The Sith & the Senator Ch. 14

Chapter 14: Close Calls

Padmé Amidala

I blink as I stare unseeingly at my holovid.

After spending 10 long hours at the Senate, I am finally home.

Preparations for the Regional Delegation being held on Monday has required most senators to put in extra hours in an effort to organize the event and finalize the representatives for each quadrant. I, myself, was picked to be a delegate for the final talks, a development that isn’t surprising; indeed, it is one that was fully expected.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I finished my duties for the day and now, I am home in my sanctuary, in the one place I can be myself without fear of recrimination. I should be happy, but I’m not.

I feel… restless.

With a sigh, I turn off the ‘vid, wrapping my arms around myself as I move to the veranda.

Pulling out my com, I input Obi-Wan’s frequency hoping to reach him. But like the last couple times I tried, his com signals busy.

It makes me wonder what’s going on. Obi-Wan usually answers the first time I com him, and if he doesn’t, he calls back within the hour.

Something must be happening within the Order, because not only has Obi-Wan not answered any of my coms, but I have seen an increased number of Jedi both on the streets and in the Senate. They all seem tense, alert, as though they’re looking for something.

Whatever it is, I hope Obi-Wan is well. For now, all I can do is wait and hope he coms back.

I sigh as I stare gloomily over the beautiful night view of Coruscant.

It’s pathetic, really; the only person in the whole galaxy that I feel comfortable talking to is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I could com my mom… but she’s my mom. As much as I love her, there are certain things I cannot tell her; she’ll worry and that’s the last thing I want. I could call my sister, but she actually has a life, a family to care for; I cannot burden her with my problems either. And my dad? No, just… no. Any conversation with my dad about a man involves me providing an excess of personal information including an address so he can “take care of it.”

I could com Mon Mothma or Bail Organa, but, we’re not close enough for me to tell them about my feelings. As far as they’re probably concerned, I don’t have any anymore.

But Obi-Wan… I can talk to him about anything and he just… listens. Even when I know he doesn’t agree with me, he just allows me to talk, to pour out my feelings. He’s the most nonjudgmental person I’ve ever met, even when he’s disagreeing with me. Talking to him will clear my head and I might even figure out why I feel so off…

Suddenly, I smile as my com goes off.

“Obi-Wan?” I answer it eagerly, a smile in my voice.

“Nope,” a voice replies cheerfully, “try again.”

I pause for a moment as crushing disappointment descends on me, frowning at the familiar timbre of the voice.

“Anakin?” I ask cautiously, incredulously.

An amused chuckle filters though the phone. “Yes, it is I.”

I scowl, resisting the urge to chuck the com across the room. “How did you get my frequency?” I demand harshly, nose flaring. No one knows my com frequency unless I tell them and rightly so as I’ve gone through a great deal of trouble to make it that way. It begs the question; how the hell did he get it?

“… I have people,” he answers smugly and I wish that he was in front of me so I could hit the smirk off his face that I know is there. And why am I unsurprised that his friends are of the criminal variety?

I pause for a moment to squeeze the bridge of my nose, praying to the Force for patience. “What do you want, Skywalker?” I ask sharply, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

“Skywalker?” he responds laughingly, “what happened to ‘Anakin’?”

I grit my teeth, ignoring his words, cursing the fact that he caught my slip. But I’m not surprised he did; he seems to catch everything.

“Skywalker,” I say warningly.

“I was lonely, so I commed,” he responds jovially, not sounding at all lonely.

“What, were all your women are out for the night?” I ask sarcastically.

“I don’t know,” he answers, and I can almost see him shrug, “I didn’t call them; I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh really,” I respond, trying to ignore the sliver of warmth threatening to go through me at his words.

“Yes,” he answers seriously, “I wanted some intelligent conversation tonight and I knew you could give that to me.”

“What?” I ask smirking, settling onto the floor of the veranda, my back pressing against the cool stone, “are your regulars more the physical than the cerebral type?”

“Something like that,” he admits, “but that gets really old really quickly.”

“Is that so? Then why do men continue to pursue such women?” I ask.

“Because they haven’t found themselves yet,” he answers immediately, with conviction. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with loving a beautiful woman as long as you’re not into her for her looks alone. Looks are temporary; they fade. You have to look for something more substantial, even if it doesn’t come in the most glamorous package.”

“Does this mean you haven’t found yourself?” I respond, eyebrow raised at his words. I don’t understand why he says such… amazing things when he’s so… him.

“No… it just means I hadn’t found what I was looking for before,” he responds softly.

“And you have now?”

“Yes.”

