Queen''s Shadow

by E. K. Johnston

  Now Padmé wore a different token, one that was personal and had nothing to do with the people of Naboo. It was handmade, like all the best treasures were, and stood for luck and remembrance. Padmé didn’t like to rely on luck and she rarely needed help remembering anything, but it helped to have something on which to focus her thoughts.

  She ate the last of her dinner, even though it had gone cold. She checked to make sure that Typho was all right, and when he nodded, she went to the window and let herself get lost in the brightness of lights.

  Senator Amidala wore a gown that was so deeply red it was very nearly black. The sleeves were long, almost trailing on the ground when she walked, and the ornate collar had hundreds of tiny gold beads stitched on it. Her hair was gathered into dozens of braids, each looped tightly and pinned low along the back of her head. From them rose three interlocked metal circles, upon which iridescent threads had been woven into softly glowing webs. When she turned just so and the light fell on the folds of fabric, scarlet and crimson glinted from within, but if you looked at her quickly, you wouldn’t notice any of that.

  No one looked at Senator Amidala quickly.

  As she and her party came down the wide terraced steps, all heads turned toward them. Padmé breathed deeply. If they were going to stare, she was going to make them do it on her terms. She made sure to hit every spotlight at the right angle, moving slowly as the heavy-looking skirt swished around her feet. It didn’t actually encumber her much—Naboo design was far too good for that—but it looked like it did, and the look only made her more powerful in the moment.

  She found Mon Mothma in the crowd. There was a satisfied smile on the Chandrilan’s face as every recorder in the gardens turned to monitor Padmé’s entrance.

  I will show you, Padmé thought. I will show you what we can do together.

  They were escorted by one of Mon Mothma’s aides—who discreetly scanned them in the process—to a seating place in full view of every terrace, where they could refresh themselves before mingling. Versé was dispatched with their drink order. She returned after a few moments with a little droid behind her, a droid that promptly spilled a glass of Toniray wine on Amidala’s hem. The senator retired to the powder room with two of her aides and a guard, though not before offering gracious reassurance to the very alarmed protocol droid who came over to see what the noise was about. Versé had already re-reprogrammed the server droid and sent it on its way.

  Dormé had done incredible work, and she had done it twice already tonight. She had practiced on Cordé for a week, trimming down the time it took to apply the makeup and construct the hairstyle, until she could manage the whole thing by herself in less than ten minutes. By the time she, Padmé, and Sabé had locked themselves into the powder room after clearing security, Dormé could have done the entire switchover in her sleep.

  “You’re a little bit scary,” Typho had muttered in her ear when the senator, the handmaiden, and the guard had emerged and rejoined their party.

  “I know,” Dormé said. “That’s one of the reasons you like me so much.”

  The gala took place in one of the public gardens on Coruscant’s upper levels. By day, the space was a high-end market, with a circular central floor and wide tiered steps rising up on three sides. The gardens were on these tiers, each level supporting a different biome. The booths that usually lined the walkways had been hidden away, and in their places were comfortable seats, tables of refreshments, and the most well-connected residents Coruscant had to offer.

  Senator Amidala was a popular target for anyone with a recording device, but Sabé noticed that a great many senators sought her out to say hello, as well. She was grateful for the cramming sessions with Padmé. She knew most of their names from reading reports, but connecting to faces was entirely new.

  “Senator Amidala, how lovely to see you,” came a voice from her right.

  Sabé turned, quite an operation in the gown, and realized that they were all about to face the first real test of the night. She hoped Padmé had her hat pulled down.

  “Senator Farr.” Sabé spoke in the modified tone that Padmé had developed for Amidala to use at social functions. It was much more flexible than the queen’s voice had been. The affection that now infused her words was not feigned: she was also fond of the Rodian senator who was one of Padmé’s father’s oldest friends.

