Star Wars: Dark Angel, Scarlet Dragon Ch. 03

"Mama," Sola laughed, helping her mother up, "I can handle it. You should rest."

"Oh Sola, quit treating me like I'm old," Jobal jokingly admonished. "I'm not dead yet." They both laughed, turning around to go back into the manor.

Until Ryoo called to them "Mom? Do you hear that?"

They both turned back. "Hear what, Ryoo?" Jobal asked.

She got up off the ground, craning her neck, looking up at the sky. "It sounds like... ship engines. A lot of them."

"Probably just a cargo run, Ryoo," Sola replied.

But Ryoo shook her head. "No Mom, that's not the sound of freighter engines." Too high-pitched. Too many of them. And they were getting louder. And closer...

Six TIE fighters shrieked over the Naberrie house from behind them. They flew in hexagon formation, not more than a few hundred meters off the ground. All three women were blown to the ground by the force of their engines.

"Mom! Nana!" Ryoo cried, scrambling to her feet and running to her grandmother. "Nana, are you alright?"

"TIE fighters?" Sola exclaimed. "On Naboo? We don't have a military installation here. Why are they here?"

"I don't know, Sola" Jobal said as Ryoo helped her off the ground. She looked at the TIEs in the cloudless azure sky. The squad broke formation, three of each arcing away from each other, only to roll, pivot, and reform. "But they're coming back."

"Come on," Sola yelled over the oncoming din, "We had better go in the house." She tucked a stray lock of her salt-and-pepper hair behind her ear that had escaped. "Whatever they're doing here, it's none of our business. We'll be safer-" She stopped when she felt the ground tremble under her feet, and heard the roar of another ship approaching. From the sound of it, a much larger ship. All three women looked at each other with frightened eyes.

A triangular shadow crept over them from above the house, growing longer, darker, and the engines were deafening. The pointed nose of the Raider-class Corvette soon came into view above them, again, so close to the earth that the entire centuries-old stone house shook to its foundations. It lacerated the sky like a spear's head, thirty meters at its widest point and three times as long, eclipsing the Naboo high afternoon sun, shrouding the garden and courtyard in darkness.

An old man ran out of the house into the courtyard, frightened by the quaking and the noise. "Mrs. Naberrie!" he exclaimed, twisting his head to look up at the behemoth encroaching above them. "What is going on? The pots and pans have shaken off the walls, the mirrors have all broken-"

"Harlen, it's alright," Jobal said. "Go back to the kitchen. There's nothing to fear." But Jobal knew that wasn't the truth.

"Ma'am," said Harlen, nervously twisting his apron. "I think it might be safer out here. I'm afraid the lighting fixtures will shake loose on my head."

Sola took a calming breath. "Alright, stay out here, and stay close. They'll go away. They aren't here for us-" She trailed off when the Corvette reached the clearing beyond the garden walls. The ship lit the repulsor engines, slowing it to a stop. It turned around, and Sola saw landing gear emerge from the hull. Finally, the ship descended, easily and with sinister grace, until it disappeared from their view behind the garden wall.

Ryoo clutched her mother's arm. "Mom, I'm scared." Sola set her hand on Ryoo's, trying to assure her, but unable to assuage her own fear. The group huddled together, they didn't move, they didn't speak. They just stared at the wall and listened to the action on the other side of the wall. The hiss and whine of hydraulics. The clamor of armored boots on a metal-grated ramp...

A synthesized voice through a vocoder. "On the count of three, blast it! One, two, THREE." The garden wall exploded into an array of bricks, mortar, dust, and roses. The residents screamed and ducked down to the ground to avoid the flying debris.

Despite her advanced age, Jobal was the first to rise, lowering her arm from her head, watching the wall. Forty stormtroopers poured through the smoking three-meter hole blown through, blasters raised. They swarmed over the courtyard. Several surrounded the terrified group and held them at blaster point.

TK7866 began barking orders. "Corporal, take a squad to the front, form a half-kilometer perimeter around the property. Anyone tries to penetrate, shoot to kill."

"Yes, Sergeant!" TK4932 waved a total of sixteen men over to him, and they proceeded to break the doors and windows of the house to get inside. Sola and Ryoo screamed at them, begging them to stop.

Sergeant TK7866 tapped the com in his helmet. "Ground to Harbinger. Airspace?"

"Airspace cleared, TIE complement covering fifty kilometer radius. No one's getting through."

"Confirmed. All clear here. Send her out."

