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DISCLAIMER
The following is a fan-based FICTION
All Installations of Star Wars are owned by Lucasfilm and Disney. All Installations of Dune belong to Herbert Properties, Legendary Entertainment, and Warner Bros. And any other references to other works all belong to their respective authors/companies and whatnot.
Chapter 3:
Recovery
"Talking"
'Thoughts'
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Location: Theed Main Boulevard
Year: 32 BBY
Time: 3:41 P.M
Standing at attention along Theed's Main Boulevard, Cade positioned himself just off to Padmé's side. She stood in her full queenly attire, composed despite everything, flanked by what remained of Naboo's defenders—a small formation of thirty surviving Royal Guards and eight Winged Shields. It was, quite literally, all that was left of any organized military presence in the capital. The Gungan Grand Army was still en route and would arrive before Chancellor Palpatine and the Jedi High Council, alongside a contingent of Republic Judicial forces. They were expected to arrive from Coruscant in two days' time to oversee the formal arrest of Viceroy Gunray and his settlement officer, Rune Haako.
Cade glanced at Padmé out of the corner of his eye, concern tightening his chest. Just over an hour had passed since she had found Captain Panaka—her friend and protector—dead in the palace. Even now, casualty reports continued to filter in from the labor camps and outlying cities where citizens had resisted instead of submitting. The numbers were already in the thousands. After Cade and Padmés' unsuccessful attack in the throne room, the Viceroy had ordered his droid forces to slaughter civilians indiscriminately, hoping the bloodshed would force Padmé into signing the treaty once he recaptured her. That plan had failed. Instead of leverage, those deaths would now stand as damning evidence against him.
"You don't have to be here, you know?" Cade murmured quietly.
Padmé didn't look at him as she replied, her voice calm and steady. "Your father answered my planet's cry for help when even the Senate would not. It's only right that I welcome House Atreides' Fleetmaster."
Cade stiffened, biting back the immediate response that rose to his lips—that it had been him, not his father. As the Atlas-class shuttle descended toward the boulevard, its shadow stretching across the stone, Cade let the moment pass. Padmé didn't know his history, didn't know the full truth—and this was neither the time nor the place to correct her.
The wings of the Atlas-class shuttle folded smoothly beneath the craft's belly as its landing gear extended into place. The black vessel, trimmed in green striping and emblazoned with the falcon of House Atreides along its wings, touched down on the boulevard with a solid thud. A series of muted hisses followed as steam vented from multiple exhaust ports, and the forward ramp disengaged and began to lower.
Sevastus Acheran strode down first, his presence impossible to miss. Standing a full six-foot-six, the Fleetmaster wore black armor similar in design to the Winged Shields, except coated in green and gold accents. He wore no helmet, choosing instead to display his auburn beard, scarred features, and the bright green glow of his cybernetic right eye. Sunlight reflected off his bald head as he moved with the confidence of a man who had spent most of his life in command.
'Smug bald-headed bastard. You're gonna blind someone with that shiny dome piece. Hell, if someone ever tries to assassinate him, they'll be blinded by the glare before they could even take the shot,' Cade snarked to himself.
Behind Acheran came his personal honor guard, a sight that made Cade suppress a scowl. It was, strictly speaking, a violation of the Codex of House Atreides. After Shaddam's betrayal of Paul, the Codex had been written to prevent precisely this—no commander beneath a Duke was permitted to maintain soldiers loyal to them alone. Allegiance was to the Duke first, commander second. And Cade had no doubt that the ten soldiers marching in disciplined formation behind Acheran answered to the Fleetmaster before they ever would his father.
The only reason Tyler Atreides tolerated it was history. Acheran was his childhood friend, the son of the Warmaster during the reign of Cade's grandfather. That bond had been forged further at the Atreides Academy of Warfare, then tempered in live conflict aboard the warship they both served on during the unrest on Raxus Secundus—where rebel cells clashed with a corrupt planetary senator selling land to corporate monopolies. When Tyler ascended as Duke, Acheran—then a captain of a company of talons—had been promoted to Shipmaster without hesitation. Years later, he succeeded the aging yet formidable and tactically brilliant Lord Hood as Fleetmaster of House Atreides.
