Queen''s Shadow

by E. K. Johnston

  “If you’ll recall,” Padmé said coolly, “my proposal was to guard high-priority targets with Republic gunships.”

  Padmé could tell Mon Mothma was presenting an extreme argument, but in front of trusted witnesses and advisors, it was a luxury to argue more passionately than the Senate floor allowed.

  “And when the pirates organize themselves into an even larger force?” Mon Mothma asked.

  “Perhaps then we’ll be able to catch them,” Padmé said. “As it stands, their smaller attacks are too difficult to trace, even for our probe droids. A massed effort on their part might make it easier for us to track them down.”

  “There is too much risk—” Mon Mothma began, but Senator Organa cut her off.

  “I think we’re getting a bit off topic,” he said. “If you’ll recall, we were discussing how we could best incorporate the offer of fuel reserves from Malastare to ease the shipment of permacrete to Coyerti.”

  They fell back into a less heated discussion, and Padmé thought, not for the first time, that she detected the hint of a smile on Mon Mothma’s face. She wouldn’t be surprised. Unlike the ugly arguments about Naboo’s ion pulse, Padmé rather enjoyed these debates. Arguing with someone who almost agreed with her on most subjects helped her hone her talking points, and she was learning a lot. Padmé had discovered that Mon Mothma’s positions were extreme at the outset of most conversations and would almost always move toward the middle as they hammered out a compromise. It was a useful skill and one that Padmé knew she had to master.

  It wasn’t easy. She had a difficult time turning their debates into academic thought experiments instead of real topics affecting real beings. She didn’t like saying something and meaning something else, even as a means to work out an agreement.

  “I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Onaconda Farr had told her.

  It had been a rare moment of vulnerability for Padmé, and she had confessed her insecurities to her family friend, not to her fellow senator. He was smart enough to see that and advised her as such.

  “You are hardly naïve,” he’d continued. “Or at least, you’re aware of the subjects that you are naïve about, which is more than I can say about myself, I am sure. Being a good and honest person doesn’t make you a poorer senator. You’ll find your own balance.”

  “What if I don’t do it fast enough?” Padmé asked.

  “You have plenty of time,” he said, but that was the one point on which Padmé wasn’t sure he was right.

  According to Sabé, Padmé’s public opinion was on the rise. No one on Coruscant really cared about the Senate or senatorial procedure, but they did read the newsnets, and Amidala was still featured in them with some regularity. The tone had changed though. Before, where they had dismissed her elaborate style of dress as the frippery of a young aristocrat, they now discussed her in terms of honoring tradition and adapting Naboo customs while in the capital. They no longer used her personality to pull her down. It was frustrating because the newsnets were reporting on all of the exact same subjects as before; they were just writing about them from a different angle.

  “Well,” Sabé said, “at least it’s easier for all of us with Mon Mothma calling the shots.”

  “It’s so pointless!” Padmé argued. “The newsnets should be impartial, not controlled by biased investors, and yet instead they control public opinion of all of us and manipulate the truth. What if Mon Mothma and I had a falling out? Then we’d be right back where we started, though I don’t think she is anything as petty as Nute Gunray.”

  “They have to make money somehow,” Sabé said. “You could work towards controlling the holonews if you wanted, but I think we both know you have other plans.”

  It was something of a sore point. Chancellor Palpatine’s motion to increase Republic work against slavery had failed to make it to the floor for months after he had promised her he was working on it. When it was finally presented, it was so toothless that Padmé could tell it wouldn’t get anything done. And then it had not received enough votes anyway and disappeared back into the committee. Padmé kept abreast of developments but stayed off the committee herself at Palpatine’s request.

  “Naboo can’t be seen as too involved, my dear,” he’d reiterated when she had asked him again about joining the committee after the failed vote. “It is the price we pay for having chancellor and senator both. I am doing my best to represent your voice because I know how much this means to you, but if it becomes public knowledge that we are working together on such a potentially radical topic, I fear there will only be more obstacles thrust into our path.”

