Queen's Peril

by E. K. Johnston

  Saché made them carry her out of the room, though she doubted her legs would have supported her for more than a few steps anyway. Her brain was trying to stay calm, but her body wasn’t listening.

  This was probably going to hurt.

  Sergeant Tonra burst into the tent without announcing himself or giving the password. Yané threw a bundle of fabric strips into the air and dove for the mattress. Mariek tackled him outright, the two of them crashing to the ground, narrowly missing the edge of the cot that was closest to the door.

  “It’s me!” he said, and Mariek loosened her grip on him.

  “What’s happened?” Yané demanded. It had to be bad for the sergeant to ignore all the safety protocols they’d put into place.

  “The droids took Saché to the overseer’s office,” Tonra said. Yané sat down heavily on the cot.

  “Do they know?” Mariek asked. For the first time since their incarceration, she looked truly afraid.

  “I couldn’t tell,” Tonra said.

  “It doesn’t matter if they know,” Yané said. “If they suspect enough to take her into custody, they’ll want information.”

  “Saché won’t crack,” Mariek said. “She’s smart enough to go head-to-head with a Neimoidian.”

  “They built an interrogation room after the executions yesterday,” Tonra said. “They brought in equipment all night. No one could get close enough to see what machinery they have, but several of our people heard the droids talking about it.”

  Yané made a noise like a wounded nuna. The handmaidens hadn’t been trained to withstand physical torture. There hadn’t been a reason to. Even Captain Panaka’s paranoia didn’t extend to blatant cruelty. It wasn’t just that, though. Yané didn’t want Saché to be hurt by anything, ever. Whether she was trained for it or not.

  “Let’s get as close as we can,” Mariek said. “If we stay here, we’ll all make ourselves crazy thinking about it.”

  Whatever rumor mill functioned in the camp was in full force by the time Yané had everything stowed away and they left the tent. Palace guards and staff milled around, knowing that something bad had happened but not having all the details. A few saw Yané by herself and put the pieces together, but one look from Mariek was enough to silence any questions. It was imperative that everyone act as normal as possible.

  Droids lined the perimeter of the market office, standing elbow to elbow as though they were expecting to be rushed by attackers at any moment. Their blasters were held at the ready. More droids circulated through the camp, each set of six marching with measured gait as they made sure no one stepped out of line. The tension in the air was palpable. Yané felt it weighing down on her. It was the worst thing she’d ever felt. Saché needed help, and all she could do was wait and hope.

  The screaming started after about twenty minutes, and every human in the camp froze. Saché had such a quiet voice. They were used to listening closely to her, to leaning down to catch her full meaning, because so much of what she said was important. The screams were anything but quiet. They were horribly shrill and pierced the air with such ferocity that Yané wasn’t sure if Saché was being given the chance to breathe. It went on for several awful minutes, and then it stopped.

  The reprieve was short-lived. They must have asked her a question and either she hadn’t answered or they hadn’t believed what she said. In either case, the result was the same and more screaming filled the air. Yané wanted to vomit. Wanted to plug her ears. Wanted to scream herself to block out the terrible noises. She did none of those things. She could only bear witness to what Saché was doing.

  “I’ll turn myself in,” Tonra said. “I’ll tell them—”

  “You will not,” Mariek told him. “If anyone does anything heroic, it will be me.”

  Yané had a horrible prescience of telling Panaka that his wife had died, and that snapped her out of her reverie.

  “You will not,” Yané echoed. She lapsed into the Queen’s voice without meaning to, and both guards immediately came to attention. The note of command in her voice was unexpected and absolute. “You will do nothing.”

  “We have to do something,” Mariek protested. “She’s screaming.”

  “If she’s still screaming, then she hasn’t given them what they want.” Yané’s eyes ran with tears. She loved Saché and couldn’t help her fight the pain. “She is fighting so hard to keep our secrets, and so far she is winning. She knows all she has to do to make it stop is tell them what they want to know, and she is choosing not to do it. We will not unmake that decision for her.”

