Attack of the Clones (AU)/Chapter 8

Fresh from her meeting with the Chancellor, Nalanda received Bail Organa in the lower part of her apartment. Her elaborate coiffure and dress might have suited the seriousness of the Chancellor’s office, but in the relative quiet of her apartment with the couches, fountain and flowers it seemed a little overdone.

“Your safety is first priority, Rhadé,” Bail said empathetically. “I must say I agree with the Jedi on this issue. But look,” he opened his hands in submission. “I don’t think you asked me here to argue with you. If you want your voice heard at the summit as much as I know you do, you’ll need to brief me as well as Danta.”

“Eavesdropping?”

Anakin smiled as Padmé passed him in the corridor. He was not eavesdropping, merely standing in the doorway so he could watch Nalanda and for the most part he ignored their conversation. It didn’t really interest him, and he had heard it all before anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin had noticed that ever since they left the Temple that morning Padmé had been kind of tense. Was it because of him?

“It’s…nothing,” Padmé said.

“Oh, come on,” Anakin teased. “I can tell it’s at least something to get you all riled up like this.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Padmé replied dismissively, walking past him.

Anakin caught her arm. “Try me,” he whispered.

“Fine…it’s…” she sighed and collapsed against the doorway opposite Anakin. “It’s only the fact that this is my first real assignment and I wanted to prove that I could handle it on my own.”

“Prove to who?”

“Anybody, nobody.” Padmé shrugged. “Myself mostly. I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a half smile. “I am grateful for your help, Annie.”

“Please don’t call me that,” he said with a frown.

“Why not?” she asked. “It is your name, isn’t it?”

“My name is Anakin,” he said tersely, “and when you call me ‘Annie’ like that it seems as if you still think I’m still a little boy.”

“How can I, when it’s impossible to deny that you’ve grown up?” Padmé laughed.

Anakin smiled. “Somehow Master Obi-Wan manages not to see it,” he said. “He says that I still have much to learn, at least three times a day.”

“That must be frustrating,” Padmé said empathetically.

“It’s worse,” continued Anakin. “He’s overly critical, especially in front of others, and sometimes I just don’t know how to please him at all.”

“Anakin,” Padmé stepped closer to him when he had finished his tirade. “Have you ever wondered why Obi-Wan is so critical with you?”

“No.” The question had never even occurred to him.

Padmé assumed as much. “It’s because he cares,” she grabbed his arm to get his attention. “He wants to see you grow, and he’s doing this in the only way he knows how which might explain the slip ups from time to time. Anakin,” she turned so she could see into his eyes, “try not to grow up too fast.”

“But you said I was grown up,” Anakin reminded her.

There was a long awkward silence.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Padmé said, furious to find she was blushing.

“Why not?” His breath felt hot on her cheek.

“Because I can see what you are thinking,” Padmé replied.

“So?”

“It makes me feel uncomfortable.” She stepped away from him and went down the corridor to where Riané and another of the handmaidens were packing for the senator.

As much as he wanted to, Anakin didn’t follow.



Not much later they found themselves on a speeder bus bound for the spaceport. True to form they were travelling in disguise as refugees and were due to board a freighter that was stopping at Naboo, among other places.

The bus landed and they all gathered around the doors.

“Be safe, m’lady,” Tycho said to the veiled Nalanda.

“I will be, you be careful,” Nalanda replied. “The threat’s on you two now.”

“I'm not worried about me, m’lady,” Riané said, “I’m worried about you. What if they’ve realised you’ve left the capital?”

“Well, I’m sure my Jedi protectors will be more than able to handle it,” Nalanda said lightly.

“Anakin, you do nothing without consulting either myself or the Council,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin assented.

“And you follow Padmé’s lead if there’s trouble,” he continued.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said.

He better, Obi-Wan added in thought, he had more than enough times had to explain his Padawan’s actions to the Council. He turned to Senator Nalanda.

“I’ll have this plot cleared up quickly, m’lady,” he said in a reassuring voice. “You’ll be back here in no time.”

“I am most grateful for your speed, Master Kenobi,” Nalanda replied.

A low moan from the docked freighter echoed through the bus.

“Time to go,” Anakin murmured, adjusting the clasp of his blue cloak.

“I know,” Nalanda said and they made their way outside.

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan called from the door of the speeder.

“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan,” Padmé returned.

Anakin, Padmé and Senator Nalanda made their way towards the freighter with the faithful R2-D2 trailing them.

“Suddenly I'm afraid,” Nalanda murmured. “I’m afraid I am abandoning my duty.”

