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Star Wars: Arcadia_part1 Arcadia - An original sto
ARCADIA: PART 1
In the morning light, the wide Alderaani forests were tipped
with gold. Danah Antilles, Dowager Princess of Alderaan, surveyed the
dappled pelt of gilt leaves and shadow from high above. She sat at her
breakfast table as if enthroned. On the other side of the prismed
tower chamber, her son nodded to the servant droids, dismissing them.
Danah turned away from the view, waiting for the drone of the
elevator shaft to fall silent. "Well," she said at last, "What is the
news from the Senate?"
"Bothersome," Bail Organa said. He took a sip of
tisane. "Nearly half now support Palpatine's proposal, and many of the
rest are whispering secession. I don't know which party alarms me
more."
"Unfortunately, Palpatine is right. If we do not present a
unified defense, we may soon have nothing to defend. Alderaan was much
like that before you were born. If external arbitration had not
intervened, the noble houses would have torn one another
apart. Imagine what would have happened if invaders had come from
outside, as the Republic now faces." She shook out her napkin with a
sharp snap and laid it over her gown.
"You were hardly innocent of the vendettas, Mother."
"I never said I was." A predator's smile leapt across her
features, vanishing as she bent to examine the fruit. "But I knew when
to halt and make peace, unlike Helice. She never did accept my
alliance with your father; she went to her death accusing me of having
betrayed our house. A pity, really. She and her daughter might have
been useful to us." Selecting a piece, she opened it with a silver
knife.
"Yes, well, at present, we have more pressing concerns. Have
you been able to gauge the mood here at court? How do the people stand
on the war?"
"Which party would they prefer to be in, do you mean? Our
people have an easier decision than most; since Alderaan itself no
longer has armed forces nor legal weapons, they need not fear death,
only taxes. Without the threat of conscription, they seem willing
enough to forward aid to the front, if it proves necessary. Part of
the sector fleet should suffice." She watched Bail bite into another
spiced bun. "So, shall you declare a necessity?"
"As little as I like to, we may have no choice. The Nechti
have retaken Gefras and are advancing toward the Ikatya system."
"Truly?" She put her fruit rind and knife down on her
plate. "I think this might be an opportune time for me to inquire
about Castra's health."
Setting down his half eaten bun, he wiped his hands on his
napkin. "No, she is not pregnant yet. We've only been married a year,
you know. Isn't one of Liane's children at Academy in this sector?"
"He graduated this year. His contingent of the fleet is being
forwarded to Ikatya if the vote passes the Senate; that seems
inevitable, from what you say. I had understood the combat front had
drawn back from there. I thought he might enjoy seeing his sister
again, but perhaps now I should recall one of them." Her voice was
devoid of enthusiasm.
"Only one?"
"Very well; both if you insist. I would just as rather leave
them there, but for the moment, they're all we have. Unless, of
course, you wish Alderaan to dissolve into civic feuding again. I
doubt the Senate will have the patience to spare us more arbitrators
so soon.
"It is a pity about those two, really." Danah chose a small
pastry and daubed it with yeast spread as she spoke. "I do hope you
and Castra will provide an heir soon so I can put Liane's children out
of the way."
Bail paused cautiously. "The vendettas are over,
Mother. Assassination as a preventive measure is no longer considered
good domestic policy."
"Scarcely domestic. They'd be five sectors away." She poured
more tisane into Bail's empty cup, then into her own. Before he could
retort again, she said, "I take it you have forgotten Liane's
manuevering, then."
"She paid the price for her treason. I see no reason why her
children should be forced to as well."
"Your father said the same of Helice's daughter."
Bail gazed out through the glass paned walls, his cup of
tisane in hand. On the sunward side, the panes were automatically
darkening in a latticed arabesque, screening out daylight as it
intensified. Without looking at his mother, he said, "I know you've
been monitoring Liane's children. Is there anything you wish to tell
me about them?"
"Not yet. The older one, Arcadia, has been a little mouse of a
healer ever since she emerged from Jedi training. I doubt much danger
from her alone. But her brother is of an age to be delighted with
intrigues and secret plans, and if he recruits her into his schemes,
she may become capable of dangerous subtleties."
"And is he scheming?"
"He may be. I've instructed General Kenobi to keep them out of
trouble. If matters progress...unwisely, perhaps I will ask him to put
them into trouble.
Dipping a spoon into a lapis bowl, she dusted her poached melon with
nut powder. "If the Organa line should fail, the Viceregency will very likely
fall to House Antilles but not without some dispute, and the vendettas would
begin all over again. I tried to merge the two claims by wedding your father,
but Helice disagreed with me."