  She hadn’t agreed with him entirely, but she respected his position and trusted him enough to acquiesce, at least for now. She didn’t stop thinking about it, though, and often made notes on the subject for the day that she would be able to speak about it in public.

  Even with those stumbling blocks, Padmé had established herself well amongst the various Senate dignitaries. Senator Clovis still dropped by her office—always unannounced, to Mariek’s unceasing frustration—to talk with her, but they had no real overlap in their day-to-day operations. He had followed the Banking Clan’s interests, and she couldn’t tell if he had any of his own, or if Scipio’s priorities ever diverged from the bank’s.

  “He’s very smart,” she told Cordé one afternoon after Clovis had departed. Mariek had seen him out and returned, grumbling about the politeness of calling ahead. “But I’m not sure if he’s ever going to act independently.”

  “Not everyone has your communication style,” Cordé said. “Someone has to follow along, or the Senate would do even more yelling than it already does.”

  “Maybe,” Padmé said. Surely a senator was of little use if all they ever did was follow. Even the Trade Federation representative, Lott Dod—who was almost certainly a puppet for Nute Gunray—used his position to speak up now and again, although Padmé trusted the Neimoidian about as far as she could throw him.

  Still, as the session drew to a close and the various senators prepared to return to their homeworlds for recess, Padmé was able to look at what she had accomplished since her arrival on Coruscant with some measure of pride. She didn’t have the connections and influence that Palpatine had had as senator, but she was well on her way to making them.

  She helped Dormé finish packing up the last of what they would be taking back to Naboo with them for the break, stacking the full cases on a hover pallet for R2-D2 to shuttle out to the vestibule, where Cordé was overseeing the loading process. It was soothing work, folding cloth and wrapping pieces of jewelry into packing crates. She had missed working with her hands, something all the Naboo were trained from birth to do and to appreciate.

  It was the one thing that nagged at her, despite how well everything on Coruscant was going. Even though she’d only been senator about eight months, she found herself falling into the persona of Senator Amidala with much, much more finality than she ever had as queen. When she was queen, she had known that her time would end and that someday Padmé Naberrie would make her return to the general populace and have to build a life for herself. Now she realized that Senator Amidala could be who she was forever. There were no term limits on senators, and Padmé knew that she was good at the work she was doing. But she felt the position dragging on her. Every time she compromised her ideals. Every time she lied by omission for the greater good. She wasn’t sure if that was the sort of future she wanted, building things with words instead of with actions or physical material.

  She felt that this Amidala was another part she was playing. As always, she was happy to serve, and she did—selfishly—take great pleasure in the victories she was able to help win on the Senate floor. But she knew there was more, and for the first time in her life, she was starting to want it. She didn’t know how many new identities she had left to her. It was no feat of slicing that allowed her to reinvent herself from citizen to princess to queen to senator, only force of will. This recess was just what sh
e needed. It would be time to visit her family, to talk with the queen, and to really, really consider her future once again.

  Her comm chimed just as Dormé finished with the last of the wardrobe, and Padmé dismissed her to take the call in private. She activated the holo, and Senator Organa appeared before her.

  “Senator Amidala,” he said, “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

  “Has there been some emergency?” she asked. She tried to quell the surge of resentment she felt at the idea she’d have to stay. It was her job, after all.

  “No, nothing like that,” he said. “My wife, the Queen of Alderaan, apologizes for the lateness of the invitation, but wanted me to ask if you would consider coming to visit us for a time before you return to Naboo. She knows it isn’t on your way, but you and your companions would be very welcome, if you could come.”

  “I would be honored,” Padmé said. She fell into formality at the word queen, out of old habits. “May I have some time to address the subject with my people? They have been away from home a long time, and I wouldn’t want to put them out.”

  “Of course,” Senator Organa said. “I am not leaving until tomorrow.”

