“When you talk to them, I think it would be a good idea to be as formal as possible,” Padmé said. “We want them to know that they have our respect.”
“You mean the Queen’s respect?” Sabé asked.
“Yes,” Padmé said. “We can work on the rest of it later.”
Sabé took Padmé’s hands and helped her to step into the purple silk underdress. She sealed all of the seams, and then lifted the dark velvet pieces into place. Once they were fastened, she folded back the heavier fabric to reveal flashes of color.
“What if you spoke with Jar Jar a few more times and let me observe?” Sabé said. “Observe as a handmaiden, I mean. You could ask him questions about Gungan culture. You have a better idea of what we need to know.”
“We don’t have to switch places until right before we get to Naboo,” Padmé said. “So yes, I think that would work.”
Sabé did one last inspection of the Queen. Behind her, the others were almost done packing.
“This is a different topic, but I have to ask,” Sabé said. “What was it like to overthrow the chancellor?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Padmé said. “It makes me sound like I fomented open rebellion. I just . . . took advantage of parliamentary procedure while I had the Senate floor.”
“You overthrew the chancellor,” Sabé said.
“I wish you had seen it.” Padmé sounded sad. “So many people from all over the galaxy, and all they could do was squabble. I told them that our people were suffering, and they would have made us wait until some committee flew out to the Chommell sector and checked. They were more concerned with voting along the lines of their alliance than they were with listening to problems and trying to find solutions. It was a mess, and Chancellor Valorum did nothing. Nothing.”
“Do you think a new chancellor will do any better?” Sabé asked.
“I didn’t have time to research all of the candidates,” Padmé said. “Obviously I would trust Senator Palpatine, and he appears to genuinely like the others. I think any way this turns out, it is in our favor.”
“But it won’t be in time for Naboo,” Sabé said. “No matter what happens in the Senate, we’re on our own.”
“It will stop the Trade Federation from trying again,” Padmé said firmly. “With us or with someone else.”
Sabé had a few more doubts about the sanctity of the Republic Senate than Padmé seemed to, but that was why Padmé did things like run for Queen of the planet. She believed in the system, even though she could see its flaws. She would always try to fix them. And Sabé would help her, because that was what she chose to do.
“Are the Jedi joining us on the platform?” Sabé asked. She had trouble keeping track of time on Coruscant. There was always so much ambient light.
“Yes,” Padmé said.
“I know we’re all worried, but I hope you find time for some sleep on the way home, and I could do with some, too,” Sabé said. “If I have to be the Queen again, I am going to need my rest.”
Padmé laughed, as Sabé had intended. It was a weak attempt at humor, but it had done the job. The situation was dire, but they could not despair.
“Can I ask a strange question?” Padmé said.
“Of course,” Sabé said.
“Did you notice that the face paint was different?”
In spite of everything, Sabé dissolved into giggles, too.
His master had told him to go straight to Naboo, so straight to Naboo he had gone. The Neimoidians who met him at the palace had fallen all over themselves to make him welcome. They had shown him to a room, and he ignored them.
Instead, he prowled the palace corridors. It was a pretty place, full of bright colors, even when viewed by early morning light. He explored the palace from top to bottom, searching for all the access points. He knew he had a fight coming up; his blood sang with readiness for it. And he was determined to choose the battleground himself.
The hangar near the Royal Palace was the most likely place for any infiltration force to strike first. He didn’t bother to tell the Neimoidians that. They would figure it out or they would not. It didn’t really matter to him.
What did matter to him was the series of corridors that led from the hangar down to the power generation facilities. There were two Jedi, which meant they had the advantage of attacking him from multiple directions at the same time. He wanted a way to remove some of those directions, and the maze of catwalks and unguarded pathways in the generator area was perfect for that. He would always know where they were coming from.
At the back of the facility was a series of force fields that opened and shut on a timer. This place would be his ultimate goal. He had a good chance of separating them if he engaged them here, and he was certain he could handle them long enough to lure them all the way down.
He waited until the fields were open and then ran through before they shut again. The room on the other side wasn’t perfect for a duel—no room with a hole in the floor that large was ever perfect—but it would do, he decided. Yes, it would do nicely.
He activated both sides of his lightsaber and swung it around, getting used to the feel of the blades this close to the walls. It would be tight quarters. He would be able to bring all his physicality to bear. His master disapproved of so much punching and kicking in his fighting style, but there was nothing better than the feel of bone fracturing under his touch. A lightsaber was nice, but there was something to be said for working with his hands.
He took a flying leap and easily crossed over the chute in the floor. He spared a thought as to where it emerged, and then decided it didn’t matter. Soon he would face the Jedi here, and he would bring all his hatred down on them. He was very much looking forward to it.
His comm chimed, and he activated it even though he had no desire to speak to any Trade Federation flunky. His master had told him to play along.