Bail fiercely turned toward her. "Helice has nothing to do
with this. If there is no evidence against them, why even consider
their deaths? You know they're my presumptive heirs."
"Yes, I do. And so do they."
* * *
Arcadia looked up as the two men entered Ikatya medical
quarters. She nodded at them, but did not rise from the cadet she was
tending. Her fingers continued to hover over the unconscious girl's
shoulder, where charred flesh was buckling and flaking away. As
fragments tumbled onto the cot, the hollows left behind filled with
new skin, smoothly flowing up like water in a spring.
Finally, she signaled a medical droid to monitor the cadet and
joined the uniform clad newcomers in the antechamber. The droid closed
the door to working quarters behind her as she unfastened her healer's
robes at the throat. "Well," she murmured, "no permanent damage this
time. General Kenobi, is this the officer who's been sending me these
casualties?"
The man stepped forward before Kenobi could speak. "Commander
Anakin Skywalker at your service. Is Rouvel badly hurt?"
Skywalker's broad shoulders towered over both of them; he
stood only a head taller than Kenobi, but Arcadia found herself
confronting his chest at eye level. She had to move away several paces
to look at him without craning straight up. "She was. I've
reconstructed her arm, but can't yet test nerve function. She should
revive in a day or two. Are you aware that she collapsed a few meters
out of training bay and was found in the corridor?"
His dark hair accentuated his pallor. "She said it was a minor
wound. I took her word for it. I came as soon as I'd finished training
session with the rest of my cadets."
"Blaster fire can ricochet inside thermal armor so quickly
that the victim never feels it. In the future, I suggest you
discourage her from deflecting bolts off her epauliere, unless she's
quite sure the angle's tangential. But after this, she may not need a
reminder." Arcadia stepped past the officers to a wall console, where
she keyed in a short code. "Commander, I regret meeting you in these
circumstances. Could you tell me what you see on this display screen?"
"Medical record headings." He studied them. "They're all from
my squadron since the start of this year from all three rotations so
far, in fact."
"Would you name another squadron leader for me?" When he
produced a name, she pressed another sequence of keys, bringing
another, much shorter list beside the first. "This is Commander
Baria's casualty list for the same period. Over the past five months,
nineteen serious injuries have been reported from your squadron, three
of them fatal. Baria had eight casualties, all of whom survived."
"Baria fusses over his pilots like a mother Nebbit."
"Then name two others," Kenobi countered. The first new list
contained four names; the second, nine. Only the last of these
comparative lists also contained death's red notation. "These injury
rates are typical for every squadron in this division, except for
yours."
"Are you saying I deliberately injure my charges? Come on,
Obi-Wan, you know me better than that. I'm just trying to teach them
everything I know."
"We've had this discussion before." Kenobi shook his
head. "Some things cannot be taught. For example, not everyone can
sense the angle of enemy fire quickly enough to react. Perhaps you
can, but you must respect others' limits.
"I'm giving you a month's leave from your duties as squadron
leader." As the younger man's expression shifted from shock to anger,
Kenobi continued, "I'm doing this for your own good, Anakin. Believe
me, the Republic needs your skills as a pilot and leader. But if it
comes down to a question of losing other pilots because of you "
"My squad won't stand for this. They're proud to serve under
me; they know I have higher standards than the others "
"And you make them pay dearly for it. Remember Ismar Kevvat?
He survived the battle of Gefras, and died in one of your training
drills. Or Asde Varine she was killed in combat attempting an evasion
tactic you taught her, when a less... spectacular move could have
saved her life." The General pronounced the adjective with distaste.
Arcadia moved away as if balancing on a narrow ledge beside
the wall, and began to add Cadet Marit Rouvel to the casualty
lists. Her usual measures to screen out sensory input were not
working; Anakin Skywalker's anger slashed through the haze like icy
sleet through fog. "Are you asking me to resign my commission?" he
said in dangerously calm tones.
"I'm asking you to reconsider your methods. When the month is
over, I'll return your command to you, but if you continue to maim and
kill good warriors at this rate...."
Skywalker said nothing. "Very well," Kenobi said at
last. "Lady Arcadia, my apologies for our disruption. Anakin, would
you care to dine with me?"
"I would not."
"Then you may tell me your plans tomorrow." The outer door
panels slid together in Kenobi's wake.
