And now the situation you've all been waiting for...
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Chapter 14 – Mirages
After a night of fitful sleep, a bleary-eyed sunrise, and a nutritionally bankrupt breakfast in the Mirage Motel lobby, Padmé and company were off to a late departure from Anchorhead. The delay continued when the twins begged for one last spin at the carnival before heading back to the farm. Padmé and Beru relented, but only on the condition that the fun ended at noon.
The first transport of the afternoon docked for departure half an hour later. With shopping bags and children in hand, the women were halfway up the boarding ramp when an emergency erupted.
"Oh no – I left Moopy in our room!" wailed Leia.
"Moopy?" Beru raised a bemused eyebrow.
"Her plush bantha," Padmé explained, sighing. "Leia, I told you to make sure you had everything before we checked out!"
"I'm sorry mommy," the girl's lip quivered. "I can't leave without her! Pleeease can we go back?"
Throwing an apologetic look to the driver, Padmé did her best to earn his sympathy.
"Do you mind holding on just three more minutes?" she implored.
"Sure lady. If the other folks get restless, I'll just tell them a bantha's standing in our way," he rolled his eyes.
She thanked him sheepishly and scurried toward the motel, surprised to see Luke running along with them.
"I mighta left something behind too," he panted. "Aunt Beru's gonna save us a seat."
She might be saving it for no one, if we have to wait for both of you to search, Padmé griped to herself.
Thankfully, the cleaning crew hadn't yet reached their suite; it looked exactly as they'd left it, crumpled bed sheets and all. Padmé wasted no time in stripping linens and overturning pillows in a mad race to find the stuffed animal.
"Oh, here's my toothbrush," called Luke from the restroom. "And my hairbrush… and my other sock…"
He might have left something behind?!
"Mommy, I found a pretzel on the floor!" Leia exclaimed proudly. It was touching her lips a split second before Padmé snatched it.
"No eating pretzels or anything else off the floor! Please, sweetie, keep looking for Moopy – or we'll be late for the transport!"
Half a minute later, the three most wonderful words rang through the air.
"I found her!"
"Great! Now let's hurry," Padmé ushered them out as quickly as they'd come in. "I think we can still make it…"
Down the hall they flew, practically leaping over staff in their mad dash for the doors. Relief charged Padmé's legs when she saw the transport still hovering outside. Just the sight she wanted to see.
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as Padmé scanned the windows for Beru. Hopefully she'd reserved a spot near the front, since Luke and Leia tended to get nauseous from exhaust fumes.
But the pale, stricken faces she saw seemed to indicate everyone had that problem.
Padmé slowed. Something felt wrong. Not only did all the passengers appear ill, but they were staring in unison at something off to her right. In slow motion, she turned toward the source of their unease…
And her heart stopped.
A hundred yards away stood the scythe of her apocalypse.
He had found her.
How in the name of the Force he'd done it, she couldn't fathom.
A silent bomb exploded between them. The aftermath of its detonation brought many things.
Padmé's ears stopped processing sound.
The midday suns eclipsed themselves.
Vader flashed aggressive gestures to nearby stormtroopers.
Pressed against her window, Beru screamed as her niece and nephew were hauled away in tears. Their mother, meanwhile, offered no resistance. She became a walking statue under arrest.
Ainar watched in bewilderment. Why this woman? Why her children? What had they done to deserve this?
If his long-distance vision had compared with Vader's, he wouldn't have had to ask.
He'd recognize the woman as having stepped straight from the visions Vader shared just hours before. And the children… those children were the child that supposedly perished with her five years ago.
That's what his eyes would have told him, anyway.
And that's what Vader's perceived. But the signal bypassed all logical circuits in his brain and fired a single response.
IMPOSTOR.
Must apprehend… the impostor…
Beru wept hysterically.
On board the stormtroopers' shuttle, Luke and Leia did the same.
Padmé sat next to them in stoic, fatalistic resignation.
Ainar fought to keep his head from spinning like a top.
And Vader nearly tore a hole in the time-space continuum when he blasted toward Imperial Center, intent on arriving before his prisoners did.