“My lord,” said the viceroy. “The royal starship has been detected in the system. It has successfully cleared the blockade and set down in an area of the planet that is heavily forested. We have sent troops out to salvage it, but it is likely the Queen and her party will have fled into the woods. Do you wish to search for them?”
It was tempting. He enjoyed a good hunt. But he had chosen this place to be his battlefield, and was reluctant to give it up.
“No,” he said. “Let them come to us.”
“You keep coming back.”
Panaka hadn’t seen the girl’s legs until she spoke, and then he’d very nearly fallen over them.
“It’s a public building,” he said. “I can come and go as I please.”
“It’s a public building that is currently being used to host an acting workshop,” she fired back. “For girls.”
This was starting to get embarrassing.
“I’m recruiting,” he told her.
“It’s the middle of the holiday break. The Royal Security Forces have their recruitment at the end of the semester,” she said. “No one said anything about rescheduling it.”
He didn’t bother asking how she knew he was Royal Security. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Do your instructors always tell you when the schedule is going to change?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted. “But they say things in front of me a lot. No one really pays attention to me.”
Having nearly tripped over her only a few moments ago, Panaka could hardly argue with that.
“The girl you keep turning away from is the best choice,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?” Panaka said. He was starting to get used to dealing with child prodigies on a daily basis, but this was asking a lot of his nerves.
“You keep looking at her and making a face like you wish something was different, and then you go back to looking at all the brown-haired sopranos,” the girl said. “Picking a blonde would have an advantage.”
It was true that the candidate Panaka liked best at the workshop was fair-haired. Sh
e didn’t seem to care for acting, despite the level of difficulty getting accepted to the program, and was instead dedicating herself to set-building. The other actors assigned to crew positions were all deeply affronted, but she seemed to have chosen it.
“What is the advantage?” he asked.
“If you only pick girls that look like her, she’ll never be able to change her appearance without standing out,” she replied.
Panaka leaned back against the low stone wall and stared at her appraisingly.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you on stage this week.”
“My name is Sashah,” she said. “They didn’t give me a part and they forgot to assign me a backstage job, and I didn’t want to be here in the first place, so I am taking the week to learn more about how people work.”
“I think you’re doing okay with that,” Panaka said. “No one else has figured out what I’m doing, and I’ve been looking for a week. My name is Panaka.”
“Come and see the play tonight,” Sashah said. “You’ll get to see her in action.”
“Oh?” Panaka said. “What sort of action does a set designer see during the performance?”
Sashah smiled. “She’s told them several times what they are doing wrong. They haven’t listened.”
He had to admit that she had piqued his curiosity.
“What about you, then?” he asked. “You must have noticed you look like her.”
Sashah considered it briefly and then shook her head.
“I’m too small,” she said. “I’m here because my parents thought forcing me to speak in public would do me good, and even that couldn’t get me on the stage. You need people who can attract attention and fade into the background. I can only hide.”
“You have my attention,” Panaka said.
“Only because I spoke to you first,” she said. “I always sit here, and this is the first time you’ve seen me.”
“And you gave me excellent advice,” Panaka said. “You chose your moment and you took advantage of it.”
The girl looked up at him solemnly and pulled her knees up to her chin. She pursed her lips as she considered what he’d said. He appreciated the time she was taking to weigh the options. She knew the stakes, or at least strongly suspected them, and she wasn’t going to say yes just because it stroked her ego. She would make sure she was really necessary.
“All right, Captain,” she said. He wasn’t surprised she had ascertained his rank. “I’ll come with you. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow, probably,” he said. “And I imagine there will be three of us.”
“I’ll get my things,” she said. “Do you have a lie prepared for my parents? They’re going to wonder where I am if I disappear to Theed.”
“Tell them you’ll be shadowing a government official,” Panaka said. “It’s more or less the truth. And tell them that everything else is confidential.”
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight, Captain.”
She rose to her feet with a dancer’s grace and went into the building.
Panaka looked into the alcove where she’d been sitting. It was a good place to be, providing a view of the grounds and yet out of the wind and sun. If she spent a lot of time here, and he imagined she did, she could pick up on a lot of information. She might be small, but her contributions to the Queen’s security detail would not be.
The word small floated around in his brain for a moment as he stared into the alcove. It was bigger than he’d thought. Definitely large enough that if she sat with her back to the wall, her legs wouldn’t reach the stairs.
She’d tripped him on purpose, and then maneuvered him into offering her the job she wanted. Panaka set off for the palace, laughing under his breath. Sashah would fit right in.
Saché was on her tenth trip through the camp when she was caught.
“You there, halt,” said a droid, and Saché halted. The tightly folded fabric in the pocket of her ruined orange robes burned against her leg. “Turn around.”
The droid was not alone. It was a squad of six, out on patrol. Since their incarceration had begun, the droid patrols had grown more frequent and their methods more violent. Yesterday, three people had been killed for attempting to steal food from the Trade Federation stores, and rations had been cut for everyone as a result.