* * *
Arcadia completed the record entry and glanced up at
Skywalker. He was gazing at the lists still on the screen, and the new
entry flashing at the bottom. His anger began to fade from her senses
as he traced a hand down the display. As he neared the end of his
squadron's list, he asked, "Did you treat all of my wounded?"
"Some of them. There are three other Jedi healers on base, and
medical droids and technicians for lighter injuries."
"Did you bring this to Obi-Wan's attention, or did he already
know?"
"General Kenobi reviews casualty reports on a regular basis."
She began to key up random file headings, biting her lip.
"Yes, I know, but I didn't think it was time for review
yet. Or has he halved his review period?" He was regarding her with a
cryptic half smile now, like that of an ancient mask. Arcadia noticed
uneasily that he was resting his right hand very near his blaster.
"Oh, truly now," he responded. "Do you really think I'd shoot
a healer? I'm simply curious why you might've informed on me unless
you haven't."
Switching off the record display, she turned to look directly
at him. "My brother has been assigned to this base. General Kenobi is
a friend of the family, and gave him a choice of squadrons to
join. Denis chose yours."
"How protective of you." Skywalker paused, evidently
considering his squadron roster. "This would be Cadet Denis Colton?"
"Or Antilles. Our naming conventions can be confusing."
"Antilles?" His face sharpened. "Denis is coming in from Aldea
sector, as I recall. Surely you're not related to the Alderaani
Princess Dowager Danah Antilles?"
"She's my mother's aunt."
"I see." He began to stroll around the perimeter of the
room. "You knew about my squadron's casualty rates before now, but
weren't disturbed by them until your brother thought to join me? The
Alderaani noble houses train their children well in politics."
"We're no longer a noble house."
"Not even Danah?"
"She was the only one of House Antilles to salvage any power
from the ascendancy dispute. You heard General Kenobi call me 'Lady
Arcadia,' but Denis and I have no influence behind our titles. Danah
made certain of that." She looked away.
"We have no hopes on Alderaan, and the General has helped us
secure positions. I understand he's done the same for you."
"The two of you appear to be helping me out of my position at
present."
"I didn't want Denis' death on your hands."
"I don't kill my pilots," he snapped. "I train them to be the
best squadron in the Republic. And if you think I "
The outer door slid open again. "Arcadia, has Anakin " General
Kenobi began, then stopped. Anakin compressed his mouth
tightly. "Perhaps," Kenobi resumed, "it might be advisable for you to
dine with me instead, Arcadia." He turned back to Anakin and studied
him carefully. "Or have you changed your mind yet?"
Anakin lingered only long enough to outstare Kenobi before
moving toward the door.
"Perhaps not. I'll expect to hear from you tomorrow," Kenobi
said at the closing panels. "Arcadia, are you off duty now?"
* * *
The officers' mess was nearly deserted at this hour. Arcadia
had stayed on duty late, and so service for the evening meal was
nearly finished. She and Kenobi ate quickly, more from a desire to get
it over with than from any real enthusiasm. Most of the food was the
same nondescript dun color as the general's hair.
Taking a second bite of the crushed fruit paste, Kenobi
reconfirmed his opinion of the first bite. He did not venture a
third. Without looking at Arcadia, he asked, "Have you reconsidered my
offer?"
"I gave it more thought. But I haven't changed my mind."
"So what do you think of him?"
She regarded Kenobi warily. "Commander Skywalker? In what
sense? You weren't matchmaking again, were you?"
"Again? Heavens, no." His tone of wounded astonishment was
marred only by his grin. Both were abandoned as he leaned closer. "You
felt his strength in the Force, didn't you? He isn't aware of it
himself, but it's part of what makes him a brilliant pilot."
"Is he? I wasn't certain where his balance lay between truth
and pride."
"He's the best warrior I've ever known," Kenobi said
quietly. "Almost impossibly proficient, courageous to the point of
recklessness if he learned to keep a better watch on himself, there
would be no limit to his career.
"But he is not aware how strong a role the Force has had in
his success. Many of his combat strategems are only possible with the
help of the Force. I've been reviewing his squadron's records again,
and those members who have prospered under his leadership have all
tested well for Force sensitivity."
"And those who cannot sense the Force have died." Arcadia
pushed her own plate aside. "How can he not know? And have you told
him this?"
The general's pale eyes were uneasy. "His home system had no
place for Jedi. Not only has he never been formally tested, but he
knows almost nothing of us. At this level, testing is scarcely
necessary; I know he has the strength. But if I tell him of his
powers, he'll ask for training as a Jedi Knight. Now, if you'd been
willing, I could have sent you to Millat to train with Master Tegie or
Mistress Tamra.