Acheran's honor guard mirrored his colors precisely: black armor trimmed in green and gold, each soldier carrying an A270 blaster rifle, their formation tight and in lockstep just a few paces behind him.
"Fleetmaster Acheran," Queen Padmé Amidala greeted, her tone composed and formal.
"Queen Amidala," Acheran replied with equal diplomacy, inclining his head slightly. "Duke Tyler Atreides of House Atreides sends his regards, along with his well wishes for you and your people in these trying times."
"Please convey my gratitude to Duke Atreides," Padmé said, her gaze briefly shifting to Cade at her side. "If not for his son here, I fear my people and I would now be prisoners of Viceroy Gunray and the Trade Federation."
Cade straightened instinctively at the words, his posture firming as pride swelled in his chest.
"Of course," Acheran continued smoothly. "The Duke had complete and utter faith in his son. He knew he would see the task through."
Cade's jaw tightened at that, but he kept his expression neutral and said nothing.
"Now," Acheran went on, his tone turning brisk and authoritative, "I will be taking Young Lord Cade and our remaining forces back to Caladan, where they can be debriefed and provided proper medical care."
Padmé frowned faintly at that. Acheran's implication that Naboo lacked the means to care for the wounded, Atreides or otherwise, was clear. "Then I must apologize, Fleetmaster Acheran," she said evenly, "but Lord Cade has already assured me that he will remain on Naboo until the Chancellor and the Jedi High Council arrive in a few days' time."
Cade had to suppress a smirk as Acheran carefully restrained his reaction, though the tension was visible in the set of his jaw. Cade knew his father would want him back on Caladan immediately, under close observation at the Atreides Military Research Center, and that alone had been reason enough to make his decision to stay. Beyond that, there was Naboo itself. It felt almost criminal to fight over a world this beautiful and then leave without ever truly seeing it.
To Cade, Naboo rivaled—if not surpassed—even Caladan. No endless rain or rolling thunderstorms, just open skies, warm sunlight, and a quiet, relaxing beauty.
"I see," Acheran replied evenly, shifting his burning, singular gaze to Cade. His lone light-brown eye seemed to bore straight through him as he stared. "Then those Winged Shields will remain with you. Your Gladius corvette will stay in orbit until you are ready to return home."
Cade gave a single nod. "Understood."
"If that is all," Acheran continued, his tone clipped, "then my men and I will return to my ship and depart for Caladan." He turned to leave.
"What about my people?" Padmé asked, stopping him in his tracks.
Acheran glanced back over his shoulder. "My men have already delivered the supplies you purchased, distributed systematically to the cities hit hardest by the Trade Federation's droids. From there, distribution falls to your own people." His voice remained cold and precise. "The contract Lord Atreides drafted—and which you signed—has been fulfilled. We are no longer receiving payment. Therefore, I am no longer obligated to provide assistance. Good day, Your Highness."
Without waiting for a response, Acheran turned and strode back up the ramp with his honor guard. Moments later, the shuttle's wings unfolded, its landing gear retracted, and the craft soared off smoothly into the sky.
"Dick," Cade muttered after a few seconds, earning a sideways glance from Padmé. "He's got skill, I'll give him that, but he climbed to his rank mostly because of his relationship with my father. Bastard's got an ego the size of a hypergiant star."
"I see," Padmé said slowly. "You don't like him?" she asked as they began walking back toward the palace, Winged Shields, Royal Guards, and Handmaidens falling into step around them.
"Pfft—no. Not even a little," Cade huffed. "He goes against the codex of House Atreides and has always looked down on me. And honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if he loved my father a bit more than a brother-in-arms should."
"What do you—oh." Padmé blinked, then nodded. "I see." After a brief pause, she asked, "What is the codex of House Atreides, and how does he go against it?"
Cade nodded, his expression darkening. "The codex is House Atreides' version of a constitution. Several hundred pages of laws and rules. They can be changed, but in seven hundred and fifty years, they've only been altered a handful of times. Acheran has broken more than a few of them." His jaw tightened. "And my father refuses to punish him."