  They exchanged farewells, and Organa disconnected. Before Padmé could get up and leave, another message came through, with a code she could not ignore. She took a deep breath before answering.

  “Chancellor Palpatine,” she said. “I hope I have not kept you waiting. I was on another call.”

  “It’s nothing, my dear,” he said. “I can always make time for you.”

  This was patently false, as there were several aspects of the Chancellor’s job that rendered him unreachable at all hours, but she appreciated the sentiment.

  “How may I help you, Chancellor?” she asked.

  “I had hoped you would convey some remarks of mine to Queen Réillata,” he said. “Upon your return home.”

  “I am happy to do so,” Padmé said. “But we are heading to Alderaan for a week before we go to Naboo, so you may wish to send a message separately from me, as well.”

  Palpatine often affected an air of general disinterest when he spoke via holo. Padmé suspected it was because there was a constant flow of information circulating his office and his attention was always split. At her remark, though, his focus narrowed in on her completely, and she found she was suppressing a shiver.

  “I wasn’t aware you were so close with Bail Organa as to visit him at home,” he said.

  “The invitation is from the queen,” Padmé explained, though she wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered. “She wishes to speak to me as a former monarch, not as a senator.”

  “I see,” Palpatine said. Padmé could almost see the computations turning in his head, though she couldn’t have said what any of them came out to. “I will forward my message to Queen Réillata myself then,” he continued. “Though, please do convey a greeting to your parents and your sister when you finally return to them.”

  “Of course,” Padmé said.

  The Chancellor flickered and disappeared without a further word. Padmé allowed herself one moment of pure, selfish anger, relishing in the feel of it boiling through her blood. She couldn’t help enslaved people with money and she couldn’t help them with policy. Those were her two largest areas of influence, and she had so little pull that the Chancellor hadn’t even said a proper dismissal. She felt a brief flash of despair, the closest she ever came to giving up. Then she turned off the comlink.

  Padmé took a breath and went out into the dining room. There were wide windows that looked out over the cityscape, but today it was so hazy that it was difficult to see much besides the usual lanes of traffic. She commed a general call, asking her handmaidens and guards to join her when they were able. Most of them appeared almost right away, though Cordé was delayed by her task down on the landing pad.

  “We have been invited to Alderaan,” Padmé said by way of introduction. “All of us, for a brief time before we continue home. I wanted to consult with you, because I know you are looking forward to the holiday as much as I am, and I don’t want to keep you from your families for longer than I haveto.”

  Padmé felt a sharp pang of guilt. As much as she wanted to accept the invitation, her own sister had been delivered of a girl only a few days ago, and Padmé ached to see them both. At the same time, she could not stop calculating the benefits of going to Alderaan. It seemed she would always be of two minds when it came to family and duty.

  “I’m happy to fly you wherever you need to go,” Varbarós said. “I’ve never been to Alderaan before.”

  “Thank you,” Padmé said. She surveyed the people in front of her and spoke as their friend, not their senator. “Please be honest about what you want to do.”

  Cordé and Dormé shared a look, and Dormé put her hand on Typho’s arm.

  “We’ll accompany you, Senator,” Typho said. “Captain, perhaps one other guard?”

  “I’m coming, too,” Versé said before her aunt could speak.

  Padmé and Mariek shared a look. It had been months since the captain of her guard had seen her husband.

  “A short visit?” Mariek asked.

  “Yes,” Padmé said. “No more than a week.”

  “Very well,” she replied. “We’ll send all the guards but Sergeant Typho and myself to Naboo on a shuttle, and Varbarós can fly us and get to see as much of Alderaan as she wants.”

  “Thank you,” Padmé said. She turned to Cordé. “Can we reorganize the crates on the way? I hate to make more work, but we’ll be visiting a queen, so we may need to dig out some of the formal outfits, and I know those are on the bottom.”

  “We can manage,” Cordé said. “I made an inventory list, so if we need to find anything, Artoo should be able to track down the crate it’s in pretty quickly.”