"But as for Anakin " He broke off, shaking his head. "I can't
transfer him to another base while he has teaching duties himself, and
there are no full Jedi Masters here. I'm not certain I can keep him
under rein, but I fear his actions should I refuse. His pride would
drive him to seek training from another, and he may not choose wisely.
"But if I tell him nothing, his casualty rates will continue
at their present rate. Neither alternative is ideal."
"I see," said Arcadia, although she was not certain she
did. She picked up an eating utensil and briefly fiddled with it. "But
why tell me this? There's no advice I can give to you."
"Not to me, no. To him. Anakin does not like to be instructed
by superiors. I thought that you might be better suited to lend him
moderation."
At the far end of the hall, a few more late stragglers arrived
and disappeared into the meal service corridor. Arcadia absently
watched their progress while considering his words. "But we scarcely
know one another. Why should he listen to me? Why not use one of his
subordinates as your vehicle?"
"Perhaps I should adjust my earlier statement." Kenobi
grimaced. "Anakin listens to no one, except in cases of military
necessity. He has been known to ignore combat orders, although I must
admit his alternate methods have succeeded so far. But that's
irrelevant for now.
"I would like you to befriend him. He knows and likes me, but
I doubt he'll take my advice in this matter. But he might heed
you. You're not a fighter pilot, so he'll feel no sense of rivalry
with you. Your military ranks are approximately equal, so he won't
engage in snobbery in either direction "
She shook her head. "He asked about my family. He didn't like
what he heard, even though I told him about...."
"About the ruin of House Antilles?"
"Except for Princess Danah." The name was imbued with a soft
weariness that surpassed malice. "She could have rescinded our
family's attainder, once she and the Viceroy had an heir for House
Organa. And that condition was fulfilled nearly forty years past."
"You must admit she had some cause for vengeance. Helice was a savage
adversary during the Alderaani vendettas, and your mother " He surveyed
Arcadia's features as he considered his words. "Liane had certain disputes
with House Organa as well."
"If Danah had been more lenient--" With an effort, Arcadia
moved her gaze from her tightly clasped hands to an indefinite
distance behind Kenobi. Blanking her face, she said, "It seems that
your friend Skywalker has decided to join us after all."
"Good. I rather thought he might." Kenobi's expression had
undertones that disquieted her: a fractionally raised eyebrow, a twist
to his smile. She suddenly realized how her appearance had changed
since her last encounter with Anakin Skywalker. She had left her
voluminous healer's robes in medical quarters, revealing the narrow
tunic and leggings she wore beneath them, and she had freed her hair
from its coiled plait. In a quick, nervous gesture, she gathered her
hair at one side of her neck and began to twist it into a loose
citrine skein.
Meanwhile, Kenobi had turned about. "Anakin?"
Anakin presented Arcadia with a smile that was astonishingly
sweet and guileless, considering that he was completely ignoring
Kenobi. "I owe you an apology for my earlier remarks, my lady. How may
I best express it?"
Kenobi merely shrugged and resumed eating. After a moment,
Arcadia relinquished her grasp on the rope of her hair, which promptly
unwound again. "Why this change of heart? Did you consult the records
files to corroborate me?"
"Well, perhaps so "
With admirable economy of motion, she shoved her hair back
over her shoulder, pushed her chair away, and rose. "I decline your
apology. I am sorry you cannot trust my word." She left the table and
the hall. Anakin was on the verge of following her when Kenobi tapped
his sleeve.
"What is it?"
"Forget the quarrel with me for a moment. Do you agree with
what I said of her?"
"No. She'd never make a pilot; she doesn't have the right
bearing for it. May I go now?"
"I haven't formally dismissed you, Skywalker. Now sit down."
The younger man's posture seemed to crystallize, bristling
with razored edges and angles at every side. "I wasn't aware I was in
parade formation, sir."
"Just sit."
Anakin sat. "Well, sir, I'm afraid your exact words slipped my
mind, sir. But if you weren't speaking of piloting skills, sir, I
don't think I have much to say, sir."
"Oh, stop it," Kenobi said mildly. "Don't try this with other
superior officers, or they'll have your head. I'm sorely tempted to,
despite the fact you're my protege."
"I don't feel particularly protected."
