37 posts tagged “star wars”
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JUNDLAND WASTES, TATOOINE
The former Jedi Master sat in the middle of the ground, inside his cave hovel. With his eyes closed shut, he allowed his mind to drift deeply into a state of meditation. With the supper at the Lars homestead looming ahead, Obi-Wan felt he needed a period of meditation to keep his emotional state in check. Especially since he would soon find himself spending several hours with his former apprentice's children.
Nearly a half hour had passed before Obi-Wan felt a familiar presence within the Force. He slowly opened his eyes and found the tall, transparent figure of Qui-Gon Jinn looming before him. A faint blue light surrounded his master. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and murmured, "Qui-Gon."
"Obi-Wan," the Force ghost responded in his usual calm manner. "You did summon me, did you not?"
A lie hovered upon Obi-Wan's lips. Realizing that he had not the heart to use it, he heaved a sigh. "I suppose I did. I . . ."
"Yes, I understand," Qui-Gon continued. "You wish to speak about your upcoming supper with Anakin's children."
Obi-Wan finally burst forth with a rendition of his encounter with the Skywalker children in Anchorhead. "I truly had no intention of contacting them," he continued. "But when young Leia had invited me for supper, I could not resist. You should see them, Master. The girl is a spitting image of her mother and young Luke reminds me Anakin at that age. Although, I suspect that he may have inherited his mother's height and temperament. Looking at them reminded me of the potential Anakin once possessed."
"Once?" One of Qui-Gon's brows quirked upward.
A slight cough escaped from Obi-Wan's mouth. "I did not mean . . ." Then he broke off with another sigh. "It's amazing. It has been nearly twenty-five years since your death and you still manage to make me feel like the young apprentice I used to be."
"Only in your mind, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon stated firmly. "And I believe that you are still my apprentice. Despite my lack of a . . . physical presence. Now what did you mean by that comment regarding Anakin?"
Obi-Wan decided that he might as well express his true feelings. "Master, is it possible that the prophecy regarding the Chosen One might pertain to one or both of Anakin's children?"
A long pause followed, as Qui-Gon regarded Obi-Wan with a penetrating stare that made the latter squirm. "It is . . . possible," the Jedi Master finally answered. "But surely it is premature to discount Anakin?"
The question left Obi-Wan in an emotional quandary tinged with jealousy. It seemed ridiculous. He should have moved past his initial jealousy regarding his former apprentice and actually believed he had after becoming Anakin's tutor. Yet, it did not take long for his old feelings to rush to the fore during with great speed. Could his jealousy be linked to Qui-Gon's regard for Anakin?
"Is it?" Obi-Wan finally countered. "For a brief period, Anakin had been the apprentice of a Sith Lord. He is partially responsible for the deaths of thousands of Jedi."
"And you intend to hold that against him, forever?"
Unable to think or say anything original, Obi-Wan utilized an old lesson he had learned as a Jedi initiate. "Master, have you forgotten that Anakin had fallen to the Dark Side. Master Yoda once taught us that once a person starts down the dark path, it will forever mark his or her destiny. Even if he had managed to turn away from the Emperor, Anakin has done nothing to make up for his crimes. I have not heard nothing of him confronting the Emperor or Rasche. And instead, he is leading the life of a . . . a smuggler."
Qui-Gon's gaze became hooded. "I see. So, you are saying that Anakin's submission to the Dark Side will mark him forever. Even to the point that forgiveness is out of the question? Do we really know what the future will bring for Anakin? Or the prophecy?"
A sigh left Obi-Wan's mouth. "What if he never fulfills the prophecy?" Shaking his head, he added, "I'm sorry, Master. Years ago, I had managed to overcome my doubts regarding Anakin. But now . . . they are as strong as ever. Now, I believe that we should consider the children."
"If you insist, Obi-Wan," the late Jedi Master murmured. "I cannot determine what you feel . . . or how you think. But I do suggest that you ask yourself - have you ever believed in Anakin? Truly had faith in him?"
A retort hung on Obi-Wan's lips. Of course he once had faith in Anakin! After all, he had been the one who convinced the Jedi Council to knight his former apprentice. He and Anakin had fought as a team during the Clone Wars. And before that . . . Obi-Wan tried to remember the other times he had shown faith in Anakin. And yet, all he could recall were old doubts.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak and found himself unable to utter a sound. "Perhaps you might need more time to meditate," Qui-Gon continued. "I will take my leave now. Enjoy your supper with Anakin's children, Obi-Wan."
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan finally said.
Qui-Gon added, "And take care of yourself. May the Force be with you." The Jedi Master's ghost force faded from view.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan remained seated in the middle of the floor . . . staring into space, as he contemplated his master's last question about his former apprentice. And his own private response.
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WORLPORT, ORD MANTELL
Arm-in-arm, the couple strode across the Hotel Grand's wide lobby - deep in conversation. They finally entered one of the turbolifts, which conveyed them to the tenth floor. Upon reaching the suite that she shared with her mentor, Igraine turned to smile at her companion. "Thank you for a charming afternoon, Captain Horus. I truly enjoyed myself."
"Including our little encounter near the lake?" Captain Horus replied with a roguish smile. Igraine merely chuckled at his light joke. He added, "By the way, my name is Set. Set Horus."
Igraine uttered a soft, "Oh." Then she added, "And my name is Igraine. Instead of . . . Milady." Again, she smiled. The couple locked eyes and Igraine found herself reeling inwardly from the force of the pilot's intense blue eyes. An idea came to Igraine. One she feared that her companion might misconstrue. "Captain Ho . . . uh, Set," she began tentatively, "are you . . . um, busy this evening?"
Mild confusion settled in Set's eyes. "I'm sorry?"
The Maldarian woman fought an urge to succumb to her wariness. She took a deep breath. "Will you be occupied, this evening? I . . . I wondered if you would like to have . . . dinner with me." When the pilot merely responded with widening eyes, Igraine's wariness increased. She quickly added, "Your friends are welcomed to join us, as well."
The pilot's smile became even more roguish before he finally answered, "I'm certain that Han and Chewbacca will have other plans for this evening. Don't you think?"
Igraine's wariness quickly dissipated, as vibrant warmth spread throughout her chest. She returned the pilot's smile. "Of course." The pair agreed to rendezvous in the hotel's lobby in another five-and-a-half hours. Feeling bold, Igraine invited Set inside her suite for a glass of Alderaanian wine.
"I'm not much of a drinker," Set politely answered. "And I have an appointment with some . . . well, with some friends. I'll see you in a few hours."
"In a few hours," Igraine repeated. She and Set bid their good-byes before she entered the suite. The young woman stopped in her tracks at the sight of Senator Dahlma conversing with a visitor in the suite's living room.
". . . don't seem to understand, Zoebeida, is that ridding ourselves of the Empire might take years," the visitor was saying. "Perhaps another decade. It took us this long just to finally form an alliance."
Igraine coughed slightly. The other two women stared at her. "Pardon me, Senator Dahlma," she said. "I'm back."
The senator nodded. "Igraine." Then she nodded at the third woman. "As you see, I have a guest."
"Milady," Igraine politely greeted the exiled Senator Amidala from Naboo. Then she returned her attention to her mentor. "By the way, Senator, is there anything you need before we return to the conference?"
Senator Dahlma shook her head. "I don't think so." She glanced at Senator Amidala, who slowly stood up. "Leaving so soon, Padme?"
The soft-spoken woman replied, "I left my conference notes in my room. And I need to speak with Bail about a certain matter. Excuse me." She strode toward the door. "I'll see you within a few minutes."
After the Nabooan woman left, Senator Dahlma heaved a sigh. "Poor Padme. It must be quite a burden to be stuck near the edge of the galaxy without the benefit of family or identity. Even Solipo Yeb has his sister and a new wife, I hear."
"Why did she fake her death?" Igraine demanded. "Senator Yeb didn't."
