Queen''s Shadow

by E. K. Johnston

  “I could sleep for a week,” he said. He stepped past what her brain would usually consider a safe distance, but she was tired, and it took her a moment to catch up.

  “Me too,” she admitted. “But we’re going to have to keep going to get everything organized and sent to—”

  He kissed her, and her exhaustion faded immediately.

  “No,” she said, and pushed him away.

  “I thought—” His hands cradled her elbows, as though to pull her close again.

  “No,” she said.

  “But you—” He took a step back. He looked angry, and her own fury flared.

  How dare he presume what their relationship was without asking her consent? She’d been warming up to him, that much was true, and she’d thought that their newfound friendship had potential to develop beyond what they had built over the past three days, but he had no right.

  “No.” She said it in the queen’s voice. “We are colleagues, Senator Clovis.”

  “I take my leave then,” he said, and stalked out.

  “What was that?” Padmé said as Versé appeared beside her, rapping her fan against her palm. She had been present the whole time of course, and Clovis’s attention had slid right past her as he charged for the goal.

  “I don’t know,” Versé said. “But I’m glad he listened. I like this fan, and I’d hate to break it on his hard head.”

  “Things were just starting to make sense,” Padmé said.

  “They’ll make more sense when you sleep,” Versé told her. “And since we both know you’re not going to sleep until you’ve organized the first round of shipping containers, let’s get started on that.”

  Padmé called up the first of the proposed manifests and did her best to focus on what was right in front of her.

  It took nearly a week of shuttling materials around the Mid Rim, but at long last all the credits were in the right appendages and Padmé had the first shipment of permacrete ready to head out to Bromlarch. The permacrete had been purchased with credits given to Bromlarch by Joh’Cire, a desert moon with a burgeoning moisture market and a growing population, in return for irrigation technology. If it had been as simple as that, the Mid Rim Cooperation motion would not have been necessary and Naboo could have simply filled the gap in Bromlarch’s food supply privately. But it wasn’t that simple. They needed the votes. Malastare didn’t care about Bromlarch, but the Congress had voted in favor anyway because of what Padmé had offered up, and along with the other systems, they ensured Republic support for the whole effort.

  Republic support meant Republic protection, and only three of the convoys had been attacked. All of the cargo had made it to its destinations intact, but one Sivadian pilot and fighter had been lost. The pirates had almost disappeared after that, perhaps fearing a galactic-level reprisal. The Chancellor was credited with restoring the peace, and Padmé almost didn’t mind.

  Padmé would be ferrying herself, Senator Gaans, and Senator Yarua of Kashyyyk aboard her own vessel, along with as many emergency food supplies as she could cram into every available corner.

  Mon Mothma was joining them after the initial run, to report back to the Senate on their progress, while Senator Yarua would be overseeing the beginning of the construction along with Senator Gaans. The Wookiees had been hired to do most of the actual building as part of the deal, in return for logging rights to a particular kind of hardwood that Bromlarch produced and Kashyyyk did not. The inclusion of the Wookiees had been a bonus, since they had voted in favor of providing aid in the first place, and Padmé was happy to spend more time with them.

  Once the permacrete was loaded and everyone was aboard the royal ship, Padmé, with Typho behind her, went over to the patrol ships the Senate had loaned out for the trip. Sabé and Tonra were in the process of doing their final system checks and had their helmets on, which made conversation difficult as Padmé didn’t have a comlink.

  “Fly safely!” she shouted, wiggling her fingers in an approximation of wings.

  Sabé replied with the sign they used to indicate a calm situation that could escalate at any moment, and Padmé grimaced. They would be on high alert. Tonra gave her a wave, and Padmé turned to walk back to the ramp.

  “This makes me nervous, Senator,” Typho admitted as they boarded.

  “You have briefed us on a plan for if pirates attempt to steal the cargo and a separate plan for if they decide hostages would be more lucrative,” Padmé told him. “I imagine you have a plan for what to do if they decide to do both at once, as well as multiple responses for scenarios I haven’t imagined. We will be fine.”