"How so?"
"House Atreides was born out of betrayal," Cade began. "Paul Atreides, who at the time was just Paul, captain of the Atreides Mercenary Company, was betrayed by his vice commander and several trusted lieutenants." He glanced at her to make sure she was listening. When their eyes met, he flushed faintly. Of course, she was paying attention; she hadn't become queen by accident. Cade coughed softly and shifted his gaze forward before continuing. "When Paul founded House Atreides, many of the laws in the codex's first few pages were written to ensure an Atreides would never be betrayed like that again. At least not as long as those rules were followed."
He scratched the back of his helmetless head, his tone turning more candid. "My father tends to ignore, if not outright go against, parts of the codex. The Caladan High Council does what it can to curb him, but their authority only goes so far."
"And Fleetmaster Acheran has broken several of those first-page rules, I imagine?" Padmé asked.
Cade nodded, his expression hardening as frustration simmered beneath the surface. It wasn't Padmé's fault, but the thought alone was enough to set him on edge. "Those soldiers lined up behind him were his personal honor guard. And I'll let you guess who they'd follow first and foremost."
"They would follow Acheran over your father?" Padmé asked, genuinely shocked.
Cade snarled quietly. "I watched it happen. When I was younger, my father and I were in his office when Acheran barged in, demanding something. I think it had to do with fleet personnel. He entered with two of his honor guards at his back. My father ordered them to leave; they had no right to be there." His jaw tightened. "They hesitated. They only moved when Acheran turned and nodded for them to go."
"I couldn't imagine something like that happening here on Naboo," Padmé said softly. "It would be like if Pa-" She stopped short, grief flickering across her face as the memory of her loyal captain, Panaka, surfaced.
Hesitating only a moment, Cade reached out and rested a hand on her forearm. His anger faded, replaced by something quieter and more somber. "I know," he murmured. "And yes, it would be exactly like that. It's rebellion hidden beneath the disguise of loyalty." He paused, his voice dropping. "I don't believe Acheran would ever betray my father. But when it comes to me…"
"You think he'd try to kill you?"
"Maybe not now, while my father's alive. But if my father were to ever have an accident or suddenly pass on, then I don't doubt Acheran would hire or send some assassin to dispose of me and place himself as the new Lord of House Atreides," Cade informed her.
Padmé seemed to think for a moment before asking, "Is there any way to convince him otherwise?"
"Was there any way to convince Nute Gunray otherwise?" Cade snapped, annoyed that she would even think there was some way to sway Acheran when the Fleetmaster had already broken so many of House Atreides' laws and regulations.
Padmé fell silent, her gaze snapping forward as her body tensed with anger. Tears threatened to well in her eyes, but she forced them back. How dare someone she considered her friend say that to her, especially when just moments ago he had been consoling her over Panaka's death?
A minute of silence enveloped the two and their surrounding party before Cade finally spoke as they began ascending the palace steps. "Padmé." She ignored him. "Padmé." She ignored him again. Reaching out with a touch of desperation, he caught her forearm and said softly, "Padmé."
She finally looked up, and the instant their eyes met, Cade knew he'd fucked up. Her eyes were red with unshed tears.
"I-I'm sorry," he said quickly. "That was wrong of me to say, and I shouldn't have. Just… trust me. If I thought there was a way to convince Acheran, I would've tried it by now. Hell, I have." His jaw tightened. "I've shown him ship designs I've made. Battle plans detailing small but meaningful improvements, or how past battles could've been won with fewer casualties. None of it worked."
Padmé remained silent for a moment before pulling her arm away and saying, "I'll see you at dinner, Lord Cade." With that, she departed along with her guards and handmaidens, leaving Cade standing there with his eight Winged Shields.
"Of course," Cade muttered to himself. "I make my first friend, and I've already gone and fucked it up. Way to go, me."
Turning to his guards, he ordered, "You've all already been assigned your rooms. Go get some rest. We all need it."
