He stopped.
She didn’t.
She stepped around him, and followed Sabé the last few steps into the powder room. Before the door closed, she heard a quiet laugh.
Senator Amidala did a full turn of the water garden on Senator Organa’s arm. They looked at the elegant pools, each one held at various levels by intricate repulsor fields. They admired the flowers that grew on the surface of a pond that glowed with a dim purple light. They lingered under a tree that had bubbles instead of leaves and listened to the soft fizzing sound as the bubbles floated away from the branches and up toward the next tier. They were strangely unbothered by holorecorders, largely thanks to the signal jammer Senator Organa wore on his belt, concealed by the folds of his cape.
And while they walked they discussed a great many things.
“You’re in select company, Senator,” Padmé told him. They paused to let a larger group pass them by. Several of them bade Senator Organa a good evening, but none of them overstayed their welcome. “Only a few people know the full lengths my most loyal bodyguards can go to, and only one other person has ever figured it out on their own while we were in the middle of a deception.”
“It was mostly chance, I think,” he said. “If I hadn’t caught you at just that moment, in that light, and with that expression on your face, it wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
“I am usually much better at controlling my expression,” Padmé admitted ruefully. “We were in a tighter spot than usual, though I suppose at least this time, the only thing at stake was my professional pride.”
“Who is the other?” Organa asked.
“His name was Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi,” Padmé said. As always, a feeling of almost overwhelming sadness threatened her when she thought of him. He had been patient and understanding of her, never asking for more than she was willing to give, and he had given all, in the end. “He died defending Naboo during the battle for the planet against the Trade Federation. The Jedi memorialized him there, and we honor him as a hero.”
“I am sorry for your loss, but I must admit, I do enjoy that I am in such excellent company,” Organa said. He paused, clearly considering how to phrase his next query. “Is your life truly so fraught with peril that such extreme measures are necessary, or is this some kind of paranoia?”
“A bit of both, I think,” Padmé said. She knew it was paranoia that had spurred Panaka to embrace the old tradition so fiercely, but the success of the plan was undeniable. “But every time I think I am getting paranoid, something happens.”
“Something like what?” Organa asked.
“Do you remember how we met, Senator?” Padmé asked. “The second time?”
Organa laughed. “You’d gone to the wrong door at the Senate building,” he said. “And you were almost incinerated.”
“We were sent there, Senator,” Padmé said. She had been talking in her own conversational tone but slipped into Amidala’s when she reached such a serious subject matter. “My NON unit was programmed to lead us there at that time. You actually spoke with Cordé. I was the handmaiden, and you didn’t even look at me, but that is fairly common. In any case, the entire setup was an attempt on my life.”
“You say that with remarkable calmness,” Organa said.
“It wasn’t a particularly good attempt,” Padmé told him. “And it wasn’t the first.”
“See, that would just make me less calm,” Organa said. “But I understand your need for such intense security now. All senators and politicians lead complicated lives, but yours seems intent on outdoing the rest of us.”
“You thwart the plans of one galaxywide trade conspiracy and they hold a grudge forever,” Padmé said sarcastically.
“You cost them an inconceivable amount of money,” Organa said. “Before they started paying Nute Gunray’s legal fees.”
“There are times when that does make me feel better,” Padmé said. “How did you come to be there that day?”
“Have you been suspicious of my intentions?” Organa replied. He did not seem offended.
“I’ve trusted you since the day in the Senate gardens,” Padmé said. “But I employ any number of highly trained people whose job it is to be suspicious of strange senators I meet in dark corridors.”
“I was leaving the building and I saw your speeder go down past the safety limits,” he said. “I did wonder why the NON unit didn’t notify you, but when it became obvious you weren’t turning back, I followed you down. I couldn’t comm you because I didn’t know your private channel, so direct intervention was the only option.”
“That will certainly make Captain Mariek feel better about you,” Padmé said. “Now, I believe you had some questions forme?”
“In the Senate, loyalty is a subtle and shifting thing,” Organa said. “But there are certain limits.”
“Like attacking a sovereign planet and holding it hostage?” Padmé said. “No, wait, that is permissible so long as you can pay off your allies to vote in your favor.”
“Loyalty to the Republic is paramount,” Organa said. He managed not to make it sound patronizing, which Padmé appreciated. “Loyalty to democracy.”
“And what if democracy does not return the favor?” Padmé asked.
“Then you must work to restore the democratic process,” Organa said. “I know the Senate didn’t move quickly enough for Naboo, but your senator’s nomination to chancellor stalled all discussion on every topic except that election. You can work through the proper channels.”
“What makes you think I won’t?” Padmé asked.
“Your actions as Queen of Naboo,” Organa said. “Your actions now. You stay out of almost every committee, and you have no faction.”
“My choice in allies has kept me alive on more than one occasion, Senator Organa. I take committing to a faction very seriously,” Padmé said. “And to be entirely honest, I am strongly considering yours, only I didn’t think you would accept me.”