Sola, Ryoo, and their old cook Harlen clutched at each other, crying. But Jobal continued to look at the smoldering wall. Out of the smoke and dust of the blasted wall, a shape emerged. Jobal allowed herself a rare expletive. "Who the HELL is that?" she breathed.

Just shy of two meters tall, the creature that materialized had blazing black-striped scarlet hair, cropped short. The Naboon breeze caught her cowled black cape, blowing it back to reveal a matching Imperial uniform-influenced jacket and fitted pants tucked into severe jackboots. She walked with determined grace and nefarious purpose, one thumb hooked into her belt, striding over the annihilated debris of the wall like she was doing it a favor. But it was her eyes that made Jobal swallow hard. She had never seen eyes like that on a human before, or any race for that matter: Slicked with black kohl, white and harsh as absolute zero, black slits for pupils. Even under the bright Naboo sun, this beast walked in darkness.

But Jobal would not take her home being invaded lightly, Empire or not. She stepped forward, hands at her sides, and glared at the woman. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Why are you here? I demand to know the reason for this outrageous act!" The woman arched an eyebrow at Jobal, sauntered over and planted herself in front of her. She was almost two heads taller than the diminutive lady. She folded her arms over her chest, nodded briefly to the stormtrooper to her right, and glared down her nose.

TK7866 came forward with a datapad, which he shoved right in Jobal's face. "By order of the Lord Darth Vader, this is a warrant to search your property. Lord Vader has substantial evidence that crimes against the Empire have been committed here."

"Crimes against the Empire?" cried Sola. "What are you talking about? That's absurd!" She scowled at the woman. "Who are you?" The imposing she-beast slid her ghastly eyes to the Sola, but still said nothing.

TK7866 turned the pad around and read from it. "The charges are as follows: Aiding and abetting Rebel sympathizer Pooja Naberrie-"

"WHAT?" screeched Ryoo. "That not's true-"

"Former Senator Pooja Naberrie has been arrested for using her political influence to obtain shipping clearances for Rebel criminal smuggling activities and for her past affiliation with terrorist Leia Organa." As the women gasped, he continued reading the charges. "Withholding information vital to Imperial galactic security-"

"That's ridiculous!" shouted Ryoo. The shout turned into a scream when another stormtrooper stepped forward and raised his blaster to her forehead. "One more outburst and I'll use it!" Sola threw her arms around her child and pulled her close.

TK7866 continued reading the charges. "Falsifying medical records. Falsifying autopsy reports. Collusion with enemies of the Galactic Empire, including known war criminal Obi Wan Kenobi."

Sola shook her head. "We don't even know who that is!"

Lylla bent down, her nose scant centimeters from Jobal's, and spoke for the first time in a low, frigid contralto. "She does." A slow, disturbing smile spread. "Don't you, Jobal Naberrie?"

Jobal narrowed her own eyes, never breaking contact with those of the beast. She donned a slow smile of her own. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Lylla sniffed, then nodded to TK7866 to continue.

"Therefore, Lord Vader has dictated that an autopsy will be performed by a medical droid from the ranks of the Galactic Empire. On Padme Amidala."

Sola thought she was going to vomit. "Wh..what? You...you can't do that!" She lunged at Lylla, and was caught by the arms by two troopers. "You can't do that!"

Lylla flared her nostrils at the woman, then nodded curtly once again to TK7866. He gestured to another trooper, who stepped up to the group, raised his blaster, and shot old Harlen the cook.

"NOOO!" screamed Ryoo, scrambling toward her old friend, the man who helped raise her. "HARLEN!!" She was stopped by the same trooper hitting her in the shoulder with the butt of his blaster. She fell back to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Sola screamed and threw herself on her daughter, embracing her.

"He's dead," the trooper reported, shoving Harlen lightly with his boot. Sola and Ryoo wailed in horror and grief. But Jobal stood fast and solid, despite the anguish churning in her gut, never breaking eye contact with Lylla.

Lylla smirked. A challenge. How nice. "Don't fight us," she murmured. "You won't win."

Another trooper jogged out of the grove. "Sergeant, we found the mausoleum. This way."

"Get a crowbar," ordered TK7866. "You, you, and you- open that door and remove the top of the sarcophagus."

"Yes, Sergeant!" At that moment, the medical team came through the shattered wall, pushing medical scanners, equipment, and a Two One Bee unit on repulsor carts. They followed the three troopers on the path through the grove.