"What will you be doing, Lord Cade? We can't just leave you unguarded." A corporal, the highest-ranked among them, stepped forward, concern evident in his voice.
"Taking a walk," Cade replied. "The droids are all disabled and piled up in burning scrap heaps. I'll be fine. Not to mention the Jedi walking these palace halls. Get some rest. I'll see you all at dinner tonight." With that, he turned and walked away, faintly unsettled by the fact that they were genuinely worried about him now. On the ship, it had been nervous looks and snide remarks. Now, it was respect.
'Maybe Mentor Moone was right,' Cade thought as he made his way through the halls of the Theed Royal Palace. 'All it took was one battle to prove myself in the eyes of House Atreides soldiers....I wish he were here now.... I wish Sergeant Yuupor was still here...'
Blinking back a tear, he glanced out through the windows at streets where citizens helped one another, some glaring at the massive piles of deactivated droids. Sparse Naboo Royal Guards stood at key checkpoints, positioned where they had the best visibility over the recovering populace. Eventually, Cade's walk led him to the back half of the palace, where he gazed out over rolling green hills and the long, winding Solleu River, sunlight glinting softly off its waters.
Hearing voices coming from somewhere nearby, Cade made his way over to investigate. He paused just around a corner before glancing out to see who it was. Standing in the middle of the hallway, sunlight glaring down through the windows and flooding the space with natural light, were none other than Jedi Padawan and soon-to-be Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker.
"What you did was foolish and reckless," Obi-Wan chastised.
"I know," Anakin mumbled, his head lowered.
"But," Obi-Wan continued, a small smile forming on his face and causing Anakin to look up with hope in his eyes, "if not for you, then everyone down here would be prisoners to Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation. You did well."
"Yay!" Anakin shouted with joy.
"However." Anakin's joy halted at Obi-Wan's tone. "When I take you on as my Padawan, there will be none of that. You will be a good and obedient student. Is that understood?"
"Really?! You'll train me? But I thought after—"
"Yes. With Master Qui-Gon's untimely passing, the duty of training you falls to me," Obi-Wan said resolutely. "I swore to my master that I would train you, even without the approval of the Jedi Council if I must. And that is what I will do."
"Is he part of the training too?" Anakin asked, tilting his head cutely.
"Who?" Obi-Wan asked, confused.
"That guy over there around the corner. Is he my first test or something?"
Cade stepped out from around the corner, prompting Obi-Wan to rise from his crouched position, his hand instinctively going to his lightsaber. "Sorry 'bout that," Cade said sheepishly. "I was walking around the palace, overheard you two talking, and didn't want to interrupt."
"No, no, you're not interrupting. Anakin and I were just having a little conversation, is all," Obi-Wan replied, relaxing his stance.
"Who are you, mister?" young Anakin asked.
Cade smiled down at Anakin, impressed by the kid's confidence. Then again, this was the Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker. "Cade Atreides. I was hired to help the Queen deal with the Trade Federation."
"Your father was, you mean," Obi-Wan corrected. "He is the head of House Atreides, isn't he?"
Cade gritted his teeth. "Yes. My father offered a contract to Her Highness, and she signed it. Therefore, House Atreides soldiers and I are here."
"You're here for the money, and that's it?" Obi-Wan pressed. "Do you not care about the countless loss of life under the Trade Federation's momentary rule? The trials and tribulations Queen Amidala and her council are going through just to provide for their people?"
Taking a step forward, now angered himself, Cade snapped, "I am here for the money, yes. At least originally. Interacting with the Queen and seeing her fight the Trade Federation, seeing her faith in you two, in her people, it was... inspiring. That's why I'm still here. If you weren't so depressed, maybe you would've been there to welcome Fleetmaster Acheran with the Queen and me."
"Depressed?!" Obi-Wan recoiled. "My master just died at the hands of a Sith Lord! Like you would know pain or emotional suffering on that level!"
"I felt it when the Trade Federation murdered my mother and unborn sister in their sleep, you bastard!" Cade roared, his breath turning shaky as rage surged through him.