“We will accept you now,” Organa said. “My word carries a great deal of weight, and Mon will be grateful for the distraction tonight once she learns you provided it deliberately. Between the two of us and Senator Farr, you will be given a place.”
She did not doubt him for a moment.
“I won’t spy on Mina Bonteri,” Padmé said. “And neither will I give up on my friendship with her. I will admit, I am curious about her activities, too, but I won’t report them to you unless I feel the situation merits it.”
“We will be content with that,” Organa said. “I would only ask that it is always you we deal with, never one of your doubles.”
“That is fair,” Padmé said. “We only took our security measures tonight because Mon Mothma invited me here to serve as a distraction for your discussion. There was no danger, I simply needed to be free to move around.”
“I imagine you’re about to become much less interesting to the newsnets,” Organa said. “Mon Mothma might have a few contacts to help you clear them off of you.”
“Even the ones owned by subsidiaries of the Trade Federation?” Padmé asked. Four years as a senator couldn’t give Mon Mothma that much clout.
Organa regarded her with some surprise. “Do you ever sleep?” he asked.
“Of course,” Padmé said. She wasn’t about to give up all her secrets.
“She’ll get them off your back,” Organa said. “Even the Trade Federation steps carefully around Chandrila.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Padmé said, though she wondered what the cost would be—and who would pay it. “Will you take me back to my guards? Dormé did my hair in a hurry, and it’s very tight. I’m starting to get a headache.”
“I’m surprised you can move in that thing at all,” Organa said.
“Years of practice,” she replied. “Plus, you’ve got the jammer under your cape. Imagine the kind of tech I can conceal if I have to.”
They didn’t stay long after Organa returned Padmé to the others. Mon Mothma spoke to her brie
fly, promising an update soon, and thanked her for being so excellent a distraction for the newsnets. Padmé shook hands and did her best not to notice Senator Organa’s smirk.
Sabé left them at the door to the gardens, but Padmé was able to get a quick word with her before she disappeared.
“Thank you, my friend,” she said. “I think this will be the last time I call on you to take my place.”
“It was almost fun this time,” Sabé said. “The lack of mortal peril meant I could actually enjoy being in charge.”
“I’m just glad everything worked out,” Padmé said. “Take a few days off if you need to. Hopefully everything will quiet down a bit now that Mon Mothma has taken me under her wing.”
“I will,” Sabé said.
She kissed Padmé on the cheek and disappeared into the vibrant flow of Coruscant’s neon-lit night. Padmé turned back to the waiting Typho and let him hand her into their shuttle.
“Thank you, everyone,” she said, relaxing into their company. “Now let’s go home.”
Sabé felt like every one of her nerves was humming as she made her way back to the apartment. It was always like this when a switch was finally over. She could maintain her calm as long as she was the decoy, no matter the stakes. The moment Sabé was free to be herself again, however, all of her feelings crashed into her at the same time, and that always made her jittery. She was hungry, too, since she’d been unable to eat for most of the evening, but decided to wait until she got home before she stopped for food.
She was on high alert, probably moving like some kind of stim junkie, and replaying all of the scenes from the party in her mind. She’d fooled Onaconda Farr! Who actually knew who she was, and who Padmé was besides. Then she’d held court amidst constant camera and holojournalist attention for most of the evening, without batting so much as an eyelash. She felt like she could do anything, be anyone, be Senator Amidala, be Queen of Naboo again. Her adrenaline surged, and she reflected that it was probably for the best she was headed home. She was worse than a junkie right now, and she needed something to ground her.
The apartment was dark when the door slid open to admit her, and she thought maybe Tonra was out. Then she noticed his boots, neatly lined up beside the space where hers went, and realized he must just be in bed. She took off her boots as quietly as she could and then tiptoed into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. She had just started to rummage through one of the cabinets when the light came on, and she jumped.
“Tonra!” she said, turning around to see him. “You startled me.”
“First time for everything, I guess,” he said. He was dressed for sleep, his tall frame leaning on the doorpost while he looked at her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said. She gave up on getting real food and cracked open a ration bar instead. It wasn’t very tasty, but it got the job done quickly. “I’m all right, Padmé is all right. Everything is all right.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “I missed you this week.”
She hadn’t contacted him. Not even once. It was procedure, of course, but now she wished they had set up a protocol to meet while she was gone. It must have been hell for him to wait and not hear anything.
“I missed you, too,” she said. “It’s so easy to get caught up in Padmé’s orbit, but I missed the work we do here.”
“She’s been your friend for a long time,” Tonra said. “It makes sense that you get caught up in her when you’re with her.”
“It’s more than that,” Sabé said. She finished the ration bar and wiped the crumbs off her hands. It was never easy to explain, even to the closest of insiders, the bond that all the handmaidens shared.
“You love her,” Tonra said. Sabé froze.