I frown at his words; he isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s talking about me. It’s like my words, my insistence that I’m not interested, mean nothing to Skywalker. I mean, really! This man just doesn’t seem to know when to quit. I should be annoyed, and I am… but underneath the irritation lies a feeling that is creeping into my being against my will: I feel flattered, validated in a completely archaic and primitive way. I have never had a man pursue me with such diligence, such determination. I may have undergone a transformation and I may be quite different from the sweet naive girl I was years ago, but I’m still a woman. And Anakin Skywalker, damn him, is appealing to that big time.

“What makes you think the one you’re interested in is also interested in you?” I ask sharply, glaring at the com, trying to stamp down those unwelcome feelings.

“I just know,” he answers, “and if she isn’t now, she will be.”

I feel a chill go down my spine at his confidence, the utter conviction in his voice.

“And how would this happen?” I ask suspiciously.

“I’d woo her of course,” he answers slyly and I can hear the smile in his voice, “I’d start with something small.”

“Like a com call?” I ask him quietly, daring him to lie about his intentions towards me.

“Like a com call,” he confirms softly and I allow a small smile to grace my features.

And as we continue to talk, I try to remain distant from the discussion, fighting the smiles and laughter that sneak up on me during the course of our conversation, but it gets harder and harder with each passing moment.

Skywalker is funny, really funny and he has a mean streak too, which I admit, makes him even more attractive. He’s extremely intelligent which is a major turn on. His wit is sharp and dry and he uses sarcasm in spades which is hilarious. And he has a nice voice.

A very nice voice.

Shaking my head and snickering quietly at a remark Skywalker made, I glance at my chrono, my jaw dropping as I see that a whole two hours have passed!

We’ve been talking for that long? How? When?

“Amidala?” I hear from my com, concern in Skywalker’s voice, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I answer, faking a yawn, deciding that we had talked for more than long enough, “I’m just getting tired.”

“Very well,” he responds after a moment, “I don’t want to keep you up if you’re sleepy. But perhaps… we can talk again tomorrow?”

I hesitate, staring at the com. He has been such a gentleman tonight, and I admit, he pulled me out of the mood I was in… Give him a chance, my mother had said. Perhaps… perhaps it is time to do so.

“Yes,” I reply, softly, a sudden bout of shyness hitting me, “we can.”

“Good,” he answers, the warmth in his voice causing butterflies to flutter madly in my stomach, “I’ll com you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I answer, feeling a faint flush rise in my cheeks, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I immediately hit the button to disconnect the call, my mind and heart racing. That had been a surprise… but pleasantly so; wonderfully so, really. And as I sit here, I can’t help but think about everything that I’ve experienced with Skywalker; our first meeting on the veranda at the Opera House, our surprise meeting at the food drive, our little excursion, our lunch at the Secret Fin, and now this com call… It has all been so exciting, so invigorating.

I’ve felt alive, something I haven’t experienced since the invasion of Naboo…

For the first time in years, I begin to contemplate the notion of not being alone. Have I finally found someone special? Is Anakin Skywalker really that man…?

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself, my emotions raging.

But I still don’t know Skywalker; he could be anybody. Until I know more information, I cannot allow these… feelings to overtake me. I just… need more.

And I will get some, starting tomorrow. So far, I have been taking it far too easy on him, but with the advent of these feelings, I must know if he is who he say he is.

If he isn’t, I admit; it’ll probably hurt me more than any other such karmacide venture that I’ve ever done. Exposing him as just one of the many charlatans out there will kill something inside me that has just begun to grow again.

But if he is genuine, if he is who he say he is; a miracle child; a slave turned senator who only wishes to better his sector then, perhaps… perhaps I have found someone I can spend my life with.

But I have to know, and I will.

Let the karmacide commence.

#*#*#*#*#

This is a special case, I know it is, so, I’m not going to do this like I’ve done other cases, no, I’m going to get my information straight from the source and that calls for a covert operation.

I crouch where I am in the shadows, waiting for Skywalker to go pass.

I have donned my black outfit; black leggings and a black skintight shirt. Even the utility belt I have on my waist is pitch black. This suit was made to blend in with the dark and that is exactly what I intend to do.

For the past few weeks, I have been trailing Skywalker at every opportunity, memorizing his schedule and noting his frequent haunts.

So far, everything checks out.

He goes to the Senate, plays nice—and sometimes not so nice—with the other senators, then goes home.

He hasn’t been out with one woman, not one, since I’ve been trailing him. As far as I can see, I’m the only woman he has had casual contact with as he’s called me nearly every night since the first. I admit; this pleases me to no end.