"Do you know what would have happened if your casualty lists
had gone unreviewed until the end of the year? They'd be that much
longer, and I'm not the only one who inspects them. High casualty
rates are bad enough, but in your first year as squadron leader? You'd
receive a formal reprimand, and possibly be demoted. As difficult as
it may be for you to believe now, Arcadia and I have done you a
favor."
After a moment, Anakin dropped his gaze into Arcadia's
abandoned cup. He lifted it and idly tasted the rim. "One month. What
am I supposed to do for a month? And who'll take over my command while
I'm away?"
"Aren't any senior cadets in your squad fit to lead yet? I
thought you were training them, not taking them nut gathering."
The return smile was automatic, but like its accompanying
words, it seemed to lack Anakin's full attention. "Oh, Anset might do,
or maybe Damesta." He surveyed the cup in his hand again before
draining it. "So what did you have in mind for Lady Arcadia? It looks
like I'll have to apologize to her by proxy."
"I was appraising her for retraining as a combatant."
"If not a pilot, what sort? She doesn't have the physique for
armored shock troops, and I don't know whether healers have enough
experience with machinery to handle combat walkers."
"Actually, I was considering her as a potential Jedi Knight."
Anakin slowly put the cup down. It made a hollow clink as it
met the table surface. "A Jedi Knight."
"Yes, I said that."
He leaned over the table, pushing the cup aside. "Obi-Wan,
you're an intelligent man, aren't you?"
With a wry smile, Kenobi said, "I like to think so. Why do you
ask?"
"You don't really believe in all this Force nonsense, do you?"
The smile peeled away. "I take it that you don't."
Anakin snorted indulgently. "I've seen this sort of thing
before. The system where I grew up there weren't any Jedi, but there
was a priesthood with total authority. The temples had the most
ridiculous rules about keeping this or that goddess happy what colors
you can wear, how many times to chew your food, what you can't do with
your sister but all of them were just ways of controlling people who
don't know any better.
"I got off planet as soon as I could. The sweetest sight I
ever saw was Leucothea disappearing down that hyperspace funnel, and I
hope I never see that place again. But the entire Jedi organization
reminds me of that priesthood a lot of talk about the supernatural,
and not much to show for it except a lot of rules."
The older man set his utensils down and closed his
eyes. Arcadia's cup popped into the air and hovered in front of
Anakin. He shrugged and flicked the cup with a finger, setting it
spinning, then pulled it down.
Impatiently, he said, "Yes, I know. But I don't see why you
Jedi make so much fuss about a little psychokinesis. All that talk
about center and balance makes it sound like a circus routine. Why
should it make any difference to the universe whether you pick
something up with your hand or your mind?"
Kenobi had opened his eyes and was steadily gazing at
Anakin. "It doesn't, much. But the Force flows through all life and
all matter, and the mind is both. When you use the Force, your intent
can be as important as your actions."
"You're spouting dogma, Obi-Wan." Anakin leaned back. "And get
out of my mind, will you? I thought we could talk frankly."
"Aren't we?"
"I was thinking about what you said earlier. I never thought
my senses were different from anyone else's, or that other people
can't feel some of the things I can. But it's the Force, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was hoping you could teach me how to use it without
stuffing me full of religious propaganda."
Dropping his gaze, Kenobi began to collect utensils on his
empty tray. "Do you know, I was going to ask you to train as a Jedi?
But if you don't want to learn about the Force itself, I don't think
we should speak of this matter any further."
"Oh, come on, Obi-Wan. You really believe the Jedi doctrines?"
"They're not just doctrines. I'm not a Master, and I don't
know much about Force theory, but I can feel the way it works."
"You mean you've been told they work."
Kenobi stood up, tray in hand. "I don't think we should
discuss this any more. Ask Arcadia about the Force. Maybe she can
convince you." Tardily, Anakin began to gather up Arcadia's tray,
preparing to follow, but Kenobi sharply motioned him back. "No. If
you're ready to listen tomorrow, come back. But no more talk
tonight."
* * *
"But Dia, why shouldn't I come to Ikatya now? Father's family
is ending my stipend next year, so I should start a career before
House Colton cuts me off entirely. Even if Commander Skywalker is
taking leave, I can still use the time to settle on base."
Seated before the comm panel in her private quarters, Arcadia
closed her eyes and tipped her head back against her chair. "Denis,
it's not too late to change training assignments. Are you certain you
want to join Crescent Squadron? I'll admit it has the best combat
record on this base, but there are starship assignments with similar
records the _Ravage_, the _Frenzy_..."