Sola held a hysterical Ryoo in her arms on the ground, rocking her back and forth. She lifted her tear-soaked eyes to Lylla. "Please," she sobbed, "please, don't do this. I'm begging you, please let her rest. This is sacrilege!"

Lylla folded her arms again. "Do I look like sacrilege concerns me? Sergeant."

TK7866 stepped forward. "Ma'am?"

"Keep them here until the autopsy is finished. Then bring them in on my signal." As the Sergeant waved more men over to them, Lylla shot one more glare at Jobal, who still hadn't moved, spoken, or taken her eyes off her. "Afterward, we'll have a little chat, you and I." With that, Lylla turned and swept away, her cape billowing behind her, as she marched toward the mausoleum, TK7866 flanking her right.

It was only when Sa'thraxxx strode away did Jobal show the slightest hint of despair. A single tear rolled down her withered cheek, and she closed her eyes. So. Finally. She had wondered all these years how long it would take. Someone in the Empire had discovered the truth.

xiii

"Baroness," TK7866 said as he came to Lylla's side. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"I wanted to thank you personally for my promotion."

She smirked. "You should be thanking Lord Vader. He promoted you, not I. I just put in a good word for you."

"Yes, Ma'am, and I wanted to let you know it is very appreciated. And that I am at your service for anything you require."

She stopped walking, and turned to face him. "I can hold you to that?"

"Absolutely, Ma'am." His tone was deadly serious through his vocoder.

Lylla regarded him for a moment. "I see many more promotions in your future, TK7866."

He bowed his helmet. "Thank you, Baroness."

"Sarge!" barked a trooper through his helmet's comlink. "Mausoleum is open, and so is the sarcophagus."

"On our way," the lieutenant answered. He turned to Lylla. "Ma'am, after you." Lylla didn't move. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

She shot him a look. "I'm fine." She whipped a turn and continued her fierce stride down the path until she came upon the crypt's opening. She stopped, and briefly stared into the crypt's darkness. Then she curled her toes, closed her eyes, sucked air through her nose, and fortified her damned self. She stepped inside.

Even with the ability of her white eyes to see better in the dark than most, it was still exceedingly dim in the crypt, as the Naboo sun couldn't penetrate the meter-thick stone walls. "I need more light," she commanded. Immediately, a trooper pulled an armor light out of his belt and slapped it onto a wall. The mausoleum illuminated in a hazy white-yellow glow. There were four sarcophagi in all, arranged in a circle around the crypt. Two of them, marked in Aurebesh with the names of Jobal and Sola, stood empty. Another was closed and marked with the name and death date of Ruwee Naberrie, the family patriarch. The fourth was flanked at all corners by four troopers. And open. Lylla slowly came toward it and, taking in a thick breath, peered over the edge.

There she was. The forbidden name. The ghost.

Lylla stared at her, her anger burning hotter with every passing second. Yes, she had seen holovids of her from various media during her reign as Queen and her years in the Senate. And after studying all of her medical records, she could attest that she quite literally knew her inside and out. But this, seeing her now, just inches from her... no matter how much Lylla thought she had readied herself for this moment, she found her preparation sorely lacking. Padme Amidala Naberrie hadn't decomposed, hadn't rotted in any way: Even the Arisand daisies in her hair looked fresh. She had the face of a poet's dream; perfectly symmetrical, arched brows, full lips, sweeping cheekbones. Long chestnut curls, arranged in a perfect halo around her head. Even her skin maintained a living glow. She didn't look dead, but merely asleep. Sweet, serene, angelic- everything Lylla was not. Lylla hated her even more. She even had to be beautiful in death, didn't she? She couldn't even fucking rot like everyone else. Lylla wanted nothing more than to order flame-troopers inside and have them torch the bitch.

She noticed the bauble she had in her hands. She reached in and grasped it in her fingers, turning it over in every direction. Japor, she surmised. Crudely yet symmetrically carved, it looked like the work of a child. A skilled child. Had Vader given this to her? But if he did, when? As a child? When he was grown? The answer that evaded her only fed her rage...

Until Lylla began to laugh. Softly yet disturbingly, perhaps even a little madly. So, he gave Padme a trinket.

He was giving her an empire.

"Baroness?" TK7866 interjected. "The medical droid is here."

Lylla drew a breath and pulled herself together. She had indulged her hatred long enough; it was time to get to work. She rose from the crypt, pulling herself into her full height. "Send it in."

