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DISCLAIMER
The following is a fan-based FICTION
All Installations of Star Wars are owned by Lucasfilm and Disney. All Installations of Dune belong to Herbert Properties, Legendary Entertainment, and Warner Bros. And any other references to other works all belong to their respective authors/companies and whatnot.
Chapter 7:
Plot Uncovered
"Talking"
'Thoughts'
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Location: Theed Royal Palace
Year: 31 BBY
Time: 12:11 P.M
Crouched beside the cyan Seraph-class urban landspeeder, Cade ran his fingers along the rear chassis where the serial number should have been stamped. Instead of clean identification markings, he found only scuffed paint and deliberate abrasion marks. The metal beneath had been scraped smooth. Whoever had prepared the vehicle had made sure it could not be easily traced.
There were at least half a dozen speeder dealerships in and around Theed alone. The idea of visiting each one, questioning staff, and combing through records manually was already forming into an exhausting possibility.
"We already checked the serial number. They scrubbed it clean," one of the investigators said from Cade's left. The older man leaned against a small worktable scattered with wrenches and screwdrivers, his tone edged with irritation. "I don't see why Her Highness called for you. We're doing everything we can."
Cade did not bother responding. Instead, he placed a hand on the side of the speeder and vaulted smoothly into the cockpit. The interior smelled faintly of cleaning solvent, but not thoroughly enough to mask everything.
Reaching forward, he popped open what passed for a glove compartment.
Inside was a thick stack of loose papers.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Dumbasses must've forgotten to clean it out after they purchased it."
He began flipping through the documents quickly, scanning dates, seals, and signatures. The investigator pushed off the table and stepped closer.
"Wait. What did you find?"
"Bill of sale," Cade said, pulling one sheet free. "And they left it in here."
The man leaned over the speeder's side to read. "A bill of sale? Where?"
"In the glove compartment." Cade tapped the open panel. "It says the vehicle was sold along Shaak Creek Road at the Germiddon Family Speedster shop. The form's dated almost three weeks ago." He paused, scanning further. "So whoever bought it wasn't short on credits."
The investigator nodded slowly. "Who's listed as the buyer?"
Cade's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the name. "Wilheim Arcourt."
The reaction was immediate. "Arcourt? Are you sure?"
Cade lifted the paper so the man could see it clearly. "That's what it says."
"I'll be damned," the investigator muttered. "Arcourt is a noble house here in Theed with the Rank of Viscount. Wilheim Arcourt is the current head, with his son Dustin next in line. They own a mansion not far from here and are well-known speeder merchants. Their designs are almost always featured in the annual Speeder Grand Prix around Theed. Most years, whoever drives their model wins."
Cade considered that quietly. "It could be a forgery. Someone may have put their name down deliberately to shift suspicion onto the Viscount." He gestured toward the pile of papers. "That would also explain why these were left behind. If investigators found this, attention would go straight to House Arcourt."
The investigator frowned. "You think they're being framed?"
"It's possible," Cade replied. "But forged or not, we still have the purchase location. If the shop kept records or security logs, we can trace who actually bought it."
The man straightened. "Right. I'll inform Her Highness and assemble a unit to head there immediately."
Without another word, he turned and hurried off, already reaching for his comm.
A little under half an hour later, a convoy of landspeeders roared out of Theed and onto the clean, well-maintained dirt roads leading toward the Germiddon Family Speeder shop. At the head of the formation sped a heavily armed, dark ocean-blue V-19 landspeeder. Three modified V-35 courier speeders followed close behind, their front hoods removed to allow for additional seating and clearer visibility, a heavy repeating blaster mounted prominently at the front of each. Bringing up the rear was a Seraph-class urban landspeeder fitted with a heavy blaster cannon on its back.
Cade sat in the rear of one of the V-35s alongside several of his Winged Shields. Padmé was there as well, disguised as one of her own handmaidens, with several of the real handmaidens seated nearby and a single guard in the driver's seat. For anyone who questioned the appearance of the handmaidens so far away from the Palace, the cover story was simple: the handmaidens had come to ensure the Queen's justice was carried out properly. Dust trailed behind the convoy in long, pale plumes as the countryside blurred past.
"I hope the name on the paper was falsely put there by people trying to frame him," Padmé murmured over the steady hum of the engine.