When she opened her eyes again, her brother's hand sized holo
image was shaking its head. Although both siblings had the fine boned
Alderaani build, only Denis had the dark hair of the Antilles. He
brushed this out of his eyes as he answered. "I think Ikatya base is
the only real option. Both you and General Kenobi are there, and...."
He tilted his head, considering, then shrugged. "Well, our dear Aunt
Danah "
"Great aunt, twice maternal."
"Whatever. She's made it known that she'd appreciate the two
of us staying in a single location, so as to both be monitored with
less effort."
"Denis!"
"Well, we both know that Danah's been keeping watch on us, and
she certainly knows it. So," he took on unnaturally emphatic tones, "I
doubt this news will come as a surprise to her when she reviews this
tapped transmission."
"Don't bait her. We're living on her sufferance."
"And that's why I have to train at Ikatya, unless you want to
be on a medical frigate at the battle frontiers." He paused
uncertainly. "Is something wrong with Crescent Squadron? Or with
Commander Skywalker?"
"There was some... statistical irregularity. General Kenobi is
smoothing things out. As for the commander, I only met him today, and
that by accident. He's self assured, but I don't know anything about
his real skills." Arcadia glanced at the small state portrait beside
the comm panel. "But why has Princess Danah tightened security?"
As Denis made a vague response, he blinked in a familiar
message pattern: one blink, two. One blink, two. _I'll tell you the
truth when we can speak in private._
Arcadia sighed. "In private" meant in person, in a location
too public or too distant from Alderaan to be tapped by its royal
house. In this case, it would have to be both. "So when do you arrive
at Ikatya?"
This time, his reply was undercut by chime tones from
Arcadia's apartments. "The convoy leaves tomorrow," Denis said. "But
someone's at your door. Should I sign off?"
She frowned. "No; I'm not expecting anyone. This should only
take a moment." She stood, lightly stretched, and crossed the chamber
to the entrance portal.
As it slid open, Anakin Skywalker chuckled. "You step away
every time we meet. May I come in?"
"You already have. I'm sorry, but I'm otherwise occupied at
the moment. If I could contact you later "
Denis could hear the tension in her voice, but was unable to
see anything but the chair on the comm transmission tile. "Dia, is
something wrong?"
"'Dia'? A family nickname, I take it is that your famed
brother Denis?" When she reluctantly nodded, Skywalker moved to the
transmission tile, leaning on the back of Arcadia's chair. "Hello
there. Your sister has told me so much about you."
The boy's voice nearly cracked. "Commander Skywalker? Is that
really you?" With visible effort, he pulled himself into a semblance
of military posture. "I mean, it's an honor to meet you, sir. I
hadn't expected it until I got to base but are you really going on
leave for a month?"
Skywalker cast a sideways glance at Arcadia, who had seated
herself with a data pad on a wall mounted bench. She looked up at him,
then back down to the pad as he sat down in her chair. "I will soon,
but I may stay on base. Next training rotation doesn't start for a
month anyway, so you'll only have your first few weeks with my
replacement. Your academy records are quite good, by the way. Do all
cadets start multiplanar tactics that early now?"
"A lot do, ever since you used them at Raek Starfall. How did
you ever..." Arcadia closed her eyes again, stifling a yawn as Denis
continued effusing. She had worked long hours today, and her evening
meal, although not especially good, had been filling. Denis's and
Skywalker's voices blurred into alternating washes of sound.
* * *
Anakin grinned foolishly as he powered down the comm
panel. Even after several years, he still had not lost the thrill of
being a hero. His flight and fighting performance in his first battle,
the seige of Ysdaa, had propelled him into the notice of General
Kenobi, who had been coordinating planetary and fleet maneuvers
there. His squadron's strategy at Raek Starfall had become
legendary. His success was so spectacular that Kenobi transferred him
out of danger to a training position, in hopes of teaching his skills
to other pilots.
Leaning back, he steepled his fingertips, still smiling. When
Obi-Wan had made him a trainer, he had resisted fiercely, resentful of
being pulled from combat. But he had since learned the advantages of
this post. Granted, it lacked the electric delirium of real warfare,
but he enjoyed shaping the reflexes of his students. Some were cadets
just out of the first level academies; others were already veterans of
several campaigns. All of them looked to him as a master of the craft.
His reverie was broken by a small noise behind him. He had
half forgotten Arcadia; when he turned to look, he saw the data pad
finish slipping from her hand. She lay curled on her side, her feet
still shod and hanging off the bench toward the floor.