  Mariek took both her hands and squeezed.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I hate it, but you’re right.”

  “She just has to hold on a bit longer,” Yané said. “Eventually, they’ll think she’s given them everything she can.”

  The words were mostly meant as a comfort to herself, but saying them out loud made her feel better. The screaming stopped, cut off like a door slamming shut. Everyone drew a deep breath and let themselves believe that it was over.

  But it wasn’t.

  Her veins and her skin and her bones were on fire and every time the fire went out, the droid asked her to betray her friends. It spoke so calmly and gave such logical arguments. Tell them what they wanted to know, and the fire would stay away. She was tempted. She was so, so tempted. Those few moments when the fire went out became the center of her galaxy.

  But there was no choice. Saché picked her friends every time. And the fire burned on.

  Mariek watched Yané wrap Saché’s hands in the fabric strips she’d been tortured for carrying, and seethed with anger. The droids had released her after three hours of questioning when she hadn’t given them anything useful, and Usan Ollin had decided she actually was as ignorant as she claimed. Saché had walked from the interrogation room to the line of droids still guarding the market office under her own power, but it had taken the last bit of will she had. Sergeant Tonra had carried her the rest of the way to their tent.

  She was conscious, and it didn’t sound like she was in too much lingering pain. Torture devices were often programmed that way so that their victims stayed on the sharp line between pain and relief, and never slid into the buzz of acclimatization. Her body was covered with cauterized lacerations, bright red lines on her hands and face and, one assumed, on her body beneath the nearly ruined orange robe.

  “I can sit up,” Saché said determinedly, pushing Yané’s hands away and pulling herself up to perch on the edge of the cot.

  Under the marks, she was pale. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice was hoarse, like the droids had scraped it right out of her throat. But her face was set.

  “Who will carry the last few messages?” she asked.

  “Tonra will take care of it,” Mariek told her. “He’s already gone out with the first one. We’ll send the rest over the next few hours with different people.”

  “I have to get back out there,” Saché said.

  “I am not letting you risk yourself on deliveries again!” Yané said. Her strident insistence surprised everyone.

  “I won’t have anything on me,” Saché said. “I’ll just walk randomly through the camp and the droids will watch me.”

  “What if they take you again?” Yané asked.

  “Well, I won’t have any incriminating evidence in my pocket this time, so that’s a start.” The joke fell hollow. “I’ll be the distraction. They’ll be so busy watching me, wondering what’s so important that I am up and moving around already, that they won’t look at anyone else. You know I’m right.”

  “I do,” Yané said quietly. She finished wrapping Saché’s hand and tucked the loose bit of fabric in so that the bandage would hold. Saché looked down.

  “Don’t you need these to finish your work?” She held up her hands.

  “No,” Yané said. “These are spares.”

  Yané reached under the mattress and pulled out the last four pieces of coded fabric. She handed the
m to Mariek, who nodded and stepped out to go after Tonra. Yané found a small canteen of water for Saché. They didn’t have much, especially with the rations cut, but Saché needed it.

  “I’m sorry we don’t have anything for your throat,” she said.

  Saché drank slowly. It made her feel a bit better.

  “Oh,” she said. “The overseer seemed to think we were headed for a food shortage. She mentioned it and then looked like she wished she hadn’t. Our timeline is accurate.”

  “Hopefully the Queen gets back soon,” Yané said. “Or sends a rescue party.”

  “It would have to be quite a party,” Saché said. The attempt at humor caught in her throat and she coughed, wincing. “I have to go. I have to make sure Tonra can get the job done.”

  Yané knew better than to try to talk her out of it, or even ask if she could come, too. She hadn’t left the tent much since they got here, and it was important to continue with behavior the droids would see as normal while the stakes were so high.

  “Be careful” was all she said.

