Part 40 (1/2)
But not too far; if Master Ken.o.bi was up to mischief, C-3PO had to be in a position to alert Captain Typho and the security staff on the spot.
Senator Amidala certainly didn't seem inclined to treat Master Ken.o.bi as a dangerous outlaw . . .
Quite the contrary, in fact: she seemed to have fallen into his arms, and her voice was thoroughly choked with emotion as she expressed a possibly inappropriate level of joy at finding the Jedi still alive.
There followed some discussion that C-3PO didn't entirely understand; it was political information entirely outside his programming, having to do with Master Anakin, and the Republic having fallen, whatever that meant, and with something called a Sith Lord, and Chancellor Palpatine, and the dark side of the Force, and really, he couldn't make sense of any of it. The only parts he clearly understood had to do with the Jedi Order being outlawed and all but wiped out (that news had been all over the Lipartian Way this morning) and the not-altogether-unexpected revelation that Master Ken.o.bi had come here seeking Master Anakin. They were partners, after all (though despite all their years together, Master Anakin's recent behavior made it sadly clear that Master Ken.o.bi's lovely manners had entirely failed to rub off).
”When was the last time you saw him? Do you know where he is?”
C-3PO's photoreceptors registered the Senator's flush as she lowered her eyes and said, ”No.”
Three years running the household of a career politician stopped C-3PO from popping back out and reminding the Senator that Master Anakin had told her just yesterday he was on his way to Mustafar; he knew very well that the Senator's memory failed only when she decided it should.
”Padme, you must help me,” Master Ken.o.bi said. ”Anakin must be found. He must be stopped.”
”How can you say that?” She pulled back from him and turned away, folding her arms over the curve of her belly. ”He's just won the war!”
”The war was never the Republic against the Separatists. It was Palpatine against the Jedi. We lost. The rest of it was just play-acting.”
”It was real enough for everyone who died!”
”Yes.” Now it was Master Ken.o.bi's turn to lower his eyes. ”Including the children at the Temple.”
”What?”
”They were murdered, Padme. I saw it.” He took her shoulders and turned her back to face him. ”They were murdered by Anakin.''
”It's a lie-” She pushed him away forcefully enough that C-3PO nearly triggered the security alert then and there, but Master Ken.o.bi only regarded her with an expression that matched C-3PO's internal recognition files of sadness and pity. ”He could never . . . he could never . . . not my Anakin .
Master Ken.o.bi's voice was soft and slow. ”He must be found.”
Her reply was even softer; C-3PO's aural sensor barely recorded it at all.
”You've decided to kill him.”
Master Ken.o.bi said gravely, ”He has become a very great threat.”
At this, the Senator's medical condition seemed to finally overcome her; her knees buckled, and Master Ken.o.bi was forced to catch her and help her onto the sofa. Apparently Master Ken.o.bi knew somewhat more about human physiology than did C-3PO; though his photoreceptors hadn't been dark to the ongoing changes in Senator Amidala's contour, C-3PO had no idea what they might signify.
At any rate, Master Ken.o.bi seemed to comprehend the situation instantly. He settled her comfortably onto the sofa and stood frowning down at her.
”Anakin is the father, isn't he?”
The Senator looked away. Her eyes were leaking again. The Jedi Master said, hushed, ”I'm very sorry, Padme. If it could be different . . .”
”Go away, Obi-Wan. I won't help you. I can't.” She turned her face away. ”I won't help you kill him.”
Master Ken.o.bi said again, ”I'm very sorry,” and left. C-3PO tentatively returned to the sitting room, intending to inquire after the Senator's health, but before he could access a sufficiently delicate phrase to open the discussion, the Senator said softly, ”Threepio? Do you know what this is?”
She lifted toward him the pendant that hung from the cord of jerba leather she always wore around her neck.
”Why, yes, my lady,” the protocol droid replied, bemused but happy, as always, to be of service. ”It's a snippet of j.a.por. Younglings on Tatooine carve tribal runes into them to make amulets; they are supposed by superst.i.tious folk to bring good fortune and protect one from harm, and sometimes are thought to be love charms. I must say, my lady, I'm quite surprised you've forgotten, seeing as how you've worn that one ever since it was given to you so many years ago by Master An-”
”I hadn't forgotten what it was, Threepio,” she said distantly.
”Thank you. I was . . . reminding myself of the boy who gave it to me.”
”My lady?” If she hadn't forgotten, why would she ask? Before C-3PO could phrase a properly courteous interrogative, she said, ”Contact Captain Typho. Have him ready my skiff.”
”My lady? Are you going somewhere?”
”We are,” she said. ”We're going to Mustafar.”
From the shadows beneath the mirror-polished skiff's landing ramp, Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi watched Captain Typho try to talk her out of it.
”My lady,” the Naboo security chief protested, ”at least let me come with you-”
”Thank you, Captain, but there's no need,” Padme said distantly. ”The war's over, and . . . this is a personal errand. And, Captain? It must remain personal, do you understand? You know nothing of my leaving, nor where I am bound, nor when I can be expected to return.”
”As you wish, my lady,” Typho said with a reluctant bow. ”But I strongly disagree with this decision.”
”I'll be fine, Captain. After all, I have Threepio to look after me.”
Obi-Wan could clearly hear the droid's murmured ”Oh, dear.”
After Typho finally climbed into his speeder and took off, Padme and her droid boarded the skiff. She wasted no time at all; the skiff's repulsorlifts engaged before the landing ramp had even retracted.
Obi-Wan had to jump for it.
He swung inside just as the hatch sealed itself and the gleaming stars.h.i.+p leapt for the sky.
Darth Vader stood on the command bridge of the Mustafar control center, hand of durasteel clasping hand of flesh behind him, and gazed up through the transparisteel view wall at the galaxy he would one day rule.
He paid no attention to the litter of corpses around his feet.
He could feel his power growing, indeed. He had the measure of his ”Master” already; not long after Palpatine shared the secret of Darth Plagueis's discovery, their relations.h.i.+p would undergo a sudden . . . transformation.
A fatal transformation.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
And yet . . .
He couldn't shake a certain creeping sensation ... a kind of cold, slimy ooze that slithered up the veins of his legs and spread clammy tendrils through his guts . . .
Almost as though he was still afraid . . .
She will die, you know, the dragon whispered.