decide that further war against the utensil was not worth her time. She put down the fork, defeated, and looked up at Ceidron. "Are we going to see mommy today?"
It was the same question every day. And he never had an answer for her, except, "I don't know, Larkin. Maybe."
"Where did she go?"
"She went on a trip, but she didn't know how long it would be. Don't worry. She wants to come back." He didn't know where Jessa had disappeared to, precisely, but he did at least know that much to be true.
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"Maybe tomorrow."
The past five days had been a difficult blur for Ceidron. True, in Jessa's absence, Larkin had drawn closer to him, but it was a matter of default. Larkin seemed to recognize that in this strange place, Ceidron was her best link to her absent mother.
"Did your mom ever take you to the central library on Commenor?"
"No," she said assuredly.
"It's a big building with lots of funny stairs."
Her eyes widened in recognition. "And a see-through roof with lots of colors?"
He smiled. "Yes, that's it."
"We go there lots of days. Mommy reads grown-up things and lets me play with the holo viewers. Sometimes I get to watch a whole one."
"You like holos?"
"I like 'Nerf Tales'."
"I don't think I've seen that one."
"There are lots of holos of it. I like Looka. He's my favorite."
"He's a nerf?"
"Uh-huh. He's so funny. He always falls down."
"Maybe some time we can watch it together."
"You have 'Nerf Tales' on Naboo?"
"I'm sure I can find it. Let me ask at the palace. I bet we can watch it together this afternoon, if you like."
For the first time since he'd met her, Larkin brightened and gave a smile that was completely hers to give.
"Do you two mind if I interrupt?"
Ceidron and Larkin turned. Claria was standing in the doorway of the dining room, hesitant. Larkin immediately retreated back into her isolation. "What is it?" Ceidron asked.
Claria looked at Larkin, and seemed genuinely apologetic for the disruption. "Ceidron, they're asking for us up at the palace. As soon as possible. Richard wants to see us. I think, maybe—" she threw a meaningful glance at Larkin.
"Right." He put his napkin on his plate and pushed back from the table. "Larkin, do you want to come with us to the palace now? We can ask about that holo program,."
Larkin looked between them nervously and then gave a tentative nod.
"All right," he said with an encouraging smile. He held out his hand. After a moment, she climbed down out of her chair and walked around the table to take it. It felt incredibly small inside his.
"Let me just get my things," said Claria.
The journey to the main part of the palace was quiet. They walked together, Claria and Ceidron speaking on occasion, Larkin saying nothing. She just kept her eyes on everything they passed, which was mostly duracrete hallways and security guards.
Ceidron hadn't ever been to Richard's private hideaway, deep in the bowels of the palace. He knew it existed, of course, but visiting it had always seemed to him to be a gesture of submission to Richard's vanity. It was an uncharitable way to be, he knew. After all, the recent bombing had only proved yet again that Richard's paranoia was not without basis. But for some reason it was disgusting to Ceidron to visit a king who was holed up away, hiding from his own people.
It was not Richard they first met when they arrived in the bunker, however. It was the queen.
"Yvenne!" said Claria. "I heard you were back. We were going to come today." She hurried forward to embrace her sister-in-law.
"Hello, Claria. Ceidron," said Yvenne. "And this must be Larkin," she concluded, looking at the little girl still clutching Richard's hand.
"Yes. Larkin, I'd like you to meet Yvenne Lornaira Sorenst Naberrie, Queen of the Naboo."
Larkin blinked at Yvenne in slight awe. "You have a lot of names," she declared.
Yvenne smiled. "Two of them I got when I became the queen."
"Do you have a baby in your belly?"
"Yes, I do. A baby boy."
"When will he come out?"
"Very soon. I have a little girl named Sioned. She's here in the palace now. Would you like to play with her?"
Larkin looked up at Ceidron uncertainly. Yvenne shot Ceidron a meaningful look over her head.
"It's okay, Larkin. Go with Queen Yvenne. Princess Claria and I have to talk to the king, but we'll come and get you after we're finished."