With another sigh, the senator replied, "I believe she was forced to fake her death in order to escape the Emperor's wrath. Like poor Garm Iblis. After all, she was one of the main supporters of that petition asking for Palpatine to step down during the Clone Wars. The Empire tried to have both Padme and Garm killed. At least the two of them can now live their lives without constantly being hunted by the Empire . . . unlike poor Solipo."
"Then perhaps she is better off," Igraine added. She paused, as an uncomfortable idea came to her. "Do you suppose the same could happen to us? End up with a fake identity or becoming a fugitive?"
The senator's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you ask this question?"
"I . . ." Igraine hesitated. "Well, considering how we left Maladore . . ."
"Don't worry, Igraine," Senator Dahlma assured the younger woman. "I am quite certain the Empire is not aware of our trip. And if they were, Chattal or my friend, Dellis Bama would warn us. Have you been imagining a life as someone other than a senator's aide?"
Igraine's face grew warm, as the image of a certain handsome pilot lingered in her mind. "No, Milady! I . . . I'm just worried. After all, I cannot imagine what my life would be like if we end up becoming fugitives."
One of the senator's eyebrows quirked upward. "I don't know. I can only assume that a future with the handsome Captain Horus might seem very appealing to you."
"Milady! Really!" Now, Igraine's face felt as hot as the Tatooine suns. "I never said anything about Captain . . ."
A knowing smile curved the senator's lips. "I've seen the way you look at him, Igraine. And the way he looks at you. And you should have seen the expression on your face, when you entered the room. Even Senator Amidala noticed." To Igraine's surprise, the smile disappeared. "However, if you are truly serious about Captain Horus . . ." Senator Dahlma paused.
Dreading the other woman's next words, Igraine cautiously said, "Yes, Milady?"
A long pause followed before the senator continued. “Be careful, Igraine. Beneath the handsome face and good looks, Captain Horus strikes me as a very dangerous man. It almost seems as if . . .” She sighed. “. . . as if he is haunted by a thousand personal demons. Demons that I fear you might not possibly understand.”
The older woman’s words took Igraine by surprise. “I don’t understand, Milady. If you’ve never trusted Se . . . Captain Horus, why did you hire him as our pilot?”
“Because I thought I could trust him. Then.” Senator Dahlma took a sip from her goblet. “But after knowing him for less than two days, I cannot help but wonder if I had made a mistake. He is . . . there is something about him that is dark. And deep.” She regarded Igraine with eyes filled with pity. “And I fear, dear Igraine, that you might not be able to deal with his true personality. Although you are familiar with the political world on Coruscant, you have very set ideas about how the universe should be. I wonder if you’re flexible enough to deal with such an ambiguous personality like Captain Horus.”
Igraine merely stared at her mentor. How could she . . .? Then the young Maldarian woman mentally dismissed the older one’s words. There was nothing wrong with Set! Igraine came to the conclusion that the senator feared the young aide would become serious with the pilot. Something that went against the senator’s sensibilities on class.
The older woman continued, “Igraine?” Dismay flickered in Senator Dahlma’s eyes. “Oh dear! I have upset you. I don’t mean to, but I simply wanted you to be aware of the possible consequences of a relationship with Captain Horus. Promise me that you will be careful.”
Keeping her resentment in check, Igraine softly replied, “Yes Milady. I will.”
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER TEN
WORLPORT, ORD MANTELL
Thanks to Anakin's intervention, the early morning quarrel between Han and Chewbacca quickly came to an end. Once the dust settled, the three comrades ate breakfast at the Blue Jewel Café. They eventually risked the rain to make their way to the Javian Hawk's hangar to check upon the ship's systems. It did not take long for Anakin and Han to discover that the starship's monitor needed new power cells.
"I'll see if I can buy some new ones," Anakin commented. "As soon as possible. Meanwhile, why don't you two continue checking the system? And try to behave."
"Aw, don't worry!" Han replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Chewie realizes that I'm not a morning person. Right?" The Wookie acknowledged Han's question with a mild growl.
Realizing he had nothing to worry about, Anakin grabbed his cloak to shield him from the rain and disembarked from the Hawk. He took a shuttle taxi to Worlport's commercial district. For nearly a half hour, Anakin visited several shops that sold parts for starships and other vehicles. Unfortunately, none of them had any power cells available. Just as he was about to enter his second junk shop on Illumna Street, he spotted a familiar figure leaving another shop, several meters to his right. He immediately recognized Senator Dahlma's aide, Igraine Colbert.
Just as when he first met her, Anakin felt a deep pull toward the young Maldarian woman. Attracted by the possibility of spending a few hours with her - alone - he began to walk toward her. He had only taken a few steps, when he halted in his tracks. It suddenly occurred to him that becoming emotionally involved with the Maldarian woman might not be a wise choice for him. He remained haunted by the circumstances that led to Padme's death. And already attached to Han, Anakin realized that the last thing he needed was a romantic relationship with another woman. Especially one that bore a strong resemblance to Padme.
Anakin took a deep breath, turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction. He found himself retracing his earlier steps, until a strong sensation caused him to stop. Something was wrong. He had sensed a disturbance in the Force. And it came . . . in the form of danger for Miss Colbert.
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Ten minutes earlier, Igraine walked out of an arts-and-crafts shop, carrying her latest purchase inside a silver bag. During her three years at the University of Malag, she had developed an interest in art history and antiquities. Although the two subjects had never surpassed her passion for politics, Igraine began a hobby of collecting small artifacts during her years on Coruscant and travels throughout the galaxy.
Igraine had spent the entire morning taking notes of the conference for Senator Dahlma. When the lunch period arrived, Bail Organa suggested that everyone take a break and reconvene in another three hours. Igraine decided the three hours was a perfect opportunity for a little shopping in Worlport's commercial district. While strolling along Illumna Avenue, she came upon an arts-and-crafts store that not only sold art pieces, but antiquities as well. One particular item caught her attention - a statuette of the now extinct singing fig tree of Pil Diller. Igraine realized that the shop's owner must not have been an art expert. The latter had charged Igraine 50 credits for the item, unaware that it was worth a lot more.
Fighting an urge to stop and admire her recent purchase, the Maldarian woman continued her stroll along Ilumna Avenue. She passed an opening that led to a walkway along one of the planet's many saltwater lakes. There, she spotted a fair-haired woman and three men loitering around one of the benches next to the shore. She immediately ignored them and continued her walk down the avenue.
The rain grew heavier. Aside from her cloak, Igraine had nothing to protect her from the downpour. And the wet weather seemed to have driven many of Worlport's inhabitants indoors. The sight of the loiterers and the small number of pedestrians reminded Igraine that walking the city's streets - even within the commercial district - might not be safe for a lone individual. She unconsciously groped for the blaster pistol inside her cloak's pocket and heaved a sigh. Thank goodness she had remembered to . . .
"Do you need help with that package, Milady?" The woman's voice jolted Igraine from her thoughts. She turned around and discovered the four loiterers behind her. Upon closer inspection, one of the males happened to be a Duros.
"No thank you," Igraine politely replied in a firm and cool voice. She returned her hand inside her cloak's pocket and gripped her blaster. "I'm fine." She started to turn away.
The woman added, "Are you sure? Worlport is not the type of place for a lone person to roaming about. Especially with the streets half-deserted. My friends and I can escort you to your hotel."
An alarm went off inside Igraine's head. "Wha . . . what makes you think I'm staying at a hotel?"
The woman's deep blue eyes glittered. "That cloak you're wearing is not exactly common on this planet. And very few natives would be out on a wet day like this, unless he or she is forced to."
"Perhaps there is a reason . . ." Igraine broke off abruptly, as one of the human males flanked her left side. "What is he doing?" she demanded.
Smiling, the woman answered, "Don't mind Falin. He simply wants to help with your package."
"I don't need help," Igraine coolly replied. "So, if you don't mind . . ." She started to walk away. The woman and the Duros blocked her path. "Excuse me!"
