God Save the Queen Episode II: Chapter 16

This chapter was edited by Maji and Commissioned by Everdusk! Please enjoy

Chapter 16: Ask and Ye Receive

“Thank you,” Padme Amidala said, “for the meeting.”

“Of course we must have a meeting.” Satine looked out of the long windows lining the hall, over Mandalore, her home. “I doubt you came here to stare at plinths.”

After their first day on Mandalore, Amidala and her entourage had made good on the idea of a pilgrimage. They had visited the sites of several historical battles, cultural locations of note, and even the place that the New Mandalorian accords had been signed. They had been cordial, had not announced their presence—though truly it was impossible to keep such things secret from those with interest—and in turn were granted cordiality from the New Mandalorians.

The worst of it had been when a group of young men, ignorant of their heritage and over the worries of their families, sought to pledge themselves to Clan Nabierre. The thought that Amidala had come to snipe young recruits still sat sourly in Satine’s gut, but Padme’s aide had politely rebuffed those offers. House Nabierre was not taking acolytes at this time, and if they sought a different life than the one laid out before them, then they were welcome to make a pilgrimage of their own to Naboo. Satine would have preferred they leave out the last, but her people were not slaves beholden to her wishes.

Satine thought the greatest tension would come from her sister, but Bo had remained in her quarters, a ghost to haunt Sundari Palace. Where once there had been children’s laughter, only cold silence remained.

Regardless, Amidala’s decorum had earned her some small grace in Satine’s mind, even if it was not enough to sway the opinions of the people. Satine had been ready for a diplomatic assault, and instead received carefully polite guests who overstepped no boundaries, and a sister who acted as if she’d been sent to her room without supper.

So here they were, walking one of the many halls of Sundari. This wing of the Palace overlooked the brimming hub of the city, skylanes filled with airspeeders and buildings bespeckled with glimmering lights. The moon Concordia peeked a sliver of her face from behind the clouds.

“You have been trying to gain my attention for some time.” Satine looked away from the moon, towards the smaller woman at her side. “What is it you are after?”

Amidala laughed. “Peace in our time,” she said.

“You have a strange way of going about it,” Satine replied.

“I do.” She looked down. “Military force, it’s what I have access to. I can keep trade routes safe; I can imprison slavers foolish enough to do business in my territory. But there are limits to what I can accomplish with force, and every day it feels like I’m running into more of them.”

Satine blinked, surprised by the candor. “And what is your solution?”

Amidala gave her a wan smile. “Until now, the answer has been more force.”

Satine pursed her lips.

“There it is.” Amidala shrugged.

“Forgive me.” Satine smoothed her face. “Just because we disagree doesn’t mean we cannot attempt to come to…concordance.”

Amidala paused at that, regarding Satine with dark eyes. The moonlight seemed to flicker in them for a moment. A trick of the light. “You really believe that.”

“If I did not, we would not be here, conversing.” Satine looked away, folding her hands. “And if you thought the answer to your problems was ‘more force’ you wouldn’t be here either. I have no armies to give you, no soldiers to command. What might old Mand’alor had left in its body has already fled to your side.”

Now it was Amidala’s turn to wince. “I apologize.”

“My people are free.” Satine let her earlier thought reach into the open air. “And you no doubt saved me from a grave betrayal later on, even if I disagree with what you’ve done since.”

Amidala nodded, coming to a stop in a pool of moonlight. “Just because we disagree doesn’t mean we can’t find places where we agree.”

“Just so.”

Amidala turned to face her. “Did Obi-Wan mention my problem, when he called you?”

Satine shifted, looking away. “He might have…intimated that you could use advice.”

“I’m sure.” Amidala huffed. “There’s a world we’ve discovered; the Triellus Trade run drifted closer to their system over the past few decades, and recently they were discovered by pirates.”

Slowly, the rest of the tale came out, how the sands were surprisingly rich with Beskar and other valuable minerals. The population were pre-spaceflight, potentially non-vocal. Worlds like that weren’t worth the effort of protecting unless you could extract resources from them. Worlds like that were exactly what Amidala was trying to protect.