Obi-Wan took a step back, then bowed his head. "I… I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to assume you didn't understand pain like that. But surely you can understand why I wasn't there to greet the Atreides Fleetmaster."
Cade took a moment to catch his breath and rein in his emotions. He glanced over at Anakin, who kept looking between the two of them with a worried expression on his face.
"Yes, you're right," Cade sighed. "God only knows what I would've done if I had just lost Mentor Moone and, right after killing his murderer, was told to present myself for some sanctimonious prick like Acheran." Cade paused, debating whether to say more before finally thinking, 'fuck it'. "I'm sorry as well. I… I shouldn't have said you were depressed. We good now?" he asked, sticking out a hand.
Almost hesitantly, Obi-Wan reached out and shook it. "Yeah. We are."
"Good." Cade nodded as he moved past them and continued down the palace hallways. "See you at dinner tonight!" he called back over his shoulder.
Once he was a couple hundred feet away, Cade muttered, "Fucking Jedi. Stupid lie-detection bullshit."
As an avid lore reader in his first life, Cade had grown to resent the Jedi of the Republic era, at least the Republic that followed the Ruusan Reformation. They foolishly assumed the Sith were truly gone, despite countless Jedi falling and becoming Dark Jedi in the years afterward. Every time, the Order brushed it off as a one-time incident, convincing themselves that the Sith were still extinct. Idiots, the lot of them.
The Old Republic Jedi were the ones he truly respected and admired: Bastila Shan, Satele Shan, Arca Jeth, and even Revan, when he wasn't a Dark Lord of the Sith.
The current Jedi Order was stagnant, bloated with traditionalists who wouldn't stand a chance against what was coming. They had entered a prolonged era of peace and become a highly respected, almost aristocratic arm of the Galactic Republic. That comfort bred arrogance and self-delusion, leaving them vulnerable to deception. High-ranking members like Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi were so convinced of their own knowledge and security that they dismissed early signs of the Sith's return, Darth Maul, as nothing more than an isolated dark-side user rather than a true Sith Lord. They blindly followed the Senate's orders, rarely questioning or investigating further. On that much, Palpatine was right. The Jedi were too complacent and entrenched in their ways, and the Republic was far too corrupt. The best thing Cade could do was carve out his own secure domain, just as his ancestor had, and defend it to the best of his ability.
————
Later that Night...
Striding through the hallways of the Theed Royal Palace, silver moonlight poured in through the tall glass windows, illuminating the corridor in a pale glow. Cade wore a black, gold, and dark green suit with a matching cape, courtesy of Shipmaster Savage, who had sent a Pelican down earlier. The outfit was primarily black, accented with green and gold, and finished with a dark forest-green half-cape.
All eight of his Atreides Winged Shields followed behind him in two neat rows of four. As they passed several Royal Guards stationed along the dimly lit corridors, Cade and his escort eventually arrived outside the massive doors of the throne room. The two guards on duty nodded respectfully before the one on the left turned and pressed a button on the nearby console, the blast doors sliding open with a hiss.
Inside, Padmé sat upon the throne in her royal attire, flanked by a pair of guards. One was a dark-skinned woman clad in an outfit similar to what Captain Panaka had once worn: a bright ruby-red armored vest, a light blue shirt, and dark blue pants. Another eight guards stood posted at positions around the chamber.
A long table had been brought in and set where the chairs of state officials or visiting dignitaries would normally sit. Seated along it were Obi-Wan and Anakin, Sio Bibble, and several other members of Padmé's cabinet.
Turning toward the corporal, Cade ordered, "Join the Royal Guards and take up positions around the throne room."
The corporal nodded. "Yes, my lord."
Cade moved to the table and took the only remaining seat, positioned at the end closest to Padmé. Behind him, his Winged Shields fanned out and assumed their posts around the room.
"Good," Padmé began. "Now that we are all here, our food can be brought in, and we can begin this small celebration of Naboo and its people's freedom."
As if summoned by her words alone, several members of the wait staff appeared, placing large and small plates in front of each guest. Moments later, chefs entered carrying broad platters laden with a wide variety of dishes. Others followed with large wooden cutting boards piled with different cuts of meat. Glasses were set before everyone and filled with a small amount of wine, except for Anakin's, which held a brightly colored juice.