Menace crept into the woman's eyes . . . and voice. "Now, that's not nice. All we're trying to do is help and you treat us like bantha fodder. How do you expect us to deal with such a negative attitude?" Then she barked, "Falin! Cardo! Grab her!"
The two human males started toward Igraine. She whipped out her blaster pistol and shot the one called Falin in the right shoulder. The other human named Cardo knocked the blaster from her hand. He raised a fist to strike her, when a burst of blaster fire struck him in the chest, causing him to fall backwards.
A blaster rifle appeared in the Duros' hands and he aimed it at Igraine's side. At that moment, the blond woman made a grab for the Maldarian's pistol on the ground. Using the bag that held her statuette, Igraine swung it at the woman and knocked the pistol out of the latter's hand. Blaster fire caught the senator aide's attention. She glanced to her right and saw the Duros sink to the ground with a smoking hole in the middle of his chest. The blond woman's eyes flew open before she ran off, disappearing into the wet distance.
Curiosity over the identity of her rescuer, Igraine whirled around. Her eyes flew open at the sight of a familiar figure draped in a dark cloak . . . holding a blaster. "Captain Horus!"
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"Yes?" Anakin responded with a smile to Miss Colbert's outburst.
The Maldarian woman shook her head in disbelief. "How . . .?"
"I saw you leaving that shop," Anakin continued. He glanced at the weapon in his hand and then at the bodies on the pavement. "I think I forgot to put my blaster on stun," he added ruefully.
Miss Colbert retorted, "I'm certain they didn't have their weapons on stun." She kicked at one of the fallen men, who grunted. "We need to contact . . ."
The soft roar of an engine muffled Miss Colbert's words. Both she and Anakin glanced up and saw a shuttle descend from the wet sky. Once the shuttle landed on the ground, a male Zabrak and a female human departed from the vehicle. Their uniforms indicated that they were part of Worlport's security force. "What's going on?" the Zabrak demanded. He glanced at the bodies on the ground. "Falin Brand." He shook his head in disgust.
"Along with Yun Cardo and Raynor," the human woman added. She examined the bodies before frowning at Anakin and his companion. "One of them is still alive. What happened?"
Before Anakin could speak, Miss Colbert informed the security officers about her encounter with her attackers. "I'm afraid that one of them got away," she ruefully added. "A human woman named . . ."
". . . Neela Prey," the Zabrak grimly finished. "The leader of a gang of street scum who prey upon pedestrians. Especially visitors. I'm Officer Viert." He nodded at his partner. "And this is Officer Yung. We will require your names, so that we can include you in our report." Viert pulled out a data pad.
Anakin gave Officers Viert and Yung his alias and explained that he had came upon Miss Colbert, while she was under attack. Meanwhile, the Maldarian woman hesitated before she gave a name. "Serena Cunus," she replied. Anakin shot her a surprised glance. "From Chandrila. I'm a visitor."
Officer Yung directed her gaze at Anakin. "And you? Are you also a visitor?"
"Freighter pilot," Anakin replied. "I had arrived here, yesterday . . . with a cargo. I'm simply spending a few days until I leave."
The human officer pulled out a comlink and began to speak into it. Meanwhile, Officer Viert informed the couple that they were free to go. "We have your statements. If we need to contact you about a trial . . ."
"Trial?" Miss Colbert exclaimed. "But I'm a visitor."
Viert nodded at the thugs. "One of them is still alive, Milady. Hopefully, he will be able to tell us where we can find his friend, Prey. Like I said, we will contact you for his trial. It should be within a day or two."
Anakin grabbed hold of Miss Colbert's free arm. "Thank you, Officer. If you need me, I'll be staying at the Hotel Grand."
"So will I," Miss Colbert added weakly.
Realizing that the perfect moment to leave had arrived, Anakin murmured, "Excuse us." Then he drew the Maldarian woman away from the crime scene. Anakin eventually led her toward a shuttle stop. "Well, I believe we've just had our excitement for the day."
"I cannot testify at that man's hearing!" Miss Colbert bewailed. "The senator and I will probably have returned to Maldare, by then."
Anakin shrugged his shoulders. "Then chances are that he will be released."
"But that is not right!"
A sigh left the pilot's mouth. "There are a great many things in this universe that are not right . . . or fair, Milady." A grim reminder of his past flashed in Anakin's mind. He added bitterly, "Trust me. I had to learn the hard way."
The Maldarian woman fell silent. Both she and Anakin spotted a shuttle bus descend from the sky. "Our shuttle has arrived," she murmured.
Anakin simply nodded. Standing close to his companion resurrected feelings of longing and desire he had experienced when he first spotted her outside of the junk shop. This time, he decided not to fight his feelings. "How many hours or minutes do you have left until you rejoin Senator Dahlma?" he asked.
"A little over ninety minutes. Why?"
The shuttle landed on the ground, several feet away from the couple. Anakin took a deep breath and asked, "Would you like to have lunch with me? I . . . know of a place not far from the hotel." The shuttle finally halted before them.
Miss Colbert gave the former Jedi a long stare. The latter could see the temptation of such an offer glittering in her green eyes. To his relief, she smiled and answered, "I would love to join you, Captain Horus. By the way, why don't you call me, Igraine?"
Anakin returned her smile. "And you can call me Set." The shuttle's doors slide and Anakin followed Miss Col . . . Igraine inside the vehicle.
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Han snapped one of the intake valve levers back in place. Then he glanced at the Javian Hawk's chronometer and realized that Anakin had been gone for over an hour. He shook his head in disbelief. Exactly how long did it take to find a couple of power cells in this town?
Just as he was about to head for the cockpit, a voice cracked over his personal comlink. "Han? Are you there? It's . . . Set."
Set? Han's mind immediately set off warning bells. Either Anakin suspected Chewbacca of being nearby . . . or he had company. "Yeah, buddy. I'm here. Uh . . . about those power cells for the console? Have you found any?"
A sigh filled Han's ears. "Not yet," Anakin's voice replied. "I've checked four stores, so far and they're all out of power cells. Apparently, the influx of pilots on this rock has depleted the supplies." Anakin paused. "Listen, it's almost time for lunch. Why don't you and Chewbacca take a break? Work on the Hawk, after lunch. I should be able to find some power cells by then."
Han would prefer to continue checking the Hawk's systems for any further repairs, rather than eat. But with Anakin in another part of the city . . . "Okay, where do you want to meet?"
Static crackled from Han's comlink, as he awaited Anakin's answer. Then the latter finally answered, "Actually, you and Chewbacca can go find some place to eat. I . . ."
"Captain Horus," a female's voice chirped. "We've arrived at our stop."
Why that sly dog! Han did not know whether to feel annoyed or relieved by Anakin's abandonment of him and Chewie for female companionship. "You were saying . . . buddy?" he wryly demanded.
An embarrassed cough followed before Anakin finally answered, "Uh . . . I'm with Miss Colbert. Senator Dahlma's aide."
"I do recall remembering who she is." Han said caustically. Then he added, "Hey, don't forget about the power cells you need to buy. And that meeting with Voranda at the Lady Luck Casino."
Anakin’s voice replied, “Yeah. I’ll be there. See you later, Han.”
The young Corellian overheard Miss Colbert asked, “Who is Voranda?” He allowed himself an amused smile and made his way toward the starship’s port side.
“Hey Chewie!” he cried. “Looks like we . . .” Han paused at the sight of the Wookie standing before the weapons locker and staring . . . at Anakin’s lightsaber. “So, thinking about your old Jedi friends?”
Looking slightly startled, Chewbacca merely nodded. “And an old acquaintance from the Clone Wars,” he added. “He was a powerful old Jedi Master named Yoda. He had commanded our troops against a Separatist invasion force.”
“You knew Yoda?” The question popped out of Han’s mouth before he could stop himself.
A frown creased Chewbacca’s brow. “You’ve heard of him?”
