Chapter 59: ED : Chapter 57: Into the Viper's Den I
Coruscant, Senatorial/Delegate Landing Complex (1 Day Later)
Meeting R2-D2 was a thrilling experience. The droid quickly demonstrated it's feisty disposition by dubiously squealing at me while I sold Padme on the virtues of a certain Return of the Jedi-inspired modification to his dome carapace and internal mechanisms.
He settled down after she eventually ordered him to do so, but I had the sense my first impression on the little hero could have been better. It was only after the Senator had departed to prepare for Clovis's arrival aboard ship, that I crouched down and leveled with him.
"Listen, I think you and I are going to be spending a significant amount of time working together.
Padme attracts life-threatening peril the way Corellia produces smugglers, and we both want to keep her among the living, right? I'm a firm believer in droid rights, so if you're really against my installing the sensor-shielded compartment module and accompanying ejector-mechanism, then I won't insist.
I'll be less effective without my lightsaber near at hand, but principles aren't principles if you abandon them the moment it becomes convenient. It's entirely up to you" I told him in the quiet matter of fact manner I so often used for serious situations.
His main photoreceptor stopped glowing red as I finished. Becoming blue a moment later, as the astromech droid studied me in silence for several moments, then beeped and whirred a surprising question. One which simultaneously shocked the Sithspit out of me, and confirmed the accuracy of certain fan theories concerning R2-D2.
Recovering from my moment of stunned surprise, I decided if I wanted trust, I had to be willing to demonstrate some, Meaning I answered honestly, and explained "Yes, we should have met years earlier, and under very different circumstances.
Originally, the war between the Republic and the Secessionists was part of a complex plot used by Palpatine to wipe out the Jedi Order and turn the Republic into an empire crushed beneath his boot.
Hundreds of trillions died in the two galactic wars which happened. That's why I believe the Force gave me detailed visions of what was going to happen. I've been using what I know of the future to try and stop all of that from happening. That's why we didn't meet years earlier.
I changed my own circumstances first, so I could make sure Qui Gon Jinn didn't die on Naboo, and prevent his former Master from becoming Palpatine's new Sith apprentice.
I, I'll explain things to Padme, eventually, but I'm asking you to keep all this under your carapace for now. Otherwise, you're literally taking chances with the fate of the galaxy."
Artoo seemed to consider this as he gently rocked from side to side while his processors whirred away at full speed. Long moments proceeded in silence, as I awaited the judgment of one of the wisest, most intelligent, and resourceful beings in the galaxy. Finally, a simply query was beeped at me.
"No, I sacrificed a great deal of my foreknowledge's ongoing validity to save a significant number of people I believed could help me save the galaxy.
I still have significant knowledge of how the coming war is likely to play out, but this timeline resembles the previous one less with every passing day.
If you're going to criticize me for saving individual heroes at the expense of a potential road-map to total victory, then here's your chance."
I replied a little stiffly. I still tossed and turned some nights, as I wondered whether I'd been doing the right thing, or simply what I'd thought was right because it meant saving people I admired.
The little droid beeped and whirred at me immediately. Bringing a smile to my face, and causing a knot of tension between my shoulder-blades I hadn't even been fully conscious of to release, as I replied "Save one life, save the galaxy entire, huh? With platitude-power like that, you're a shoo in for a seat on the High Council."
A snarky, faux offended series of high-pitched beeps was fired back at me. The astromech equivalent of a raspberry, and testament to the fact that snark really was the chief indicator of sentience.
"OK, wise-droid, if you're finished interrogating me about my manipulating the future, we need to get this modification finished. Padme is going to be back with Senator Slime-Snake in less than two hours, so if we're doing this, we need to get to work" I reminded the insanely perceptive synthetic life-form.
Obligingly, the front half of R2-D2's dome slid open. Which I took as consent enough to get to work.
...
(2 hours Later)
Now dressed in the dark blue and brown clothing typical for a pilot employed by the Naboo, I rose from my seat in the cockpit beside Gregar, walked through the open compartment door, then bowed deeply as Padme and her fellow Senator walked up the ramp arm-in-arm.
Tall as I was, and maybe ten pounds heavier, Rush Clovis was in excellent shape for a thirty-five year old politician.
His short, straight, perfectly groomed dark brown hair was still free of any gray, and the pale skin stretched over his patrician features lacked so much as laugh-lines or worry-marks between the eyes, but Force-enhanced vision told the story.
He was a member of the wealthy elite who squandered bacta by the tankful for it's subtle rejuvenative effects. Dressed in tailored tunic and pants which were dark gray with black highlights, he wore a fine aurodium chain with a pendant carved in the shape of a Muun character I didn't known the meaning of.
Everything about the man's appearance spoke of wealth, privilege, and rank in a tastefully understated way.
I'd expected my not enjoying the sight of Padme playing her part as the beautiful and much younger woman interested in rekindling a romance.
Thinking it might translate to some stupid fit of jealousy I'd need to throttle into submission. Surprisingly, I felt nothing of the kind. I knew Padme didn't give a damn about money or position, and in every other respect, I felt myself the better man.
Which meant it took me a moment to even realize I was dwelling on the situation in the context of our being in competition for the same woman's affections. When I did, I didn't allow any part of my thought process to show on my face.
Instead, I maintained an expression of attentively respectful deference, but silently kicked myself for my foolishness. Darth Zannah's smirking face rising up in memory like a cloud of bats boiling from a cave, as an effort of will blotted it out a moment or two later.
