Author: Opal Lynn (opal . lynn (at) gmail . com) For more updates, spoilers and images from the story, please visit tsrii . livejournal . com

Rating: PG-13

Characters/Pairings: Anakin/Padmé, Obi-Wan, Darth Nathema (OC), Reysuu (OC)

Category:AU, Action, General

Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Lucasfilm, Ltd. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

This Chapter: Ten years after the Battle of Naboo, the peaceful planet is once again rattled when an assassination attempt is made on Queen Amidala in her very own throne room.

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The throne was not nearly as impressive as the woman sitting on it. Her face was white and smooth as porcelain, her features comparable in their lack of expression to the face of a gentle doll. A red slash divided her lip and two symmetrical beauty marks interrupted her otherwise alabaster makeup. The gown she wore was high necked and shapeless, a heavy mantle that weighed down her petite shoulders. The intelligent hazel eyes set within her stark face betrayed the only life left to her body.

She seemed to do nothing but look into the electric blue haze before her, her attentive eyes as cold and dark as a black vein in a white marble room. Finally, her lips twitched apart and the words she spoke were deep and filled the chamber.

“Chancellor Palpatine, surely it cannot be true.” The holographic replica of the Chancellor bowed its head, the very skin on his bones seeming to droop with gloom.

“Yes, Milady. I’m afraid it is.”

“What does it mean, Chancellor? Is peace truly so far from our grasp?” Her monotone never faltered, her eyes never flickered.

“Milady, I feel it would be best for you to leave immediately for Coruscant until we are able to determine the situation safe enough for you to return.”

Her gaze shifted for but a second, flitting to the corner to meet a pair of olive eyes.

“No Chancellor, I must remain with my people.”

“But surely you are in need of protection, Milady? Your affiliation with the Jedi will only make you a target.”

“I am not willing to break my ties to the Order because of a nameless fear.”

“Of course, Milady, I dare not suggest it. I merely ask that you retreat from the public eye for the time being.”

“I cannot.” Another glance to the corner. “My public are my eyes.”

“Could you not use a decoy as you have so cleverly in the past? There are several locations on Naboo you could successfully withhold. Are there not Jedi assigned to Naboo as well? Go together. All I ask is to know you are safe.”

“I cannot.”

“All I ask is a week, your Highness. The Council will surely have uncovered something by that time. As we speak, my officers are patrolling every planet in the Republic. But I can only do so much. It would be a great tragedy to the Republic to loose you.”

“The Republic is in ruins, Chancellor. It is not so hard to infiltrate it as it once was. My place is with the populace that I was elected to protect.” She paused, looking away again. “I cannot break that trust. I stay here.”

“Very well, Milady. But please, be careful. The Jedi who are with you, stay close to them, be watchful.”

“Thank you for your concern Chancellor, but I assure you, the danger can be dealt with. I will see it done. We will destroy this threat together, but we shall not do it from the shadows.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” He paused, bending at the waist and sweeping low for a bow. “Goodbye.”

She nodded, and the hologram vanished, revealing a lone figure in the doorway. The arm raised, the blaster fired, and the throne was speckled with blood.

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Carefully, and with an elegance not usually found among mechanics, Anakin Skywalker hung dangling from a harness in the belly of his gleaming silver starship. It had once been the Queen's personal cruiser; the sleek, efficient J-type 327 which had rescued him from his home-world so many years before. Almost immediately after the battle of Naboo, the young Queen had personally overseen the cruiser's reconfiguration and had presented it as a gift to Anakin and Obi-Wan as thanks for their help. Together, Anakin and Queen Amidala had named it the 'Halcyon', and now, almost ten years later, he knew it better than the back of his own hand.

Currently, the Halcyon was back on its home soil - sequestered in the open air hangar of Theed palace. Though Anakin and his Master did their share of intergalactic travel, they spent more time on Naboo than perhaps anywhere else; even Coruscant. The peaceful planet had truly become an adoptive home for them both; ever since Anakin's training had begun some ten years previously.

