Trouble in Paradise
Wife of Deceit, Book 2
“There is a change to this week's schedule,” Nena announced.
Amne glanced wearily up from the datapad she had been using to follow the seminal briefing. “Is it an omission or addition?” she asked.
“You were scheduled to accompany the SELCORE envoy to Ghorman,” her assistant explained. “As of this morning, Ghorman has seceded.”
“Peacefully?” she asked immediately.
Nena shook her head. “The military faction enforced it and saw to it that the Premier's council signed the necessary treaties.”
That was reminiscent of what had been attempted on Naboo ten years ago. The players were the same—it was no surprise to find that the Trade Federation supported the Separatist cause—but these days, the treaties were signed whether there was popular support or not.
The loss of Ghorman was a distressing one. The world was not politically or militarily powerful, but the Republic had taken an interest because it housed millions of refugees. That area of the Mid-Rim had been plagued by wars and many of the survivors had fled their enemies and found a new home on Ghorman. The primary concern was the fact that the Separatists, for all their ideals and protests, did not have the resources to adequately support the populace. People would starve and die because their leaders had some misguided ideas about their place in the Galaxy.
Still, it was Sheev’s place to deal with such crises. She could have her own concerns, but it was not her place to overreact.
“I was to visit Chandrila beforehand and attend the dedication of the new parliament building on Sem,” she recalled. “Can either one of those visits be extended to cover the gap left by Ghorman?”
“I will find out,” Nena promised. “There is just one more thing and then I can leave you to your own devices.”
“Yes?”
“Senator Organa has requested an audience with you,”
Senator Organa had last done such a thing five years ago. There had been an agreement between them that neither of them would use the other for political gain just because they happened to hold positions of relative power. He occasionally visited, but the wording was much more informal on those occasions.
“For what time?”
“You have an opening in two minutes,” the other woman pointed out. “He commed from his speeder and should be in the area. If not, he will be attending a session of the Loyalist Committee this afternoon.”
“Arrange it if he's still available now,” Amne requested promptly.
“Yes, ma'am,” Nena said respectfully.
She knocked on the door three minutes later and Amne stood respectfully. Bail bowed formally as was appropriate, but there was something pinched and nervous in his expression.
“Thank you for seeing me, milady.”
“My pleasure,” Amne responded. “Would you like anything to drink?”
He raised a hand in dismissal. “No, thank you. I must be brief.”
His tone was now as intense as his expression. She gestured him to a seat and returned to her own chair. Instead of coming straight to the matter at hand, she waited in silence until some of the tension had drained from the room and then folded her hands demurely in her lap.
“What can I do for you, Senator?”
Bail mimicked her gesture, keeping his hands clasped in front of him. “We need an advocate with the Chancellor,” he explained.
“We?”
“The Loyalist Committee,” he elaborated.
“The Loyalist Committee which the Chancellor formed himself,” she rejoined. “I'm not sure that I take your meaning, Bail.”
The use of his first name was a signal. It would not convert this into an informal conversation, but it indicated that she expected him to speak without regard for their respective offices. At the very least, it would let him know that she was listening to his request primarily as a friend.
“The Chancellor formed the committee on the grounds that diplomatic resolutions needed to be pursued in the matter of the secessionist member states. We have been doing our best to reach out both to the delegations that have left our ranks and those sovereignties that have loyalties to the Separatists.”
In spite of her efforts to change the tone of this meeting, Bail was reciting the information as if she had asked for a briefing. The only thing to do was to take it in stride.
“The Chancellor is making similar efforts,” she assured him.
“So the public record says,” Bail agreed. “We have reason to believe his priorities are no longer aligned with ours.”
This was dangerous conversation, even informally. For a man to speak ill of the Chancellor in the mansion was tantamount to sedition. Bail was too wise to go that far, however.
“What reason?” she challenged.
Instead of speaking, he handed over a datapad. She scanned through the file, but before she could process the information it contained, Bail spoke again.