Han quickly thought up a story to make up for his faux pas. “Um . . . yeah. From some old Jedi Knight,” he quickly added. “Set and I had met him years ago. On Dantooine.”
The Wookie nodded at the lightsaber. “Did you get that from him?”
“Huh? Han heaved an inward sigh. He really should learn to lie a little better. “Uh . . . no. No, we . . . um, found that . . . the following day.”
Chewbacca asked, “Why didn’t you give it to the old Jedi, anyway?”
Oh great! Again, Han hesitated before he came up with another answer. “Um . . . he left. The old Jedi Knight. He . . . um, left the day before we found it.” Nodding, he added weakly, “Yeah.”
Chewbacca merely grunted.
Han quickly changed the subject. “By the way, I’ve just heard from Set. It seems he’s having lunch with a certain senator’s aide he had ran into. And he hasn’t bought the power cells, yet.” With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders. “So . . . we might as well break for lunch. C’mon.”
Once more, Chewbacca stared at the lightsaber. Then he shook his head and walked away from the weapons locker. Han followed. As the pair disembarked from the Javian Hawk, the Corellian found himself wondering how Chewbacca would react if he knew the truth about Anakin’s past as a Jedi . . . and a Sith Lord.
END OF CHAPTER TEN
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER NINE
WORLPORT, ORD MANTELL
Anakin glanced out of the window of his hotel room and watched the rain beat upon the windowpane. Apparently the rain had failed to cease, despite a new day. He wondered if it would ever stop before his departure from Ord Mantell. Twenty-five years ago, he would have rejoiced at such weather after dealing with Tatooine's hot and dry climate. But he had not set foot upon Tatooine in eleven years. And advancing age and experience has taught him to appreciate . . . variety.
A quick glance at the chronometer informed Anakin that it was now eight minutes past seven in the morning. The hotel's restaurants should have opened by now. Familiar with Ord Mantell, Anakin knew of a quaint café located eighty centimeters east of the Hotel Grand. Like The Burning Musk in Corellia's capital, the Blue Jewel Café provided abundant meals at a low cost. The small restaurant happened to be a favorite of both Anakin and Han's.
After an early morning shower and a change of clothes, Anakin left his bedroom and made his way into the suite's living room. Normally, he and Han would not have checked into such an expensive room. But Senator Dahlma had wanted them nearby and was generous enough to pay for half of the suite's rates.
The living room remained semi-dark, despite the glimmer of light from the rain-stained windows. Loud snores drifted from inside the suite's other bedroom. Anakin allowed himself a brief smile. His young Corellian partner remained asleep. As he inched toward the door, Anakin nearly stumbled across a pair of long legs stretched across the floor. The former Jedi Knight closed his eyes to sense the presence of the legs' owner. Chewbacca.
Anakin finally made it to the door and stepped out of the suite and into the corridor. He glanced to his right and spotted a petite, dark-haired female with her back facing him. For a moment, Anakin believed her to be Igraine Colbert. Until he recalled that the Maldarian woman and her employer resided in the suite to his left. Anakin frowned at the woman's back. A tingling sensation raised the hair on the back of his neck. Why did she look . . .?
A loud thump from inside the suite interrupted his thoughts. Anakin turned away from the woman and opened the suite's door. ". . . careful with those legs, you big furball!" Han's voice boomed. "I nearly broke my neck!" A loud roar followed.
Anakin heaved a long-suffering sigh. Apparently, Han and Chewbacca had finally awaken. And it also looked as if the addition of the Wookie to their crew promised to make their lives a lot more interesting. Anakin re-entered the suite, as he prepared to act as mediator between the Corellian and Chewbacca.
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The loud thump from behind startled Padme as she prepared to lock her hotel room. A man's voice cried out, ". . . careful with those legs, you big furball!" A roar or a fearsome growl followed.
Padme frowned. That last voice sounded like it belonged to a Wookie. She had not laid eyes upon one since her years as a Galactic senator. Senator Yarua of Kashyyyk had been one of the Galactic Senate's more distinguished members. She whirled around and spotted a tall man clad in dark clothes enter one of the rooms along the corridor. A tingling sensation pricked the back of her neck. The man had a familiar air about him - his height, his stance and the color of his ha . . .
"Ready for breakfast, I see!" a familiar voice boomed. Padme glanced over her shoulder and found Bail and Master Olin striding toward her. The Alderaanian prince frowned. "Is there something wrong, Milady? You seem . . . perturbed."
Padme allowed herself a brief smile. "Good morning, gentlemen."
Bail returned her greeting. "Good morning. Is there something wrong? Just a minute ago, you had this odd expression on your face."
Padme glanced at the former Jedi padawan and noticed the dazed expression on his face. "You mean, like Master Olin?"
"Ye . . ." Bail paused, as he stared at Olin. "Ferus, is there a problem?"
With the slight frown still stamped on his face, the former Jedi answered, "I don't know. I had sensed something. A presence I have not felt in . . . years."
"You too?" The two men directed their gaze at Padme. She added. "I felt a similar sensation."
Bail released a gust of breath. "Well, this is very odd. Why don't we all discuss this during breakfast, downstairs?"
Padme wanted to investigate the man she had briefly spotted a few minutes ago. But she decided that Bail's idea seemed the best course of action. Knocking on some stranger's door to learn whether she knew him seemed out of place for someone of her character. She gave Bail a warm smile. "Breakfast, it is."
Nearly twelve minutes later, the trio found themselves sitting at a table in one of the hotel's restaurants on the ground floor. Master Olin glanced uneasily around the dining room. "Are you sure that it is wise to have breakfast in such a . . . public place, Your Highness?"
"Don't worry Ferus," Bail replied with a reassuring smile. "This restaurant has just opened and there is barely a soul, here. Besides, it has been eleven years since Senator Amidala has been seen in public. She is not dressed to attract attention. I doubt that anyone, aside from a Jedi, would recognize her. Especially in a haven for smugglers like Ord Mantell."
The former Jedi nodded. "And what about you, Your Highness? You're still a highly visible public figure."
Amusement glittered in Bail's dark eyes. "I must say that you are vigilant, Ferus. I have picked the right man for the job. Don't worry. I have a cover story . . . in case someone does recognize me."
Olin responded with a wan smile. But it seemed clear to Padme that he was not appeased by Bail's assurances. A waitress appeared at their table and asked for their order. Once the waitress left, Padme spotted Zoebeida Dahlma and another woman entering the restaurant. The Maldarian senator acknowledged Padme and Bail with a polite smile and continued on to another table.
Bail's gaze remained fixed on the Maldarian women. "Padme, do you have any Maldarian ancestry, by any chance?"
"Not that I know of," Padme replied. "Why?"
"You and Zoebeida Dahlma's aide strongly resemble you. Perhaps she has Nabooan ancestry."
Padme glanced at Dahlma's aide. The young woman seemed to possess her height, coloring and full mouth. But Padme saw a difference. "You really think so? Her eyes are different. Green. And they're smaller. In fact, she reminds me of Queen Apailana."
Bail shook his head. "Poor Apailana. When I had learned of her death, I thought it was a shame that she had died so young. How old was she?"
A small ball of guilt wormed its way into Padme's chest. "She had been twelve when she had succeeded Jamilla as Naboo's queen." She sighed. "I've always regretted convincing Apailana to call for an election in order to force Jamilla from the throne."
"Why did you do it?" Bail asked.
"I began to suspect Jamilla of developing sympathies toward the Separatists." Padme allowed herself a slight, bitter smile. "I thought she would lead Naboo against the Republic. Little did I know that I would harbor similar sympathies within a year. And poor Apailana would end up being assassinated by the Empire at such a young age."
A frowning Bail shook his head. "Exactly how did you learn that the Empire had killed her? I thought only a few of us knew, considering the official word was that she had been assassinated by terrorists."
"Someone . . . a close acquaintance had informed me." Inwardly, Padme recalled learning the news from her family during a secret trip to Naboo. "My grandmother had died around the same time."