There’s only one blot in Skywalker’s activities. Every Tuesday since I started trailing him, he’s stayed at the Senate late, only to leave when it is dark. But he does not go home, no, he goes into the lower levels.

I’ve never followed him there, but tonight, I will.

I, myself, left the Senate earlier to prepare for this little excursion and now, I am in the shadows waiting for Skywalker to appear. Part of me wishes that he doesn’t come, that he’s stopped whatever he’s been doing., but another part of me knows that such a thing is unlikely. People seem incapable of stopping themselves from doing wrong; they won’t stop until someone makes them.

I wait another twenty minutes before he appears. Allowing several meters between us, I slip out of the shadows and follow him. The place where he leads me is bad; the walls are black with a substance I dare not identify and the ground is littered with trash. It only gets worse as we go farther in and I grit my teeth as the smell of sentient flesh and poverty begins to wash over me like a tidal wave.

We’ve been moving for several moments when he stops and turns around. I immediately still, slowing my breathing and heartbeat as I feel his eyes run over me. He stares into the shadows for a moment longer before continuing. I let out my breath slowly and continue as well, trying to remain calm.

I almost sigh in relief when he goes no farther. I am now deeper into the lower levels than I’ve ever been and I don’t like it.

I’m never thought of myself as snooty or girly, but that’s not what this is about. I am very conscious of the fact that I am one woman following a man that may or may not help me if I’m faced with a crowd of lusty, evil men—especially considering that I’m following him to expose his secrets. Not only that, this place is awful; there are truly no words to describe how horrid it is. No one should have to live in these conditions, no one. And it’s to my shame that I live in such a luxurious palace while these people lie in the street in such filth.

But I can’t help that I was born into a privileged family; what I can do is improve the lives of these people. One day, slums such as this won’t exist. I swear it on my life.

I pause and curse silently as Skywalker turns down a long alley.

There’s no way I can follow him down there without being seen; I’m going to have to listen from above.

I move to the next alley and then the next, finally stopping when the walls of the buildings are close together, making it easier to scale. I am surprised to see that there are a plethora of old-fashioned fire escapes lining the wall, making things a bit more simple. Although it’s helpful in this instance, it’s sad to see that modern technology hasn’t reached the levels this low; just another example of how these people have fallen through the cracks.

Now, to scale the wall.

Should be easy enough.

Taking a measure of my surroundings, I move back, judging the distance needed.

Moving into position, I close my eyes for a moment, taking yet another deep breath.

Then, eyes snapping open, I run quickly and silently over the ground, flipping off of one wall, then to the other, then to the other to grasp the lowest rung on the lowest-hanging ladder. Breathing steadily, I pull myself up the rungs. I have to side-ways jump onto several different ladders to reach the top.

On top of the building, I run as hard and as fast as I can, jumping over and dodging every obstacle until I am above the alley where Skywalker is.

Now, the trick will be to lower myself above Skywalker’s head all without him hearing or seeing me.

Stealthily, silently, I move down the ladders slowly, my ears straining as I lower myself closer and closer to the two cloaked figures below, trying to discern their speech. When I am as close as I dare to go, I stop and listen.

Skywalker is speaking.

“Darth Maul, is everything in place?” he asks and the timbre of his voice immediately strikes me; it is very different from what it is over the com and even in the Senate. Usually, it is warm and vibrant; but now it is cold, hard; lifeless.

It’s disturbing.

“It is, Master,” the other cloaked figure rasps, “it is as you have commanded.”

“Excellent,” he answers and the way he says it once again sends a chill down my spine.

“And your correspondence with our friend?” the last word crawls with Skywalker’s distaste.

“… He is being taken care of, Master,” the cloaked figure answers, a smirk in his voice. “He now knows to respect and fear the Sith. He will trouble us no longer.”

“Very good, Maul,” Skywalker says, icy approval in his voice. “Move forward with our plans. We must have everything in place at the appointed time.”

“Yes, Lord Vader,” the cloaked figure—Darth Maul—answers.

“And Maul?” Skywalker says as Darth Maul turns to leave, “I will take care of our other little problem. Leave it to me.”

Darth Maul pauses for a moment then bows. “It is as you say, Master.”

Then, he is gone down the alley, taking the turn leading deeper into the lower levels.

Skywalker watches him go and then moves down the alley himself, going back the way he came, toward the upper levels.

I wait for a few minutes before quickly and quietly moving down the ladder, dropping the final few feet to the ground like a reekcat before making my way back to my speeder.