The Two One Bee droid rolled loudly over the stone floor, followed by two human assistants pushing the repulsor carts that carried the medical scanners. "Baroness," the droid addressed her, "if you please, we will need room to set up and conduct the scan."

Lylla nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the troopers. "Outside." Once the troopers filed out, she stepped away from the sarcophagus. The techs set the apparatus up, raising a large scanning plate on a mechanical arm over the foot of the casket, engaging the power supply. Once they were finished, Lylla barked at them. "You too, the both of you. Out."

The younger of the two male techs blinked at her. "But Madame, we need to be here to-"

"Are you making me repeat myself, medic?" Her voice was as cold and dark as the crypt itself. She didn't face him. She didn't have to.

He swallowed and looked at his colleague, who returned his nervous glance. "No, Baroness." With that, they both hurried out of the mausoleum.

Lylla looked at the droid from under her brow. "You know what we're looking for."

"Yes, Baroness."

She pulled her personal holocom out of her belt, handing it to the droid. "Download the findings into this. Then erase every byte of data off the scanner's drive and your own memory banks when you are finished."

"Yes, Baroness." The droid plugged the holocom into the scanner's drive. With that, Two One Bee engaged the scanning plate. With blaring light and a low hum, the plate slowly passed above Padme's body, starting at her feet. Lylla turned her back to the coffin, far more interested in the spherical holographic display around her, projecting fleeting lines of medical data and internal images of her organs. When the scanner hovered over Padme's swollen belly, Lylla barked, "HALT." Two One Bee obeyed. She stepped closer to the image, and suppressed the anger roiling inside her. "Continue." The plate resumed its path over the body, over her chest, her heart, her neck and head.

"Scan completed, Baroness." Lylla extended her hand behind her. The droid unplugged the holocom from the scanning device and placed it in her hand. "Now engaging data wipe." With the same appendage, it plugged into the scanner itself. The eyes of the droid flashed repeatedly for several seconds. "Data wipe confirmed."

"Leave," Lylla ordered quietly. Two One Bee disengaged from the scanner, and rolled across the floor and out the door. Bending to one knee, Lylla placed the holocom on the floor and programmed the call. She threw her cape over her shoulder and bowed her head as the two-meter holographic spectre of the Dark Lord of the Sith materialized before her, his mask and helm having since been replaced. "My Master," she said in quiet reverence.

Vader bent his mask down to her. His respirator and his synthesized baritone filled the stone chamber. "Report."

"The autopsy is complete. Uploading the data to you now."

"Tell me what you found," he said, a jab of impatience in his tone.

Lylla drew a deep breath, tilted her chin up. "Her womb is empty, my Lord. There is nothing there." She dared to look up into his mask. "I believe that confirms it."

Vader showed nothing. "And the cause of death?"

"Cardiac arrest."

"Cardiac arrest?" Vader repeated. He paused. "Not... strangulation?"

Lylla shook her head. "No my Lord. The data does not indicate any oxygen deprivation to the brain, nor any significant trauma to the trachea. Her heart... simply stopped." She weighed her words carefully. "There's something else."

"That is?"

"There is no indication that the child was surgically removed. He was delivered naturally."

Only then did she see Vader react in any way. His shoulders tensed, and he turned his helm away from her, curling both of his fists. "Then she was alive."

"Yes." Lylla looked up to him. She could feel his furor even though they were light years apart. She dropped her formality for a moment. "I don't know what killed her. But I do know you it wasn't you."

Vader turned his back completely from the holocamera, clasping his hands behind his back- an action that Lylla recognized as him controlling a rage that was very close to unleashing. The slow, harsh, heavy rhythm of his respirator strained the moment even more. Lylla allowed him his time, and focused on the meditative breathing he had taught her.

Finally, he turned around and looked down to her. "Amongst everything else you are, you have shown yourself to be an excellent field agent. Well done." It was his turn to drop formality. His voice caressed the words. "My Dragon."

Her chest swelled with pride, and she could barely contain her glee. "My Beloved."

"Upon your return to the Executor, we will set course for the Mustafar system."

"Yes, my Lord." She cleared her throat in order to contain the emotion swelling inside her. "My Lord. The Naberrie family? Your orders?"

He drew himself into his full soaring height. And clasped his hands behind his back. "I leave them to your discretion." With that, Vader's image vanished. Lylla remained on one knee as she wrapped her heart around his words. Nevertheless, she shook herself from her reverie. She picked up the holocom, rose to her feet, and grasped the comlink in her cowl. "Sergeant. Bring the women in here."