To Padme's surprise, Master Olin added, "I was there. When Queen Apailana had been killed. His Highness is aware of this."
Bail nodded. "Ferus was with a group of Jedi fugitives, at the time. Their presence attracted the attention of Lord Rasche."
"The Emperor's apprentice had killed her?" Padme demanded.
Olin shook his head. "No, it was a sharpshooter. A member of the 501st Legion under Rom . . . Lord Rasche's command." The former Jedi revealed how the Imperials had captured him on Coruscant, during an attempt to seek another Jedi fugitive. "I had met someone named Inquisitor Malorum, who was interested in you, Senator Amidala. He believed that you had given birth to a child before your death. A friend helped me escaped and we learned that Malorum was on his way to Naboo to question your family. I suspect . . ." He paused, wearing a grave expression. "I suspect that Malorum was responsible for your grandmother's death."
Padme felt her heart twist. Once again, her actions ended up having a negative impact upon someone close to her. This time . . . her grandmother. Her family had revealed that an inquisitor had been responsible for Ryoo Thule's death. But she had no idea that her marriage to Anakin and her children's existence was responsible.
According to Olin, the Empire became aware of the Jedi presence on Naboo. "We befriended a Gungan pilot, who introduced us to his leader, a Boss . . ."
"Boss Nass." Padme nodded. "Yes, he was an old friend of mine."
Olin continued, "Boss Nass and I decided to acquire Queen Apailana's help in getting rid of Malorum and the Imperial presence on the planet." His face grew tight, as he looked away. "Although I did managed to kill Malorum, the Empire managed to defeat us. They killed the Queen and the Jedi with her. We left Naboo, after that."
Bail heaved a mournful sigh. "Poor Apailana. I'm surprised that the Emperor did not place a strong military presence on Naboo."
Padme quietly said, "According to my contact, the new queen Kylantha had decided to openly accept the Imperial explanation that a terrorist group had killed Apailana. I can only assume that she did not want to deal with a heavy Imperial occupation." She turned to Olin. "What happened to you, once you left Naboo?"
The former Jedi stiffly replied, "Nothing much. I simply continued my activities against the Empire. Until I . . . parted ways from my friends." A gust of breath left his mouth. "Will you please excuse me? I am not feeling hungry at the moment." Olin bowed at the two friends. "Your Highness, Milady." And he walked away.
Padme's eyes remained fixed upon the former padawan's retreating figure. "Something is bothering him. And it has nothing to do with Naboo."
"Perhaps it is that familiar presence he had earlier spoke of," Bail suggested.
"Perhaps." Padme took a sip of water. "But there is also the matter of Mon. Remember? She claimed to have seen Master Olin on Coruscant." Padme paused. "Recently, I might add."
Bail's dark eyes bored into Padme's. "Are you suggesting that Ferus Olin might be an Imperial spy?"
The incredulous expression on Bail's face led Padme to wonder if she had been mistaken. Until she recalled Master Olin's uncomfortable expression when Mon Mothma had questioned him about Coruscant . . . and his reluctance to discuss his life following his experiences on Naboo. "I realize the man is a former Jedi, Bail," she continued, "but my gut feeling tells me that he has something to hide."
A sigh left Bail's mouth. "Padme, Master Olin has lived on Alderaan for almost four years. And ever since Lord Rasche's unexpected appearance, ten years ago, we have kept a close surveillance on any outbound communication between Alderaan and other systems. It was Cousin Raymus who had suggested that Ferus accompany me on this trip."
In other words, Ferus Olin could not have recent contact with Coruscant . . . or be an Imperial agent. Padme felt slightly embarrassed. "Oh dear," she murmured. "My mistake."
"I understand. You're simply being careful."
Padme added, "Or perhaps eleven years as a fugitive has made me . . . paranoid." She glanced to her left and spotted their waitress. "Oh look. Our breakfast has arrived." On that note, the two friends ceased their discussion of their Jedi protector and began to discuss another topic.
---------
MALAG, MALDORE
Mako Spince descended the Alastian Star's ramp, as his new client entered the hangar. "Here she is!" he declared. "The Alastian Star. One of the fastest ships in the galaxy." Then he stared pointedly at the other man. "And you're fifteen minutes late."
Looking slightly pinched, Chattal Rahm responded in a tight voice, "I had no choice. The Imperials are still in the city and I believe they are searching for me. The sooner we leave the bet . . ." A slight thump interrupted his last words. The Maldarian frowned. "What as that sound?" He stared at Mako. "Didn't you hear it?"
A perturbed Mako sharply replied, "Yeah I did. And I think you better board the ship. Now!”
Rahm had not taken two steps toward the Alastian Star before a squad of Imperial stormtroopers materialized from behind columns of crates, stacked near the wall. The Maldarian whipped out a blaster pistol and began to fire. Mako followed suit. At least two troopers caught the blasts of their weapons before a third trooper shot Rahm squarely in the chest. The Maldarian fell to the ground with a cry on his lips.
Mako shot a horrified look at his fallen client and rushed toward the Alastian Star’s ramp. He overheard a voice from behind cry out, “Stun him!” Before the Corellian could reach the boarding ramp, he felt a blast of hot energy strike him in the back. A grunt escaped his lips before everything went black.
END OF CHAPTER NINE
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER EIGHT
MALAG, MALDARE
"Corellian ale!" Mako Spince barked at the bartender. The latter nodded at the smuggler and turned away. He returned a few minutes later with a mug of Corellian ale.
Mako grabbed the mug. He took several swigs of the ale before he allowed his eyes to peruse his surroundings. The Omega Hole did not seem like much in compare to the Lumati Hotel's swankier establishment, the Twilight Star. But the former happened to be one of Mako's favorite bars throughout the galaxy. It was the type of place where a smuggler could make contact with new clients. Only . . . no one seemed interested in hiring him, tonight.
Several more swigs of ale followed before Mako's mind settled upon the dark-haired young woman who had interviewed him, last night. The Corellian had hoped that a little charm would convince her to hire him for whatever job she had planned. But apparently the old Spince charm seemed to have lost its luster.
Or had the woman's employer recognized him as the disgraced son of her colleague, Senator Ticho Spince? Mako had certainly recognized Senator Dahlma, when he spotted her and the young woman approaching Set Horus' ship in the hangar, this morning. So Dahlma's aide had hired Horus and Han. The revelation had left Mako feeling stunned and a little resentful. It irked him that the senator decided to hire the pair over him.
As Mako reached for his mug, a man appeared at his side and slid upon the empty stool next to his. The Corellian immediately recognized his new companion - the same man who had recruited him for an interview with Senator Dahlma's aide. Only now, the man looked nervous. And slightly desperate.
"Still searching for a spacer?" Mako politely asked. He took a swig of his ale. "Or have you found your man?"
The stranger gave Mako a sharp glance. "Excuse me?"
Mako allowed himself a knowing smile. "You don't remember me, do you? You tried to recruit me for a job, but apparently I didn't satisfy your employer." He paused, as he took in the man's growing desperate air. A thought came to him. "Or maybe you're looking for another spacer. Need to get off this rock?"
Recognition finally gleamed in the man's eyes. "Oh, now I remember you."
"I should think so." Mako's smile disappeared. "Perhaps you remember taking me to one of the suites at the Lumati Hotel, last night. To be questioned by a young woman, who was in need of a pilot." Again, he paused. "Only I never heard from either of you."
The man's face turned slightly red. "Oh yes. Um . . . apparently my mistress had someone else . . . in mind."
"And may I assume that your mistress happens to be Senator Zoebeida Dahlma of this . . . illustrious rock?"
Surprise flicked in the man's eyes. "How did you . . .?" He broke off and shot a suspicious stare at the pilot. "How did you know? You never got a chance to meet her."
Mako revealed that he had seen the good senator and her aide board a freighter, earlier this morning. "From what I had overheard, they were bound for Ord Mantell. Now why would a prominent senator want to visit a disreputable place like that?"