  Onaconda Farr was resplendent this evening in an iridescent blue suit that made his eyes sparkle even more brightly than they would have done in the evening light. He was smiling, in the Rodian fashion at least, and he already held a glass in his left hand.

  “It’s so good to finally see you, my dear,” Farr said. He stepped past what Sabé would consider safe range, but as an old friend, he was entitled to. “I had hoped we would meet before now, but I suppose you wanted to establish yourself a bit first?”

  “Yes,” Sabé said. The handmaidens and guards had moved to the side of the walkway to allow others to pass while the senators spoke. Padmé stayed at the back with Typho. “I’m glad that you understand. It’s hard enough being new, and as much as I would appreciate your guidance and mentorship, I don’t wish to be seen as dependent on my father’s connections, amongst other things.”

  “Quite so,” Farr said. “It’s a smart move, even if we both wish otherwise. I was, of course, quite close with Valorum. But you are doing all right?”

  “Yes,” Sabé said. “I’m beginning to feel quite settled.”

  Sabé was the best decoy for a variety of reasons, and chief amongst these was the fact that she could tell truths as Amidala that carried conviction because they were true of herself, as well. She was settled on Coruscant. It was complicated, overwhelming work, but she was finding the rhythm of it. Even standing here tonight as Amidala was part of her ruse, and she felt complete for the first time since she had stepped foot on Tatooine.

  “Excellent,” Farr said. “Please do not hesitate to call on me if you wish. I am sure we are past the window of suspicion, at least, and no longer need to avoid one another. Everyone will know you are your own senator by now, or they never will.”

  Someone called his name from another tier, and the Rodian politely took his leave of them. Sabé heard Dormé exhale loudly beside her, but no one else had any sort of reaction.

  They continued to mingle. Amidala greeted Senator Bonteri and Senator Clovis, the latter of whom also stepped past Sabé’s definition of a safe distance. Cordé stepped closer, as well, deflecting some of his attention, but Sabé only relaxed when he went on his way again. Padmé was going to have problems with that boy if she wasn’t careful. Of course, Sabé also knew that Padmé could handle herself. It was more likely that Clovis was going to have problems with her.

  There were recording devices everywhere, as Versé’s analysis had suggested. In addition to the droids and security that were part of the park’s design, Mon Mothma had included her own measures. Several of the senators and all of the holojournalists had brought personal droids. Padmé had left R2-D2 behind, deciding that this was not a good time for the droid to make his first public appearance. The handmaidens were also personal guards, even if almost no one was aware of it, and their memories were almost as efficient as the little astromech’s.

  At last Sabé reached a bench that was wide enough for her to sit on in her gown. They had decided that it made the most sense for Amidala to be stationary, but the place where they had originally been seated was too close to the entrance to be practical. People would come to her and make a crowd, and that crowd would inspire more attention. It would also provide cover for when two of her guards took themselves off for a walk. Sabé turned and held out her arms so that Dormé and Versé could help her sit without crushing the dress, and then she was installed, as she had been on the throne of Naboo, except this time she was much more a showpiece than she had ever been as decoy ruler.

  Dormé and Versé sat beside her while Cordé remained standing—ostensibly to fetch anything they might need—and
Mariek took up her place on the other side, standing at parade rest. Padmé and Typho moved to stand behind the bench, allowing the bulk of Amidala’s hair and collar to obscure them from view.

  Mon Mothma appeared, her own coterie ranged out behind her. Two or three holorecorders descended just inside listening range.

  “Senator Amidala,” Mon Mothma said. “It’s wonderful to see all of you here at once. There is much discussion about your companions, as I am sure you know.”

  That was Dormé’s cue. She stood and bowed to the senator.

  “I am hopeful that we will be able to answer any questions about our service to the senator, the Republic, and our own home planet of Naboo this evening,” she said. “It is a wonderful opportunity for us, and our first chance to appear in public since we arrived with Senator Amidala.”