“The Chancellor has several staff members who report to the Committee on occasion,” he explained. “One of them forwarded this report to us on the assumption that we had requested it. We had it followed back to the Chancellor's original request.”
Amne's throat tightened, but she set the datapad on the side table. “He requested an estimate,” she defended her husband. “Just because he is considering contingency plans could simply mean that he is being prepared.”
“If he is simply being prepared, he has no reason to hide this from the loyalists,” Bail retorted.
Her immediate instinct was to remind him that this was a matter of galactic security. There was no safe way to prepare for the worst if too many people knew what those preparations were. Then again, the report represented the intention to aggressively go against every intention that had been publicized. It sneered in the face of diplomacy.
She expected to feel righteous indignation at what Bail was implying. He was daring to sit in her home and tell her that her husband was deceiving them both on a fundamental level. Instead, she felt the same sick churning she remembered from the vote of no confidence. It was the sensation brought on by recognizing too much truth in a mad suspicion. Still, she could not trust his word over that of her own husband. It was much easier to identify a wrongdoing on his part.
“You thought it necessary to breach security by tracing the source?” she asked quietly.
Bail had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “Yes, milady,” he said, emphasizing the title. “The Loyalist Committee needs to know who is working against them whenever possible.”
Amne had no words for that. There were things that could have been said, but she was in no mood to speak empty assurances or threats.
“I will speak to him,” she promised.
“Thank you,” he replied frankly.
Finally, Bail's expression softened. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to appear as some kind of political bully.”
At least he understood the unnecessary force with which he had argued his point. She had to wonder if he had recognized her discomfort as something other than annoyance.
“Apology accepted,” she said. “Sometimes, bullying is necessary.”
“Next time, I will remember my manners and come to you without a business request.”
“You are welcome as a friend at any time,” she responded. “As always.”
He left her with another, slightly less formal bow. Amne waited until his footsteps had faded from the foyer of her office before she stood and activated the comm unit. It took only a few moments to reach Sheev’s primary aide.
“Your Ladyship,” Sly greeted formally. “You require something of the Chancellor?”
“Not at the moment,” Amne lied. “Do you happen to know when he will be returning to the mansion tonight?”
“His last appointment should end at 1845,” the austere woman said. “You should expect him within the hour after that. Will there be anything else, milady?”
She was within her rights to ask for a meeting sometime during the day. Sheev was not required to attend every hour of the Senate and there was the occasional free hour. Even if she could not occupy an hour of his time, he could give her ten minutes.
“No,” she said instead. “I will wait for him here.”
*****
By the time Sheev returned near midnight, Amne had fallen asleep. She awoke as the bed shifted with his weight and his right arm curled protectively around her waist.
“I was detained,” he explained without a hint of apology in his voice. “Things are becoming more complicated with the Separatist situation.”
“So I gathered,” Amne responded as she rolled onto her back to look at him head-on. “What happened tonight?”
From the expression on his face, she half-expected him to announce that Coruscant had seceded from the Republic. He stalled by kissing her lightly, but when he pulled away, his expression was still dark.
“The Banking Clan and the Techno Union have officially aligned themselves with the secessionists,” Sheev explained. “If they are reasonable, we can still maintain our interests and accounts. If they are not reasonable, they can fund whatever is to come with the contents of our seized accounts. In the long term, means that we may have more candidates for war crimes trials. In the short term, it could be a significant hindrance.”
By the time she heard the last two sentences, the grogginess of sleep had finally left her mind. That meant that her first response was more accusatory than she intended.
“War crimes trials,” she said flatly. “Is that what you are looking forward to?”
“I am looking forward to nothing but re-signing the charters of the member states that have been foolish enough to leave our ranks,” he said. “I am anticipating that war may be inevitable.”
“Is that why you ordered a force depletion report?” she challenged.
His jaw clenched and she knew immediately that she had hit a nerve. His arm withdrew and he sat up, all pretense of affection gone.