Perhaps because so much of his life was caught up in the Halcyon, Anakin now remembered his first voyage alone with his Master; a truly morose and lonely trip from Naboo to Corscant after Qui-Gon's Funeral. Anakin had been so young and fresh from the hot Tattooine deserts that the cold, disjointed noise of Coruscant had frightened him on his initial visit, and he had not anticipated returning. The towers of steel and glass, textures and shapes he had never seen before, the endless up and down and the inability to put one's feet on solid ground... these things had made him feel so cold, so alone, so afraid of the future. And then Qui-Gon, the one warm voice in a sea of indifference, had been silenced forever.

Anakin remembered that when he had voiced his concerns to Obi-Wan, the usually calm and distant Jedi had held him close for a moment - and for the first time since Anakin had left his mother, he had felt warm again. He had felt loved, felt that perhaps the galaxy wasn't really so cold and lonely after all, and Obi-Wan had promised to train him far from Coruscant. Obi-Wan had kept his promise, and once Anakin's training had begun in earnest, he proved to be an understanding and wise teacher - but the warmth was gone; shut away by centuries of tradition and discipline.

Older now; wiser and less afraid of the cold, Anakin understood his Master's distance and restraint, and he appreciated everything that Obi-Wan had done for him; it would not be long now until Anakin undertook the trials, and then he would truly be a Jedi Knight.

But Jedi or no, Anakin would always have piloting in his heart. Flight and freedom were his treasures, and the Halcyon was his prize. Hips caught in a flexible harness of woven plasteel fibers, feet looped through supports dangling from the ceiling, he floated purposefully in the maintenance pit, caught in a perpetual dive. R2-D2 - assigned especially to Anakin by Queen Amidala herself - waited loyally beside the maintenance pit with a crate of tools perched on his domed head, silently observing Anakin's nimble repairs.

Occasionally, Anakin would do this for fun; strapping himself into the heart of his ship, letting the near purring sounds of its engine lull him into meditation. But today he was looking for something, and as his thin fingers - strong and quick from years of subtle repairs - shuffled among the seemingly disjointed boards and switches, his eyes roved through the maze like zircon-colored lasers in the dark.

Hyperdrive leak; he remembered that much. Something about not being able to pay for the extra fuel. Truthfully, he hadn’t listened to very many words after hearing his sole favorite; fix. Besides, he liked it better this way; floating in the darkness of the maintenance pit, feeling like a bird caught in nautical twilight, searching for the last traces of the horizon.

He loved it like this, always like this; the only true peace he had ever known. Whirs and hums and specks of color and dust, dark breathing that ran down his spine with long, calm breaths. Machine breathing, machine blood pumping through wires as his fingers flickered between them. The living, breathing form of his ship as he rested in its beating heart; listening to its whispers, the only one able to hear its pulse.

His eyes closed now, listening. It was as if it spoke to him, filling his mind with flashes, pictures, near memories. He felt the warmth on him then, like that bird trapped in the sky. Felt the tingling warmth creep across his wings as a cloud shifted away from the sun. Calling upon the Force almost before he thought of it, his left arm shot away from his body, fingers stretched apart. He heard the smack of metal on skin before he felt the weight of his beta-corder in his hand. Flipping it on, he felt the tiny waves of the tiny machine, its small existence vibrating gently in his palm, pressing against his lifeline.

“Combusting terminal,” he muttered, capturing his words with the beta-corder, hearing their ghosts float around him in the pit. Images: breathing, blood, life, fire. Coming through the veins of the ship into the veins of Anakin Skywalker.

“Internal anti-polar switch.” His hand rested against the wires and circuits as if it were his head, his soul dreaming with the ship; seeing through its eyes.

“BOT motor.” Spinning, smoke, dust, fire, spark…

“CDP…” Sharp, gash, blood, pain…

“Screwdriver?” His eyes flashed open, the beta-corder in his hand seemed to shift; to mold into another form, and his harness seemed to grip him differently, as if it were a different time, a different malfunction.

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Anakin was there floating, hovering, nearly sleeping. Caught between light and dark, his arms splayed to his sides, feeling the air and sorting through it. A tickle. A warm, dry flutter across his middle knuckle, and he had jerked, a screwdriver falling from between his pelvic bone and the harness. He hadn’t noticed it at the time. The sound had been quiet next to her laughter. And what laughter it was; peeling through the darkness with an almost painful purity, wrapping around Anakin and curling deep into his mind. Padmé always knew where to find him.