Cade slid his AR-1 Heavy Blaster pistol back into its holster—a redesigned Halo 3 Magnum he had renamed the BM-1, the Blaster Magnum One—before turning his head toward her. "Why?"
"Because I've met the man on many occasions, and he just seemed… so… nice." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the passing fields. "Every time he's spoken with me, he's offered advice. Told me how grateful he was that someone like me was Queen."
"Everyone hides something," Cade replied evenly. "Maybe outwardly he's a kind old man, but behind the mask he's a devil in disguise?" Cade asked, hoping that question would pop up in Padmé's mind about a certain Supreme Chancellor.
Padmé hesitated, troubled. "You're right, but… I just never thought…"
Her voice trailed off, and she fell quiet, staring down at the metal flooring of the V-35 as the wind tugged lightly at her hair. Cade noticed the shift immediately. Without drawing attention from the others, he reached over and gently took her hand, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze.
Padmé looked up, meeting his eyes.
"It's okay," Cade said, his voice steady and reassuring. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Even if it is him, he committed acts of terrorism and tried to murder someone you trust. You called me here to help you figure this out, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So trust me."
Padmé nodded, and the two of them settled into a comfortable silence as the convoy continued toward the shop, the steady hum of engines filling the space where words no longer needed to be. Dust rolled behind them in long, trailing clouds until the Germiddon Family Speeder yard came into view.
The speeders slowed and came to a stop in front of a rustic, barn-like structure weathered by years of sun and wind. Various landspeeders were scattered around the yard in different states of repair. Some were little more than rusted skeletons, panels barely clinging to their frames, while a rare few gleamed in near-mint condition, polished metal catching the afternoon light. Inside the open barn doors, Cade spotted an older man wearing a dark blue button-up shirt, black jeans stained with grease and dirt, and scuffed brown boots. He stood over an X-34 landspeeder propped on wheeled carts, its hood raised as he worked.
The rumble of engines drew his attention. He glanced up—and froze. His eyes widened slightly as Theed Royal Guards and Atreides Winged Shields stepped out of their vehicles and began advancing across the yard with measured purpose.
"Mr. Germiddon, right?" Cade called, stopping several paces away, with Padmé and her handmaidens just to his right.
The man's gaze flicked from Cade to the handmaidens, then across the line of guards before returning to the armored figure in front of him. "That would be me. Joerus Germiddon." He wiped his hand on a yellow rag, smearing grease into the fabric before extending it in greeting.
Cade met the offered hand with his gloved one and gave it a firm shake, holding it just long enough to be polite before releasing. "We've come to ask you some questions about a speeder you sold recently."
"Of course." Joerus nodded without hesitation, though a faint crease formed between his brows. He gestured toward the interior of the barn. "Come inside. Might as well have a seat."
Cade glanced discreetly toward Padmé. She gave the smallest nod of approval.
"We'd be grateful, thank you," Cade replied, following Joerus inside along with Padmé, one of his Winged Shields, and one of Padmé's handmaidens.
The back of the barn opened into a modest dining space, more practical than decorative. A sturdy wooden table—its surface worn smooth from decades of use—sat in the center of the room. The faint scent of oil and metal lingered in the air, mingling with something sweet from a nearby storage unit.
"Any refreshments?" Joerus asked, moving toward a cryo-cooler tucked against the wall. "I've got Muja juice and Camby cider if you don't fancy alcohol." He cracked it open and retrieved a chilled bottle for himself.
"No, thank you. But we appreciate the offer," Cade said as he took a seat at the old wooden table, its age evident in every scratch and groove carved into its surface.
"Oh well, suit yourself," Joerus muttered. He twisted the cap off the bottle and dropped into the chair across from Cade. Tilting it back, he took a long pull, long enough that nearly half the contents vanished in one go. He lowered it with a sharp exhale. "Ahhh. I needed that. Now, what kind of questions do y'all have for lil' old me?"
"Did you recently sell a Seraph-class urban landspeeder? Cyan in color," Cade asked evenly.
Joerus didn't answer right away. His expression shifted, not guilt, not quite worry, but calculation. After a brief pause, he leaned back slightly. "Look, I don't know what kind of accident it was involved in," he began, "but I pride myself on client confidentiality. Even got a little over a hundred papers that say it on that counter over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward a cluttered counter stacked high with forms and datapads. "So unless the Queen herself comes and orders me around, I'm afraid I don't got nothing for you."