  “Excellent,” Padmé said. “Thank you all for being flexible. Senator Organa has been very helpful, and I think this invitation is as much from him as it is from his wife. I am glad that I am able to accept it, and I know it’s because you are willing to let me.”

  Padmé made sure to talk to each of the departing guards individually. Then she went back into her room to comm Senator Organa and inform him of her decision. He relayed his pilot’s travel plans and gave her the time for departure, then told her he would see her soon.

  With that done, Padmé pulled out the private transmitter she used to contact Sabé and initiated a call.

  “There’s been a slight change of plans,” Padmé said when her friend’s face appeared. “Nothing disastrous. We’ve been invited to Alderaan for a few days.”

  “By the senator?” Sabé asked.

  “By the queen, his wife,” Padmé told her. “Though I imagine the idea was his. I can’t imagine why she’d know anything about me if he didn’t tell her.”

  “Does that change our procedure?” Sabé and Tonra were also returning to Naboo for the recess but had planned to travel on their own.

  “I’ve been considering a few changes for when the next session begins,” Padmé said. “We can talk about it in detail when we are back on Naboo, but I think if you wanted to, you could come to Alderaan with me. You and Tonra both.”

  There was a pause while Sabé considered it. Padmé knew she was smart enough to hear all the things she wasn’t saying. Coruscant wasn’t as dangerous as they had expected it to be, and perhaps Sabé’s efforts would be better spent doing something other than posing as Tsabin and chasing ghosts and slicers through the newsnets.

  “It would be nice to be myself again for a little while,” Sabé said. “And I don’t imagine that Tonra would complain about the stop, if he got to be a senatorial guard again.”

  “I don’t know how much guarding there will be to do,” Padmé said. “But I’m always glad to see him.”

  Sabé stepped to the side, and Tonra himself appeared on the holo-emitter. He must have been standing right beside her. Padmé knew that Sabé probably told him everything she said anyway,
and she supposed it was more efficient if he just listened in the first place. It made the closet very cramped, but they clearly neither minded their closeness nor minded that she knew.

  “I don’t mind the stop,” Tonra said. “May I use the royal ship to send transmissions to my family while we’re on the way? I haven’t been able to communicate with them very much, but I’d like to tell them about the delay.”

  “Of course,” Padmé said.

  Sabé stepped back into the frame, and Padmé relayed all of the departure information to her. They decided it would be easier if Sabé and Tonra arrived at the residence tonight, after it got dark, and then they could board the ship tomorrow with everyone else. The familiar feelings of paranoia crept up Padmé’s spine as they made their plans, but she tried not to pay them too much attention. Quarsh Panaka had never been able to silence those feelings, even if there was no immediate threat, and while his dedication had saved lives, it had not come without cost. She would not want to blindly follow his example.

  Once everything was settled, Padmé said her farewells—with considerably more enthusiasm than usual, since they would all be reunited shortly—and ended the transmission. She notified the house droids that there would be two more for dinner and breakfast and that additional beds would have to be made up. Then she wrote to her parents and to the queen to inform them of her delay and the reason for it.

  Dormé stuck her head into the room.

  “Versé’s going to teach us how to cheat at Sabacc. Would you like to come?” she asked.

  “I would love to,” Padmé said. She was already pretty familiar with the standard cheats, but it was possible Versé had picked up something new, and in any case, Padmé never liked to say no to time spent with friends.

  Alderaan was blue and green from orbit, with puffy white clouds in the stratosphere that obscured the view of the ground below. Though the general biome and ecological makeup were similar to that of Naboo, Alderaan had no moon and there could be no mistaking the two, even from this far away. The boomerang-shaped Naboo Royal Starship waited for landing clearance, giving all those aboard enough time to take a good look at the planet below. The world spun, and the ship passed into its night side. Now there was no possible way of confusing Alderaan with Naboo: the lights that indicated population centers gave them away.