Padmé’s frown deepened. Chancellor Palpatine studied her for a moment, then rose and went to the window. Looking out over the city, he said, “Master Jedi, may I suggest that the Senator be placed under the protection of your graces?”
“Do you think that is a wise decision during these stressful times?” Bail Organa asked, glancing at Padmé.
“Chancellor,” Padmé said, sounding slightly put out, “if I may comment, I do not believe the situation—”
“—is that serious.” Chancellor Palpatine picked up the sentence and finished it for her. “No, but I do, Senator.”
“Chancellor, please!” Padmé looked appalled. “I don’t want any more guards!”
The Chancellor gave her a mildly reproving glance. “I realize all too well that additional security might be disruptive for you, but perhaps someone you are familiar with…” He paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he smiled. “An old friend, like…Master Kenobi?” He nodded inquiringly at Mace Windu.
“That’s possible,” Mace replied slowly. “He has just returned from a border dispute on Ansion.”
“You must remember him, M’lady,” Palpatine said, turning back to Padmé. “He watched over you during the blockade conflict.”
“This is not necessary, Chancellor!” Padmé insisted.
“Do it for me, M’lady, please,” Palpatine almost begged. “I will rest easier. We had a big scare today. The thought of losing you is unbearable.”
Padmé sighed and nodded.
“I will have Obi-Wan report to you immediately, M’lady,” Mace Windu said gravely. He and Ki-Adi-Mundi rose to leave.
Yoda paused before following them. Something more was needed. He studied Padmé, who was biting her lip in evident frustration, then leaned in close to her ear. “Too little about yourself you worry, Senator, and too much about politics.”
Padmé looked at him, startled. Yoda smiled slightly. “Be mindful of your danger, Padmé. Accept our help.”
As they left the Chancellor’s office, Yoda was pleased to see Padmé looking thoughtful instead of annoyed. Her heart was good, but too often did she act on impulse. Better she would do if she stopped to think, and let wisdom guide her passion.
The hydrolift door slid open, letting in a wash of cool, damp air. Of course, thought Anakin. Padmé has set the climate to feel like Naboo. In the past ten years, he had grown accustomed to worlds that were too cold and too damp—after growing up on Tatooine, nearly everywhere else felt too cold and too damp to him. But this damp cold was different. It reminded him of his first spaceship flight, aboard the royal Naboo cruiser, when Padmé had found him shivering in the main room in the middle of the night. She had covered him with her overjacket…he could still remember the faint scent on the red silk. He shook himself and followed Master Obi-Wan out of the lift.
Anakin had been hoping that Padmé would be there to greet them, but the only person in sight was Jar Jar Binks. The Gungan’s long orange earflaps hung down over his robes, but Jar Jar’s enthusiastic—and slightly awkward—greeting made it clear that his years in Galactic politics had not changed him much from the clumsy, confused Gungan Anakin remembered.
“It’s good to see you, too, Jar Jar,” Obi-Wan said, smiling in spite of himself.
“And dis is yousa apprentice,” Jar Jar said, with an attempt at dignity. Then he peered more closely at Anakin. “Noooo! Annie? Noooo! Little bitty Annie? Yousa so biggen!”
“Hi, Jar Jar,” Anakin said, grinning. He hoped the Gungan wasn’t going to remind everyone of his childhood. Still, Jar Jar’s happiness was irresistible, and he let himself be pulled into an enormous hug.
“Shesa expecting yousa,” Jar Jar went on, and Anakin’s heart leaped. Jar Jar looked at him again, shook his head, and said, “Annie…mesa no believen!”
When Jar Jar finished exclaiming over them, he led the way into a room off the main corridor. Anakin had a vague impression of light and understated elegance, but his attention was caught immediately by the sight of Padmé and one of her handmaidens conferring with a man wearing an eye patch and a Naboo captain’s uniform.
Anakin stopped short. Light gleamed on the coils of Padmé’s dark hair, and a long blue velvet vest clung to her slender figure. She was even more beautiful now than she had been at fourteen, even more beautiful than the rosy memory he had treasured for ten years. The thought that someone wanted to hurt her made his heart ache. He hardly heard Jar Jar say, “Lookie, lookie, Senator! Desa Jedi arriven.”