Out of the corner of his eye, Cade caught movement. Padmé's hand had started to rise toward her hood.
Before she could pull it back, Cade spoke firmly, his tone controlled but unmistakable. "The Queen is the reason we are here. She even sent her handmaidens to prove it."
"That's right," Padmé added smoothly, lowering her hand. She held herself with quiet authority. "Her Highness sent us personally and has authorized Lord Cade to act on her behalf with her full authority. An order from him is the same as an order from the Queen herself."
Joerus' eyes flicked between them again. He studied Padmé a second longer this time, then took another drink from his bottle, smaller than the last. Setting it down with a dull thud against the wood, he sighed.
"Alright, fine then. What do you wanna know?"
"Did you recently sell a Seraph-class urban landspeeder? Cyan in color."
"Yeah, I did," Joerus admitted without further resistance. "Fixed it up myself after buying it from a junkyard over in Keren a little over two months ago. Thing was a mess when I got it, but she cleaned up nice." He scratched at his jaw before continuing. "Sold it for a pretty good amount, too. Some nobles or something. They were dressed in tan robes covered in silver markings and shit."
"How many of them were there? Did you happen to get their names?" Cade asked, a note of restrained hope threading through his otherwise steady tone.
"Two," Joerus replied without hesitation. "And I only got the name of one of 'em. The second all but refused to talk. Seemed more like a bodyguard than anything." He rubbed at his chin as he continued. "Man said his name was Wilheim Arcourt. Claimed he was looking for something affordable but stylish, so I sold him the Seraph."
"Could you describe what the men looked like?" Padmé asked.
"Uh, the Arcourt guy, yeah, because he took his hood off. The other one, not really. He kept his face hidden." Joerus leaned back, staring at the ceiling as he sifted through the memory. "Lemme see… if I had to bet, he was a few years older than me. Had kinda wild white hair. Thin white and gray beard. Honestly, more like stubble than a proper beard."
Cade turned his head slightly, watching Padmé from the corner of his eye. The reaction came instantly. Her mouth tightened. The color in her face shifted just enough to give her away. A heartbeat later, she looked at him and gave a small, confirming nod.
It was him.
"Then it seems we've got what we came for," Cade said quietly.
Padmé inclined her head in agreement.
Cade pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, the wood scraping faintly against the old floor. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir. And don't worry, this won't blow back on you in any way. You have my word."
Joerus looked unconvinced, his fingers drumming once against the neck of the bottle, but he gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. Y'all have a good one, now."
A short while later, Cade, Padmé, and their respective guards climbed back into their landspeeders. Engines hummed to life, and the small convoy pulled away from the barn, leaving dust swirling in their wake as they made for the capital.
The ride back was quieter.
"I… just can't believe it," Padmé muttered at last, her voice low beneath the steady whine of the engine.
"I know." Cade nodded, his jaw set. He glanced at her, seeing the hurt beneath the composure she wore so well. "He'll get what's coming to him. I promise, Padmé." His eyes met hers, steady and unflinching, reflecting his determination to see this through to the end.
She held his gaze for a moment, searching it, then gave a small nod. It did not erase the weight pressing against her chest, but it eased it, if only slightly.
Once they returned to the palace in Theed, Padmé and Cade wasted no time. They convened with Captain Mariek and Governor Sio Bibble, delivering the news in a private chamber far from prying ears.
Mariek's reaction was immediate and explosive. The idea that a Naboo noble could be tied to something so treacherous lit a visible fire in her. She demanded the Viscount be brought in at once. Bibble, however, looked as though the air had been stolen from his lungs. Wilheim Arcourt was not just a name in a ledger to him. He was a family friend. The betrayal cut deeper than politics.
Cade remained composed, though his thoughts moved quickly beneath the surface. Emotion was a luxury they could not afford. If Arcourt had gone this far, it was more than likely he had allies. There could be informants within the palace itself. Servants. Clerks. Guards. Anyone. Acting slowly would only give their enemies time to scatter.
They needed to act fast.
Padmé agreed without hesitation.
Cade left five of his Winged Shields stationed with her while two moved with him, and the remaining twenty moved to encircle the Arcourt estate. Orders were given quietly and efficiently over an encrypted comm channel accessible only to House Atreides soldiers.
