Attack of the Clones (17 page)

“But it was right that you left,” Padmé reminded him, taking his arm. She held his gaze with her own. “Your leaving was what your mother wanted for you. What she needed for you. The opportunity that Qui-Gon offered you gave her hope. That’s what a parent needs for her child, to know that he, that you, had been given a chance at a better life.”

“But the dreams—”

“You can’t help but feel a little guilty about leaving, I suppose,” Padmé answered, and Anakin was shaking his head, as if she was missing the point. But she didn’t believe that to be the case, so she continued. “It’s only natural that you’d want your mother off Tatooine, out here with you, perhaps. Or on Naboo, or Coruscant, or someplace that you feel is safer, and more beautiful. Trust me, Anakin,” she said softly but intently, and she put her hand on his forearm again. “You did the right thing in going. For yourself, but more importantly, for your mother.”

Her expression, so full of compassion, so full of caring, was not one that Anakin Skywalker could argue against.

The great port city of Theed was in many ways akin to Coruscant, with freighters and shuttles coming down from the skies in lines. Unlike Coruscant, though, this city on Naboo was soft in appearance, with few towering, imposing skyscrapers of hard metal and shining transparisteel. The buildings here were of stone and
many other materials, with rounded rooflines and delicate colors. Vines of all sorts were everywhere, crawling up the sides of the buildings, adding vibrancy and scents. Adding comfort.

Anakin and Padmé lugged their bags across a familiar square, a place where they had seen battle a decade before against the droids of the Trade Federation. R2-D2 came behind them, rolling along easily, whistling a happy song, as if he were an extension of the comfortable aura of Theed.

Padmé kept covertly glancing at Anakin, noting the serenity on his face, the widening grin.

“If I grew up here, I don’t think I’d ever leave,” Anakin remarked.

Padmé laughed. “I doubt that.”

“No, really. When I started my training, I was very homesick and very lonely. This city and my mom were the only pleasant things I had to think about.”

Padmé’s expression turned to one of curiosity and confusion. Anakin’s time here had been spent, mostly, in deadly battle! Had he so obsessed about her, about Naboo, that even the bad memories paled against his warm feelings?

“The problem was,” Anakin went on, “the more I thought about my mom, the worse I felt. But I would feel better if I thought about Naboo and the palace.”

He didn’t say it outright, but Padmé knew that what he really meant was that he felt better when he thought about her, or at least that he would include her in those pleasant thoughts.

“The way the palace shimmers in the sunlight, the way the air always smells of flowers.”

“And the soft sound of the distant waterfalls,” Padmé added. She could not deny the sincerity in Anakin’s voice and in his words, and she found herself agreeing and embracing
that truth of Naboo, despite her resolve to stay away from those feelings. “The first time I saw the capital, I was very young. I’d never seen a waterfall before. I thought they were so beautiful. I never thought that one day I’d live in the palace.”

“Well, tell me, did you dream of power and politics when you were a little girl?”

Again Padmé had to laugh aloud. “No, that was the last thing I thought of.” She could feel the wistfulness creeping into her, the memories of those long-ago days before her innocence had been shattered by war, and even more so, by the constant deceptions and conniving of politics. She could hardly believe that she was opening up to Anakin like this. “My dream was to work in the Refugee Relief Movement. I never thought of running for elected office. But the more history I studied, the more I realized how much good politicians could do. So when I was eight, I joined the Apprentice Legislators, which is like making a formal announcement that you’re entering public service here on Naboo. From there, I went on to become a Senatorial Adviser, and attacked my duties with such a passion that before I knew it, I was elected Queen.”

Padmé looked at Anakin and shrugged, trying not to throw all humility away. “Partly because I scored so high on my education certificate,” she explained. “But for the most part, my ascent was because of my conviction that reform was possible. The people of Naboo embraced that dream wholeheartedly, so much so that my age was hardly an issue in the campaign. I wasn’t the youngest Queen ever elected, but now that I think back on it, I’m not sure I was old enough.” She paused and locked stares with Anakin. “I’m not sure I was ready.”

“The people you served thought you did a good job,”
Anakin reminded her. “I heard they tried to amend the constitution so that you could stay in office.”