  “I’m glad we’ll have our own pilots,” Typho said as he entered the bridge.

  “Senator, we are just about ready to go,” Varbarós said from the pilot’s chair. “We’ll rendezvous with the convoy in high orbit and stop to pick up the other ships at the agreed upon coordinates. Two jumps, and we’ll be at Bromlarch.”

  “This is Hazard One, ready to depart,” Sabé’s voice sounded over the internal comm.

  “Hazard Two, ready to depart,” Tonra reported.

  Padmé looked out the narrow viewports and saw the patrol ships lift up for their prelaunch thrust.

  “Hazard Three standing by.” This was Master Billaba, who had taken off from the temple separately and would rendezvous with them in orbit.

  “Hazard Squadron, you are go for launch,” Varbarós said. “We’ll see you up there, Hazard Three.”

  The Jedi Master didn’t answer.

  Varbarós took them through the atmosphere as smoothly as usual, and the patrol ships took up their positions on the wings as soon as they were in space, with Master Billaba at the stern. They cruised over to where the convoy was assembling and took their place at the front of the formation. They put some distance between themselves and Coruscant.

  “All ships, this is Naboo One,” Varbarós said on a wide channel. “Prepare to receive navigation calculations and make the jump to hyperspace on my mark.”

  Padmé leaned back in her chair while the navicomputer did its work. She liked this part of traveling, the breath before the plunge into the full deepness of space. It reminded her how big the galaxy was and how lucky she was to live in it.

  “Mark,” said Varbarós, and they were off.

  Although she knew she should go back and sit with the other senators, Padmé stayed on the bridge for the duration of the trip. She felt like it was the first time she had been in a room without politicians—herself excepted—in some time, and while that was a slight exaggeration, she still enjoyed the quiet.

  The quiet came to an abrupt halt when the convoy dropped out of hyperspace at the second rendezvous point and found itself in the middle of a firefight with pirates.

  “Activating the deflector shield!” Varbarós said. “Taking evasive action. Hazard Squadron, go wide for coverage.”

  Padmé watched as the two patrol ships peeled away, looping back to protect the whole convoy from a wider angle. It had been a while since Sabé had flown a single-person craft, but Padmé knew she’d been much better at maintaining her flight hours than Padmé had. Tonra wasn’t a regular pilot, either, but Captain Panaka—both of them—had exacting standards, and Padmé felt only moderately alarmed to be in another battle. She couldn’t see the Jedi ship at first but soon picked out Master Billaba’s distinctive triangular Delta-7 starfighter closing in on the fight.

  “Can we jump again?” Typho asked. He leaned forward, and Padmé could tell he was itching to be more in control of the situation. She understood completely.

  “The other half of the convoy is in the middle of shifting cargo between two of the haulers,” a tech reported. “They can’t go until everyone is back inside.”

  “Damn it,” Typho said.

  “Varbarós, move us closer,” Padmé said. “We can draw their fire and give the haulers some time.”

  “Do not do that,” Typho said, biting off each word like they were proton torpedoes.

 
“Sergeant, we have a far superior shield,” Padmé reasoned. “We can take a few hits. Move us in, Varbarós.”

  “One pass!” Varbarós said, clearly considering this a compromise. She couldn’t make eye contact with either of them from the pilot’s chair, which was probably for the best, all things considered. “Moving us in. Hold on to something.”

  The ship rolled into the action, and though the gravity generator kept them in place, Padmé felt her stomach flip as Varbarós completed the maneuver. It worked well enough. The royal ship took two shots across the underside of the bow, but the shield held firm.

  “Their weapons aren’t strong enough to break through without significant bombardment,” the tech reported, their fingers flying as they cycled through system updates and relayed orders to the other ships.

  “Sergeant,” Padmé said, pouring a great deal of feeling into the word.