Padmé and the others turned. When she saw Obi-Wan, Padmé smiled in recognition and rose to greet him. She hardly even saw me, Anakin thought.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, M’lady,” Obi-Wan said.
Padmé smiled and took his hand. “It has been far too long, Master Kenobi. I’m so glad our paths have crossed again.” She hesitated. “But I must warn you that I think your presence here is unnecessary.”
Obi-Wan said only, “I’m sure the Jedi Council has their reasons.”
Releasing Obi-Wan’s hand, Padmé moved in front of Anakin. He looked down at her as she stared up doubtfully at him. Surely she remembered! Finally, she said hesitantly, “Annie??”
Anakin nodded. Padmé stared for another moment, then said weakly, “My goodness, you’ve grown.”
“So have you,” Anakin replied. What a stupid thing to say, when I’m looking down at her! “Grown more beautiful, I mean. And much shorter—” Why did I have to say that? But it’s so odd, when I remember her as so much taller than me. “—for a Senator, I mean.” She’s going to think I’m an idiot.
Obi-Wan clearly thought so; the disapproving look he gave Anakin was all too familiar. But to his relief, Padmé only laughed and shook her head. Then she said, “Oh, Annie, you’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”
Discomfited, Anakin looked down. I’m not a little boy anymore! He was almost glad when Obi-Wan distracted her, saying, “Our presence will be invisible, M’lady, I assure you.”
“I’m very grateful you’re here, Master Kenobi,” the Naboo captain said. “The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit.”
“I don’t need more security,” Padmé said firmly. “I need answers. I want to know who is trying to kill me.”
“We’re here to protect you, Senator, not to start an investigation,” Obi-Wan said, frowning.
Anakin couldn’t stand the look on her face. “We will find out who’s trying to kill you, Padmé, I promise you!” he burst out.
Obi-Wan gave him another, even more disapproving look, and said sternly, “We are not going to exceed our mandate, my young Padawan learner.”
“I meant in the interest of protecting her, Master, of course,” Anakin replied. How could they keep her safe if they didn’t know who was behind the assassination attempt? Surely Obi-Wan could see the need. If only he weren’t always so determined to follow the rules.…
As if he had heard Anakin’s thoughts, Obi-Wan shook his head. “We are not going through this exercise again, Anakin. And you will pay attention to my lead.”
“Why?” Anakin persisted. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but this concerned Padmé.
“What??!!”
“Why else do you think we were assigned to her, if not to find the killer?” Anakin explained hastily. “Protection is a job for local security, not Jedi. It’s overkill, Master. Investigation is implied in our mandate.” At least this time Obi-Wan was listening.
“We will do as the Council has instructed,” Obi-Wan said. “And you will learn your place, young one.”
Anakin nodded, but he noticed that Obi-Wan had not repeated his statement that they were only supposed to act as guards. That was enough, for now. He could push more for the investigation later on. He would make Obi-Wan see.
“Perhaps with merely your presence, the mysteries surrounding this threat will be revealed,” Padmé said, and Anakin was not sure whether she intended to
be sarcastic or not. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will retire.”
Anakin stared gloomily after Padmé and her handmaiden as Obi-Wan and the Naboo captain discussed security arrangements. The captain departed, leaving only Jar Jar, who was still burbling about how happy he was to see them. Jar Jar isn’t the one I wanted to feel happy, Anakin thought, and immediately felt guilty. Jar Jar had a good heart. But…
“She didn’t even recognize me, Jar Jar.” The words slipped out before he realized. “I’ve thought about her every day since we parted, and she’s forgotten me completely.”
Jar Jar blinked at him, then said with surprising gentleness, “Shesa happy. Happier den mesa see-en her in longo time.”
“Anakin, you’re focusing on the negative again,” Obi-Wan put in. “Be mindful of your thoughts. She was glad to see us. Now, let’s check the security here.”
It was something to do, and it would serve Padmé. Even if she didn’t care whether or not he served her. “Yes, Master,” said Anakin.