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Anakin smirked, flinging the beta-corder off to the side, knowing he wouldn’t need his notes later. Up swung his arm, almost against his command; and he grabbed a thick coil of plasti-rope, pulling it loose from its lock. Then he released it slowly, hearing the creaking of the fibers bending along the solid framework of the rig in the ceiling as he lowered himself. Knowing what he would find, his right hand seemed to feel it there already, the shape molding into his palm without thought. And then it was there, sitting in his hand; the screwdriver. He pressed the two halves of the CDP back together - the screwdriver had wedged them apart when it fell - and replaced the hose that led to the BOT motor, using a spare piece of clear tubing and roughly a yard of black magnetite tape. Then, he flipped the anti-pole switch and secured the combusting terminal with more magnetite tape.

He looked down at the screwdriver, its once sharp bit now mangled and clumped. The heat of the CDP had melted it into an artful lump. His fingers wrapped around the rope, ready to pull up, when he felt it, as if a blow had struck his body. A tremor humming through the air and into his very bones. It was frigid, chilling, utterly penetrating.

Someone was dead.

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Though Obi-Wan had scarcely felt them budge, his feet were moving. The large palace corridors shrank around his running, his ignited lightsaber throwing an irregular blue light onto the walls. His hands were unsteady. He had heard it. He had felt it in his mind. It hadn’t been sudden; he had felt the pressure of the Dark Side building around him, building and tearing at his brain; and then it had snapped. In the small crack of a blaster shot, someone had died. They had slumped into their chair, their blood tickling the walls in little droplets. He had felt them on his face.

He bolted around corners and through open marble rooms, looking for the source of the shot, but no matter where Obi-Wan ran, the Dark Side lingered, and it was difficult to sort out one tendril from another as they swirled menacingly in his mind. The fading call was here in this hallway, but also in this room, that room and all the others. And then, he turned a corner and walked straight into it.

Hitting him instantly was the smell of charred flesh, and the air was misty with anger and hate. But it was lingering, and as Padmé raised her head slowly to look at him, holding a motionless Sabé in her arms, it seemed to disappear. Eirtaé, Yané, Rabé and Saché were silent and trembling, reaching out their small hands to touch Sabé's face, Padmé’s arm. The guards that had not gone in pursuit of the assassin were standing quietly against the walls, heads bowed, shifting on their feet. Captain Panaka was nowhere in sight. Obi-Wan extinguished his lightsaber and met Padmé’s eyes.

The Queen opened her mouth to speak, but only air passed through her lips, and her throat tightened over a small squeak. There were tears on her cheeks.

A carbon copy of Padmé's face lay pressed against her chest as the Queen rocked the dead Sabé in her arms. Small burgundy specks of blood dotted her white makeup, one just above her eyelashes, closed against her cheek.

Padmé touched her favorite handmaiden's disguised forehead and kissed her there, the make-up leaving a shadow on her lips. Padmé's robes were streaked with white.

"I tried to get the attacker, but I just..." She tightened her arms around Sabé. "She was like a shadow. I could barely see her."

Obi-Wan had a wretch in his throat. He walked to Padmé slowly and touched her very softly on the shoulder.

"What can you tell me?" He looked down at her face and had to look away again, but she put her hand on his and her trembling lessened.

Her voice was thick and slow. "I couldn’t...it was...” She grimaced, but then her voice hardened. "It was a woman. I saw her face. She was laughing. I just heard the blast, and then Sabé..."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure what to do. Padmé's sadness was complex, partly confused with anger and guilt. Her hand felt heavy and cold, it weighed on his fingers like a hunk of lead.

"What happened?!" Anakin's voice drifted in from the archway, alarmed. A mangled screwdriver was clutched in his hand, and Obi-Wan heard it clatter to the floor as Anakin rushed to Padmé's side.

"Padmé? Padmé are you alright? I felt the Dark..." He spotted Sabé in the Queen's arms. It was barely a whisper. "Oh no."