  “Take us on another pass,” Typho said, speaking through his teeth. He was definitely going to yell at her later, but this was worth it.

  Varbarós rolled again, and three more shots rocked across the bow.

  “Naboo One, Hazard One, we have targeted the cannons on the primary attacker,” Sabé said through the comms. “Starting our attack run.”

  “Hazard One, you have a go,” Varbarós replied. She pulled the royal ship out of their path, and for a moment, Padmé’s view of the battle was replaced by a quiet and peaceful field of stars.

  Not stars: the ballast that Master Billaba had dumped to deflect the cannon fire. Vacuum or no, the particles seethed in space as they absorbed the energy that was meant to have cut through hull metal. The Jedi Master returned to her position behind the silver ship, and Padmé could only track her movements on the scanner.

  Watching space battles was deeply unsettling on account of the silence in which they were conducted, but once they were back in visual range, Padmé didn’t take her eyes off the ship she knew Sabé piloted. She missed Tonra’s successful assault on the first cannon but saw Sabé take out the second one.

  “The haulers are ready to go,” the tech reported.

  “Firing up navicomputer,” Varbarós said on the wide channel again. “All ships, all ships, prepare for coordinates and jump when you are ready.”

  “We’re going last,” Padmé said. “I want to be sure everyone is away.”

  “Senator,” Typho said, and Padmé held up her hands in defeat.

  “Almost last,” she amended. “Hazard Squadron can follow us.”

  “Copy that,” came three different voices over the comm.

  Flashes of light indicated each time a convoy ship jumped. Sabé and Tonra continued to attack the pirate vessels, aiming for weaponry and drive systems to cover their retreat, while Billaba deployed another run of ballast between the attackers and the Naboo.

  “We’re going,” Varbarós announced, and before Padmé could look out the viewport to confirm they were the last remaining, they jumped.

  Varbarós blew out a breath in triumph, and Padmé reached out to touch her shoulder.

  “Well done,” she said. “You did an excellent job.”

  “Thank you, Senator,” the pilot said.

  Padmé leaned back in her chair and looked over at Typho, who didn’t look as angry as she’d thought he would.

  “Can you fly an N-1 fighter, Senator?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes,” Padmé said. “Captain Panaka had us all learn how. I’m a little out of practice, but I think it would come back tome.”

  “Good,” he said. “I don’t imagine I’ll be able to talk you out of risking your neck in the future, so the next best thing is to make sure you risk it in something with a laser cannon.”

  “Very well, Sergeant,” she said. “As long as you are flying with me.”

  “My rank doesn’t—” he started, and she laughed.

  “I may call in a few favors. I have powerful friends,” she said. “And you deserve it, Sergeant. I truly think so.”

  Padmé stood up and went below to tell the other senators what had transpired. They would have been kept apprised of the situation by the ship’s computer, but it was always nice to hear a report from a living person. She met R2-D2 on the way. She knew the droid often ran scans when he hadn’t been given any other tasks to do, and a thought occurred to her.

  “Artoo, did you get a good look at those pirates?” she asked.

  The little droid beeped enthusiastically and rolled over to a computer outlet. Padmé followed him, and after he hooked up, she watched as a series of scans of the ship whose cannons Sabé had destroyed played across the screen.

  “Any significant markings or registration numbers?” she asked.

  R2-D2 rotated his dome, indicating no.

  “Please do a detailed analysis,” Padmé said. “I’ll read your report as soon as things calm down.”

  The astromech turned back to the screen, images flashing too quickly for Padmé to track them, and she left him to it.

  The senators were waiting for her in the room that could serve as a throne room when the queen was aboard but was currently decorated with several white chairs and a table.

  “We took no damage,” Padmé said by way of greeting. She sat down next to Senator Gaans. “Two pirate vessels were attacking our secondary convoy. The haulers were transferring cargo, so they were vulnerable. Our patrol ships took out the enemy cannons and bought us enough time to jump away.”