There had been a fight in Saché’s tent when one guard had accused another of hoarding food. Mariek and Tonra had broken it up as quickly as possible. No one wanted the droids to overhear. Mariek assigned the two guards to latrine duty. The original latrines had long since overflowed, and placing new ones was distasteful enough to serve as a deterrent to brawling in the tent. There was only so much Mariek could do, though, so they were waiting for the next blow.
“Your actions are unnecessary,” said the droid. “You have no reason to wander through the camp. Explain yourself.”
“I don’t like being confined to the tent,” Saché said. “I was just trying to get some exercise.”
“Humans are creatures of habit,” said the droid. “If you were exercising, you would take the same path. You do not. Explain yourself.”
“I was just looking around.” Saché tried to sound as childlike as possible, though the droids had not shown any indication that they cared how old she was.
The droid tilted its head as though it was listening to something or running a calculation.
“Your behavior has been flagged,” the droid said. “You will come with us.”
There was no point in running. Saché remembered the feel of plasteel against her neck too well to think of resisting either. She tried not to flinch as the droids surrounded her and began a forced march. They were heading for the market office, which the droids had repurposed into a charging station and a small office for the Neimoidian who oversaw operations at the camp.
Sergeant Tonra stood between two tents, an alarmed expression on his face. Saché didn’t look at him. He turned and disappeared before the droids could say anything, and Saché knew that word of her capture would get to Yané and Mariek as soon as he could run across the camp with it.
The droids took her into the office and tightened their formation around her so that all she could see was metal torsos.
“Out of the way, you worthless lumps,” the Neimoidian overseer said. “How can I interrogate her if I can’t see her?”
Saché could think of a couple of ways, but she wasn’t exactly going to offer them up. The droids in front of her stepped aside, moving in perfect unison.
“Human children are so small?” the overseer said.
“I’m still growing,” Saché told her. “I’m twelve.”
“I see.” The overseer relaxed back into her chair. “Please, take a seat.”
Saché didn’t let her guard down, and prepared to press any advantage she gave her. The seat was tall, and her feet hung off the ground, but she made do.
“My name is Usan Ollin,” she said. “As you know, I am in charge of this camp. I am alarmed to learn that you are being put in danger.”
“I am?” Saché asked. She let her eyes go as wide as she could, and pitched her voice high and a little breathless.
“The adult humans are conspiring against us,” Ollin said. “When we have been nothing but considerate since our visit here began. Your queen and her cronies are responsible for this mess. She could end it any time she chose to.”
“I know,” Saché said. It was always best to mix in as much truth as possible. “But why am I in danger? Is there going to be a food shortage?”
“Well, probably,” Ollin admitted. She shook herself. She’d said something she hadn’t meant to. “But that’s not why you’re in danger. The adults are using you, my dear, to carry messages.”
“They are?” Saché gasped. “I just wanted to get some exercise.”
“I’m afraid so, child,” Ollin said. “And you are in very big trouble unless you tell me what the messages say.”
“But I don�
�t know.” Saché made herself look as innocent and vulnerable as possible and hoped that Neimoidian body language was similar. They cringed a lot, she remembered, and rolled her shoulders forward.
“They thought they were very clever,” Ollin said. “They put the information into little scraps of fabric. We found one late last night, and there’s another one in your pocket right now. Our droids will crack it eventually. But if you tell me, I’ll let you go.”
The droids would not crack it. The whole point of the comm code was that it was a memory game for Naboo children that was completely independent of technology. It was like an unsolvable equation or a circular logic puzzle. No computer would be able to crack it without organic help.
“I don’t know,” she said again. She curled in on herself as much as possible.
“Who gave you the fabric?” Ollin said.
“I—I don’t remember,” Saché stuttered. “I’m staying with so many strangers and none of them want to talk to me. It’s so hard to tell them apart in their uniforms.”
“What about the other girl, the one dressed like you?” Ollin said. “My sources say that you were both servants in the palace. Is she a stranger, too?”
“We work together,” Saché said. “But I don’t see her very much. We have different jobs.”
Ollin looked suspicious, but swallowed those two truths and a lie. She leaned forward.
“Child, it is very important that I know what those messages say,” she said. “And I think you know more than you are letting on. I’m asking you one more time. For your own sake, tell me who gave them to you.”
Saché didn’t say anything. The time for bluffing was done.
“Then you leave me no choice,” said Ollin. She pressed a button on her desk and the droids clanked back into the office. “Is the interrogation chamber finished, Corporal?”
“Construction is complete,” the droid said. “Power has been activated. We have not yet tested the facility.”
“I have a test subject for you, then,” Ollin said. Two droid hands closed on Saché’s shoulders and ripped her from the chair. “I’ll upload the questions to your database. Don’t stop until she tells you everything.”
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