Larkin considered this proposal, and then finally pulled her hand from Ceidron's with obvious reluctance and transferred it to Yvenne's outstretched palm.
"Sioned and I have been staying with the Gungans," Yvenne began to tell her as they walked away. "They gave her some new toys. I think you might like them too. Have you ever met a Gungan before?"
"No."
Ceidron had no time to listen to their conversation further. The escort who had shown them to the bunker stepped forward. "The king is in the other room," he prompted.
Claria took Ceidron's abandoned hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "Let's go," she said.
In the back room, Richard was sitting alone at a table, looking like he hadn't slept for a week. His jacket was wrinkled and unbuttoned, and he desperately needed to shave. There were dark circles under his eyes. When he looked up and saw them, he only seemed to grow more depressed. "Sit down," he said tiredly, waving at a sofa next to the door.
They sat. Richard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, collecting his thoughts. "There is a group of terrorists among the nobility here on Naboo called the Klions." He gave a dry laugh. "They chafe under the iron fist of the Naberrie clan. Ceidron, you'd probably fit right in."
An impatient retort rose in Ceidron's chest, but Claria gave his hand a warning squeeze and he bit it back down again.
"In any case, they are the ones responsible for the car bombing. The attack on Yvenne and Sioned last month." He hesitated, then added, "Mother's assassination."
Claria gasped. "You found them, really? When. I mean, how? After all this time?"
"We found them because they let their guard down when they thought they'd killed me." Now Richard looked squarely at Ceidron. "And because in two days Jessa was able to do what we couldn't do for five years. Infiltrate them and lead us straight to their doorstep."
Ceidron sucked in a breath. "What did you do?" he asked.
"I made her a deal, for her financial security. I asked for her help in this matter."
"And where is she now?" The question was a line of a script in which Ceidron wished he didn't have to partake. The answer was written in Richard's posture and the gaping fact of Jessa's absence.
A burden of grief passed over Richard's features. "She's dead, Ceidron," he choked out. "She was killed by the Klions early this morning as soon as they confirmed her double cross. I'm so sorry."
All Ceidron could do was stare at Richard's dusty boots for several eternal moments of silence.
"You bastard," he said finally. He looked up and met his brother-in-law's eyes with menace. "You selfish, short-sighted, petty, manipulative bastard."
"Ceidron—" Claria began.
"No." He stood to his feet, and pulled his hand out of hers. "I will never forgive him for this."
"We couldn't have done this without her, Ceidron."
"You don't know that."
"She's a hero."
"A hero?" Ceidron laughed bitterly. "Killed by an aristocrat, on behalf of an aristocrat, for an aristocratic cause. Yes, that sounds exactly how Jessa Kennich would have chosen to be killed. Thank you so much for that legacy, Richard."
He stormed out of the room. Claria didn't say anything else, but got to her feet and hurried after him. He pounded passed the shocked guard and out into the hallway toward the lift that would take them away from the gods-forsaken bunker. Ceidron was nearly blind with rage and grief.
"Ceidron," Claria pleaded. "Wait!"
He was walking so quickly that she had to break into a light run to reach him. When she did, she reached out forcefully and seized his balled fist with both of her small hands, gently tugging him to a halt. "Stop!" she cried. "Look at me."
He turned around and stared at the hem of her gown.
"Look at me," she entreated again, reaching up and pulling his face toward her. Her face was a picture of quiet compassion. "Ceidron," she said, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
He crumbled. His face broke out in tears and his knees gave out. He dropped down to the floor, and Claria followed him, holding him until he spent as much of his pain as he could bear.
"What am I going to tell her?" he said, finally, his face pressed into his wife's shoulder.
"Shhh," Claria soothed. "We'll tell her the truth. That her mother was brave and she helped a lot of people. We'll tell her together. I'll be with you, Ceidron. Don't worry. We'll be her family now. Together."
A/N: I know, I know! I updated twice in the same month!
Jessa's death was hard to write. She's one of those people (like too many in the real world) who get a much harder deal than anybody rightly deserves from life. She's one of the grittiest characters I've ever written, and I admire her a lot.