She woke after he had already carried her around the room
once, and was considering another circuit. Without moving, she tried
to decipher her situation she was bunched up in the air, her hair
smeared across her face. When she opened her eyes, she could see a
broad uniform clad chest pressed against her nose. She remembered that
vantage point from earlier in the day. "What are you doing?"
He nearly dropped her. "Oh you're awake. I was going to put
you to bed, but the only other door I found goes into medical. Where
are you hiding them?"
"Put me to bed?"
"I couldn't leave you sleeping on that bench."
"I've only this one room; there are no other doors. And that
is my bed."
He looked at the bench again. It still looked like a bench,
cloth surfaced and unpadded. "How can you sleep on that thing?"
"Usually quite soundly. May I request that you put me down
somewhere?" He placed her on the bench again, in a half seated
position from which she immediately slid down the wall onto her side
again. With an effort, she levered herself back up. "Thank you for
your concern, really, but "
"It's nothing," he said modestly. "But as long as we're
exchanging courtesies, would you like me to apologize for this
afternoon now or tomorrow?"
"Whichever more pleases you."
"In that case, it can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll need a few more
hours to get into a properly groveling state anyway." He saluted,
pivoted with military precision, and left.
She watched the door owlishly for a while, to make certain he
wasn't coming back in. With a sigh, she pulled a mantle from a wall
hook behind her, and lay down wrapped in it. After a moment, nearly
asleep again, she nudged her shoes off.
On his way back to his own quarters, Anakin whistled softly to
himself, carefully considering what he had learned from Denis.
* * *
"...And if it requires a war to bring the Republic back to its
former glory, then perhaps we should be grateful for war." Palpatine
ignored the shock around him in the Senate, raising his resonant voice
to drown out dissent. "We have spent the last century bickering and
feuding amongst ourselves. Before the Nechti came to our borders, each
system fought against its neighbor, in armed combat or with economic
strangulation. The galaxy wasted many lives and credits in these
struggles for petty advantage.
"But since the arrival of the Nechti, we have ceased our
internal quarrels. If we can retain this solidarity after the Nechti
are defeated, our combined power will be greater than ever before."
A gaunt woman near the front said bitterly, "You are quite
blithe about the Nechti. You would be less so if you had seen the
border systems: Avisa stripped to magma; Martelle reft of its
atmosphere my diplomatic suite and I are all that remain of the people
of Erenat."
Senator Palpatine lowered his eyes. Knife edged crescents of
gold gleamed from beneath his lids. "I do not wish us to forget the
many innocents who have lost their homes, their families, or their
lives to the Nechti. But think of all the similar losses our internal
battles have claimed. If we can eliminate such sad waste from our
Republic by remaining united, then the Nechtian victims will not have
died in vain.
"But let us forget the future for now. We must deal with the
present. It is true that relatively few systems have met with the
enemy to date, but is there any doubt we must unite now to drive them
out?"
Castra Gatou yawned flamboyantly. She was a tawny haired young
woman with pale green eyes; seated in Bail Organa's empty chair, she
was in the first tier, in excellent view of the council. Almost as an
afterthought, she lifted one languid hand to conceal her mouth. "Why?"
she asked.
The Erenatese senator lunged to her feet. "Why? You've seen
the holos sent by the Nechti, and you ask why?"
"Why not?"
Palpatine turned a speculative eye on the princess, while
waving the Erenatese back. "Your Highness of Alderaan, do your people
have so little compassion on those less fortunate than themselves?"
Castra smiled, showing all her teeth. "Less fortunate? The
border systems brought this war upon themselves. Avisa and Martelle
were the planets that first met with the Nechti; they made secret
trade agreements with them for their technology. They willfully
violated the laws of the Senate and the Republic by keeping knowledge
of the Nechti civilization a secret. And you of Erenat " she gestured
at the livid ambassador "in fact, your very family signed the Nechti
pact with full intention to violate it.
"And once you did... well, small wonder that the Nechti sought
revenge on you. What concern are your border squabbles to the rest of
the Republic?"
"The Nechti have advanced far past the border by now,"
Palpatine began, but Castra flicked her nails at him.
"Past the borders of your own summer planet, you mean. My own
opinions aside, you can hardly expect my people to support armed
intervention in your internal affairs. If you can't maintain civil
relations with your neighbors, why should we enforce them for you?"
"Civil relations?" Palpatine elevated one eyebrow, smiling
warmly. "Oh yes, Alderaan has always been known for its peaceful self
government, especially as carried out by its web of noble kinsmen who
are all " his smile attained angelic proportions "terribly civil to
one another."