Zam Wesell pulled her speeder up to the side of the skyscraper and set the controls to hover. Her contact was already waiting for her, fully armed and armored. She snorted softly. Why Jango Fett made such a thing out of wearing that Mandoralian battle armor all the time, she couldn’t understand. I’m surprised he doesn’t wear it when he’s not on a job.
She considered morphing into another form, just to annoy him. Changelings could pass for whatever race they chose; the ability was part of what made her such a successful bounty hunter. Fett could use the reminder, after the way his last little plan had gone wrong. She smiled behind the veil that hid the lower half of her face. She’d agreed to work with Fett on this, but she didn’t have to keep him happy. On the other hand, they did have to work together. She decided not to waste the energy.
If Jango was having any similar thoughts about her, his helmet hid them. “We’ll have to try something more subtle this time, Zam,” he said without preamble as soon as she was close enough. “My client is getting impatient.”
I’ll bet, Zam thought, but she only nodded.
“There can be no mistakes this time,” the other bounty hunter went on. “Take these. Be careful. They’re very poisonous.”
He reached out, offering her a short, fat tube. Through the clear sides, she saw several kouhuns—foot-long creatures that looked like giant worms with hundreds of legs. She took the tube, her mind racing. Poisonous—she’d have to be sure the Senator was alone, and unlikely to notice their approach. Giving Jango an absentminded nod, she tucked her new assassination weapon under her arm and walked back to her airspeeder, lost in contemplation of the job ahead.
The wide hallway near the center of the Jedi Temple was lit only by the light that seeped through the doorways at either end. Yoda had always liked the play of light against dark, but tonight, walking down the hallway with Mace Windu, it saddened him. Too much of the growing dark side, it reminded him.
Mace Windu broke the silence. “Why couldn’t we see this attack on the Senator?” His deep voice was full of concern.
“Masking the future, is this disturbance in the Force,” Yoda replied calmly.
“The prophecy is coming true,” Windu said, frowning. “The dark side is growing.”
Yoda nodded. “And only those who have turned to the dark side can sense the possibilities of the future.” He could feel Mace’s unquiet at his words, and he understood it well. A good part of the Jedi’s remarkable success came from their ability to anticipate the future. The young ones had always relied on it—perhaps a little too much. Eight hundred years gave one a different perspective. The loss of their ability to see the future didn’t worry Yoda nearly as much as the growing strength of the dark side that had caused the loss.
After a short silence, Mace said, “It’s been ten years, and the Sith still have not shown themselves.”
“Out there, they are,” Yoda said, but he nodded in approval. Learned well the ways of the Force, Mace Windu had. He saw past his own concern to the heart of the real problem. “A certainty, that is.”
Mace nodded, and they continued their walk toward the light in silence.
An eddy in the Force roused Anakin from his meditation. Someone was coming. Anakin’s lightsaber leaped into his hands almost before his eyes opened; then, as he felt the presence more clearly, he smiled and replaced the weapon at his belt. It was only Obi-Wan, returning from his security check.
The door of Padmé’s apartment slid open. “Captain Typho has more than enough guards downstairs,” Obi-Wan said as he entered. “No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?”
“Quiet as a tomb,” Anakin replied without thinking, then shivered slightly at the phrase. He caught Obi-Wan’s look, and answered the question his Master had not asked aloud. “I don’t like just waiting here for something to happen to her.”
Obi-Wan nodded understandingly, and pulled a pocket viewscreen from his belt pack. A moment later, he frowned and held it up. The screen showed R2-D2, powered down, in a corner near the door of Padmé’s bedroom, but there was no image of the bed, or of Padmé herself. “What’s going on?” Obi-Wan asked.
Anakin shrugged. “She covered that camera. I don’t think she liked me watching her.”
“What is she thinking?” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head.
“She programmed Artoo to warn us if there’s an intruder.”
“It’s not an intruder I’m worried about,” Obi-Wan replied. “There are many other ways to kill a Senator.”
“I know, but we also want to catch this assassin,” Anakin said. “Don’t we, Master?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “You’re using her as bait?”