“Don’t be, Senator,” Padmé replied.

“Anyway,” Anakin added in a lighter tone, “we have Artoo with us.”

They were still laughing as they walked into the docking bay.

Back at the speeder Obi-Wan wasn't so confident.

“I do hope he doesn’t try anything foolish,” he murmured as the disappeared from view.

“I would be more worried about the senator doing something than him,” Tycho replied as the doors to the speeder closed and they were off.



Normally when a Jedi was seeking answers he inquired within himself, barring that there were numerous resources at the Temple at one’s disposal. But when the analysis droids drew a blank at the toxic dart he presented them with, Obi-Wan had a rather different solution in mind.

He caught an airtaxi to CoCo Town, a place on the outskirts of the business district of Coruscant and walked up to a small diner. Not quite the place you would expect to come for obscure information, but Obi-Wan knew otherwise.

“You want something, love?” A blonde female waitress in a blue mini-dress met him at the door, with one look she decided who he was and challenged him to question her.

“I’m here to see Dexter,” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly. The waitress raised an eyebrow, the said Dexter was her boss and she was fiercely loyal to him even if it involved Jedi trouble. “Don’t worry,” he reassured. “It’s personal.”

“Fine,” she spat, walking away towards the counter. “Someone to see ya, honey,” she called to the back of the diner. “Jedi, by the looks of him.”

Obi-Wan followed her slowly to see the face of his friend Dexter Jettster emerging through a cloud of steam from what he was cooking.

“Obi-Wan, good to see ya, buddy!” the Besalisk said warmly.

“Hey Dex,” Obi-Wan greeted, grinning at his friend.

“With ya in a minute,” Dex told him. “Take a seat.”

Obi-Wan seated himself in one of the booths. The waitress returned, her attitude changed now that he was established a friend of Dex’s.

“You want a cup of Jawa juice?” she asked.

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said with a nod, turning to see Dex emerging from the back of the diner. Obi-Wan got up to meet him. Dexter Jettster was a Besalisk, he was a little taller than Obi-Wan with brown leathery skin that was mottled and bruised as if he'd been in a fight. Yet if he was in a fight, he was one you would want in your side. He had a mouth large enough to swallow Obi-Wan’s head and four strong arms that could break the Jedi’s neck as well as several limbs without much effort.

Yet despite his outward appearance, Dex was one of the friends he could count on, even if it were only for information as it was now.

The two old friends embraced and Dex looked around for a moment.

“Where’s the other one?” he asked with a laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve let him out on his own!”

Obi-Wan laughed as he slid into his seat, he had taken Anakin here with him before and it hadn't gone down very well despite Dex’s efforts to be accommodating.

“You have?” Dex laughed again, a huge, booming laugh that made everyone look. “Well if I hear a planet has gone up in smoke, I know who to call to get the salvage rights.”

The waitress came with two drinks, she handed them out and with a smile she left them.

“So, my friend,” Dex downed a good porion of his drink before leaning back against the seat, “what can I do for ya?”

“You can tell me what this is.” Obi-Wan handed Dex the toxic dart which had confused more than he had bargained for.

“Wow!” Dex held it in his hand as if it would break with the slightest touch. “Waddya know? I haven’t seen one of these since I was prospecting on Subterrel beyond the Outer-Rim.” He held it between two fingers. “What you got here is a Kamino saberdart.”

“Curious,” Obi-Wan remarked, sipping his drink. “I wonder why it didn’t show up in the analysis archives.”

“It’s these funny little cuts on the side that give it away,” Dex said, then grinned and beckoned Obi-Wan closer. “I woulda thought that you Jedi had more respect for the difference between knowledge and wisdom.”

“Well, if droids could think, then where would we be?” Obi-Wan laughed, finishing his drink. “Kamino, I don’t think I've heard of it. Is it Republic?”

“Nope, it’s beyond the Outer-Rim,” Dex replied. “Just outside the Rishi Maze, towards the south…shouldn’t be too hard to find, even for those droids of yours.” They laughed, and Dex turned the dart over in his hand again. “They’re cloners these Kaminoans.”

“Cloners?”

Dex nodded. “Damn good ones too.”

“These…Kaminoans,” Obi-Wan said carefully, “are they friendly?”

“Well,” Dex placed the dart back on the table and winked conspiratorially at the Jedi, “that all depends.”

“Depends on what, Dex?” Obi-Wan asked with a smile.

“On how good your manners are,” Dex said darkly, “and how…big your pocket book is.”

Obi-Wan picked up the dart and examined it. Like Padmé had said, it was getting stranger.