Cade marched up the manor steps with two Winged Shields at his back. All three carried M2 Battle Rifles at the ready, their posture relaxed but prepared. The Arcourt residence sat wedged among neighboring structures, typical of the tighter noble districts of Theed. Ornate stone pathways curved around the building, decorative vases lining the entrance, though the mansion itself felt smaller than one would expect from a Viscount's title. Elegant, yes. Spacious, no.
Cade knocked firmly.
He stepped back, boots settling against the stone, and waited.
After about a minute, the door creaked open.
An older woman stood there. She had a heart-shaped face, and gray hair turning white, cut just above her ears. Cade recognized her immediately from the briefing files Captain Mariek had assembled.
Patricia Arcourt.
Wilhelm Arcourt's wife.
Her eyes first landed on Cade, then shifted to the armored soldiers behind him, their rifles held in their hands. Her gaze returned to Cade. She forced a smile, but it trembled at the edges.
"Uhm… C-Can I help you gentlemen with something?"
"Yes, ma'am," Cade said evenly. "We're looking for your husband. Is he home?"
The door slammed shut before Cade could react.
The sharp crack of wood against its frame echoed off the narrow street, and he and the two Winged Shields instinctively flinched back a half step. The reaction was abrupt, almost desperate. Not the response of a confused spouse. Not the response of someone innocent.
Cade did not waste time questioning it.
He tapped his comlink, his voice calm and controlled. "The wife's in on it. Team A and B, breach. Team C, maintain overwatch."
He stepped back up to the door and unclipped a grenade from his belt. He pulled the pin and let it drop at the base of the entrance. Then he and the two Shields jogged around the corner of the mansion, boots pounding lightly against the stone.
A heartbeat later, the explosion tore through the entryway.
Smoke and splintered wood burst outward into the street. The ornate frame shattered, and the heavy door blew inward. Cade rounded the corner with his M2 Battle Rifle already raised, advancing toward the smoldering threshold.
Crimson blaster bolts erupted from within the smoke.
They streaked out wildly, burning through lingering debris and scoring the stone near the doorway. Cade ducked instinctively, then surged forward the moment the firing paused. He crossed the open gap in a quick sprint, firing controlled crimson bursts into the haze ahead of him to suppress whoever was inside.
He pivoted slightly and gave one of his Winged Shields a sharp nod.
The soldier was already ready, flash grenade in hand. He pressed the red activation button and lobbed it cleanly through the blasted doorway.
A blinding flash detonated inside, followed by a concussive boom that rattled the fractured frame. The explosion was accompanied by disoriented screams. One distinctly feminine voice. Several male voices layered over it.
"Go!" Cade ordered, taking point as he crossed the threshold.
Inside, smoke curled through what had once been a modest but well-kept foyer. Decorative vases lay shattered across the tiled floor. A man knelt several feet ahead, blinking blindly, a CDEF blaster pistol clattering near his boots.
Cade switched his rifle to stun and fired twice. Blue rings of energy struck the man square in the chest, dropping him unconscious.
To his right, one Winged Shield subdued another man armed with a second CDEF blaster pistol. A third guard, still half-staggering from the flash, reached clumsily for a DT-57 "Annihilator" blaster at his side before he, too, was hit with stun bolts and collapsed against the wall.
The last figure standing was not what Cade had expected.
A maid.
Her uniform was disheveled, hair loose from its tie, and in her trembling hand was a simple Q2 hold-out blaster pistol. It looked almost absurdly small compared to the heavier weapons already scattered across the floor.
For a split second, she hesitated.
Cade did not.
He fired once, then again. The stun blasts struck true, and she crumpled to the floor beside the others, the small pistol skidding across polished tile.
"My lord."
The voice came from Cade's left. He turned to see Sergeant Jask approaching with two Winged Shields. Between them struggled Patricia Arcourt, her arms pinned tightly as she thrashed and shouted.
"We found her and a maid trying to escape out the back," Jask reported.
"Good," Cade said with a short nod. His gaze moved briefly over the foyer—the unconscious guards, the stunned servants, blasters scattered across the tile. "We'll likely need her to answer where her husband is and what he's involved in. Although…" His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked around. "Judging by this little welcoming party, it seems they may both be involved."
Jask gave a grim nod.
"Order some of the men to search this place top to bottom," Cade continued. "Anything that might tell us where the hell her husband went."
"It will be done, my lord!" Jask replied, already turning to relay the order.
"Let me go, you bastards!" Patricia screamed as she struggled against the soldiers holding her. "My husband will have your heads for this! The Queen won't stand for this foreign invasion!"