“Do you intend to extract the resources yourself?” Satine asked. If her voice grew arch, it could not be blamed on her. “Free them, so that they may have the freedom to work for Naboo?”

“Of course not.” Amidala shook her head. “We have—well, we could never have enough Beskar, especially not if the Keepers of the Way follow through on establishing a Naboo enclave—but we aren’t starving for Beskar. The problem is that even if we leave them alone, someone else will come to extract it, and sell it to us at a premium.”

“Ah.” Satine allowed herself to relax slightly. She walked along the edge of the moonlight, to the window. “What are you considering?”

“There’s a picket force in the system.” Amidala waved a hand. “But that will be difficult to maintain. Naboo doesn’t have the ships to invest in every system. The whole point of the unity tour is to raise local support. Add system defense fleets to our network, so that we can all help each other.”

“And Naboo is to be the first among equals, I’m sure,” Satine mused.

Amidala snorted. She started to walk once more, feet carrying her past the window. “If you just want to prick at foreign policy, you can invite me here as a head of state.”

Satine pinched her nose. “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

Amidala paused.

Satine took a step towards her, letting Concordia’s light fall over her in a shroud. Beyond the window, the clouds drifted away, and the moon overtook the lights of the city. “While I would not be…averse to discussing policy at some point in the future, you came to me with a serious problem. I detract from it, to become distracted in pettifoggery.”

“Petty—” Amidala began, then she sucked in a breath and turned to the window. “I thank you for the consideration,” she said. “I also should not have been so quick to take offense.”

Satine splayed her hands at her hips. “You have attended decorum at every step of the way. It was I who allowed personal feelings to cloud our discussion. I would like to hear more of your efforts to protect this system.

This time it was Amidala who paused at the edge of the moonlight, a scant few steps away from Satine. Despite the guards at either end of the corridor, Satine felt almost alone with the other woman, in a way that made openness…possible.

Amidala sighed. “We cannot afford the ships. It’s likely that no other system in the region would care to garrison such a remote system in our place, not the least of which because the hyperlane isn’t entirely stable.”

“Not unless they wished to exploit the population themselves,” Satine replied.

“Exactly.” Amidala nodded. “But I can’t give the system to someone else, or even set up an embassy there. This is a new species; they aren’t recognized by the Republic.”

“I imagine that would be the job of a Senator,” Satine said.

“Senator Palpatine is quite busy, I’ve been told,” Amidala replied. “He seems to have a poor opinion of me.”

Satine silenced a cutting remark. True, it could be the bellicose tendencies of Padme Amidala that formed a rift between her and Sheev Palpatine, a great supporter of peace from Satine’s understanding. Even so, it would be beyond petty to deny aid in this circumstance, to the point where Satine questioned if Senator Palpatine truly stood by the principles he espoused.

“And the Committee of Sophont Accession is notoriously slow and rent seeking,” Amidala said. “In the last century, they have not put forth an addendum of recognition without being bribed at least three times.”

Satine pressed her lips into a thin line. “Vexing.”

“Yes.” Amidala spread her hands. “So that’s my problem. Any aid I could offer them is contingent on their exploitation, as you said. But if I leave the world alone, I guarantee they will be exploited all the same. It almost looks as if I should force through a plan to establish a base there, for their own good.” She pulled a face. “But the words leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

“I would feel…the same,” Satine said. “How odd.”

Amidala laughed. “Obi-Wan would be grinning right now.”

“Yes, I quite imagine he would,” Satine replied. “Fool of a man.” She could not contain her fond smile. “As to that, is the protection of such peoples not the purview of the Jedi Order?”

“If there were enough Jedi for every world,” Amidala said. “They already had to make do with a padawan.”

Satine tilted her head. “Padawan Skywalker certainly sounds rambunctious.”

“Imagine if Obi-Wan was his master.”

Satine laughed despite herself. “He would turn our friend grey.”

Amidala gave a smile, before sobering once more. “But simply put, there is no one else. The Order doesn’t have the members to police the core, much less the rim. There is no other security force in the Outer Rim, or I wouldn’t be needed in the first place.”