"Enough of this squabbling!" In the open center of the
chamber, the President of the Senate lashed the rostrum with her
gavel. She was a stately Twi'lek, whose cranial appendages were
shifting like cats' tails under their wrapping of silk. "Senator
Palpatine, the Alderaani vendettas are not the subject of this
debate. And if I may say so, Your Highness of Alderaan, the diplomatic
failings of the border systems are irrelevant as well. Avisa and
Martelle have already been destroyed."
"And Erenat," the gaunt woman whispered.
"And Erenat. Whatever their complicity may have been, the
Nechti have surely taken vengeance. But now other systems are being
attacked, ones with no prior involvement whatsoever. These are the
peoples whose aid we are determining. The period for debate has
ended. May we call the vote?"
As the Senators drew together in small groups, Palpatine
stepped down from the central dais. A Senate page with two bowls of
pebbles passed through the chamber, giving every Senator a stone from
each bowl, one black and one white. Leaning on the rail near Castra's
seat, Palpatine jounced the pair of stones in his hand. "Which one do
you plan to cast at me?" he asked her.
"Surely you're planning to cast yours first."
"It's the President who gets to throw the first stone of the
season, my dear." They watched a second page approach the Twi'lek with
a tall, opaque urn, into which she inserted her hand wrist deep to
conceal the pebble she released. The remaining pebble was dropped into
a disposal chute beneath the rostrum, for later collection from a
common receptacle. "Purely symbolic, of course, but then so much of
politics depends on visible symbolism."
As the page passed by, they dropped their respective pebbles
into the urn, then the chute in Castra's desk. The remote comm camera
in the corner lingered on Castra and Palpatine after the page had
moved on. In a leisurely fashion, she spat in her hand and slapped
him.
"Your Highness, desist," the Twi'lek snapped. "I will not
permit physical assault of other Senators. If you should become
President, you may change policy to suit yourself. But as long as I
hold office, I will not allow it."
Palpatine dismissed the guards who had hurried to him from the
Coruscanti suite. "I doubt intervention is necessary, unless Her
Highness plans to escalate. Have you any objects sharper than your
tongue? A brace of whips, perhaps?"
"Regrettably, no." Castra rose, gathering her train over one
arm. "But you may yet persuade me to give a different answer." Tracked
by the comm recorder, she left the Senate chamber before the tally was
complete.
* * *
In his private apartments, Palpatine keyed the holoprojector
to replay the day's events. He leaned back and watched himself
complete his speech. "...But let us forget the future for now. We must
deal with the present. It is true that relatively few systems have met
with the enemy to date, but is there any doubt we must unite now to
drive them out?"
His companion touched her goblet to his. "Marvelous arm
gesture. Think it'll catch on?"
"I hope to gain followers for more than a gesture." After a
few sips, he reliquished his wine for a wafer of mycotal pate. "How do
you think the rebuttal was received?"
They watched Castra flick her nails. "If you can't maintain
civil relations with your neighbors, why should we enforce them for
you?"
"It seems to have polarized your opposition." She streaked a
dab of pate down his throat, then began to remove it with small
motions of her tongue. Between licks, she said, "Only a few systems
agree with that argument, and those are wealthy and stable. But the
rest realize that if they have famine or civil war, and have already
voted against centralization, they'll have little help from the
Senate."
"So it broke the tie in the Senate by turning the balance in
my favour," Palpatine said, dabbing pate elsewhere.
She slid her hand down his opened robes. "Astonishing, isn't it?"
On the projector, Castra slapped Palpatine and left. Behind
her, the collected pebbles were tallied by colour. The Twi'lek said,
"The measure to ally against the Nechti has passed. This session of
the Senate being concluded, I resign my office as President, unless my
name is again chosen by lot at the next session." As the data tape
ended, the projector clicked off.
Palpatine lifted his mouth from bare skin. "I've always
thought that was a strange way to select a leader."
"I take it you've a better idea? Don't you dare tear this gown."
With exaggerated care, he gathered the skirts into a fine foam
of lace over her thighs. "I think highly of it. But then, it is my
idea."
"Naturally." A burst of breath escaped her, and she muffled
the sound against his shoulder. "But don't you think we've had enough
of political debates for today?"
Palpatine pressed her deeper into the cushions, watching her
green eyes darken to match the jade velvet. "Have we?" he murmured.
"I should think so," breathed Castra Gatou.
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