33Once the Falcon was on a steady course, it was safe for the passengers to move about. Padme decided to unstrap herself and see what her son was doing in the lounger room, or wherever he was. Her daughter and her soon-to-be son-in-law were well occupied in lovers' banter and ship problems, which she felt she did not have much of a part in.
"Mother," Luke greeted, biting his lip as he tried screwing a bolt off a metal box.
It turned out that Luke was in the back, working on some machine. He reminded her so much of Anakin in that way. That somewhat regretfully reminded her of the many things that she and her children needed to discuss - to compensate for almost twenty-four years of separation. At the same time, Padme knew that couldn't be done unless Leia opened up to her paternal heritage. Padme also knew that no such thing could really be done without her having a hand in it, to help her daughter realize how twisted the Dark Side could turn people.
"What have you got there?" She leaned against the curved walls, storing her more complex issues into the back of her mind.
Finally successful in releasing the infernal thing, Luke replied, "Just another minor repair Han is probably never going to get around to. It's some piece of junk he picked up on a spice run, but it was broken before he figured out how to use it. It doesn't feel to heavy. . ." The Jedi shook it lightly.
The sounds of internal shuffling piqued Padme's interest, and she leaned in a bit closer, as if looking for clues on how to open the mysterious little box.
"Hm. I sense something. Wait, here's another bolt." The next was less rusty than the previous one had been, screwing off easily. The lid fell off the box with a clunk, revealing a smaller transparent hexagonal box.
"What is it? I sense something inside it, but I can't quite place it," Luke said, holding it up in his palm. The box looked as if composed of colored or engraved glass, and since it was mostly clear, a small amalgamation of metal was visible at the center.
It took Padme a couple of minutes to answer as she observed the delicate crystalline object - she was truly stunned that the item had lasted so long.
"It. . . it's a-a Jedi holocron, I think."
Seeing her son's look of confusion, she explained, "It's like a sort of holovid. But different. Jedi used to record themselves onto it, telling different information. Every Jedi eventually was given one to store themselves on. You see, they were interactive once you recorded yourself. I've only ever seen one once in my life. Most of the others, I believe, were destroyed along with the Jedi Temple.
"This must be so old. And valuable. I wonder if you can open it."
He seemed to be thinking along the same lines; he was staring intently at the little box, his eyes seeming to graze over every bit of surface he could find. As he closed his eyes, the holocron slowly opened like a blossoming flower.
They were greeted by the miniature of. . . it couldn't be. . .
"Hi, I'm Ahsoka Tano, a Jedi, um, of the Republic. How may I help you?"
"It's amazing," Luke said under his breath, not even aware of the significance of who was talking.
She was so astonished, Padme felt as though her breath had been sucked from her lungs. The holocron-Ahsoka was turning from side to side, smiling a little, just as Padme remembered. Gazing at the Padawan's fifteen year old figure, questions began popping into her head.
Is Ahsoka still alive? Did she escape the Purges and her old Master? Did she abandon the Jedi principles and start a family? If she's even alive, where could she be? How had she gotten the holocron? Where had she left it that Han could have found it on a spice run?
Despite these many questions, Padme had only one to say aloud: "I am Padme, do you remember me?"
"Of course, Senator Amidala. But you're supposed to be dead! That is what I had been informed."
"Well, that-that's wrong! I'm in perfect health," she spluttered.
"I can see that. So is this a Jedi-in-training, or have you just happened upon me?" The same spunk the Togrutan girl had exhibited as a teenager was still present, even in her hologram.
But the holocron-Ahsoka seemed to have some problems. Her little figure was spotty and fazing out slowly. As the voice recording tried to function, the pitch became distorted from a deep rumble to a high-pitched squeal. A strange whirring sound emitted from the inside of the glass container, and before mother or son could react quickly enough, the thing blew.
Shards of the unique casing flew in all directions; Padme reflexively shielded her face with her arms. The sound of shattering and combustion reached her ears, and she recognized it as the inner workings of the holocron blowing to bits.
When the commotion had finally ended, her arms fell limply to her sides and she stared at the smoking heap of debris left behind.
"What happened?"Leia was standing over them, squinting. "I heard the noise," she said, "and I also came to tell you to buckle in and get ready for Nar Shadaa atmosphere."
Fortunately for them, the Falcon had behaved throughout the whole landing. Han had parked it securely in a shady spot on the sketchy outskirts of one of the central cities. Neither Luke nor Padme had had the chance to tell Leia of what they had seen, and by the time the five of them were walking out on the pavement, breathing in the polluted air of a nearby cantina. Artoo and Threepio were once again left to "guard the ship."
"So where's our contact?" Han folded his arms behind his head in a leisurely manner.
Looking around with a hand over her eyes, Leia hummed, "The Double Mark."
"Do you trust him?" returned the Corellian, reminding them all of Jaren Siol. Han didn't want the same thing happening again. Everyone got his meaning.
"For the most part. We'll keep our eyes open, all right?" She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, then pulled her hair into a hasty bun, covering it with the hood of her shawl.
