Queen''s Shadow

by E. K. Johnston

  “There’s one now,” Sabé said. “A white sun. Small, but definitely deliberate. And new. It’s not worn down.”

  Padmé spent another long moment considering it.

  “Could you try again?” Padmé asked.

  This was what Sabé had been asking herself for days, weeks, really, when her failure became apparent and she’d been forced to settle for that damn auction. And because she had been thinking about it, she had an answer.

  “Yes,” she said. “We’d have to leave and scrub the ship clean of any identifiers. Maybe even change its registration, if we could. We’d have to scrub our identities, too. We’d set up in Mos Eisley or some other spaceport. We wouldn’t come back as smugglers next time. We’d be merchants. Someone disreputable for the scum to talk to, but not enough for them to trust. We’d need to set up a viable business to use as a cover, but maybe then the local liberation group would trust us, if only as a reliable way off-planet.”

  Sabé paused, and Padmé knew her well enough not to interrupt.

  “Twenty-five souls, Padmé,” she said. “Twenty-five out of hundreds, and they’ll already have twenty-five more coming.”

  “I’m sure it makes a difference to those twenty-five,” Padmé said quietly. This time, the absolution burned less.

  “We didn’t get the one you wanted,” Sabé said.

  “But you tried,” Padmé said. “You tried when I couldn’t. And maybe that doesn’t mean very much, but it means a lot to me.”

  “It’ll take me a few months to set everything up,” Sabé said. “The hard part is the cover business, and we’ll need more funding, which will have to come from you. I’ll let Tonra be the public face this time instead of me, because people are afraid of him. Well, they could be, if he worked at it.”

  “People are afraid of you,” Padmé pointed out.

  “People who know me are afraid of me,” Sabé said. She gestured at her small figure. “Strangers are not afraid of me.”

  Padmé paused again. The blue holo was grainy and shimmered in the display, but Sabé could see indecision on Padmé’s face. Whatever was happening on Coruscant, Padmé’s plans weren’t going smoothly, either, and it was clear she’d done a lot of hard thinking of her own. At last she sighed, and it looked a great deal like defeat.

  “I need you here,” she said. “The others are working well with each other and with me. They’re well suited to the Senate, and we’re adapting together. But I need someone I don’t have to ask to do things. I need someone who will just do what needs to be done.”

  Now it was Sabé’s turn to wait while Padmé considered her next words.

  “I can’t get much more specific until we’re talking in person,” Padmé said. Her tone was deliberately light, which made Sabé pay close attention. “But there is a great deal more at work here than I expected. It’s a bit like last time.”

  At this, Sabé straightened. Last time on Coruscant, the Trade Federation had been trying to kill her.

  “Don’t get too worried before you get here,” Padmé said. “I’m well protected. And I’m visible enough now that there would be ramifications if something were to happen.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Sabé said.

  “Imagine what it’s like for Mariek,” Padmé said dryly.

  In spite of everything, that made Sabé smile.

  “Come to Coruscant,” Padmé said. “I’ll transmit coordinates for you. Will you need new identities?”

  “No,” Sabé said. “The ones we’ve established here will be good for something, at least.”

  “Excellent,” Padmé said. “Sabé, I know that being cryptic makes it sound dire, but I promise you it isn’t. It’s just something I can’t take care of myself.”

  “My hands are yours,” Sabé said.

  Padmé could deny it all she wanted, but Sabé had been trained by a man who always, always prepared for the worst, and he had lived long enough to retire, which Sabé considered was something of an accomplishment, despite their ideological differences.

  “I’ll see you soon, my friend,” Padmé said, and terminated the connection.

  Tonra appeared so quickly that Sabé wondered if he had been listening up against the bulkhead. Part of her didn’t care—he was risking just as much as she was every time they took a new step on this venture—but part of her was jealous of having to share a conversation with her friend when they had been so infrequent in the past weeks. She pushed her ridiculous feelings aside and turned to look at him.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked.