“How did that come to your attention?” he demanded.
“That is immaterial,” she retorted. “If you are pursuing diplomatic resolutions, you should not be asking the Galactic Security Agency for a force depletion report. You are investigating the casualty rate of a war that you insist will not be fought.”
“I am Chancellor,” he reminded her coldly, “and it is my duty to be prepared.”
“I understand that,” she said. “What I do not understand is this cloak-and-vibroshiv approach to those preparations.”
“Who told you about the report?” he reiterated.
“It was a member of the congressional body,” Amne said evasively. “What in the world are you attempting to do?”
“I am attempting to prevent a galactic crisis,” he snapped, standing abruptly. “I have spent countless hours working toward that and it is not your place to challenge that.”
Their arguments rarely broached the area of politics. They could not afford to present a divided front, so it had been several months since they had any kind of dispute on political matters. It had been four years since things had become this openly hostile and she had the feeling things would not improve if she pushed the matter.
He seemed to sense the waning of her aggression, but it did nothing to change the tone of the argument. She sat up, her arms folded across her chest, and waited for him to speak something in his own defense or in condemnation of her lack of trust.
“You are entitled to doubt me,” he said in a low voice, “but when it is a matter of security, you are not entitled to withhold information. What was your source?”
“You should know,” she insisted. “You know my allies.”
“I would assume that the ever-loyal Senator Organa is the most likely candidate,” he sneered.
“The Loyalist Committee receives reports that pertain to this crisis,” she said without confirming or denying the allegation.
“They were not given that report,” he said. “Regardless of how directly they work for me, there are certain matters that require a higher clearance than what they are entitled to. Surely, after ten years as the Chancellor’s wife, you understand that.”
Her cheeks colored, but she could not identify immediately if it was out of embarrassment or anger. “I am not challenging that,” she replied quietly. “I want to know why you are so determinedly avoiding answering my questions.”
His hands relaxed and his face appeared less pinched, but the tension in his shoulders remained. As soon as this was resolved, she would apologetically hold him until some of that tension disappeared. If this could be resolved at all. At this point, the best she could hope for was a truce.
“I am preparing for any eventuality, however unpleasant,” Sheev replied at last. “That means that I am considering what must be done if this turns into a military crisis. I am anticipating a financial crisis. I am working with more enthusiasm than the entire Loyalist Committee and I am unable to anticipate which one of those precautions I will need to pursue further. I am pursuing diplomatic resolutions as I promised and for now, that should be enough for you.”
The blush in her cheeks was now a result of shame. She lowered her eyes and nodded.
“Forgive me for my doubts,” she requested. “I promised Bail that I would speak to you about his concerns, but only because I worried as well.”
“Thank you for your candor,” he said formally.
Sheev sat on the bed once more and took her hand. His grip was gentle, as if they had not spoken a word in disagreement.
“You are not the only one in this room who has doubted me,” he murmured. “I must ensure that, if something should happen, it is not as a result of our inaction.”
“I know,” Amne replied quietly.
She tugged on his hand, turning him to look at her. “I need you to trust me,” she requested.
He nodded solemnly and tightened his grip on her hand before pulling her into a firm embrace. “I think that can be arranged.”
Notes:
Looking back, I think a lot of what Kaki went through as a domestic abuse survivor informs her characterization of Palpatine. Here and in previous chapters, we see how skillfully Palpatine’s self-proclaimed virtue of “seeing the best potential in people” equates to, “Here is someone I will be able to use because they fit my agenda exceedingly well.” Here we see what begins to happen when the person no longer fits the agenda exceedingly well, something she used to talk about from her own past. Written as it was shortly after her divorce, I speculate that this story was one way of working out her own trauma.
We also see here the subtle hints of Amne’s Force-sensitivity and, in previous chaptrs, hints that Palpatine picks up on it. This would have repercussions, had she finished these stories.