Solemnly, he knelt down beside Padmé and his hands rubbed her back. Obi-Wan looked away, turning to one of the guards, who cautiously met his eye.

"Where's Panaka?"

As if in reply, the communicator on the guard’s belt screeched metallically. With a flick of his wrist, the guard had the object in his hand, his fingers prodding at the buttons. A dark look shadowed his face.

“Panaka. He’s sending a distress signal from the speeder bay.”

Obi-Wan sprang towards the door, lightsaber humming. Urgently, he pointed at the guards against the wall, motioning them to follow. Anakin stood up quickly from the floor, but Obi-Wan continued towards the door and commanded sharply:

“Stay here. Keep the Queen out of danger.” And he was gone, sprinting down the wide stone staircase and veering towards the speeder bay.

In the distance, the sharp hisses of blaster fire echoed against the palace walls, and Obi-Wan settled his lightsaber in front of his face, preparing for the barrage of bolts that would be waiting for him in the bay. But as he rounded the corner, his heart froze, and dropped into his stomach.

Parts of him had known this would happen. Ever since he had sliced through the abdomen of the Sith who had killed his master, Obi-Wan had known. He could feel the Dark Side within his blood, he had brought that upon himself when he had exacted his revenge ten years ago. And for the decade between that moment and this one, he had felt the Dark Side growing; pulling at him. He’d known they would return, stronger than ever.

Panaka and his guards were firing round after round of plasma at a woman with stunningly white hair, her black robes swirling as she deflected every blast with a blood red lightsaber. As Obi-Wan and the guards stuttered to a halt, she looked up, focusing momentarily on the humming blade of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Her lips pulled into a sneer that stole her face of any beauty it might have had; her stony white features were an edifice, like a statue filled with poison. At first glance, her features appeared human in their form, but the longer Obi-Wan looked at her, the more alien she appeared. Her skin was pallid, nearly gray, and from her eyes spread dark, vein-like markings that made her icy countenance all the more stony. It was as if she were merely the effigy of a woman, rather than a being of flesh and blood. Obi-Wan could see her sharp white teeth glinting at him as she stepped towards him, her pale hair fluttering.

The firing had ceased, Panaka and his men knew better than to provoke her as she advanced on Obi-Wan. In eerie silence she approached, looking like a wisp of black smoke drifting from a charred wick. The guards behind Obi-Wan had shifted as if to attack, but he held up a tense hand and they fell silent.

“Let me deal with her.” He said darkly, stepping forward.

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“Is the Halcyon cleared for travel?” Padmé demanded, looking at Anakin as she carefully handed Sabé’s body to her loyal handmaidens. “We can’t just the assassin get away with this.” She raised herself from the floor, and Anakin followed, looking at her intensely.

“She'll fly, but not that fast. I haven't tuned her up yet and Artoo is still running diagnostics." he paused. "Be careful, Padmé. Revenge is -”

“It’s not revenge Ani, it’s justice.” She interrupted coolly, wiping her eyes. There was a rough undertone in her voice that kept Anakin on edge. She took in a long, deep breath and strode to her throne, opening the compartment that held her blasters, removing two and clipping one to her belt. She was in a simple handmaiden's robe; and though it was peacetime, the handmaidens had taken to wearing ceremonial military belts to commemorate the Battle of Naboo. The leather looked rough, interrupting her lavender robes in a dark brown swath, and the silver pistol shone like a bright, singular eye.

“What are you going to do?” Anakin asked, watching as she adjusted her belt.

“I’m going after Obi-Wan.”

“They’re in the speeder bay. But we should stay -”

Padmé interrupted him.

“They’re in the speeder bay because she’s trying to get out of the palace as fast as she can. She probably has a ship grounded somewhere on the outskirts. We have to catch up with them before they leave the grounds or we'll never be able track them.” She stepped down from the throne and her boots clapped against the gleaming marble floor as she strode out of the chamber. Anakin hurried after her.

"Padmé, I know you don't just want to sit here and wait, but I think we should listen to Obi-Wan. Someone's trying to kill you. We need to lie low."

"That woman just murdered a dear friend of mine. And if we don't hurry she'll murder another one. I have no intention of allowing Obi-Wan to run off on some fool's errand with delusions of keeping me safe. I'll lie low once she's brought to justice. If there's something they want from me, they wont get it by scaring me into hiding."