  “Coruscant,” Sabé told him. “I’ll have more detailed coordinates for you by the time we land.”

  He nodded and took the pilot’s chair. Their liftoff from Tatooine was smooth, the lights of Mos Espa glowing in the distance. Sabé decided that she hated the city a little bit less at night. The ship cut through the clear sky until it broke atmosphere, and then Sabé let the navicomputer do its work. When its calculations were complete, Tonra slid them into hyperspace, and they sped toward Coruscant, with unfamiliar stars streaking past the viewports.

  After the austerity of Tatooine, the Coruscanti nightclub Caraveg was complete culture shock. Sabé felt the music against the back of her eyes and rattling down her spine and amended the thought slightly: nothing on Naboo really prepared a being for this sort of thing, either. She couldn’t imagine how Padmé had even found this place, let alone how Padmé could feel comfortable enough to set up a meeting here. They were undeniably at the right coordinates, though they were about half an hour early. The club noise would cover their conversation, and the booth would shield them from casual glances, but it wasn’t at all secure. Sabé concluded that this was probably the only meeting place that Padmé knew of, and realized that scouting better locations was undoubtedly going to be one of her first tasks.

  Half an hour was more than enough time to get into trouble. Sabé had adopted her customary defense in these situations: she ignored anyone who tried to speak to her. Tonra was having a bit more of a problem. A barely clad Rodian had already given him several not-so-subtle invitations, culminating in the presentation of some kind of narcotic and the unmistakable suggestion that Tonra should follow him into one of the club’s several dark corners. Tonra remained in his seat, much to the Rodian’s disappointment.

  “I would get rid of that, if I were you,” Sabé said.

  “I really don’t want to stand up,” Tonra admitted, reluctant to show anything that could be construed as interest.

  Sabé took the tube of narcotics from him and shoved it into the cushions behind the booth where they were ensconced.

  “Do you even know what that stuff is?” Tonra asked.

  “I have no idea,” Sabé admitted. “And I am not in a hurry to find out.”

  Tonra regarded his drink with new suspicion and then pushed it firmly away.

  “If you want to make yourself feel better, imagine Mariek’s face if she knew what was going on right now,” Sabé said.

  “That won’t work,” Tonra said miserably. “I’m too busy imagining what she’ll do to me when she finds out.”

  Sabé smiled and linked her fingers with his as a show of solidarity. Tonra squeezed back, but before Sabé could unpack the feelings that unfurled in her stomach, two more figures joined them in the booth. They were both hooded, but Sabé recognized Naboo fabric when she saw it.

  “Where in the known universe does the captain think you are right now?” she said to Padmé by way of greeting.

  Padmé’s companion laughed and took off her hood. It was the pilot Varbarós, her hair now incandescently blue. Several things, including Padmé’s source for the club’s location, became clear.

  “Mariek thinks I am at a reception for the Alderaanian delegation,” Padmé said. “Typho does, as well, and he is even my escort for the evening.”

  “Who is he actually escorting?” Sabé asked.

  “Cordé,” Padmé said. “Dormé can do almost as well,
but I doubt she’d fool Typho, and I wouldn’t ask her to try.”

  “They are going to catch you,” Tonra said.

  “Of course they are,” Padmé said. “But by the time they do, it will be too late, and Typho knows better than to make a fuss. It’s a bit over the top, but you know how I feel about practice.”

  “I don’t think I like Coruscant,” Tonra said to no one in particular.

  “Nobody likes Coruscant,” Varbarós said gamely. “My lady, do you want me to hear this?”

  Open secrets were new. Previously, if Padmé wanted to fool someone, they would never know it. To have the gambits openly acknowledged by noncombatants was a development.

  “Yes, please,” Padmé said. “We’re going to need you to act as courier. You have the most freedom of anyone on my staff.”