  “Thank you for including us in the invitation, Senator,” Cordé said. She also bowed.

  “Of course,” Mon Mothma said. “You must excuse me. As hostess I am expected to greet everyone, and it feels like everyone is here.”

  “I look forward to speaking to you later, Senator,” Amidala said. “Once you have fulfilled those obligations.”

  Mon Mothma swept away, and in her wake even more recorder droids and the like grouped around where Amidala sat. Sabé felt movement behind her, and knew that Typho and Padmé were heading out. Silently, she wished them luck, and then she focused all her attention and charm on the battlefield in front of her.

  It was a remarkable relief to wear pants. Padmé easily kept pace with Sergeant Typho, the two of them moving fluidly through the crowded tiers as they scoped out where the best vantage point would be. No one got out of their way, as they would have done for Amidala, but Padmé didn’t need them to. It was much more comfortable to turn corners without the need to have someone maintain her structural integrity.

  “I’d forgotten how much of Captain Panaka’s training went both ways,” Typho said via the private comlink wired into the ceremonial uniform hat. “We spend so much time making sure the handmaidens can play you, we forget how many people you can play.”

  “That was probably part of his plan,” Padmé replied. “I miss him, you know. The rest of you are excellent, and I trust you completely, but still. Your uncle was one of a kind.”

  “It was hard for you to lose him and your other handmaidens, I think?” Typho asked. “I know it was for vastly different reasons, but it’s still a loss, and you had to keep on with an entirely new support team.”

  “I always felt like I was taking Captain Panaka away from his family. He was so focused on me—on the throne—that he never did anything else,” Padmé said.

  “He was always like that,” Typho said. “Mariek told me that his obsession with your safety was the best thing that could have happened because it gave him something to work on. Even with the way it ended.”

  “I try to give your family space, but you know if you ever need anything, you can ask, right?”

  “I do,” Typho said. “So do Mariek and Versé. And I think Quarsh does, too, on some level. I think it will get better after the ion pulse is completed and we’ve all had some time to adjust.”

  “It has been challenging for all of us, changing from queen’s staff to senator’s,” Padmé said. “But I think we’ve risen to it well.”

  “I agree,” Typho said. “Now, since I technically outrank you at the moment, why don’t you sweep the desert biome and I’ll go up one further and sweep the rainforest. Leave your comlink open.”

  “I’ll have to clean Corin’s uniform for him,” Padmé said, sighing. She always seemed to end up dealing with a mess when she was in disguise. At least cleaning the uniform would be easier than scraping carbon scoring off of a droid.

  Typho grinned at her and began to climb up to the rainforest level. Padmé made her way through the desert biome tier, marveling at how well designed the gardens were: even the air was drier. She walked purposefully between arrangements of succulents and gatherings of partygoers, scanning visually for Mon Mothma as casually as she could.

  “I’ve got her,” Typho said in her ear. “Rainforest level, third section.”

  “Cover?” Padmé asked, turning back to the staircase she’d just walked past and beginning her ascent.

  “Mostly low-growing shrubs, but there are a couple of larger trees,” he reported.

  “I’m on my way,” Padmé said. “See if you can find a good spot to hide.”

  “On it,” Typho said. “She’s got Organa with her, and your friend Farr, and a couple of others I can’t see clearly.”

  “Bonteri?” Padmé asked. She had reached the forest level, and began making her way through the underbrush instead of taking the path.

  “Not that I can see,” Typho said. “I think they picked this level because the holorecorders would have to be right on top of them to record. I can hardly see a thing.”

  “How’s the sound?” Padmé asked. Her breathing was a bit ragged from her rapid climb through the biome, though she jumped lightly over a log. She reflected that she should probably add some sort of physical activity and security training to her daily routine, if only to keep up with her own guards.

  “Pretty good,” he said. “Are you here?”

  “Right behind you,” said Padmé, still a bit breathless. To his credit, he didn’t jump.