Casting a furtive glance over his shoulder, the man replied, "Look, you were right. I am looking for a pilot. I need to leave Maldare as soon as possible. And since you happened to be a pilot, perhaps I can hire you to fly me to Ord Mantell. We can leave tonight."
"Tonight?" Mako scoffed at the man's suggestion. "It's nearly morning. Midnight. I'll need at least a few hours sleep, first. We leave in the morning."
The stranger's mouth formed a thin line. "Fine. I'll simply find myself another pilot."
"Good luck," Mako retorted with a snort. "As you can see, this place is nearly empty. And right now, most pilots are either barely sober, sleeping off their drink or indulging in other nocturnal activities."
A heavy sigh left the man's mouth. "All right. We leave tomorrow. Unless you have a problem. I'm willing to pay you five hundred credits."
The fee satisfied Mako. He instructed his new client to meet him at the Vox Avenue hangar in the morning. "My ship, the Alastian Star, should be the only one there."
The man gave Mako a hesitant nod. "Thanks. For your help."
Anxious to return to his drinking, Mako waved the man away. "Yeah. Sure thing." The two men bid each other good night. After his new client left, Mako summoned the bartender. "Get me another mug of Corellian ale. And this time, leave the bottle."
----------
WORLPORT, ORD MANTELL
"This . . . friend of yours has two children?" Inside the casino nightclub, Anakin stared at his companion in disbelief. "And what exactly am I expected to do with them?"
Voranda Sen shrugged. "Become their friend? I don't . . ."
"Oh no! Thanks, but no thanks" Anakin retorted. "I have just spent nearly a decade raising Han. As far as I'm concerned, my stint with fatherhood is over."
With a snort, Voranda shot back, "As long as Han continues to breathe, fatherhood will never be over for you, Set."
"Perhaps you're right. But I do not need more responsibilities in my life. I love Han like a son, but one is enough."
Another dancer appeared on stage and began to perform. The wild orange-red hair, the close-fitting body suit and hoofed feet allowed Anakin to recognize her as a Human-Theelin hybrid. She struck him as a competent dancer, but not as sensuous as the Twi'lek. Bored, he eventually looked away.
Voranda continued to regard Anakin with knowing eyes. "You know, for a man of your temperament, you seem very determined to distance yourself from life. It almost seems as if you don't care."
"Perhaps life . . . or the galaxy is better off if I don't care." Then Anakin clamped his mouth shut, realizing that he had said too much.
Green eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Now what made you say that?"
Fortunately for Anakin, salvation arrived in the form of a grinning Han and Chewbacca. The young Corellian immediately sat down in an empty chair and declared, "You're looking at the proud winner of 20,000 credits." He turned to the table's sole female with a nod. "Voranda! Good to see you, again."
Smiling, Voranda replied, "The same to you, Han. You're looking handsome than ever." Her smile widened, as Han's face turned slightly red.
Anakin decided to come to his young partner's rescue, aware of Voranda's habit of flirting with the Corellian. "I guess that game of sabacc turned out pretty lucky for you."
"It was more than luck," Han boasted. "It was my skill as a gambler. There was no stopping me."
Amused by the younger man's cockiness, Anakin rolled his eyes. Then he noticed that Chewbacca had remained standing. He pulled out the last empty chair. "Have a seat." The Wookie nodded gratefully at the former Jedi and sat down. Anakin then introduced him to the red-haired pilot. "Chewbacca, this is an old friend of ours, Voranda Sen. Voranda, meet our new partner and co-pilot, Chewbacca."
Voranda and the Wookie exchanged friendly nods. "How long have you been with Set and . . ." She paused, as her eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute! You look slightly familiar. Have we met?"
Chewbacca gave her a questioning stare and growled. Han translated. "He wants to know where you know him from."
"Perhaps we've never actually met," Voranda explained to Chewbacca. "But you do look familiar. I believe it was somewhere in the Abrion Sector, about a year ago. Were you ever with the crew of a freighter called the Drunken Lady?"
Nodding, Chewbacca growled. Anakin glanced at Han, who said, "Chewie was with the Drunken Lady, until he fell into the hands of the Imperials, three months ago. Uh . . . Set and I helped liberate him from slavery." Han shot a look at Chewbacca. "Um, he wants to know you know of the ship's most recent whereabouts."
"On Tatooine, I heard that the Drunken Lady's crew had recently disbanded," Voranda replied. Anakin noticed the dismayed expression on Chewbacca's face. The redhead continued, "Apparently they had been searching for a missing crewman, until a close encounter with an Imperial ship in the XXXX Sector had convinced the captain to disband the crew." She paused before adding, "Did you know that the captain's daughter and several of the crewmen were former Jedi?"
Both Anakin and Han exchanged startled looks. "Really?" Han finally asked. "What was her name? The captain's daughter?"
With a shrug, Voranda replied, "Honestly, I forgot." She nodded at Chewbecca. "Perhaps he knows." Anakin glanced at Chewbecca, who seemed lost in his own thought. The redhead added, "However, I have another matter to discuss."
"Which is?" Anakin asked.
After a brief pause, Voranda continued, "I plan to hold a meeting, tomorrow afternoon. With a few pilots I've encountered here in Worlport. It's regarding a matter I want to propose to all of you. It should prove to be very profitable."
Han frowned. "What is it? A smuggling job?"
"More like a smuggling operation," Voranda corrected. "Possibly a long term operation for several years."
Again, the two partners exchanged looks. Although Anakin felt leery of being part of a long term operation, he also saw the potential for greater profit. He asked, "When is this meeting?"
The redhead replied, "Tomorrow afternoon. In one of the casino's private rooms, around three o'clock."
Anakin nodded. "Fine. I'll be there." He stared at his two colleagues. "Han? Chewbacca?"
"I'm game," Han said. The Wookie growled. "And Chewie says the same."
A bright smile illuminated Voranda's face. "Great! I'll see you two, tomorrow." She stood up and directed a flirtatious smile at Han. "By the way, Solo . . . congratulations." And she walked away.
The two men and the Wookie watched the red-haired pilot recede into the nightclub's crowd. "You know," Han began, "I have this odd feeling that she's interested in me."
A smile touched Anakin's lips. "And is that a bad thing?"
"I'm at least twenty years younger than her! Are you serious?" Han retorted.
"So? She looks very attractive for a woman twenty years your senior," Anakin slyly continued. "Since when have you ever been averse to older women?"
Han shot back, "When they're old enough to be my mother!"
Still smiling, Anakin said, "Really Han! You need to be a little more open-minded."
Han dismissed Anakin's teasing with a wave of his hand. "And what about this job of hers? The last thing I want is to get involved in some big smuggling operation on a permanent basis."
"Who said it was permanent?" Anakin replied. "Voranda has not told us everything." His eyes fell upon the stage. The Twi'lek dancer had returned. Anakin felt an inclination to remain in the nightclub. But the fatigue in his body reminded him that he needed sleep. "I don't know about you two, but I'm going to bed. Good night."
Both Han and Chewbacca bid him goodnight. Anakin shot one last glance at the dancer and slowly made his way out of the lounge.
-------
MALAG, MALDORE
Three Imperial stormtroopers entered The Omega Hole's empty barroom. One of the them headed straight toward the pudgy-faced bartender, who was in the process of cleaning the bar's long countertop.
"Hey! You!" the senior stormtrooper barked. "We're looking for someone. A human. This is him." He switched on a small holoemitter that projected the image of a stocky man with dark, curly hair. "His name is Chattal Rahm. Have you seen him?"
The bartender immediately recognized the image. Despite his instinct to lie, he remembered his employer's policy regarding the authorities - cooperate at all times. The bar came first - especially over any customer in trouble with the authorities. "Yeah, I've seen him," he replied wearily. "Nearly two hours ago. He had been talking to another customer."
The stormtrooper demanded, "Where did Rahm go?"
"How would I know?" the bartender retorted. "I didn't follow the guy."