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An angry commotion on the tenth floor of 250 Republica had its tenants peeking from their doors – then almost shearing their noses off when sliding them quickly shut again.
"There will be no further argument!" Vader bellowed.
"You can't contain me here against my will!" shot back Ainar, blocking the door to his suite.
"You do not yet grasp the limits of our relationship. Our expedition is over, and on Imperial Center, I resume full authority!"
"So I'm confined to this apartment for, what, a week? A month?"
"A day or two at the longest."
"And you still won't tell me why."
"It. Is. None. Of. Your. Business!" Vader flew into a tirade. "You have food. You have furnishings. You have shelter and running water. Considering where you've been the past 27 years, you should be grateful!"
Staring his son in the eye, Ainar didn't budge. "And you, of all people, should understand the pain of unjust detainment!"
"I haven't time for this posturing!" Vader seethed. "Remain inside until I contact you again!"
"And if I don't?"
"These guards will enforce my orders."
Three shadow troopers suddenly uncloaked next to Vader, deadly blasters poised and ready to fire.
"Be forewarned, they're far less susceptible to mind tricks than most."
Nonplussed, Ainar could only sigh. "So this is what it comes down to. After all we shared, all the progress we made, you're holding me captive. Your own f–" minding the shadow troopers, he rephrased just in time, "–friend. Your only friend."
Vader flung his internal conflict aside. "So it must be. For now."
"Fine," Ainar entered the door keycode resentfully. "Whatever it is you need me out of the picture to do, I hope it's worth your while. Unless it involves what I think it does."
"Which is what?" Vader confronted.
"A senseless end for that family you abducted."
"I'll only warn you once, Ainar – do not speculate on affairs that are not your own!"
Ainar stepped into the doorway, arms folded. "I've got nothing better to do while I'm stuck here."
"Then I suggest you take up holonet watching!" Vader spat, wheeling away in fury. He was almost to the turbolift when he heard Ainar mumbling to himself in hollow astonishment.
"What happened at Anchorhead?" he whispered, desperately wishing he could circumvent Vader's mental blockade. Anakin, I know you're in there. Don't let the last remnant of your soul slip away. Remember, you're no longer alone…
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But that's exactly what Vader was for the next hour – alone. Alone in 250 Republica's turbolift with only his grim reflection staring back at him from mirrored walls. It might not be his first choice for solitary meditation, but as long as his thumb remained on the door button, it was as private a chamber as any Qabbrat pod.
Perhaps better, even. No one could interrupt him here. He'd purposely left his comlink in the shuttle, leaving Palpatine and Xizor no means of disrupting this much-needed focus session. Caught somewhere between lucidness and delirium, Vader closed his eyes and tried to sift facts from fiction.
Fact number one was that, contrary to his initial instinct, they were not mirages. The Tatooine suns were known to play tricks on the eyes of many travelers, but not today. They were real. The stormtroopers who seized them could attest to that much. And a stark detention cell, perhaps the very one Ainar inhabited, held those three inmates of real flesh and blood.
That they mimicked some connection to his flesh and blood was the monumental issue with which he grappled.
Fact number two: the woman was either Padmé's long-lost twin, or there was a plastic surgeon somewhere who deserved a Galactic Lifetime Achievement Award. Since he knew his late wife had only one older sister, the latter scenario was the only rational conclusion.
Had Xizor commissioned her? Vader had heard rumors of the prince taking an active interest in his modern medicine shareholdings. There was even talk that Xizor's personal aide – whom Vader had yet to meet – wasn't entirely human, despite her appearance. But none of this indicated Xizor sent the impostor. He'd have to know of Padmé's existence and relation to Vader, which only five men in the galaxy did: Palpatine, Obi-Wan, Yoda, Bail Organa, and Owen Lars.
Of those five, the two Jedi masters were the most likely culprits. But why now? Why pool their resources to taunt him after five years? It seemed childish and pointless. Surely they had better use for their time and money than recreating a ghost for him to chase. And recruiting fraternal twins for the job… really? One child actor or actress wasn't enough?