  They shuffled around quietly for a moment, trying to find a good vantage point, but the tree cover was too effective a screen.

  “This is no good,” Padmé said. “The whole point of this”—she gestured at her disguise—“is to see them.” She looked up with a contemplative expression on her face. “Can you hold me on your shoulders?”

  “I can for long enough for you to grab those branches,” he said. “Here, take a boost.”

  He cupped his hands and braced himself for her weight. She stepped into his hold and then scrambled up, using the tree trunk for balance, until she was standing on his shoulders.

  “A little to your left,” she said.

  Typho took two shaky steps to his left, and Padmé reached out for the branch. She caught it and pulled herself up. When she was steady, she braced herself on the trunk again and looked down to where the senators were grouped. From the overhead vantage, she had a clear view of them. She scanned the area around her for cameras or security measures, and when she found none, she turned her attention back to the ground.

  “I’m just not sure if she can be trusted,” Farr was saying.

  Padmé’s feelings were hurt. She had thought at least her father’s old friend would trust her.

  “She’s getting heavily encrypted transmissions from off-planet, and she won’t talk about them,” Farr continued.

  Padmé frowned, puzzled for a moment. She wasn’t getting transmissions from anyone but Sabé, and while Sabé was using an encrypted signal, she made no attempt to disguise the fact that they were coming from Coruscant.

  “She’s trying to recruit Senator Amidala to whatever it is she’s doing,” Organa said.

  Clarity dawned on Padmé. They weren’t discussing her; they were discussing Senator Bonteri.

  “Should we let her?” Mon Mothma asked. “It might be easier to flip Senator Amidala.”

  “I don’t think you should underestimate her,” Organa said. “She won’t let you use her, and she’s too smart not to realize what you’re doing if you try.”

  “Is she loyal?” Mon Mothma asked. “Is Naboo loyal?”

  “I think she is,” Farr said. “And I think Naboo is, too. They will follow her lead.”

  “I think we should risk asking her outright,” Organa said. “Tonight, if we can get her away from her entourage.”

  Padmé’s stomach dropped into her boots.

  “Oh, no,” she said quietly.

  “What?” Typho asked.

  “I’m coming down,” she said.

  “Climb, don’t jump,” Typho ordered, even though jumping would be faster. “The ground is too uneven for a dece
nt brace.”

  “Are you connected to Mariek?” Padmé scrambled downward.

  “Not on this channel,” he said. He reached up to guide her feet back to his shoulders and grunted as her weight settled on him. “But I can switch over. Why?”

  “Tell her to have Dormé and Sabé meet me back at the powder rooms,” Padmé said. “Senator Organa wants to have a serious talk with Amidala, and he can’t have it with Sabé for the same reason Sabé couldn’t climb this tree. They’re going to trust me, so it has to be me they talk to.”

  She leaned against the tree trunk and slid down Typho’s back as gracefully as she could manage in a hurry, which was to say: not very. She didn’t stick around to hear Typho relay the command, but headed for the staircase at the fastest casual speed she could manage. A guard in a hurry would attract attention, and she had to avoid that now more than ever. She walked down the stairs, past the desert biome, and all the way back to the circular case at the garden’s center. Halfway down, she got stuck behind a crowd of slow-moving Ithorians who refused to get out of her way, even after they saw her. It took her almost five minutes to politely shove her way through them, and by then she was sure that Organa would be ahead of her.

  At last she reached the bottom. She saw Dormé and Sabé making their way to the powder room door, and risked a glance across the plaza to the staircase that Senator Organa was most likely to descend. He wasn’t there, so she fell into place behind Amidala’s right shoulder. They were almost there.

  Senator Organa appeared from an entirely different entrance, right in front of them. He made to strike up a conversation with Amidala but just as quickly realized where she was headed and stepped aside to let her pass. He stepped to his left, not quite far enough to get out of the way of the guard, and looked Padmé full in the face.