  Saché gave her a quick hug and then got up from the cot. She was stiff and her muscles protested the move, but she wasn’t going to be deterred. One foot after another, she walked to the tent flap and ducked through.

  It was the same as every other walk she’d taken across the camp, to tell the truth. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone and stayed out of the way of the droid patrols, ducking to the side every time she met one. She went into tents at random, holding up a hand for silence when she encountered other prisoners. She circled back to Yané, stayed with her for half an hour, and then went back out.

  It was three hours before the droids stopped her the first time.

  “Human,” the droid said. Saché flinched, and it was real. The droid motioned to one of its counterparts. “Search her.”

  Saché endured it. The metal hands pawed at her, turning out her pockets and feeling for protrusions under her robes. They found nothing, and let her go. Saché’s steps were shaky, but she made it all the way around the corner before her legs gave out. Even then, sitting on the cobblestones, she didn’t give voice to the scream she’d felt starting to boil in her stomach when the droid had touched her. She took a deep breath, pushed herself to her knees, and then her feet, and kept walking.

  The droids stopped her three more times before the sun set and curfew began. Each time was a test of wills fought inside Saché’s chest: the will to scream and the will to not. Not won, and every time the droids were forced to let her go on her way, it became easier. The last droid, the same corporal who had arrested her that morning, sent her back to her tent as the light fled.

  Yané was waiting for her by the door and pulled her into a hug as soon as she entered. Mariek hugged her, too, and Tonra squeezed her shoulder lightly enough that he didn’t aggravate her burns. Yané pulled her to the back of the tent and laid her out on the mattress. For the first time that day, Saché gave in to oblivion.

  This was the simplest royal outfit in the Queen’s wardrobe. Sabé was able to get into it herself, except for the broad waistband, which fastened at the back. Padmé had sealed the seam herself, determined to do everything she could to protect her friend even as she thrust her into danger.

  “There will be more than enough danger to go around,” Sabé said, guessing what Padmé was thinking.

  “I didn’t want a war, and yet I took the first chance I had to fight,” Padmé said. “I’m even going to try recruiting an army. I didn’t like the hypocrisy in the Senate, but it turns out that I am just as bad.”

  “You’re really not,” Sabé said. “You are defending your planet in a desperate moment, and you are being very, very deliberate about the steps you take. There is nothing shameful or hypocritical in that.”

  Padmé helped her into the surcoat and straightened the lines on her sleeves.

  “Is there anything you want to review?” Padmé asked. “We can go over your speech again, if you like.”

  Sabé took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. The headdress was already in place. All she had left to put on were her sturdy boots.

  “I think I’m as ready as I can be,” Sabé said. “I’m nervous, but I’ll do you proud.”

  Padmé took her hand and squeezed it.

  “I know you will,” Padmé said. “Whatever happens, I know you will.”

  “I’m ready for you, Padmé,” Rabé said from across the room. She and Eirtaé were dressed in gold and maroon, like Padmé was, and both of them had their hair up already.

  Padmé sat down and let Rabé arrange her hair. There wasn’t a lot Eirtaé could manage for defense on short notice, but Rabé had borrowed some concussive-absorbing material from the lining of one of the Queen’s dresses, and she used that to tie up everyone’s hair. It wouldn’t do anything to stop a blaster bolt, but it would provide some protection against a heavy blow or a falling piece of debris, and that was better than nothing.

  “We’re about to come out of hyperspace.” Pilot Ric Olie’s voice came through the ship’s communication system. “Everyone be prepared to evacuate as soon as we land.”

  There were two other maroon dresses laid out, with hair ties ready to go. None of them said anything about it, but every one of them hoped.

  Panaka made his way through the Theed sewer system until he reached the pipe that led to one of the fountains in the market square. He had not been able to do as much reconnaissance as he wanted. Since they landed and evacuated the royal ship so quickly, he had a limited number of resources to work with. They had only been able to take very fast scans of the planet when they were coming in to land, and that was how he’d known there was a prison camp just inside the city wall. He hoped it would contain the people he was looking for.