“Popular rule is not democracy, Anakin. It gives the people what they want, not what they need. And truthfully, I was relieved when my two terms were up.” Padmé chuckled as she continued, adding emphasis. “So were my parents! They worried about me during the blockade and couldn’t wait for it all to be over. Actually, I was hoping to have a family by now …”

She turned away a bit, feeling her face flushing. How could she be so open to him, and so quickly? He was not a longtime friend, she reminded herself, but the warning sounded hollow in her thoughts. She looked back at Anakin, and she felt so at ease, so comfortable with him, almost as if they had been friends for all their lives. “My sister has the most amazing, wonderful kids.” Her eyes were sparkling, she knew, but she blinked the emotion away, as Padmé had often blinked away her personal desires for the sake of what she perceived to be the greater good. “But when the Queen asked me to serve as Senator, I couldn’t refuse her,” she explained.

“I agree!” Anakin replied. “I think the Republic needs you. I’m glad you chose to serve—I feel things are going to happen in our generation that will change the galaxy in profound ways.”

“A Jedi premonition?” Padmé kidded.

Anakin laughed. “A feeling,” he explained, or tried to explain, for it was obvious that he wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say. “It just seems to me as if it’s all grown stale, as if something has to happen—”

“I think so, too,” Padmé put in sincerely.

They had arrived at the great doors of the palace, and paused to take in the beautiful scene. Unlike most of Coruscant’s buildings, which seemed to have been designed with utter efficiency in mind, this structure was
more akin to the Jedi Temple, an understanding that aesthetics were important, that form went hand in hand with purpose.

Padmé knew her way about the place, obviously, and she was well known by almost all of the people within, and so the two walked along easily to the throne room, where they were announced at once.

Smiling faces greeted them. Sio Bibble, Padmé’s dear friend and her trusted adviser when she was Queen, stood by the throne, flanking Queen Jamillia as he had so often flanked Padmé. He hadn’t aged much over the last years, his white hair and beard still distinguished and perfectly coiffed, his eyes still full of that intensity that Padmé so loved.

Beside him, Jamillia looked every bit the part of Queen. She wore a great headdress and flowing embroidered robes, the same type of outfit Padmé had worn for so very long, and the Senator thought that Jamillia looked at least as regal in them as she had.

Handmaidens, advisers, and guards were all about, and Padmé reflected that one of the side effects of being Queen, and not a pleasant one, was that one was never allowed to be alone.

Queen Jamillia, standing perfectly straight so that her headdress did not topple, rose and walked over to take Padmé’s hand. “We’ve been worried about you. I’m so glad you’re here, Padmé,” she said, her voice rich and with a southeastern accent that made her enunciate the consonants powerfully.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I only wish I could have served you better by staying on Coruscant for the vote.”

“Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has explained it all,” Sio Bibble interjected. “Returning home was the only real choice you could have made.”

Padmé gave him a resigned nod. Still, being sent home
to Naboo bothered her; she had worked so very hard against the creation of a Republic army.

“How many systems have joined Count Dooku and the separatists?” Queen Jamillia asked bluntly. She had never been one for small talk.

“Thousands,” Padmé answered. “And more are leaving the Republic every day. If the Senate votes to create an army, I’m sure it’s going to push us into civil war.”

Sio Bibble punched his fist into his open hand. “It’s unthinkable!” he said, gnashing his teeth with every word. “There hasn’t been a full-scale war since the formation of the Republic.”

“Do you see any way, through negotiations, to bring the separatists back into the Republic?” Jamillia asked, staying calm despite Sio Bibble’s obvious agitation.

“Not if they feel threatened.” It amazed Padmé to realize how secure she was in these estimations. She felt as if she was beginning to fully understand the nuances of her position, as if she could trust her instincts implicitly. And all of her talents would be needed, she knew. “The separatists don’t have an army, but if they are provoked, they will move to defend themselves. I’m sure of that. And with no time or money to build an army, my guess is they will turn to the Commerce Guild or the Trade Federation for help.”