“What do you think they want? I mean… why would anyone attack you?”

She let out a frustrated sigh, but sensed that Anakin wasn't going to try to stop her anymore. She started jogging down the hallway toward the distant sound of blaster fire, and Anakin quickly followed, keeping his eyes open for danger.

“Right before it happened, we were conferencing with Chancellor Palpatine. He’d warned me, he’d told me to go into hiding… but I suppose I just thought…” Her voice hardened. “I still don’t want to run.”

“What did the Chancellor say? Why did he want you to go into hiding?”

Padmé spoke again, her voice troubled.

“The Chancellor said something about them returning, but I didn't really believe him. I assumed that the Jedi Council was jumping to conclusions..."

"The Council?" Anakin stopped dead in his tracks, unable to hide his shock. "Who's returning? Do you mean-"

"Yes, Ani. The Sith seem to have finally returned." She looked over her shoulder and slowed, waiting for him to catch up. But Anakin couldn't quite make his legs move.

"But... if the council had detected a disturbance, why would they tell you before us?"

Padmé seemed angered.

"Anakin! Come on! We don't have time for this!"

“But that’s -” Anakin’s speech halted suddenly. Not far away, he heard lightsabers clashing.

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The Sith struck first from the left, bearing down upon Obi-Wan as if jumping from a platform. Her eyes were wild and screaming, teeth bared like a cornered animal. As she spun and darted around him, her robes swirled and her hair flailed dangerously over her shoulders. Her fury never abated, and Obi-Wan discovered quickly that the woman’s skill with a blade was feverish, but not refined. The anger scorching through her blood made her style easy to read, and unlike the Sith he had faced years ago, she didn’t have as much raw ability. Within a few moments of the unevenly matched battle, she grew frustrated. In a flash of pure hatred, she tried to push him away, attempting to gouge him with her lightsaber in the process.

It seemed as if she were pushing all of her rage into him, and it seeped through the air like a blurry wind along with her frantic shoving and slashing, her breath puffing out in infuriated grunts. Suddenly, her eyes left the blades clashing between them, and her anger rose anew as she glared wrathfully over Obi-Wan's shoulder. He heard another lightsaber igniting behind him, and knew that Anakin had arrived. Padmé had probably stomped out after Obi-Wan the moment he had left, and he understood to a point that it probably was not really Anakin’s fault. But the woman’s lightsaber was millimeters from Obi-Wan's cheek, and her face was contorted with fury, so it was hard for him to cut the wrath from his voice when he shouted, “Anakin, NO!”

The woman spun away in the flicker of a heartbeat, eyes flitting furiously between Master and Apprentice. Obi-Wan knew as well as she did that with her underdeveloped skill she could not duel the both of them at once, and almost bitterly, she turned back to Obi-Wan. With lightning precision she had not shown earlier, she drew back her arm and punched Obi-Wan solidly in the jaw with her fist, darting off and jumping onto a speeder the millisecond his head had turned in the impact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anakin start to pursue her, but he quickly moved to stop him. Obi-Wan looked squarely at Padmé.

“If you insist on coming after her, then get to the ship. Follow me from above, and I’ll track her from the ground. We need to find out who sent her.”

For a brief moment, Anakin looked harassed, but when Padmé met Obi-Wan’s eyes and firmly said, “I agree”, Anakin nodded obediently. Obi-Wan grabbed the steering column of the nearest speeder and jerked violently into the seat. With a mere twitch of his hand the machine flared to life and Obi-Wan was thrust forward into the open air of the palace grounds. The Sith was not so far ahead that Obi-Wan could not follow her, but he would need help if he wanted any hope of catching up.

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The whine of the speeder engines whistled off into the horizon as Padmé shouted “Come on!” and shoved Anakin into a streamlined two-seater. She sat down in front of him and engaged the engine, but just as she was leaning over to take the controls, Anakin lifted her bodily and changed their positions.

“I'm faster.” He grunted, reveling briefly in the buzz of the steering apparatus under his fingers.