“It was her idea,” Anakin said defensively. She’d insisted, in fact. “Don’t worry, no harm will come to her. I can sense everything going on in that room.” Where Padmé was concerned, his normal sense of the Force was heightened; he could sense her breathing, if he tried. But he couldn’t explain that to Obi-Wan. “Trust me.”
“It’s too risky,” Obi-Wan said, frowning. “And your senses aren’t that attuned, young apprentice.”
Yes, they are! But Anakin had heard the faint extra emphasis on “your senses”; maybe Obi-Wan would let this go on, after all. “And yours are?”
“Possibly,” said Obi-Wan. He made no move to wake Padmé, and Anakin suppressed a grin of satisfaction. They would get the assassin this way. After a moment, Obi-Wan said, “You look tired.”
“I don’t sleep well anymore,” Anakin admitted.
“Because of your mother?” Obi-Wan asked gently.
“I don’t know why I keep dreaming about her now,” Anakin said. Especially such awful dreams. His mother was strong and gentle; his memories of her did not include menacing omens or threats. But his dreams did. He hunched his shoulders. “I haven’t seen her since I was little.”
“Dreams pass in time.”
These hadn’t. If anything, they were growing more frequent. But he didn’t want to discuss it with Obi-Wan right now. Obi-Wan had never met Shmi Skywalker; he couldn’t really understand. “I’d rather dream of Padmé,” he said slyly, knowing it would distract his Master. “Just being around her againis…intoxicating.”
“Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “They betray you. You’ve made a commitment to the Jedi Order—a commitment not easily broken. And don’t forget, she’s a politician. They’re not to be trusted.”
“She’s not like the others in the Senate, Master,” Anakin said, stung by the unexpected criticism.
Obi-Wan shrugged. “It’s been my experience that Senators are focused only on pleasing those who fund their campaigns—and they are more than willing to forget the niceties of democracy to get those funds.”
“Not another lecture, Master,” Anakin groaned. He found both politics and economics boring, and Obi-Wan would go on for hours once he got started. “Besides, you’re generalizing. The Chancellor doe
sn’t appear to be corrupt.”
“Palpatine is a politician,” Obi-Wan replied. “He’s very clever at following the passions and prejudices of the Senators.”
“I think he is a good man,” Anakin said firmly. “My instincts are very positive about—” He broke off, stunned by a sudden feeling of menace radiating from Padmé’s room. He glanced at his Master.
“I sense it, too,” Obi-Wan said, and together they charged for the bedroom door.
Padmé! Anakin threw himself over the bed, his lightsaber humming through the air. Behind him, he heard the crash of breaking glass, but all his attention was concentrated on two kouhuns hissing on Padmé’s pillow and flicking their stinger tongues. His swing passed a hair’s breadth from Padmé’s frozen face and sliced the deadly worms in half. How did they get in here?
Lightsaber still ready, Anakin turned. There was no sign of Obi-Wan, only the shattered bedroom window and the nighttime lights of buildings and flyers outside. Then Anakin saw a Probe Droid flying out into the city traffic, with his Master clinging grimly to two of its projections. His first thought was, So that’s how the kouhuns got in; his second was, But we’re more than a hundred stories up! If he loses his grip…
Anakin whirled. Padmé was sitting up in bed, her horrified eyes also fixed on the rapidly departing Assassin Droid. He could feel Captain Typho and his guards approaching; they could handle things here for the time being. He had to follow Obi-Wan. “Stay here!” he barked at Padmé, and ran out past Captain Typho and the guards, heading for the express elevator.
This was not the best idea I have ever had, Obi-Wan thought as he swung from the droid. But he hadn’t expected it to take off the way it had. He certainly hadn’t expected it to dodge into the heart of the speeder traffic, or to swing in and out in an attempt to get rid of him. Somebody had done a good job programming it.
The droid sent out an electric shock, and Obi-Wan almost lost his grip. Even the Force couldn’t save him if he fell hundreds of stories. He grabbed at a wire on the back of the droid, and it came loose. The droid’s power failed, and the electric shocks stopped…but so did the droid’s antigravity. They dropped nearly thirty stories before Obi-Wan got the wire connected again. Definitely not one of my best ideas.
Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones Page 2