The Double Mark, if anything, was certainly worse than Chulman's Cantina. The small establishment was a filthy mess: broken bits of furniture were scattered on the dusty floor, stains of various revolting colors stuck to the surfaces of the tables, and many of the occupants were far from concerned about remaining inconspicuous. Instead of sentient beings, the owner had seen fit to employ cheap, run-down service droids who looked like they hadn't had a cleaning since the Clone Wars.
So, it was at the dirty entrance of The Double Mark where they were greeted by a battered old droid with a broken arm and chipped facing. It unceremoniously pointed them to an available seat at the bar. They complied warily, noting the strange furry green spots that dotted the edges of the stools.
"Alderaan beer," Han ordered the droid bartender. His companions were queasy to touch anything in this place, much less drink. But they would need to order as well, in order to lay low.
"Uh, the same." Luke and Leia pulled a few credits from from their pockets.
Padme considered the fact that she hadn't drank alcohol in two and a half decades. She also reminded herself that this probably wasn't the kind of service industry that carried nice wine.
"Jawa Juice." Chewie decided to order the same, even though he was reluctant to even smell the contents of the glass.
The five of them sipped the scuzzy drinks slowly and quietly, hoping that they would find their contact before they reached the last of the beverage. It was then that Padme, through the corner of her eye, saw two Rodians enter. Followed closely behind by two weedy Trandoshans, Padme was sure it was probably the worst-hidden back up she'd ever seen. Nonetheless, they settled into seats at the bar just before Leia murmured the giveaway,
"Jeeska do sookee koopa moe nanya."*
To her right, she saw Luke having trouble with keeping a straight face. As a politician and wife to a native of Tatooine, Padme understood it perfectly.
In strangled Basic, the taller of the two specimens replied, "Out back, down bend, hmm?"
Leia nodded her assent as the Rodians got up to leave, tossing a few credit chips onto the counter. Within another ten minutes, the group of five proceeded out the ramshackle cantina and down an alley from behind it. They turned left onto a dead end, met by their same Rodian "friends," the couple of Trandoshans, and a human male.
The new arrival was bearded, middle-aged, and somewhat grizzled. Salt and pepper eyebrows drooped low over black beady eyes, preceded by a forehead that shined and was shaped like an egg. Padme thought he resembled Cliegg Lars, with an overbearingly mercenary expression.
With usual politician's finesse, the Princess of Alderaan held out her hand for a quick shake, and then adopted an authoritative tone.
"I'm sure you know why I am here."
Rubbing the side of his face lazily, he returned, "Larrad Bes. And yeah, I know why yer all here, but yeh ain't gonna get it."
She wasn't discouraged by that. She'd heard the same plenty of times before. "I'm certain that with a little more time, we might work out an agreement that wil be mutually beneficial. I would like to make you aware of the fact that the Alliance is not without funds to pay you, sir. In addition, we have moral standards enough that you needn't be suspicious of our honesty."
Bes' mouth upturned in what the Alderaanian assumed to be a smile, as he revealed crooked, yellowing teeth. "That's a lottta big words, miss. But t'ain't my problem. Summat different. I could git in some hefty trouble fer helpin' yer 'specially."
"I assure you that we have measures to prevent the Empire-"
"Eh, 'snot tha'. I tell yeh what," he rubbed his face again, pondering for several seconds before continuing. Clearing his throat, Bes grumbled, "Gimme tomorrow ter sort it out, eh? I'm takin' a risk, see here, miss. The Hutts ain't too happy 'bout nows."
A tense moment passed between the Rebels as they wondered whether they could really trust this weapons dealer. On one hand, they would be risking their anonymity if they decided to let him go for a day. On the other, the Alliance was in dire need of weapons, much of their supply drained in the effort against the second Death Star.
Personally, Leia sensed that Bes was an honest businessman, if a bit of a coward. He knew that he had security from the Empire as long as he stayed with the Hutts, but if he angered any of the Hutt clan, that was an entirely different matter.
Do you sense anything? she sent to Luke.
Nothing too suspicious. I think we can trust him for now. But I've got the feeling-
Bad?
-that we should leave here as soon as we can. There's something here, I can't tell whether it's good or bad, but I don't feel like we should try to find out, with all of the other things we've got on our agendas.
"Alright. Tomorrow, in the evening. Where's the meeting point?"
Bes extracted a piece of flimsi from his pocket, scribbled something on it with a stylus, and then handed it to her. It was an address.
"Password is 'sebulba.' 1900 sharp?"
"Agreed."
The arms dealer found her monosyllabic reply a queue to leave, which he did, his cronies following closely behind. They were watched by their clients until they had disappeared out the back of the alley.
A/N: I was on a one-shot roll, and then had writer's block, hence the lateness. But now that the chapter is up, please review! Also, the title has been changed from "Her Daughter" to "Their Daughter." It's more appropriate.
*Meaning, "Keep your suction cups where I can see them."