"Rush, this is my pilot, Anayk Skein. You've already met my bodyguard, Captain Typho. He'll also be acting as co-pilot" Padme explained in a warm tone. Head turned and tilted to look up at the man beside her with an engaging smile.
Rush didn't waste a politician's smile on the help. He gave me one extremely brief glance, then turned back to Padme, smiled, and commented wryly "You are the most unflinchingly generous person I know, 'Mae.
Pilots twice this one's age, with ten times his experience would fight it out to the death for a posting as a Senator's pilot. I hope this young man realizes what an enormous opportunity you've afforded him."
When both of them turned back my way, I inclined my head deeply, then replied in my most courteously deferential tone.
"I can truthfully say the value of the opportunities afforded me by Senator Amidala's decision-making always remains foremost in my thoughts, sir. It is my very great honor to serve such a great woman."
Seemingly satisfied with this, the pair drifted into one of the side compartments while engaged in more flirtatious conversation. The moment the door slid shut with a quiet hiss, my false humility vanished as if it had never been. I spared one brief glare for the door, then returned to the cockpit.
All the while allowing myself to be cheered by thoughts of the lengthy prison sentences in the futures of Clovis and Dod. This time around, San Hill was going to have problems of his own when his activities on Aargau spearheading the effort to establish the C.I.S Shadowfeed were recorded.
Giving the IG.BC's chairman other things to worry about than saving the two treasonous Senators. Obi Wan and Qui Gon were incredible at getting into and out of places with amazing security.
While I'd built the tiny high-res holo-recording devices, burst signal amplifiers, and the signal-repeaters they'd deployed under cover of being the security detail for a Revenue Service mission sent to the planet.
Except for one tiny yet extremely sensitive sensor keyed to San Hill's biometrics, all of the networked devices would remain powered down until said sensor detected the chairman and sent the signal which would bring the system online.
The IG.BC would detect the transmission within seconds of the recording being transmitted, but by then it would hopefully be too late for them to stop us from acquiring what we needed.
Settling back into the pilot's seat as the cockpit blast-doors hissed shut behind me, I heard Gregar ask from the co-pilot's seat on my right "What's your impression of Senator Snake?"
Glancing in his direction as my hands flew through the pre-flight and began to power up the repulsor-lifts, I shrugged diffidently, then answered in a detached tone.
"He's everything I would expect of someone who grew up privileged among a people who worship money, believe laws exist to be used as weapons to exploit anyone lacking the power to stop them, and consider themselves the apex of sentient life in the galaxy."
My observation seemed to gel with the security chief's own opinion, because no further comment was forthcoming as I took the ship out of the atmosphere and maneuvered toward the nearest lagrange point. Artoo whirred a protest behind me when he noticed I was making no move toward activating the nav-computer, but I never used a nav-com.
Compared to the calculation results the Force could provide me with, or the otherwise imperceptible minor and/or temporary hyper-lanes it could provide knowledge of, anything a computer could tell me about astrogation was woefully inadequate.
"Yes, Artoo, I'm aware Instinctive Astrogation is considered heresy by all astromech droids, but it'll be fine. I learned from Master Tiin himself, and he says I'm one of the best navigators he's ever seen."
I quietly reassured the droid as his whirring whimpers had grown more pronounced. A moment later, the screen before us turned into a swirling tunnel of blue and white, as the skiff jumped to hyperspace with a final dubious beep from the astromech.
...
It was tedious remaining on station with nothing to do as the Neimoidians security-platform in front of us scanned the skiff. Especially when the only thing competing with the situation's lack of tension was the mind-numbing boredom.
All the wealth in the galaxy couldn't help a species, if they were too cheap to invest in technology their greed caused them to deem an unreasonable expense. We'd been floating in place for more than four hours now, because the Neimoidians had to do everything with external scanners.
Their species being one of those most often guilty of communicating virulent and difficult-to-treat pathogens to other life-forms meant Republic law was so strict in this regard that even Trade Federation money couldn't bypass it.
The statute required all Neimoidians, and those whose work-contracts or residency placed them in regular daily contact with Neimoidians not yet decontaminated for a period exceeding seven standard days to undergo decontamination procedures before boarding hyper-drive equipped vessels belonging to members of other species.
Since the Neimoidians were too cheap to foot the bill to continually decontaminate living inspectors constantly mixing with other still potentially contaminated members of their population, or pay for the maintenance of probe-droids, they processed all incoming traffic with powerful external scanner-arrays.
Handling orbital security in this way made the Neimoidian home and purse-worlds a dream destination for certain types of smugglers, but the last laugh as one might expect belonged to the extremely business-savvy Neimoidians.
What they missed in contraband being shipped into their systems, they gained back by having some of the highest station-docking and planetary landing-fees in the galaxy for all vessels without either a diplomatic registration or long-term affiliation with the Trade Federation.
"Skiff, you've been assigned your descent corridor and landing coordinates. Parameters as to what constitutes acceptable drift during landing have been uploaded to your computer.
Be aware unacceptable deviation from these parameters will result in stiff fines being assessed by the office of the landing director. Otherwise, you are cleared to begin your descent.
Profitable trading and risk-free dealing." The voice of one of the officers aboard the security platform announced over the comm. Finishing with the traditional Neimoidian farewell.
...
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