Halfway to my destination, I feel my hair stand on end. Whirling around, I look back from where I came, and I draw up as I see a heavily cloaked, shadowed figure, staring at me.

Eyes widening, I blink, but when I open my eyes again, no one is there. I shake my head and pick up the pace: It must have been my imagination.

As soon as I reach my transport, I am starting my speeder and quickly flying out of there, uncaring of the trash I stir up or of the imbibed patrons that scream drunken curses at me.

I let out a deep breath, my heart beat becoming steadier the farther away I get from that place.

When I pull into 500 Republica, I turn off my speeder and close my eyes for a moment, allowing it all to sink in

So, I was right: Skywalker is hiding something.

Something big.

I take a deep breath, angry tears welling in my eyes.

Never in all my life had I ever wanted to be so wrong. Oh, but why did I have to be right?!

Skywalker is probably a criminal, a ringleader for a drug cult that calls their leaders by fastidious and completely ridiculous titles.

But perhaps I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I have no idea with a ‘Sith Lord’is or why this ‘Darth Maul’ was calling Skywalker ‘Master’ and ‘Lord Vader’. It might not be as bad as it looks; it may all be completely benign.

Yeah, and the Jedi might just wear pink hosiery under their robes.

I let out a short, unamused laugh as I exit the speeder and make my way toward my apartment. I know I am grasping at straws, clinging to ‘maybes’ but something inside of me still hopes…

I blink in surprise as I stop on my floor, coming up short when I see a shadowed figure at my door.

Tensing, I squint, moving closer, preparing to reach for the weapon that is ever present.

As I move into the light, the shape takes form and I smile when I see who it is.

“Obi-Wan?” I exclaim in delight, “how are you? Where have you been?”

I frown at the tightness of his answering smile.

“Padmé,” he says quietly, taking in my attire with hardening eyes, “I need you to come with me.”

I nod, ignoring his silent censure at what he knows are my karmacide clothing.

“Obi-Wan,” I reply slowly in concern, tilting my head at him as I gently place a hand on his arm, “is everything okay?”

He shakes his head ever so slightly and merely looks at me. I frown, but quickly move inside to change my clothes. In no time, I am out again, following Obi-Wan down the halls and out of 500 Republica.

Again.

I sigh as we move down the halls, farther away from my home, my bed. It looks like getting rest tonight is just not going to happen.

Moments later, we are flying through the air in his speeder.

Knowing I am safe with Obi-Wan, I take that opportunity to sit back and relax for a moment, closing my eyes as my mind replays everything that I’ve seen tonight.

Anakin Skywalker has a minion named Darth Maul. Darth Maul calls him Master and Lord Vader. Does Skywalker have a slave? It seems unlikely as he seems to despise slavery and rightly so if he was a slave himself.

So, what does it mean?

“We’re here,” Obi-Wan says shortly, interrupting my thoughts.

As I open my eyes, I frown, a slightly sinking feeling burgeoning in my belly: We are at the Jedi Temple.

I look at Obi-Wan questioningly, but he shakes his head again and leads me into the Temple through a hidden side entrance.

I try not to gape as we walk further and further into the stronghold of the most illustrious and powerful sect in the galaxy. It is a study of gold and purple and beauty. It is majestic, indeed, awe inspiring and I am impressed despite myself.

The Jedi Order and everything affiliated with it is one large mystery. The only people who really knows what’s going on within its walls are the Jedi themselves. There aren’t many people allowed in and only the Jedi and their staff have ever gone this far in.

Finally, after what seems like forever, we stop in front of two massive doors. Obi-Wan turns to look at me once more and I am struck by the sadness on his face. Before I can question him, he visibly straightens up, his face becoming expressionless and opens the doors.

I inhale sharply as we enter. There, in the center of the room, is a semi-circle of pod-like seats and they are all filled with people who can only be Jedi Masters. I straighten instinctively as I recognize Jedi Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, and Qui-Gon Jin.

All twelve of the Jedi Masters are sitting tall, staring at me regally as I walk in and I am acutely aware that I am being gazed upon by some of the most legendary figures of my time.

I have seen some of them occasionally in the Senate, but I’ve never actually met them, even with the advent of my karmacide activities. Now, to have them all here in one place and to see me?

It’s wholly unexpected.

Now, if I had been any other person, I would have been cowed by all the fame around me; I would have been trembling, waiting for this magnificent agglomeration of power to bestow their powerful voices upon my unworthy ears.

But me being me?

I wasn’t.

“Okay,” I say as the doors close behind me with a soft thud, eyebrows raised, mouth tight, “what the hell is going on here?”

---

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

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