This stunt called for swift, decisive action. Whoever was responsible would pay by having their handiwork destroyed. They'd get the message that Vader appreciated neither their creativity nor sense of humor.
That was the third fact. All three prisoners would die a public and painful death tomorrow at noon.
Keeping Ainar in the dark was more essential than ever. Vader refused to tolerate any interference from his father this time. No bleeding heart or bartering for their lives. No extortion to undermine his resolve. He'd permitted it with the Solo boy, but he'd allow no intervention in this matter.
Fortunate for him, Ainar didn't recognize the woman from afar. That had to be Vader's best stroke of luck in years.
Now if he could just shake this persistent headache…
It had to be a residual effect of breathing Tatooine's atmosphere. It'd flared up the instant they landed. It would fade in time, as always. He certainly wasn't going to let it impede his judgment now. Nor would it keep him from marching down to that detention center and, for the second time that week, obtain some answers.
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"Where are we?"
"I don't like this place!"
"I'm scared!"
"I'm cold!"
"I'm warm!"
"I'm hungry!"
"I'm thirsty!"
"I gotta go to the bathroom!"
"They took Moopy away!"
"It smells in here!"
"Do we hafta sleep here tonight?"
"I wanna go back to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru's!"
"Please can we go, mom? We'll be extra good!"
"Promise we won't break anything else!"
Padmé's ears rang with her children's fervent pleas. They expected and needed her to pluck words of consolation from thin, stale air.
Feeling dangerously close to a catatonic shutdown, she pulled herself back by pulling Luke and Leia toward her with shaking arms.
"Did we do something wrong, mom?" squeaked Luke, looking ashamed.
That she could answer unequivocally. "No, none of us did."
"Then why are we here?"
Padmé didn't think she could bear to vocalize the answer. Gone were all the benign ways she imagined them discovering the truth. How she wished it was in the comfort of their own home, surrounded by familiar objects and furnishings… not this sterile box that would eat her words and regurgitate them into acid.
What she had to gauge was whether, at five years old, not knowing the reason for being in jail was better or worse than knowing.
She realized she'd be sick with guilt either way.
"Well, honey…" her voice faltered, "…remember that man we saw in the scary black suit?"
Luke and Leia both nodded ardently.
"He looked like that toy Aunt Beru wouldn't let me touch," Luke remarked.
"Y-yes," was all Padmé could reply.
"So who is he?"
"He… he…"
The twins' round, innocent eyes made Padmé want to swallow her tongue.
I can't do this. But I have to.
"He's… your…"
"HEY, lookit that! I've got neighbors again!"
On cue, Han Solo burst onto the scene, grinning as he was led to his old cell.
"Welcome to the freak show, folks!" he looked them up and down. "Single mom an' two kids? What'd they do, bite Darth Vader's ankles?"
Oblivious that his joke was in extremely bad taste, Han coughed awkwardly when he saw he was the only one laughing.
"Er, sorry. Name's Han Solo."
Padmé tried to remain civil despite her exasperation. Could this boy's timing possibly be any worse?
"I'm Pedna, and these are Luke and Leia," she used her travel pseudonym.
"Pleased to make your 'quaintances. But if ya don't mind me sayin', ya don't really fit in here."
"Well, you don't fit my idea of a typical prisoner, either."
"How's that?"
"You're far too happy."
"You'd be happy too if ya just got back from cell block 7-B!" Han rejoiced. "I swore I saw snow fallin' at one point!"
Shaking her head, Padmé had to admit Han's charisma took the edge off their predicament. His roguish charm and personality were somewhat infectious.
Han stretched both arms over his head and sighed contentedly. "Hope ya stick around longer than the last guy. Well, not that I want ya to… you know what I mean."
"Misery loves company."
"Yeah, somethin' like that."
Padmé wondered if she preferred to know their fate sooner rather than later, or vice versa. Leia, meanwhile, had fixed her dark brown eyes on Han.
"Watcha lookin' at, short stuff?" he smirked.
"Don't call me that!"
"All right, squirt."
"Not that either!"
"Sorry, little Miss Muffet."
Realizing she was getting nowhere, Leia stuck her tongue out at him and flung herself onto the bench, pouting.