“The armies of commerce!” Queen Jamillia echoed with anger and distaste. All on Naboo knew well the problems associated with such free-ranging groups. The Trade Federation had nearly brought Naboo to its knees, and would have had it not been for the heroics of Amidala, a pair of Jedi, a young Anakin, and the brave flying of the dedicated Naboo pilots. Even that would not have been enough, had not Queen Amidala forged an unexpected alliance with the heroic Gungans. “Why has nothing been done in the Senate to restrain them?”

“I’m afraid that, despite the Chancellor’s best efforts, there are still many bureaucrats, judges, and even Senators on the payrolls of the guilds,” Padmé admitted.

“Then it is true that the guilds have moved closer to the separatists, as we suspected,” Queen Jamillia reasoned.

Sio Bibble punched his open palm again, drawing their attention. “It’s outrageous!” he said. “It’s outrageous that after all those hearings and four trials in the Supreme Court, Nute Gunray is still the viceroy of the Trade Federation. Do those money-mongers control everything?”

“Remember, Counselor, the courts were able to reduce the Trade Federation’s armies,” Jamillia reminded, again holding her calm and controlled voice. “That’s a move in the right direction.”

Padmé winced, knowing that she had to report honestly. “There are rumors, Your Highness, that the Federation’s army was not reduced as they were ordered.”

Clearing his throat, Anakin Skywalker stepped forward. “The Jedi have not been allowed to investigate,” he explained. “It would be too dangerous for the economy, we were told.”

Queen Jamillia looked to him and nodded, looked back to Padmé, then squared her shoulders and firmed her jawline, looking regal in the ornate raiments—very much the planetary ruler obedient to the Republic. “We must keep our faith in the Republic,” she declared. “The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it.”

“Let’s pray that day never comes,” Padmé quietly answered.

“In the meantime, we must consider your own safety,” Queen Jamillia said, and she looked to Sio Bibble, who motioned to the attendants. All of them, advisers, attendants, and handmaidens, bowed and quickly left the room. Sio Bibble moved near to Anakin, the appointed
protector, then paused, waiting for all of the others to be gone. At last he spoke. “What is your suggestion, Master Jedi?”

“Anakin’s not a Jedi yet, Counselor,” Padmé interrupted. “He’s still a Padawan learner. I was thinking—”

“Hey, hold on a minute!” Anakin cut her short, his eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, obviously agitated and put off by her dismissal.

“Excuse me!” Padmé shot right back, not backing down from Anakin’s imposing glare. “I was thinking I would stay in the Lake Country. There are some places up there that are very isolated.”

“Excuse me!” Anakin said, giving it right back to her, in words and in tone. “I am in charge of security here, M’Lady.”

Padmé started to fight back, but she noted then the exchange of suspicious looks between Sio Bibble and Queen Jamillia. She and Anakin should not be fighting in this manner in public, she realized, not without making others believe that something might be going on between them. She calmed down and softened her expression and her voice. “Anakin, my life is at risk and this is my home. I know it very well—that is why we’re here. I think it would be wise for you to take advantage of my knowledge in this instance.”

Anakin looked around at the two onlookers, and then back at Padmé, and the hardness melted from his expression. “Sorry, M’Lady.”

“She is right,” an obviously amused Sio Bibble said, taking Anakin’s arm. “The Lake Country is the most remote part of Naboo. Not many people up there, and a clear view of the surrounding terrain. It would be an excellent choice, a place where you would have a much easier time protecting Senator Amidala.”

“Perfect!” Queen Jamillia agreed. “It’s settled then.”

Padmé could tell from the way Anakin was looking at her that he wasn’t overly pleased. She offered an innocent shrug in response.

“Padmé,” Queen Jamillia went on, “I had an audience with your father yesterday. I told him what was happening. He hopes you will visit your mother before you leave. Your family’s very worried about you.”

How could they not be?
Padmé thought, and it pained her to consider that the dangers her strong positions were bringing to her were affecting other people whom she loved.
How could they not?
It was a perfect reminder of why family and public service didn’t usually mix. Padmé Amidala had made a conscious and definitive choice: public service or family. Some on Naboo juggled the two, but Padmé had always known that such a dual role as wife, perhaps even mother, and Senator would not do well for family or state.