  Varbarós had come with the J-type Nubian starship that Queen Réillata had designated for Padmé’s use—along with a blue-and-white astromech they were already familiar with—since the new queen had a pilot of her own and a ship had been built for her. There was no limit to the number of royal pilots, really, so Varbarós’s current assignment to Padmé’s staff wasn’t a demotion, and she preferred the adventure of being away from Naboo anyway.

  A droid came by with a tray of smoking drinks. Varbarós took two for show, as Padmé clearly had no intention of drinking anything.

  “All right, here’s the thing,” she began. “Keep quiet. At the end of my senatorial orientation, there was a strange attempt on my life.”

  Sabé had suspected as much, but still couldn’t quite keep her reaction under control. She squeezed Tonra’s hand—hard—and then immediately relinquished her grasp when he winced. She understood why Padmé hadn’t disclosed this via holo, but she was not used to learning about threats so late in the game.

  “I’m fine, clearly,” Padmé said. “And it was clumsy. Our guard was already up, and even Cordé, who was Amidala at the time, wasn’t in any real danger, because the attempt was foiled by a random bystander.”

  Padmé detailed the attempt, and Sabé jumped immediately to the same question she had.

  “Why was Organa there?” Sabé asked.

  “We never found out,” Padmé said. “I’ve met him a few times since then. He’s politely distant. I know politicians do this professionally, but I feel like if he wanted me dead, there would be something about it in his face. Versé has been reading the newsnets and trying to slice her way into the companies that broadcast them, but we are so busy with all the senatorial work that she doesn’t have a lot of time for it. I was hoping you and Tonra, working outside the senatorial residence, would have more luck, maybe even an actual source instead of a digital one.”

  “There’s something else,” Sabé said. She knew Padmé wouldn’t have called her all the way here just to send her on a chase through the holonet. It was far more likely she’d confront the problem in public.

  “The newsnets have been targeting me,” Padmé admitted. “Ever since someone told them about the attempt on my life—which they painted to look like my own incompetence, of course. They run stories about my youth, about my inexperience in galactic politics, and they’re mostly true, but they’re always framed around Naboo customs, like how I dress, to make me look willful and ignorant.”

  Sabé chose not to remind Padmé that many, many of their teachers had, at one time or another, also told Padmé she was willful. Ignorant never, but Sabé could understand the sting.

  “And this gossip is harmful because?” Sabé asked. Padmé cared about public opinion as much as any elected official might, but Naboo’s meritocracy was startlingly uncorrupt, and the truth had always come through for her.

  “It’s not like home,” Padmé said, guessing Sabé’s line of thinking. “The senators don’t care about the truth, even if they know it. If they think I’m a hopeless child from the outer reaches of the galaxy, nothing will make them want to work with me, even hard evidence to the contrary. At the party right now? I can all too well imagine the slights and patronizing statements Cordé is enduring on my behalf, because I’ve been hearing them since I got here. We’re lucky we’re all practiced at keeping our faces blank, although honestly I am starting to believe that’s part of the problem, too. I have to get ahead of this, and finding out who is publishing it is the first step.”

  Sabé didn’t say anything for a moment, the noise of the club filling the silence with a droning buzz. This Padmé was new, more calculating, more wary. This was what the Senate did to people, and Sabé was about to throw herself into it, even though she was likely to only stay in the shallows.

  “Why are you fighting so hard to stay?” Sabé asked.

  “I—” Padmé hesitated. “I was going to say that I didn’t know, but that’s not true. It’s hard to describe, but there are moments when I actually enjoy it, when we do good work for the people of the Republic. And I want more of those moments, if we can make them happen.”

  “All right,” said Sabé. “We don’t need to convince the whole Senate. We just need to get a few of them to accept you, and then they will do all the heavy lifting.”

  “I agree,” Padmé said.

  Tonra shifted, and Sabé remembered he was there. She had fallen into her old rhythm so quickly.

  “Yes?” she said, turning to look at him.

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. “But what do you need me

  for?”

  Padmé smiled at him, the smile that had won her the love of a planet and the loyalty of everyone at the table.