  “It’s troublesome that the pirates knew the location of the secondary convoy,” Gaans said. “Though their timing was unfortunate for them.”

  “It was almost unfortunate for us,” Padmé said. “We had no real scheduled time for leaving Coruscant. The haulers had been waiting for us for a few hours before we arrived. If we had been even ten minutes later, it would be an entirely different story.”

  Senator Yarua barked a question. A screen next to the Wookiee senator provided a quick translation, like Padmé’s screen in the Senate did.

  “I don’t know,” Padmé said. “I can think of half a dozen reasons someone in the Senate might have tipped them off, but I have no way of confirming my suspicions.

  “I will ask Senator Mon Mothma if I can look into it when we get back to Coruscant,” she continued. “If someone is trying to interfere with Senate-sanctioned missions, not to mention one of the most unified actions in recent memory, we should try to find out who and why.”

  “I agree,” Gaans said.

  Padmé didn’t like that it always took danger and pain to provoke response. Mon Mothma had been perfectly content to continue passively treating with the pirates until her ship came through their contested space, and now she was willing to expend additional effort. Padmé hoped she would never need to confront something herself to believe it, even if it meant she would face an increase in personal moral discomfort.

  “One of my droids took scans during the fight,” Padmé said. “I’ll let you know what, if anything, shows up in the analysis.”

  “Senators, we are coming up on Bromlarch,” Varbarós’s voice sounded from above them. “We’ll go into synchronous orbit over the capital region and wait for further instructions.”

  “Senator Gaans,” said Padmé. “Let’s get you home.”

  Once Mon Mothma completed her survey of the Bromlarch aqueduct and the flooding that had resulted from the damage, there was no need for them to stay on the planet. Indeed, Padmé suspected they were in the way, since none of them knew how to do the actual construction. Ninui was a gracious guide but was just as clearly overworked, and Padmé was happy to be able to lighten her load somewhat by returning to Coruscant as soon as possible. Senator Gaans stayed behind for a few more days, but the rest of them departed in good order. The trip back was done in a single jump, the Naboo ship just ahead of the Chandrilan vessel, and was therefore uneventful.

  “I look forward to working with you again, Senator Amidala,” Mon Mothma said when they were standing on the landing pad waiting for Mon Mothma’s plane
tary shuttle to come and pick her up. “You have a unique perspective on the galaxy, but I think we are not so different as our squabbling would lead others to believe.”

  “We are far too dignified to squabble,” Padmé said. “But I agree on your other points.”

  “It will not always be this easy to unite the Senate,” Mon Mothma said. “We respond to fear, of course, but anything drastic enough to cause that sort of unification will only lead to ruin.”

  “I know this was something of an outlier, in terms of procedure,” Padmé said. She had confronted a few of her feelings

  on the return journey. The rush of working with Clovis had faded quickly, for several reasons, and Padmé realized that the process they had used was not sustainable in the long run. Eventually, there would be no more favors to trade, and the relationships they had built in constructing the bill weren’t solid or reliable enough to be worth it. But Bromlarch would survive. “I hope someday the Senate can respond swiftly to problems without resorting to fast dealings. It made me uncomfortable, and I am not in a hurry to do it again, if there is another way.”

  “We will make that way together,” Mon Mothma said as her shuttle landed across the pad.

  “I look forward to it,” Padmé said.

  “You might consider adding an official representative to your delegation in the Senate,” Mon Mothma added. “Not everyone does it, but it allows me to cover more ground with a fresh perspective.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Padmé smiled. “Actually, I have just the being in mind.”

  The Chandrilan senator and the aide who had accompanied her boarded their speeder and departed. Sabé extricated herself from her patrol ship.

  “Well, Senator,” she said, “will you stay?”

  The question was easier to answer now. Padmé knew it with every fiber of her being. Yet it cost her something to say the words out loud. She knew politics was a difficult arena that required constant compromise. She thrived on it. She could lose herself in it, and maybe that was the problem. But there was no one better, and so her answer remained the same.