“Of course I do,” she said. She met his gaze. “It’s a complicated relationship. She can order me to my death, and I will go. And she knows it. We’ve worked so hard to maintain a balance we will never truly have. As far as I can see, she will always pick Naboo, and I will always pick her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She couldn’t stand his pity. More important, she didn’t need it.
“I’m not,” she replied. “I’m the right hand of Padmé Amidala Naberrie, and I always will be, even if someday she decides to follow her path somewhere else. I wouldn’t trade my relationship with her for anything in the galaxy.”
“Not even for someone who would pick you?” Tonra said. He was a large person, but he seemed smaller when he said it and completely vulnerable. “Someone who loved you, or at least thought they might?”
There was a time when Sabé would have headed that sort of thing right off at the pass. Tonra had never been exactly secretive about his feelings, but hearing them laid out like this was an entirely new matter. Before, her service to the queen had made sustaining outside relationships difficult. Now, though, it was an altogether different situation, even if many of her own feelings remained unchanged.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Sabé said. She took a step toward him. “I never have to choose between you. The choice is already made. It’s up to you to decide if you want to make yourself a part of what I am.”
Sabé had never been quite this honest with a potential partner before, even though Tonra was already her partner in several ways that mattered very much. Perhaps that’s why she was being so direct with him. She wanted him to know what he was getting into, and she had suddenly decided that she would very much like him to get into it.
Tonra hadn’t moved, not even a little bit, so she crossed the floor to where he stood, well inside his reach, and waited for him to make up his mind.
“Well,” he said at last, “I think I’d like to try.”
“Good,” she said.
Then she closed her hands on the collar of his tunic, pulled his face down close to hers, and kissed him.
She meant it as a sort of test, to see if this was really going to work, but it bloomed into something deeper almost immediately. His hands found her waist, then her back, and he pressed her against his chest even as she tried to pull him closer than he already was. His mouth softened, and he pulled away for a moment to breathe, and press gentler kisses against her neck. She couldn’t help the noise she made when he kissed the hollow of her throat, right between the two sides of her uniform collar, and she felt as much as heard it when he laughed.
His mouth returned to hers, more demanding now, and since she also had a few demands, she let him push her back toward the counter. When she could go no farther, his hands tightened around her hips and he lifted her up until she was sitting on the edge with her legs wrapped around him.
“This is a much better height for you,” he said.
“Shut up,” she said. He was right, though. From here it was much easier to reach out, grab the hem of his tunic, and pull it over his head.
He laughed.
“How much trying did you have in mind for the immediate future?” he asked. He started working on the various buckles that held her uniform in place. He knew where all of them were, of course, and his familiarity led him to be highly efficient, even though he seemed to find each newly exposed bit of her skin a sublime distraction.
She paused with her hands on his belt and smiled.
“I’ll let you know if I want you to stop,” she said.
That was the last complete sentence either of them said for some time.
After a slightly uneven start to her career in galactic politics, Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo seems to be settling in. Now a member of several prestigious committees, the former planetary queen has become a voice for people other than her own in the most commendable of ways: helping them build the very roofs above their heads.
Working alongside such renowned senators as Mon Mothma of Chandrila and Onaconda Farr of Rodia, young Amidala is helping serve the galaxy while still respecting her homeworld via her style and manner of dress, called “tasteful” and “traditional chic.” Senator Amidala is a fresh new fa
ce that the Senate needs.
Any rumors of pirates in the sector are, at this time, unsubstantiated.
—TriNebulon News
The next six-month span of Senator Amidala’s service to the Galactic Republic ran a great deal more smoothly. Her new allies meant that she was invited to sit on more committees and that the motions she helped to write were actually given real floor time. She hadn’t yet presented any motions herself, but she found that now that she was working with people she liked, she didn’t mind taking a background role for the time being, particularly since more of the laws she supported seemed to be making it through.
She didn’t agree with everything Mon Mothma stood for, and they often argued extensively in the privacy of their own offices. The Chandrilan senator was anti-aggression, which Padmé admired, but having had to defend her planet in the past, she found that she was more open to direct conflict. This was a matter she knew that not all Naboo would agree with her on. The Naboo prided themselves on their pacifism almost as much as they prided themselves on their artistic endeavors, but the Trade Federation’s invasion—and the resulting alliance with the more militaristic Gungans—had caused a slight shift in Naboo policy. Mon Mothma disapproved of it, and she never passed up a chance to confront Padmé over it.
“Should we arm every cargo hauler, then?” Mon Mothma said at the end of a debate about piracy in galactic hyperspace lanes.
There was still no official committee, despite Cordé’s prediction, but the pirates were a specific threat to any transportation legislation. They were choosy with regard to their targets, and seemed to take beyond-reasonable risks to attack any convoy with building materials, food, or other practical necessities. They didn’t have the numbers to make the attacks they did, and yet they attacked all the same. Padmé was starting to have a few suspicions about the whole thing, but wasn’t yet confident enough to voice them outside of a committee setting.
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