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.
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(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.
Other than acknowledging receipt of corridor parameters and landing coordinates, no reply was required on my end. I simply took the vessel down, and said a silent prayer to the Force for the fact Neimoidians were as miserly as they were acquisitve. I knew it was likely to be the only freebie we'd receive during this mission, but I was more than willing to take what we could get.
It wasn't until the gentle bump of the landing struts deployment announced the fact we'd landed that the Senators reappeared. Padme was softly laughing at some jest her companion had just made, and once again, Clovis had his hand on her forearm in a subtly possessive manner. I was already out of the cockpit and waiting to report to my ostensible superior, so I both saw the covetous glint in the man's dark eyes when he glanced her way, and felt the acquisitive desire which swirled in the Baron of Scipio's aura. The less one said about his actual thoughts with regards to his beautiful companion, the better. Surprisingly, he felt a significant amount of protectiveness for his intended conquest-to-be, but I wasn't inclined to give the aristocrat any points for that. Not while he was simultaneously fantasizing about doing some truly decadent things to Padme, and envisioning ensconcing her as his future trophy-wife on Scipio. He accepted it as a matter of course that all this altruistic, politically idealistic "nonsense" would stop once their relationship had progressed to a certain point. Padme's commitment to justice and the common good simply weren't compatible with his own plans for the future, so the core motivations of her life were just errant bits of fat which would need to be trimmed away. All in service to her future function as an ornamental satellite to his own ambitions.
It made me want to grit my teeth, but we were in enemy territory now. Meaning my personal feelings meant less than nothing. I gave up my resentment and outrage to the Force. Allowing it's serene song to fill me with peace and clarity. Smiling, I bowed once more to the pair, then reported in my most courteous manner "No deviation from our assigned descent-corridor, Senator Amidala. I had time to complete the maintenance and modifications you wanted seen to before we departed. Is there any other way I can be of service, ma'am?"
This part was a scripted response we'd come up with, but Padme carried it off as the most natural exchange possible. "No, that will be everything, Anayk. Captain Typho will of course be accompanying us, but since we'll be staying overnight, you're at liberty to continue pursuing your project for the Royal College. The approval for your usual stipend came in from them last night. It's already been added to your data-chip."
I caught the flash of irritated exasperation directed my way in her aura, but saw no hint of it in her expression. Momentarily confused over what she was talking about with regards to the Royal College, I spotted Clovis checking his wrist chronometer with a surprised expression, then realization flooded over me as to the real source of Artoo's distress as Padme turned with a smile to the man beside her and beautifully improvised a half-truth to cover my inadvertent misstep.
"Anayk's one of those exceptionally gifted navigators which crop up from time to time. That's part of why I hired him as my pilot, and why we arrived several hours earlier than anticipated. It's my common practice to give him his head with regards to navigation due to the savings on engine maintenance, but I neglected to inform him he should adhere to a more conventional calculation given the nature of our visit. I hope that won't be a problem, Rush?" Her delivery was a perfect rendition of the indulgent employer caught out by habit, but it didn't entirely soothe away the sudden distrust spiking in the man's aura as his attention suddenly fixed on me more sharply than at any point so far.
Eyes calculating, his voice was neutral as he looked me over. "I don't mean to tell you your business, 'Mae, but you should be careful about getting mixed up with anything so...difficult to quantify. This sounds an awful lot like Jedi mysticism to me. My people are much more comfortable with that which can be readily observed and assessed. This is exactly the sort of outlier which complicates otherwise straightforward deals."
Padme's laugh cut through the man's suspicious swirl of ever-darker thoughts. Growing to the closest thing to an outright guffaw a lady of her training would ever indulge in. The sound continued for several seconds, as Rush turned to look at her with a confused question clear in his expression.
"I, I'm sorry Rush, but Anayk a Force-sensitive? Half his income comes from borrowing my astromech droid to create refined nav-calculations. The Royal College may not be up to Scipio's exacting standards for mathematical calculations just yet, but I'm sure my people understand the need to remove all undefined variables from calculations they intend to pass on to our merchants."
Turning to me, she arched an eyebrow with an amused smile which was complete artifice and inquired "How many times did they test you before even provisionally accepting your participation in the program, Anayk?"
"Seven, ma'am. Not counting the standard battery of medical tests when I applied for residency on Naboo" I immediately supplied with a deferential bob of my head. "My midichlorian count is a little higher than the galactic median for humans, but nowhere close to being considered Force-sensitive" I offered in a submissive tone. Applying the least little push to the words I directed Clovis's way.
I felt Clovis's mind shift as he considered what he'd been told. If he'd had more to go on, or even the flimsiest of reasons to believe Padme might be lying to him about me, I doubt my push would have been enough to allay his suspicions. I hadn't dared use a level of compulsion rising to the level of actual Force Persuasion for fear of his being strong-willed enough to throw it off, but I would the instant I sensed his suspicion begin to crystallize as a last resort.