“And any force you could convince to shoulder this burden would likely be a worse overseer than Naboo,” Satine finished.

“There you go,” Amidala said.

“Difficult.” Satine shifted her shoulder, a motion that could almost be called a shrug. “What do the inhabitants want, then?”

Amidala paused. “What?”

Satine raised an eyebrow. “The inhabitants of this world. What is it they desire? Are they unified in government, or are they divided into several tribes? Are they willing to allow aliens on their world to mine it of resources, or would they prefer to do the work themselves if it means protection from the depredations they have already suffered?”

Amidala stared at her, lips slightly parted. Then she laughed. She pressed a hand to her face and laughed. “God I’m such an idiot!” she said.

Satine’s other eyebrow joined the first. “I fail to see what prompted such a response.”

“I didn’t ask.” Amidala shook her head. “I didn’t ask! I didn’t ask anyone to ask. I just stationed a picket in the system and my advisors and I have been wracking our brains on what to do with them for nearly a month.”

Satine clicked her tongue. “What has your force in the system been doing, if I may ask?”

“Aid,” Amidala replied. “Ensuring that families are reunited, difficult enough when we’re having trouble communicating. But no formal effort has been made to talk about the future.”

“Well.” Satine straightened her posture. “Might I suggest, as a first course of action, to open dialogue with the people of this world, and explain to them where they stand in the greater galaxy. It would be much easier to find an equitable solution, once you find what they consider to be fair.”

“What an excellent idea.” Amidala shook her head again. “I really am an idiot.”

Satine took a moment to study the younger woman, take in the frustration writ across her face. “Sometimes,” she said. “We begin looking at other people as problems to be solved. It is then that we lose our ability to solve their problems.”

“Yes.” Amidala nodded. “Yes. I think you said it perfectly.”

She stepped forward, hand placed over her heart. “Thank you, Duchess Satine. I’ll send an envoy to pursue that at once.”

“I did not expect you to be so easy to convince,” Satine said.

“Even if we can’t establish a dialogue, it is better than doing nothing at all.” Amidala sighed, fixing her hair with quick, economical motions. Fortunately, the younger woman had chosen a simpler style today. “And it would be much better to offer them choices, rather than sending another ship down from the sky to scour their deserts and terrorize their people.”

“I would agree.”

Amidala smiled. “Thank you.” Satine found herself returning it. Here, in this small slash of moonlight, she found herself enjoying the company of the younger woman. Perhaps in another life, were Naboo not so scarred by its own invasion, they could have been friends.

Then Amidala had to ruin it.

She sighed again, one weight slipping away so visibly that Satine could see the other take its place. “Things would be easier if you weren’t so reasonable,” she murmured.

Satine paused. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“No, no.” Amidala waved a hand. “Excuse me. You’ve offered nothing but excellent advice, and I’d like your help in drafting equitable proposals for the local populations, once we nail down the language issue. But I’ve brought trouble to your door.”

Satine’s shoulders rose. “In what way?”

“You remember your sister’s love of history, don’t you?” Amidala asked.

The question did nothing to dispel the tension growing between Satine’s shoulder blades. “Yes,” she said. “A fascination we shared. Only I grew to see the wars and battles as the cause of our people’s suffering, not the end of it. But my sister…”

Amidala nodded. “She saw mostly the glory, didn’t she? The power of heritage.”

“That she did.” Satine forced herself to relax. “I was surprised to see her here, and almost contrite. Even before I knew she had betrayed me, we…”

“She has changed,” Amidala said. “As much as it can’t erase what she did.”

“You seem rather close to her, now,” Satine murmured.

“Because she’s changed.” Amidala shrugged artlessly. “And her history can’t erase what she did for my people.”

“The Battle of Naboo,” Satine said.

Amidala nodded.

Satine took a breath, and then continued. “What does Bo’s love of history have to do with this trouble you brought me?”

Amidala nodded once, slowly. A hand rose up, unbidden, once again touching the filigree netting that she’d worn. “There’s no easy way to begin this conversation.”

Satine raised an eyebrow.

Amidala sighed, and said, “Bo told me of several artifacts that are kept in the vaults, below the palace. No, I don’t need to see them as part of my pilgrimage.”