  There were a few obstacles he had to remove, all of them designed to keep people in, not out. The Theed sewer system was the only part of the planet’s infrastructure that was completely run by droids—for health purposes—and therefore it was flooded all the time. There were emergency releases to drain each cloaca, but they could only be used sequentially, starting from the sewage treatment plant outside of the city. This explained why no one in the camp had tried to use the tunnels to escape. The situation couldn’t be comfortable, but if they weren’t taking major risks, then that meant it hadn’t deteriorated too badly yet.

  He climbed the ladder and then extended a sensor through the sewer cover. It was dark, but he had no idea what he was climbing into. At least this way, he would be able to avoid any droids.

  The coast was clear. He tested the strength of the sewer cover. It was stone, held in place by a carved ledge. All he had to do was push it straight up and it would start moving. Getting it far enough to the side that he could crawl out without making too much noise would be the challenge.

  He braced himself on the rungs, hunched over under the cover, and then pushed up. The cover shifted upward, and he painstakingly pulled himself up another rung so that he would have more leverage. Once he cleared the ledge, he leaned backward to move the cover onto the ground. It hurt tremendously, and he was very glad that he was wearing his leather coat. After an agonizing moment where he was balanced on his toes and leaning backward with a huge weight on his neck, the center of gravity shifted to be over the ground instead of over the hole, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

  He climbed up and then hauled the cover back on. He didn’t know how long he would be here, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good if the droids found his egress. He made his way through the camp, his hat pulled down over his face, until he saw a guard he recognized posted outside a tent. She was sitting down, working on fixing a boot, but he could tell she was keeping watch for something. He smiled.

  The palace guard on watch in front of Mariek’s tent was quite surprised to see her commanding officer.

  “Captain!” she said, remembering at the last moment to keep her voice down. She stood up quickly. “How did you—”

  The
expression on his face silenced her. The practicalities were neither here nor there. With a crisp salute, the guard lifted the tent flap, and he strode through.

  Panaka had eyes for only one person.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he said as Mariek froze in surprise and then threw herself into his arms. “I was told the girls are here, too?”

  “Yes,” Mariek said. She squeezed him one more time and then let him go. “They’re okay.”

  Saché had woken up in all the fuss and came over to say hello. She certainly didn’t look okay, and Yané looked worried about her, but Panaka trusted his wife’s judgment for the moment.

  “We can’t all go,” Mariek said once Panaka explained that he had cleared the sewer tunnels enough for an escape. “It’s impractical, and it would ruin the element of surprise.”

  “How many people do you think we can sneak out to be beneath the droids’ notice?” Panaka asked. “We’ll have to prioritize pilots if we’re going to be leaving people behind.”

  “A few dozen, maybe,” Tonra said. “If we spread it out between the tents, that might give us a bit more to work with.”

  “How would we even start to coordinate that?” Panaka said.

  “We already have, Captain,” Yané said. “Every tent has a map of the camp and a log of the guard rotation. They just need a direction to go and orders to get there.”

  He looked between her and Saché, and then to Mariek.

  “I’ll explain it later,” his wife said. “We have to move.”

  Since their tent would be losing runners on a one-way trip to activate the other groups, it was decided that only Mariek, Tonra, Yané, and Saché would go with Panaka. The runners were dispatched, and Panaka led the way back to the sewer cover he had used earlier. They waited for the first set of escapees to arrive, and then four of them lifted the cover together. It was much easier that way. He sent Mariek ahead with Yané and Saché, and then stayed with Tonra until everyone who was leaving in the first wave had made their descent. Four palace guards stayed behind to put the cover back into place, a last-minute decision that Panaka didn’t like, but his subordinates had insisted. Then, with their tracks covered up as well as they could manage, the escape was underway.