A long moment passed, then I felt his mind relax as his desire not to risk souring the seduction attempt underway decided the matter for him. He'd never suspected me of anything concrete, after all. Merely having worried such an unanticipated factor might somehow draw Jedi attention his way. Between Padme's assertions I had actually been checked out by authorities with a commercial interest in determining the truth of the matter, my nudging, and his own desires clouding his judgment, the man's focus finally shifted back to Padme.
Smiling warmly at the woman at his side, he remarked "It's all to the good. One of our associates actually considers being early to any important function a sign of deep respect, so I suppose I should thank you for your taste in employees, 'Mae."
Offering her his arm the instant he took his hand from her own, Clovis turned them about and swept the pair out of the shuttle without a backward glance. Gregar following along closely in their wake, but not without shooting me the briefest of sidelong glares as he passed.
Artoo rolled up to me once the group was well out of the ship and on their way. His triple-beep and whir sounding a great deal like an "I tried to tell you, idiot" as he waited for me to make a move.
I didn't get three hundred meters from this ship before a pair of Neimoidian guards accosted me. The bigger of the two demanding to know my reason for leaving my vessel. I knew for a fact my position as the pilot-of-record for what had been flagged as a diplomatic mission to orbital control gave me seventy-two hours right-of-movement so long as I didn't try to enter the restricted areas I was definitely planning to enter, but that wasn't what this was about.
"My mistress allows me the use of her astromech unit to aid in the nav-calculations I make during my off-duty hours. It's a service I receive as part of my contract-wages" I repeated Padme's lie smoothly. Having asked the computer for bits of Neimoidian law which might be useful to a non-resident.
The two guards immediately shifted from as close to brazen as a Neimoidian ever got, to a more nervous and apprehensive mindset each did a good enough job of concealing I wouldn't have noticed without my facility for sensing emotions. With good reason, because on a Neimoidian world, wages were sacred. The act of interfering with the collection of contracted-for wages, or activities leading to the collection of such wages, was a serious felony. Unless you were of substantially higher rank, or you could show cause how your interference benefited a more powerful business interest. The guards didn't know who exactly my mistress was, and without that information, they couldn't determine what my rank was relative to their own. If they interfered with my supposed job, then couldn't demonstrate how their interference was a necessary part of their duties, they could be sold into slavery. If, that is, my mistress proved to be someone important enough. The odds of a random off-worlder having a non-Neimoidian employer with a rank high enough to doom them was astronomically low, but Neimoidians were one of the more risk-averse species in the galaxy.
Still, no self-respecting member of the species let an opportunity for material gain pass if they could help it. The bigger guard leaned forward and made a surprisingly astute observation. "If your mistress was someone important, you would have lead with her name. If she even exists, and you aren't simply a smuggler working an angle." He waited expectantly for my answer afterward. Allowing the muzzle of his blaster-rifle to drift in my direction without quite covering me. It was so smooth a pairing of comment and action, I immediately recognized this as something he practiced permutations of in pursuit of shakedown-credits.
"I'm just a pilot doing a job, sir. One who was beginning to consider where to find an early afternoon meal. If you could recommend somewhere catering to a mid-range clientele, I would be happy to provide an honorarium. I think a hundred credits would be fine."
My Force-presence bloomed outward for a moment to encompass both guards, as my voice took on a calm impassivity which was infused with the Force. It was strange, because while the smaller of the pair was both stupid and weak-willed, his larger compatriot's intellect was obviously quite sharp. I was accustomed to associating a significant amount of intelligence with willpower of at least average strength, but for all his perceptiveness, the taller, heavier Neimoidian's will wasn't perceptibly stronger than that of the near-imbecile beside him.
Their wills utterly swamped by mine, the bigger legionnaire dully answered "There's Katzi-Ama's one street on from the east end of the landing complex, and one street north. Big sign in basic over the bright red doors, you can't miss it. A hundred credits will be fine."
Passing the green-skinned, bug-eyed figure a credit-chip when he woodenly held out a sallow three-fingered hand. I watched as his thumb immediately pressed down tight across the chip as if by reflex. After a moment's consideration, I supposed it was entirely possible Neimoidians did possess entirely physiological reactions to money, and shook my head as the pair continued to stare off into space.
"You need to go on about your duties now" I calmly murmured to both Defense Legion recruits. Not using even a fifth as much push as last time.
"Enjoy your meal, pilot. We need to go on about our duties now" Bigger Legionnaire parroted back to me. Managing to tack on a bit of remembered information as his mind neatly began to accommodate my suggestion. He prodded his smaller companion into motion, then the pair were tromping off to the west.
"Come on Artoo, we need to find an approach for tonight" I murmured once Big and Dumb were well on their way.
A/N: I changed the conversation between Anakin and R2-D2. Going into detail about S.I mechanics didn't serve the scene, so I went with something a little more general.