"He's stupid," she scowled.
"I think he's cool!" offered Luke.
What isn't cool to him? wondered Padmé. What a stage he's in…
"Call me whatever ya like. Guarantee I've been called worse," Han yawned. "Pipsqueak's insult is a bouquet of flowers compared to what ya hear on a pirate ship."
"My name's not pipsqueak, it's Leia!"
"Cool it, baby sister! I only give nicknames to the hip kids."
"Is that good?" Leia peered up at her mother for interpretation.
Padmé chuckled. "Yes sweetie, I think it is."
"Oh. Okay then," the girl slouched, reluctantly satisfied.
Padmé felt her neck and shoulders relax. At least the twins had a distraction now, someone to take their minds off their impending doom... if that's what really awaited them. Would they simply rot in prison the rest of their lives? Be sentenced to a lifetime of grueling work in Vactooine's mining colonies?
Or worse?
Be forced to live with him?
Spend their days in a perverse state of domestic harmony, as a family grafted back together?
She'd rather die.
Like she almost did when he strangled her on Mustafar five years ago.
Death wasn't something she wished for her children, but if they only understood the alternative, they might not fault her for preferring the easy way out.
How long… how long before I know what will become of us?
Within minutes, she heard the answer approaching with heavy footsteps.
Adrenaline displaced every red blood cell in her veins.
As he stood before them, even more horrific than she imagined, Padmé knew she was sitting at the threshold of hell. She clutched the twins so tightly they almost couldn't breathe.
Vader was having trouble breathing as well. Stars, she really did look just like her. Every last feature was exactly how he remembered it, right down to the small mole on her right cheek. Incredible… the things they could do with biotechnology these days…
But he'd come here to indict cosmetic surgery, not admire it. He couldn't allow himself to become ensnared in the emotional trap someone had laid for him. No matter how much his heart screamed that it was Padmé in the flesh, he had to keep reminding himself it was all an elaborate trick. The connection he felt was simply a visceral reaction to visual stimuli. Darth Vader would not be so easily duped.
Yet while his intellectual integrity was solid, his sternness wasn't. The incensed, accusatory tirade he'd planned was melting in his mouth. Blast those eyes… her eyes. I can't rage at them, even if it's not really her.
And so, to his surprise and Padmé's, his first words were far gentler in tone than either expected.
"What business do you have impersonating the late senator Amidala?"
The neurons in Padmé's brain didn't recognize this query. Impersonating? Had he lost his mind?
She stared blankly at him, waiting for another shoe to fall.
"I asked you a question. You will tell me who hired you and why they arranged this hoax."
"There is no hoax," she said in disbelief.
"Do not test the limits of my patience, woman. Answer truthfully and I might spare your life."
"It is the truth!"
Vader struck the force field with his fist. "Do you take me for a fool? Senator Amidala is dead! I watched her funeral with my own eyes!" he roared. "You are obviously a decoy sent to provoke me!"
Padmé felt more detached from reality than ever. Clinging to her, Luke and Leia shot frightened, uncertain glances between their mother and the masked man.
"You may wish I were just a decoy, but I'm not," her voice trembled.
"So, you choose to persist in this scheme. So be it. You have sealed your fate and your children's."
He skulked from view before she could utter a feeble cry of distress. The timbre of his voice grew more sinister as he traveled down the passage.
"Sleep well on the last night of your lives!"
Padmé doubted she'd sleep at all.
So this was how it would all end – with absolute, blind denial. Not even the Force signatures of his own two children had touched him.
That said it all. His soul was beyond salvaging. As if she really expected it not to be.
She could assert her identity until she was blue in the face. It would only further enrage him.
Words were empty and worthless.
Except those spoken by her son next.
"Mom, why was Dad shouting at us?"
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So technically, a stuffed animal was responsible for this reunion. Funny how that sort of irony keeps finding its way into my stories. (In my ROTS story, the first thing Palpatine & Anakin did as a Sith duo was wash green paint from Anakin's face.) Sometimes I don't even realize what I've written…
Oh well. Happy Friday!
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