"Your Highness, isn't this too much?" Obi-Wan asked, concern evident in his voice. "What about the people out there who are suffering?"
To be honest, Cade had been thinking much the same. Everything he knew of Padmé pointed to her being kind and deeply compassionate. Nothing in his interactions with her so far suggested otherwise.
"No, of course not!" Padmé replied, clearly offended. "All across the city, and throughout Naboo, my police and guards are distributing food, drinks, and medicine. While for some, this celebration is overshadowed by the loss of loved ones…" She paused, her gaze flicking briefly toward the dark-skinned female guard at her side. Turning back to Obi-Wan and the others, she continued, "All of Naboo will mark this occasion, one where its people stood against the Trade Federation's attempt at imprisonment, enslavement, and even death."
"Here, here!" Sio Bibble exclaimed.
"Here, here!" the rest of the cabinet echoed.
Obi-Wan, Anakin, Cade, and Padmé remained silent, though they lifted their glasses and took small sips along with the others.
"Now, before we begin eating, I have an announcement to make," Padmé said seriously. "It broke my heart when I found Captain Quarsh Panaka and learned that he had passed on. But the RSF's head of security cannot remain vacant, especially while we are still recovering from the Trade Federation's brutal assault. Because of that, I hereby declare that Lieutenant Mariek Panaka is promoted to Captain and appointed as the new head of security of the RSF."
Padmé turned and motioned for the dark-skinned woman at her side to step forward.
"I am the widow of Quarsh," she began stiffly. "He served the Queen faithfully, seeking only her protection in these trying times and doing his best to ensure she was safe." A few tears slipped free, which the newly appointed head of security hastily wiped away. "He was a great man, and I'll… miss him dearly." She sniffled before stepping back.
Padmé watched her with sympathy before turning her attention back to those seated at the table. "This will be a difficult time for everyone, but to ensure that those we lost are not remembered in vain, we must rebuild stronger and be prepared should something like this ever happen again." Nods and murmured agreement rippled through the room. "However, those discussions can wait for a more serious meeting. For now, please eat. It would be a shame if all of this went to waste."
Padmé smiled, and everyone began their meal.
It was a little while later, after dinner had concluded, that Cade found himself standing at the edge of the garden. His hands gripped the railing tightly as he stared out into Naboo's dark night sky. Below him, rolling grassy hills lay in shadow, the snake-like curve of the Solleu River faintly outlined in moonlight, providing a scenic backdrop for his thoughts.
'When I return home, I need to finish my designs for my new ships.' Technically, they were UNSC ships with modifications to better fit the Star Wars universe. Where coilgun batteries once sat, there would be heavy turbolaser batteries and ion cannons. Autocannons would be replaced with medium and light turbolasers, and Archer missile pods swapped out for concussion missile launchers. Then there were shields and a hyperdrive to integrate. There was still much to be done, and Cade had little time to rest.
'And then there's my Helljumper project.' The drop pod concept was still in its infancy. At this point in galactic history, nothing like it truly existed. Cade knew the Empire would eventually deploy drop pods to insert AT-STs into combat, but those carried only the walkers themselves, no operators. His plan was different. He wanted to recreate the exact drop pod from Halo, and improve upon it if possible. Stronger materials, increased durability, perhaps even a larger interior to accommodate more troops. Still, all of that came second. Ship design and production had to come first.
"You alright?"
The soft voice startled Cade out of his thoughts, and he nearly launched himself away from the railing like a cat hit with cold water. A quiet laugh followed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You just looked so… lonely out here," Padmé, clad in far simpler clothing than what she usually wore as queen, said, offering a small, sad smile.
Cade flushed, embarrassed by his overreaction. "Yeah, I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess." Cade rubbed the back of his head, a nervous habit slipping through despite everything he'd been through that day.
"Thinking about everything that happened?" Padmé asked softly.