  “I don’t want Sabé to be here on her own, Captain,” she said. “And Sabé has told me that you worked well as a team on Tatooine, adapting quickly as the situation changed around you. I know Coruscant is an uncomfortable place, but if you can stay, I would appreciate it.”

  “As would I,” said Sabé. She set her hand down next to his and tried her very best not to manipulate him.

  “I will do what I can,” Tonra said.

  “I’ve arranged for funds to be transferred into an account for your identity,” Padmé said. “You won’t be living in the upper levels, but you’ll still be somewhere you can secure with relative ease.”

  “This is my personal comm frequency,” Varbarós said, handing over a pair of comlinks. “You can get in touch with me from anywhere on the planet. I shouldn’t be offworld without warning.”

  “Oh, no,” said Padmé, and Sabé noticed that her hood had slipped back while they were talking, leaving her face less obscured than any of them would have liked.

  Sabé followed her gaze and saw a young human male staring at her, his confused expression sliding into delight.

  “Sena—” he started to say, but before he could complete the word, Padmé had jumped up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him back to their table.

  “Senator Clovis,” she hissed, “I would appreciate you not shouting my name in this crowded public establishment.”

  “I saw you at the reception,” Clovis said. “It was so tedious. I can’t blame you for leaving, too, and I’d heard this place was interesting. You must have an even better driver than I do to have gotten here so quickly.”

  “I’m much better than your droid,” Varbarós said, as though this sort of thing happened to Padmé every day.

  “Senator, these are some friends from home,” Padmé said. “They were part of a cultural exchange and they only had time to meet with me tonight before they head back to Naboo.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Clovis said. “The senator has been telling me so much about Naboo. Is it true you’re all artists?”

  “My talents tend towards public displays of acrobatics,” Tonra said with uncharacteristic poise. Usually Sabé spoke first. “I juggle.”

  “Incredible,” Clovis said, completely missing Tonra’s sarcasm. “Naboo sounds like a wonderful place. I hope to visit it someday.”

  “Would you give us a moment?” Padmé asked. “They have to depart soon, and I would like to say farewell.”
r />   “Of course, of course,” Clovis said. “I’m so sorry for intruding. I was merely surprised to see you.”

  Varbarós walked him over to the bar in order to ensure that his curiosity about Naboo didn’t overcome his good manners.

  “Where did you find him?” Sabé asked.

  “He’s another new senator,” Padmé admitted. “He’s a terrible politician so far, but his family is powerful and I can’t afford to burn any bridges.”

  “What do they own?” Sabé had a low opinion of people who exploited family connections instead of employing their own skills, and it brought out her facetious nature.

  “He’s a lower ranking member of the Banking Clan,” Padmé said. Off of Sabé’s look, she added, “He’s adopted,” to explain Clovis’s human appearance. Most members of the Banking Clan were Muuns.

  Padmé’s wrist comlink chimed, and she activated a holo of Versé in her palm.

  “Please come home before Dormé and Typho say things to one another that they regret,” Versé said. The image repeated itself before Padmé shut it off, so Sabé knew it had been prerecorded.

  “This was much easier when it was just one planet,” Padmé observed.

  “How many restarts do you think we’re going to get?” Sabé asked.

  “Hopefully one more than we need,” Padmé said. “But I’ll prepare for the worst, just in case. At least at this point, the only thing that will suffer is my pride.”

  Sabé thought she was being a trifle blasé given the attempt to murder her, but was willing to make allowances for the stress of her new job.

  Padmé waved Varbarós back to the table, because there was no way Sabé and Tonra would leave her there alone, and when Clovis came trailing along behind, Sabé made a face.

  “I knew you wouldn’t like the Senate,” Padmé said, leaning close. “I’ve missed you so much. Thank you for coming.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Sabé said. “I know it’s not the same, but at least now we’re on the same planet.”

  “Be careful,” Padmé said. She leaned back a bit to include Tonra. “Both of you.”