Cade stepped closer and crouched down so he was level with her. "Where is your husband?" he asked calmly.
"The Queen will hear about this and send you back to whatever hole you crawled out of—"
"The Queen authorized this operation," Cade cut in sharply. "Your husband was involved in an attempt on the Queen's chief security advisor's life. She will not defend you or him." His voice hardened. "Now tell me where he is."
"M-My husband would never do such a thing!" she shot back, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She was in on it.
He let out a slow breath, then rose slightly and switched his M2 Battle Rifle off stun. The weapon gave a soft mechanical click as it changed settings. He lifted the barrel and pressed it firmly against her forehead.
"I hate to do this," he said quietly, "but if you don't tell me where your husband is in the next ten seconds, I don't have a choice." His eyes locked onto hers. "Tell me where he is, or you die."
The room fell silent.
The two Winged Shields holding her stiffened, clearly not expecting that level of ruthlessness from their young lord. Even Sergeant Jask stared for a moment, caught off guard.
"...9."
Patricia's bravado cracked instantly. "W-Wait! You wouldn't actually kill me, would you?!"
"…8."
Patricia's breath hitched. "I… I… I—"
"…7."
"Okay! Okay!" she cried suddenly, panic breaking through her voice. Her eyes darted wildly between the soldiers around her. "He's at the opera house! There's a secret hatch under the stage! He's there!"
Cade didn't move.
"…You're lying," he said flatly.
Her eyes snapped upward toward the glowing crimson visor of his helmet.
"…3… 2…"
"He's at a bar!" she shrieked, the words tumbling out through sobs. Tears streaked down her face. "There's a place called the Colo Claw Cantina in the slums… They meet there!"
Cade's eyes narrowed behind the visor. "Who are they?"
Patricia stayed silent, trembling.
The barrel of the blaster pressed harder against her forehead. "Who. Are. They."
"T-T… They're called the Anti-Armament Movement," she whimpered. "They think the new guard captain is influencing the Queen… turning Naboo away from the peaceful nature the planet is known for… pushing it toward some militaristic regime…" Her explanation came in broken fragments between quiet sobs.
Cade stared at her for a moment. "Your planet was just invaded by millions of droids from the Trade Federation," he said slowly. "Your people were thrown into camps. Some were on the brink of being enslaved. Thousands of Nabooians died." He gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the city beyond the mansion. "And you think a few hundred new recruits, some defensive turrets, a handful of armed landspeeders, and a factory producing blasters is going to turn Naboo into some kind of militaristic dictatorship?"
"I… They… We…" Patricia stammered helplessly.
"You're idiots," Cade scoffed. He stepped back and lowered his rifle. Turning toward Sergeant Jask, he gave a short nod. "Put her and the rest of them in cuffs. I'll contact the Queen and let her know what we've learned."
Stepping outside the mansion, Cade smiled faintly behind his helmet as Padmé hurried toward him, her handmaidens and guards keeping pace around her. Curious civilians gathered beyond the perimeter, trying to catch glimpses of what was happening, but Theed police officers kept them back behind barricades hastily established after Cade's Winged Shields breached the estate.
"What have you learned?" Padmé asked immediately.
"Colo Claw Cantina," Cade answered with a nod. "That's where we'll find him as well as the rest of em'."
Padmé's expression hardened. She turned toward the captain leading her guard detail for the day. "Get a convoy ready now. We can't risk them scattering or getting wind of this. They're being exposed and taken into custody today."
The captain nodded sharply before stepping aside and speaking into his comlink.
Not long after, the convoy tore through the streets of Theed.
At first, the city remained as beautiful as ever. Marble walkways, clean roads, fountains, carefully maintained gardens. But the farther they traveled, the more the city changed. The pristine streets gave way to cracked, grime-covered roads. Elegant architecture became stained and neglected. Potted plants sat broken or overgrown, vines crawling from shattered stone and stretching through the cracks in the pavement like invading roots reclaiming forgotten ground.
Sitting in the back of a V-35 landspeeder with a heavy auto-blaster turret mounted behind him, Cade watched the district pass by with his helmet resting in his lap.
"As much as I'd like to blame this on the Trade Federation invasion, I can't," Padmé said quietly beside him.
Cade looked over at her.