He stepped up beside her, close enough to feel her presence without crowding it. For a brief moment, he glanced down into her eyes before turning his gaze back toward the moonlit landscape. "No. Mostly about what comes next."
"So soon?"
"Yeah." Cade exhaled quietly. "I learned a long time ago that while it's fine to live in the present and experience what comes, you still have to prepare for the future. To be ready for whatever life decides to throw at you."
Padmé chuckled, the sound light but thoughtful. "You sound like one of my advisors."
"They're your advisors for a reason, after all." Cade glanced down at her again, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. "What about you? I doubt you came all the way out here just to keep little old me company because I looked lonely."
Padmé hesitated, her hands folding together in front of her. "…Would you believe me if I said that was exactly why?" she asked, almost nervously.
Turning his body so his chest faced hers, Cade looked down into Padmé's eyes, studying her expression as if weighing whether she truly meant what she said. When he seemed satisfied, he let out a quiet sigh. "Then I'd say you probably shouldn't have."
Padmé's face fell at the words.
"But," he added, his tone softening, "thank you for joining me anyway."
Her smile returned as he smiled down at her. "What do you plan to do now?" Cade asked. "I know Naboo is a peaceful world, but after something like this… surely you'll take steps to make sure it never happens again."
Padmé looked away, conflicted. "I…" She hesitated. "Mariek says she plans to expand the Royal Guard from a two–hundred–volunteer force to five hundred. She's also proposed mounting blaster cannons onto speeders to act as improvised speeder tanks. I just think…"
"It's too much, too fast?" Cade prompted.
She nodded. "Yes. And she's already trying to get automated blaster turrets installed throughout the palace." Padmé sighed, rubbing her arm. "It's just… too soon."
"Tragedies can make or break people," Cade began, carefully trying to get his words out the way he intended. "What matters is what happens after the tragedy. Do you pick yourself up and improve? Do you stay the same and accept it when the same thing happens again? Or do you fall apart and give up?" He paused, watching her expression. "I think you want the first option, but you don't know how to do that without going against the core principles of your peace-loving people."
A conflicted look crossed Padmé's face.
"Everyone has to change at some point in their lives," Cade continued. "It's natural. You don't have to go full militarist like your new head of security is suggesting, but it would still help to have more guards to rely on, and maybe a few automated turrets. They don't even have to be in the palace. But having some protection in place wouldn't be a bad thing."
"You think Mariek's ideas have some validity?" Padmé asked seriously.
"I do." Cade nodded. "As long as she doesn't start suggesting forced enlistment, or designing and purchasing capital ships, I think you're safe listening to her advice. That is why you promoted her, after all."
Padmé took a moment to think, then nodded. "You're right. Thank you." She looked at him softly. "You're a true friend, Cade."
He stared at her for a moment, surprised, before asking quietly, "We're still friends? I thought maybe after what I said earlier…" His voice trailed off, embarrassment creeping in.
"Of course we're still friends!" Padmé said, almost offended by the idea. "Yes, you said some hurtful things, but you apologized." Her expression softened. "And… I'm sorry I didn't make it clear that I forgave you. It's just… they hurt."
"I know… and I'm really sorry, Padmé. It's just…" Cade hesitated, weighing the words as if saying them aloud might somehow make them real. In the end, he decided that if she laughed, or dismissed him, he would simply walk away. "You're my first friend besides my mentors in… well… years."
Padmé looked at him, sadness and something gentler filling her eyes. She reached out and rested a hand on his arm, her touch careful and warm. "Oh, Cade."
"No, I don't need your pity," he whispered, forcing the words out while keeping his emotions tightly leashed. "It's just… nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn't interested in which training regimen kills faster, or which blaster has better range, precision, or stopping power." He let out a quiet, weary breath and met her gaze. "You know?" The word came out hollow, broken.
"What about your father?" Padmé asked softly. "Surely he's there for you."
"Ha." Cade let out a sharp, humorless laugh that made her flinch. "That bastard sees me as nothing more than his heir. That's it." His jaw tightened. "I've been exiled to a research facility for years. The only reason I even had my mentors was because Mentor Moone stepped down from his position as Warmaster just to train me. And Marcus, my other mentor, is a project engineer at the Research Center itself."