“You just want to DRIIIIIVVVEE!!” Padmé’s diatribe was cut short as they lurched forward, turning in a razor-sharp arc as Anakin’s reflexes propelled the speeder away from the external bay doors and back into the palace. The tiny speeder whizzed dangerously around sharp stone corners, rolling the duo violently from side to side. Anakin felt Padmé tense behind him, her arms moving to clamp around his waist, her calves locking over Anakin's shins. Her clutch was nearly painful, but Anakin didn't blame her; he hadn't given her time to strap in, and as they rounded a corner and nearly hit a stream of guards, Anakin sent the speeder into a barrel roll.

“Why this way?” she screeched. Her voice was almost inaudible over the echoing noise of the speeder as it hurtled through the unaccustomed palace archways. “You’re going to kill somebody!”

“You know I’m not.” He quickly glanced at her over his shoulder, and a shadow of his impish grin ticked his mouth.

After just a few more seconds of Anakin's hairpin piloting, the speeder was slamming to a halt in the hangar, and they dismounted roughly. It took Padmé a moment to get her footing back, and she stumbled uncharacteristically as they ran towards the Halcyon.

Anakin opened the hatch speedily, practically flying up the platform and into the cockpit. Artoo whirred and beeped angrily as he passed; apparently the droid was still confused about Anakin's sudden disappearance minutes earlier. Anakin powered up the engines while Padmé gave some brief orders over a comlink. He heard something akin to “no one is to know” and a brief mention of Sio Bibble’s name before her feet thudded up the platform and the hatch hissed shut behind her. As soon as she was seated, he made to grip the controls, but she glared at him pointedly and he gave her a few seconds to fasten her safety harness.

“Anakin…”she started, but gave up and just leaned over to him, hastily buckling his dangling harness across his chest.

“Safety first!” He chimed. She snapped his harness sharply and he winced.

“Go.”

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In a dank passageway deep below the grand palace of Mondula the Hutt, a pair of saffron-skinned slave girls hauled a drunken gambler to his feet.

"You've had too much go drink," said one.

"You should come with us and have a rest," said the other.

"I haven't had enough of you, so come with me and have a screw!" said the gambler, who found his ability to rhyme while intoxicated very amusing, and he collapsed into a fit of laughter and nearly fell to his knees.

"Please master, you should come with us and rest a while," said one.

"We will make you very comfortable," said the other.

The gambler laughed some more and pinched one of the slave girl's head-tails.

He did not object when the two girls continued to drag him down the tunnel, their path lit only by the dim glow of a doorway far in the distance. But the girls knew their way, and they walked with purpose.

Suddenly, the trio came to an abrupt halt as the gambler’s dragging feet collided with something on the ground. The slave girls stumbled, and one of them nearly fell. She threw out a hand to stop herself and her fingers closed around something cold and soft. Startled, she groped over the object with her hand and shrieked when she recognized the stone-cold lump as a face.

"Whattizit?"said the gambler, shifting his knees. "Is this a good spot?"

The startled girl looked to her counterpart and whispered, "A dead man!" in Huttese, which the drunken man could not follow.

"We can feed him to the beasts later. First we must get rid of this one."

But the gambler was feeling around in the dark, and he had discovered the corpse that he had fallen over.

"GIRLS!" He said playfully, followed by the sound of clothes rustling in the dark. "I found something!" The slaves tried to drag him up, but he was too busy rifling through the dead man's pockets.

"Shhh!" said one.

"Stop!" said the other.

"No, no wait girls! I've really found something!" He was giggling outright now, and he fumbled with something heavy and metal, weighing it in his hands. As he fumbled, his fingers pressed in on something, a small switch on the item that ignited it; causing it to emit a solid beam of light that filled the tunnel with vibrating blue glow. It was a lightsaber. The gambler's face was illuminated eerily as he stared at his prize, grinning.

"Ooooh... this will fetch a fortune..." he laughed. "Quick girls, help me search his pockets."

The girls looked at each other with stricken expressions. They spoke quietly in Huttese as they helped the gambler pick the Jedi's pockets.

"What should we do?" asked one.

"We must tell Mondula." replied the other.

Without another word, the two slave girls snapped the gambler's neck.

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