Satine blinked as the younger woman preempted her first question.

“But she mentioned a fragment of a helm, a very old one. She said that it was her favorite artifact.”

“Yes, one dating back at least as far as the Mandalorian Wars…” The recollection came easily to Satine. “We used to concoct stories, about who it might have belonged to, what world, what clan, what life they might have lived…” She paused, shaking her head. “Forgive me, it was a fond memory.”

“Please don’t ask for forgiveness.” Amidala’s expression grew almost pained. “Is there…any further knowledge of how old it is, exactly?”

Satine frowned. “Little. It is difficult to date Beskar. Many older artifacts, they contain impurities, which in close contact with Beskar noticeably decay, but once they have all decayed, only small nano-voids are left in the metal’s crystalline structure. Without knowledge of what the impurities were, we can only conclude such a find is at least thousands of years old, though…” Satine paused when she saw Amidala’s expression.

“You are most…knowledgeable,” Amidala said.

Satine scoffed. “I, too, care about the history of our people. Just because I do not clad myself in iron skin.”

“I would never intimate such.” Amidala lowered her head. Almost a bow.

“Think nothing of it.” Satine waved away the imagined slight. “But as for that relic, it’s the oldest in the vaults, but beyond that we have only speculation as to its origins. There are some fragmented records that could attribute it to this or that clan, or could be refering to another helm entirely, in fact.” Satine laughed. “Bo and I used to pretend it was the Mask of Mand—”

She stopped.

She looked at Amidala.

The younger woman said nothing, offered nothing, beyond an apologetic frown.

“She’s convinced you it’s the Mask of Mand’alor,” Satine breathed.

“She’s convinced me she believes.” Amidala took a step forward, hand raised.

Satine stepped back. Amidala paused. At the end of the hall, Satine’s Honorguards shifted, but she waved them off. This was not a fight that arms could win.

“So you came here to claim it,” Satine said. “Add a piece of history to your panoply, and for my aid, you’ve the grace to ask I hand it over peacefully? That—”

“We found another piece of the same helm,” Amidala said. “On that world. A pirate who thought he’d found a nice hunk of Beskar, with no knowledge of what he was trying to sell.”

“Another piece?”

“I had it analyzed during the voyage to Serreno.” Amidala shifted. “They noted the lack of impurities, the same nano-voids you mentioned. No idea what to make of it other than that. Bo is certain it’s part of the same mask. I…” Amidala shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea what to think.”

Satine gathered herself. “You would not be here if you did not know what you thought,” she said.

Amidala paused. “No, you’re right.” She took a step back, feet tracing the edge of the moonlight as she walked to the window. In the time they’d been talking, Concordia had moved along its orbit, leaving the young queen cut in half by it’s light. “I thought that it would be useful, to have the Mask. I thought that there are dark times coming for the Republic, and the Mand’alor would be figure that had leverage, that had power.”

Satine said nothing.

“But.” Amidala turned her head. “You told me to ask.”

“Ask?” Satine shook her head.

“We are the same people, you said as much yourself,” Amidala said. “I consider myself a Mando’a of Naboo. So do many thousands now. Next year it will be more.”

“And that entitles you to the mask?”

“That means that I wish to ask you, Kelhev b’ Mand’alor (ruler of Mandalor), what you would do with the Mask.”

Satine stepped forward, once, glaring. “I would cast it into fire, so that it would never be used to unite our people again.”

Amidala watched her, eyes dark. “…Okay.”

Satine blinked in surprise.

“If that is what you think is best, that is what shall be.” She stepped forward in turn, reaching into her cloak to remove a thin case, lights blinking gently along its edge.

She held it out to Satine.

Satine could not help herself. She walked back to the young queen, back to the glimmering gold metal washed silver in Concordia’s light. Her eyes traced the edge of the fragment, even as she made no move to take it.

And Force help her, she meant to say anything else, but the first words from her mouth was, “It matches.”

Even to the naked eye she could trace the line where it would seamlessly join with that ancient piece of history in her vaults.

“It is a perfect fit.”