Padmé's hand gently rubbed his arm, her voice low and sincere. "Warmaster Moone and Marcus must mean a great deal to you."
"Honestly?" Cade asked quietly, tears beginning to brim as he looked into Padmé's soft hazelnut eyes. "Moone has been more of a father to me these past few years than my own father ever has."
"And what about Marcus?"
"Well... He's more of a cool uncle most of the time." Cade said with a self-deprecating chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Padmé didn't hesitate.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm, steady embrace. It wasn't rushed or awkward. It was gentle, sincere, and full of a comfort Cade hadn't realized he'd been starving for.
His breath hitched.
It had been years since anyone had held him like this. Not as a lord. Not as an heir. Not as a weapon or an investment. Just as a person.
And for the first time in years, Cade cried.
————
Location: Dreadnought-class heavy cruiser: The Dissenter
Year: 32 BBY
Time: 8:46 P.M
Standing in his private solar, Sevastus Acheran waited for his subspace transceiver to connect. A second later, the aging face of Tyler Atreides appeared on the holoscreen. Wrinkles gathered around his eyes and forehead, and his hair had begun to gray at the fringes. Without waiting for Tyler to speak, Acheran surged forward, anger sharp in his voice.
"Your son is too rebellious. He's down there partying with the Queen and her cabinet when he should be aboard my vessel and en route back to Caladan."
Tyler frowned. "From where I stand, he's improving House Atreides' relations with the Nabooian government. Besides, it's about time my son engaged in something other than training and research."
Acheran growled. "He is unfit—"
"If you are about to say unfit to be my heir, Sevastus, then I would rethink that if I were you," Tyler cut in, anger creeping into his voice. "Cade is my son, my only son. He is my heir and will be my only heir."
Acheran held his tongue. He knew that if he spoke now, he would not only regret his words but likely sign his own death warrant. Tyler's son was not fit to rule. Sevastus had known that from the moment the boy was born. No, even before that. From the moment Tyler fell in love with Ailia. Any child born of the two of them would be weak and unfit. Just like Ailia herself had been unfit for Tyler's love. It should have been—
Acheran caught himself before finishing the thought. To continue would be to acknowledge a truth he had buried for years, one that could never be spoken aloud.
"Now, if you are finished, I have an assignment for you, Fleetmaster Acheran," Tyler said firmly.
"What are your orders, my lord?" Acheran replied, his tone measured, faithful, and loyal as it had always been when addressing Tyler Atreides. And only him.
"A group of miners on Sharl have detonated several explosive charges, collapsing multiple mines," Tyler explained. "They've somehow armed and barricaded themselves into a series of tunnels that only they have experience navigating."
"The small crew aboard the Hammerhead corvette Ashmarke has had their meager force of Talons form a perimeter around the cave entrance," he continued, "but without sufficient manpower, they can't do anything else."
"And that's where my fleet comes in?" Acheran asked.
"Yes. You have hundreds of Talons under your command. Deploy them and resecure those tunnels. The minerals those miners extract on Sharl are far too important for a bombardment or bombing run. If that weren't the case, I would have already ordered the Ashmarke to collapse the tunnels from orbit with its turbolasers."
"Understood, my lord. I will not fail you," Acheran replied, snapping an Atreides salute, his hand clenched into a fist with the back of it held parallel to his forehead.
Tyler nodded and cut the feed.
Acheran remained standing, staring at the darkened holoscreen for a moment before roaring in rage and slamming his fist into the desk, cracking it.
"I swear, Cade Atreides, you will never ascend to the position of Duke as long as I live!"
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A/N: Welcome to the third chapter of my fic: Star Wars: House Atreides! I've said this twice now, but thanks to everyone for the comments and criticism! Keep it coming! And I am posting it pretty consistently now, but please do not expect this to be the norm in the future. I will try to keep it this way! But I won't always have a chapter ready this fast. My promise, though, is that I will try my damnedest... no, I will post a chapter once a week! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you in the next one! Peace!