A small stretch of silence followed. Then the stormtrooper asked, "What about the other customer? What were he and Rahm talking about?"
"What makes you think the other customer was a man?"
The stormtrooper removed his helmet and glared at the bartender with dark and intimidating eyes. He reminded the latter of a Mandalorian bounty hunter he had not laid eyes upon in over a decade. "Don't play games with me, Barkeep!" the trooper growled. "Who was this other customer and what were they talking about?"
The bartender sighed. He had done the best he could to protect Mako. "Okay, the other customer was a man. A spacer, I think. This Rahm fellow had hired him for passage. Don't ask me where, because I didn't hear everything."
"What did you overhear?"
After a brief hesitation, the bartender answered, "Well, the spacer's ship is located in the Vox Avenue hangar. It's called . . . the Alastian Star, I think. And they're supposed to leave tomorrow morning. I swear it's all I know."
The stormtrooper gave the bartender one long stare, before breaking into a cold smile. "Okay. Thanks for your . . . help." He donned his helmet and barked at his companions, "Let's go!"
The bartender heaved a sigh of relief, as the stormtroopers marched out of the Twilight Hole. Good riddance, he thought. Now, if only Mako Spince never learn who had ratted him to the Imperials.
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER SEVEN
WORLPORT, ORD MANTELL
Han guided the Javian Hawk through Ord Mantell's heavy atmosphere and toward the planet's busy capital. Within minutes, he landed the starship on a landing platform at the Worlport Spaceport, before guiding it into a hangar already occupied by another starship. "Here we are," he declared. "Ord Mantell."
Both Anakin and Han left the cockpit and joined their passengers in another section of the ship. "We're here," Anakin announced to the two women. "I will have to report the Hawk's arrival to the local port master. Han, Chewie and I can rendezvous with you two ladies at your hotel. Which brings me to my question - what is the name?"
Senator Dahlma stood up with her usual regal manner. "We'll be staying at the Hotel Grand," she announced. "And I had made reservations for us all, before leaving Maldare. Which means your room will be next to the suite that Igraine and I will occupy. As for Mr. Chewbacca," she glanced at the Hawk's newest crew member, "I do not know if the hotel . . ."
"They will allow him to stay," Anakin reassured the senator. "This is Ord Mantell, Senator. Not Coruscant."
"Well . . . I suppose the matter has been settled." Senator Dahlma glanced pointedly at the two men and then at her luggage.
Anakin knew what she wanted - someone to carry her luggage. He directed his gaze at Han. Who sighed. "Great! I should have known I'd end up being some glorified baggage handler. Where's a good droid when you need one? C'mon Chewie, time to carry the ladies' luggage."
Han and Chewbacca gathered the Maldarian women's luggage and started down the ship's boarding ramp. Senator Dahlma followed. Miss Colbert hesitated and turned to Anakin. "Please forgive the senator," she said in that soft, husky voice that Anakin found appealing. "She is a decent woman and has a good heart. But she also comes from a wealthy and influential family. Sometimes, her background tends to reflect in a rather . . . well, haughty manner."
With a smile, Anakin replied, "I understand. It hasn't been that long since the old days of the Republic. I've met her kind on Coruscant, before. Good people, but . . . like you had said, a little haughty."
"Is that where you are from?" Miss Colbert asked. "Coruscant?"
Anakin hesitated. Should he tell her the truth? He finally decided. "Actually, I'm from one of the Outer Rim territories. But I have spent some considerable time on Coruscant. Before the Empire."
"You seem old enough to have witnessed the Clone Wars," Miss Colbert added. "Were you a veteran?"
"More like a pilot." The former Jedi Knight offered his arm to the senator's aide. "May I escort you off the ship, Milady?"
Miss Colbert smiled and linked her arm with Anakin's. "I would be honored. And you can call me Igraine."
"I'm . . . Set." Anakin exchanged another smile with the Maldarian woman and escorted her off the Javian Hawk.
-------
Three hours later, Zoebeida Dahlma sat back into her chair, feeling relaxed for the first time since she learned about this conference several days ago. As she sipped her Mandalorian wine, Bail Organa continued his opening address to those attending the conference.
". . . many of you. But we are all here for one reason - namely freedom throughout this galaxy."
While the Alderaanian continued his speech, Zoebeida observed those who sat inside the Hotel Grand's Jewel Conference Room. Naturally, Mon Mothma sat on one side of Organa and the former senator from Corellia, Garm Bel Iblis, sat on Bail's other side. All three were seen as the Great Triumvirate - the founders of this new Rebel Alliance. Zoebeida felt surprised that former senators Padme Amidala and Solipo Yeb had not also participated in the alliance's formation, considering their opposition against Palpatine during the last days of the Republic.
Speaking of Solipo Yeb, Zoebedia spotted the former Andalian senator seated at a table just left of Bail's. Despite being a fugitive from the Empire, Solipo had managed to develop connections to several rebellious cells in the Vivenda Sector. Next to him sat Jan Dodonna, the lanky and bearded former Imperial general who had joined the Alliance after the Emperor Palpatine had ordered his assassination. Apparently, the Emperor considered the retired general from Dodonna as a danger to the Empire.
“Organization is the key,” Organa continued. “As an organized force, we can eventually bring an end to the Empire’s grip upon this galaxy. And eventually, restore the Republic.”
Applause followed. Zoebeida noticed that some of the attendees looked skeptical at Organa’s last words. Including Padme Amidala. Zoebeida had last seen the former Nabooan senator at a brief meeting with Organa and Iblis on Averam, four years ago. Like the former Corellian senator, Amidala had faked her death in order to avoid being hunted down by the Empire. Only Zoebeida could not fathom why the Empire would be interested in the former Queen of Naboo. Or why the latter would resort to such drastic steps to ensure anonymity. Perhaps she will learn the reason sometime during the conference.
Returning her attention to her Alderaanian colleague, Zoebeida realized that he seemed to be near the end of his speech. “. . . realize that by attending this conference, we have pledged our lives to returning freedom to this galaxy. I thank you.” More applause followed. When it died down, Organa added, “Please feel free to mingle. Since we plan to work together for years to come, I feel that we might as well get to know one another a lot better.”
The moment the attendees began to mingle, Zoebeida stood up and slowly made her way toward Padme Amidala’s table. By the time she reached it, she discovered that the former senator had been joined by Garm Bel Iblis and Solipo Yeb. She smiled at the other three. “How are we enjoying this evening?”
Yeb replied, “Surprisingly, quite well. I had expected to encounter a lot of squabbling.”
“Wait until tomorrow,” Garm shot back. “When we begin discussing the possibility of organization. The worms will certainly be coming out of the woodwork.”
Zoebeida shook her head in mock despair. “You’re such a cynic, Garm. You need to have more faith in your fellow sentient beings.”
Rolling his eyes in contempt, the Corellian shot back, “I have faith. I’m part of this alliance, aren’t I?”
A sigh left Zoebeida’s mouth. Sometimes, she wondered if the loss of his family at the hands of Imperial troopers had mentally affected Garm’s personality. “If you say so,” Zoebeida wearily replied.
“I can understand Garm’s position,” Solipo Yeb added. “The past ten to fourteen years have been difficult for us all. The war, the loss of the Republic, the Empire and many of us losing our homes or being forced to find new homes. You’re lucky, Zoebeida. You have not experienced any true upheavals in your life. At least, not yet.”
The Maldarian senator frowned. “What do you mean . . . not yet?”
Solipo continued, “Well, you haven’t experienced any loss, have you? Garm, Padme and I can no longer serve the Senate because we’re all fugitives. Well, I’m a fugitive. Garm and Padme are believed to be dead. And none of us can no longer reside on our homeworlds.”
Zoebeida pressed her lips together. When she had made the decision to approach Amidala’s table, she had never considered that she would end up feeling like an outsider. But Solipo’s words also gave her an opportunity to satisfy her curiosity about the former Nabooan senator. “If you do not mind my asking, Senator Amidala,” Zoebeida began, “why are you avoiding the Imperials?”
