Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(3)

“I don’t know,” Padmé said. “There aren’t too many stable hyperlanes in that area, so it’ll take some time just to get there.”

“You want me to work out a course for you?” Anakin suggested. “The Jedi archives might have something better than the standard charts.”

“No, that’s okay,” Padmé said. “Someone might find a record of your search, and I don’t want anyone else to know I’m going out there. You can save that for when you’re coming to join us—that’s when we’ll really need you to crank up the speed.”

“Trust me, I will.” Anakin shook his head. “I don’t know, Padmé. I really don’t like you being out of touch that long.”

“I don’t like it, either,” she admitted. “But the HoloNet never worked very well that far out even before the war, and I doubt it’s gotten any better. Still, there are five private message services that operate in the region, so even if there’s a bit more time lag I should still be able to get information back to you.” She reached over and touched his arm. “I’ll be all right, Ani. Really.”

“I know,” Anakin said.

He knew no such thing, of course. Padmé on Coruscant he could protect, at least some of the time. Padmé at the far edge of nowhere he couldn’t.

But she’d made up her mind, and he knew that further argument would be futile. Padmé’s former handmaidens were fiercely loyal to her, and that loyalty went in both directions. Whether Duja was in trouble, or had simply found trouble, now that she’d asked Padmé for help there was no power in the galaxy that could keep them apart.

“Just promise you’ll let me know what’s going on as soon as you can,” he said, taking her hand in his.

In his left hand, of course, the flesh-and-blood one. Padmé never seemed bothered by the difference, but Anakin never forgot.

“I will,” she said. “A quick trip, a quick assessment, and straight home. I’ll probably be back before you are.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warned. “And speaking of holding…”

He stepped close to her, and for a moment they stood with their arms wrapped around each other in a lingering hug, a small eye of quiet and peace amid the violent sandstorm that continued to rage throughout the galaxy.

Small, and far too brief. “I have to go,” Padmé said into his shoulder as she pulled gently away.

“So do I,” he said with a quiet sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Padmé gave him another smile, more tired than impish this time. “At least you’ll have Obi-Wan to keep you company.”

Anakin made an exaggerated face. “Not exactly the same.”

“I know.” She stepped back to him for a quick kiss. “We’ll spend some time together when we’re both back. Some real time.”

“That’s what you always say.” But then, that was what he always said, too. “Be careful, Padmé, and come home safe.”

“You, too, Anakin.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You’re the one heading into a war, remember. I’m just going to see an old friend.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Right.”



* * *



—

The battle played out like so many that had gone before: minuscule gains here, minuscule losses there, both gains and losses all but swallowed up in the accompanying swirl of death and destruction.

Padmé hadn’t returned by the time the weary forces returned to Coruscant. Nor had she sent any messages. Anakin checked the service she’d said she would use, then queried all the others that operated in that part of the Outer Rim. Nothing. He searched the mass of recent records that routinely came into Coruscant for consideration and archiving, searching for her by name, by her ship design, by her physical description, even by the jewelry she typically wore. Still nothing. He petitioned the Jedi Council to allow him to go look for her himself, but Count Dooku was on the move again and the request was denied. Another battle, a quick one this time, and he was back on Coruscant.

Still no message. But this time, his document search had found a match. Padmé’s ship, or one of the same class and type, had been found abandoned on Batuu. The local hunters who found it said it appeared to be deserted.

Padmé Amidala, senator and former queen of Naboo, had vanished.





There were passengers, Commodore Karyn Faro thought to herself as she stood in the center of the Chimaera’s command walkway, and then there were passengers.

Darth Vader was definitely one of the latter.

Faro scowled at the starscape outside the bridge. In her opinion, passengers of any sort didn’t belong on an Imperial ship of the line. If Vader wanted to fly around the Empire, he should get a ship of his own.

Or maybe that was what the Chimaera had now become. Certainly Vader had wasted no time settling in and making changes.

Over the hum of quiet conversation, Faro heard the sound of the aft bridge doors. She turned to see a white-armored stormtrooper step into view. He took an unhurried look around, then continued on toward Faro.

She scowled a little harder. And speaking of unwelcome changes in the Chimaera’s routine…