The younger woman’s eyes blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Garm had opposed many of Palpatine’s decisions and policies for years,” Zoebeida continued. “Which finally put him in danger when Palpatine finally became Emperor. Solipo had provided sanctuary to a Jedi Knight and now, his homeworld is under direct Imperial occupation. But Naboo is not under any such danger. So, why did you fake your death in order to avoid detection by the Empire?”
The Nabooan woman stiffened slightly. Zoebeida wondered if she had gone too far. “It’s . . .” A sigh left Amidala’s mouth. “The Petition of 2000,” she finally answered. “I had helped draft the Petition of 2000, which demanded Palpatine’s resignation once the Clone Wars ended. Unlike many other senators,” Amidala shot a pointed look at Zoebeida, “I had refused to withdraw my name from the petition. In fact, I was the one who had delivered the petition to him.”
A shaft of guilt struck Zoebeida. She perfectly understood Amidala’s comment about those senators who had withdrawn their signatures from the petition. Zoebeida had been one of them. And she did it to preserve her career in the Senate. Oh well. At least she now knew the reason behind Amidala’s fugitive status. She only hoped that she would never face a similar fate.
-------
“Well if I live and breath!” a female’s voice cut through the noise inside one of the Lady Fate Casino’s nightclubs. “Set Horus?”
With the Brin band’s music filling his ears, Anakin glanced away from the Twi’lek dancer on the stage and found himself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes. “Voranda Sen? I haven’t seen you in ages!”
The tall, red-haired woman smiled, as she settled in one of the empty chairs at Anakin’s table. “I suppose . . . if you consider two years as ages. What are you doing here on Ord Mantell?”
“Providing transportation for a client,” Anakin replied. “And you?”
Voranda shrugged. “The same.”
The two pilots had first met, while taking part of a convoy delivering equipment and supplies to a mining colony on Bespin, six years ago. From the moment they first met, Anakin found Voranda to be an attractive woman – despite her being at least over a decade older than him. But as with Vi’dal Mira, his relationship with Voranda had developed into nothing more than friendship.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Anakin continued. “Han and I had ran into Corsac Best and Lin Tsai at one of the Casino’s restaurants, earlier this evening. And now, I find you here. In fact, I’ve been seeing a good number of familiar faces at my hotel.”
Another shrug lifted Voranda’s elegant shoulders. “Well, this is a favorite spot for many smugglers and freighter pilots.”
“Yeah, but the pilots I’ve encountered usually hang out on Nar Shaada or Abregado-rae. Not Ord Mantell.” Anakin returned his gaze to the Twi’lek dancer. “Something is going on, here.”
A long pause followed. The Twi’lek dancer finally finished her routine amidst fervent applause. Then Vornada said, “She reminds you of Vi’dal, doesn’t she? She even has he same skin color. I’ve always wondered why and she never became more than friends.”
“Because we’re not in love,” Anakin coolly replied. A waitress appeared at the table. He ordered a tall glass of Corellian ale.
Voranda shot back, “So what?” She dismissed the waitress with a wave of her hand. “We live in perilous times, Captain Horus. A person should grab a little happiness when the opportunity arises.”
“I’ll think about that.”
“On the other hand,” Voranda continued, “women like Vi’dal aren’t exactly your type. I suspect that you prefer those with a lot more class. A true lady.”
More class? Anakin automatically found himself thinking of Padme. Only briefly. What seemed the point of brooding over someone whom you could never see again? Who was gone . . . forever? A harsh laugh escaped his mouth. “Voranda, I come from a backwater planet in the Outer Rim Territories. From the lowest class in society. No . . . lady would be interested in me.”
“I don’t know about that.” Voranda’s remark drew a stare from Anakin. “I know a woman – a friend – who is here in Worlport. She strikes me as the type who might be interested in a good-looking and intelligent man like you. She’s a lady from the tips of her fingers to her toes. And privileged or not, she’s intelligent enough to probably view you as someone worthy.”
Anakin responded with a derisive snort. “Aside from your friend’s questionable taste in men, what’s the catch?”
“Huh?”
“What’s wrong with her? Something must be, if you think she might be interested in someone like me.”
Voranda glared at Anakin. “There is nothing wrong with her! She happens to be a charming and beautiful woman. And very intelligent.” Anakin regarded his fellow pilot through narrowed eyes, until she added quietly, “She’s also a widow with two young children.”
Two young children? Anakin stared at Voranda with disbelief.
-------
MALAG, MALDARE
A furious Darth Rasche glared at the quivering, dark-haired Imperial agent that faced him. “Say that again?” he growled.
The Imperial agent, a pale and intense young man named Bauer Suron, inhaled deeply. Then he repeated his message to the Sith Lord. “Senator Dahlma is missing. She is no where to be found. And her aide is missing, as well.”
“I thought you had her under observation for the past several days!”
Suron hesitated. “Well . . . yes.” Rasche’s eyes narrowed and the agent grew considerably nervous. “My Lord, I did request additional agents to assist me in observing . . .”
“I am not interested in your excuses, Agent Suron!” Rasche bellowed.
A deafening silence filled the small conference room located inside Malag’s Imperial Liaison Office. Suron gulped. Loudly. “Yes, my Lord,” he murmured.
Rasche continued, “What have you learned of the senator’s activities?”
The agent replied, “As you know, Senator Dahlma never did visit her family’s estate near Dalmar, as she had intended.”
“Yes, I know,” the Sith Lord added imperiously. “She was last seen at her private home, here in Malag.”
Suron paused. “Actually, she was last seen at the Lumati Hotel, last night. Both she and her aide had checked into a suite.”
Suspicion gnawed at the back of Rasche’s mind. “Why?”
“I have no idea, my Lord,” Suron answered. “But I believe that her manservant, Chattal Rahm, might be able to shed some light.” The agent cleared his throat nervously. “Rahm had been seen by various hotel employees escorting various people to the senator’s suite. One employee described them as spacers.”
Rasche contemplated the agent’s information. Why would a prominent senator check into a hotel suite, when she had her own private home in this city? And why would she need some disreputable pilot to fly her off of Maldare? Obviously, Senator Dahlma planned to visit some place special and for a very private reason. But what?
“I want you to gather descriptions of all the pilots who were seen approaching the senator’s suite,” Rasche instructed. “And find this Chattal Rahm. You shall have the local security and a platoon of stormtroopers to assist you.”
Suron nodded with deference. “Yes, my Lord.” He started to turn away.
“And Suron,” Rasche added in a threatening voice. The agent paused. “I only tolerate failure once. Fail me again . . .” He left the threat unfinished. Judging from the fear that flared in Suron’s eyes, Rasche realized that the other man had received the message.
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN
"CROSSROADS OF THE FORCE"
CHAPTER SIX
ANCHORHEAD, TATOOINE
The burly man strode casually along one of Anchorhead's dusty streets, accompanied by two children. The golden protocol droid followed closely behind, filling their ears with incessant chatter.
"I really do not see why Miss Padme had left behind and taken Artoo," the droid complained. "As a protocol droid, I have knowledge of over six million forms of communication in my programming. Surely, I could have serve as interpreter for Miss Pad . . ."
"Not now, Threepio!" Luke barked. "Now is not the time for you to be complaining about being left behind. Mother has made her decision."
The protocol droid sounded affronted by his young charge's outburst. "Well really, Master Luke! I did not realize . . ."
"One other thing, Threepio," Owen added, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be bandying Miss Padme's name out loud. There might be Imperial ears listening."
"Yes, Master Owen."
The group finally reached a poundstone store that sold power converters at the street's south end. Uncle Owen turned to Luke and Leia. "I want you two to wait here. Threepio and I will be right back."
"You need me, Master Owen?" the droid asked.
With a sigh, the moisture farmer replied, "Yes, Threepio. I need you to translate the binary language for the moisture vaporators." He nodded at Luke