"This sector was beautiful thirty years ago," she continued. "Clean. Vibrant. Just like the rest of Theed. But after Naboo formally joined the Republic, King Tapalo lost sight of it."
"Bribery?" Cade guessed, already disliking where this was going.
"Unfortunately." Padmé sighed. "Three noble families owned a casino here and decided to reshape the district into what they called 'Naboo's red-light sector.'" She visibly shuddered at the phrase. "And for a while, it worked."
Cade glanced back out at the streets. Groups of people lingered outside rundown clubs and dim cantinas. Neon signs flickered weakly against stained walls. Music echoed faintly from somewhere deeper in the district while figures moved through alleyways trying very hard not to attract attention.
"But?" Cade asked, glancing over at her. "Because I sense a 'but' coming on."
That earned the faintest crack in Padmé's composure, a brief smile slipping through before she nodded. "You'd be right."
She looked back out at the passing district as the convoy hovered deeper into the decaying sector. "After a year or so, it stopped being a place where the elite came to party and indulge themselves." Her expression dimmed. "It became a place they were afraid of."
"How so? Criminals?" Cade asked.
Padmé nodded slowly. "People started thinking, 'If the nobles can get away with anything they want, why can't we?'" She folded her hands together in her lap. "I remember reading an article years ago about a man looking for quick credits who ambushed a family walking home one night."
"A family?"
"They had a child with them," Padmé continued quietly.
Cade frowned and glanced out the speeder again at the filthy streets passing by. "Who would bring a kid into this dump?"
"It wasn't a dump back then," Padmé reminded him gently. "And this district wasn't only casinos and pleasure houses. There were restaurants, holodrama theaters, bars, public gardens. That family had just come from a late-night holodrama screening."
Something about the story scratched at the back of Cade's mind.
Familiar. Eerily so.
"The man shot both parents," Padmé said, her voice softening further. "Then he turned the blaster on the child."
Cade's head snapped toward her. "Wait… he killed the kid too?"
Padmé nodded once.
"And afterward," she continued bitterly, "the Holonews published his reasoning. 'Since the nobles could get away with it, why can't we?'"
The words hung in the air.
"That man convinced himself it was acceptable to murder a family because he believed everyone above him already did terrible things without consequence." Padmé shook her head faintly. "He thought he was just playing by the same rules."
"That's disgusting," Cade muttered.
"It is." Silence lingered for a few moments before Padmé continued. "Eventually, the wealth stopped circulating here. Crime increased. Corruption spread through businesses, officials, and even parts of local law enforcement. By the time anyone in the capital truly cared enough to intervene, the district had already rotted from the inside out."
"What happened to the nobles?"
"Some tried to stay," Padmé answered. "Most fled once the violence became too severe. The casino is now owned by a local crime boss who somehow avoids every charge brought against him. Every time my officers think they finally have evidence, it disappears."
"Rats," Cade growled.
Padmé nodded grimly. "I'm hoping the invasion and the restructuring afterward will finally give us the opportunity to clean this district up." Her eyes hardened with determination. "And hopefully put that bastard behind bars."
"Don't worry, Padmé." Cade turned toward her, confidence written plainly across his face. "We'll have these idiots in cuffs in no time. And I'm sure you'll get that crime boss too. Honestly, you're probably the best queen Naboo's had in centuries."
A faint blush touched Padmé's cheeks at the praise. "I wouldn't be here without you, Cade," she said sincerely. "And I can't thank you enough for answering my call for help. I know you have your own problems back on Caladan, and yet you came all the way here to help me." She smiled softly up at him. "Seriously. Thank you."
For a few moments, silence settled comfortably between them as they smiled at one another while the convoy continued deeper into the district.
Then the pilot's voice broke through the calm. "My lord, Your Highness. We've arrived."
The convoy came to a stop.
Cade looked past Padmé and out toward the building ahead. The cantina looked rough even compared to the rest of the district. The structure was only one story tall and seemed like it had survived purely out of stubbornness rather than maintenance. Smoke stains blackened parts of the exterior walls, and the battered pink neon sign above the entrance flickered inconsistently.
COLO CLAW CANTINA.
Cade climbed out of the V-35 first. Ahead of them sat the heavily armed V-19 landspeeder at the front of the convoy, while the second V-35 rested between it and their own transport. That middle speeder lacked a mounted turret, its extra space instead packed with additional Winged Shields.
Three Naboo Royal Guards exited alongside Cade while seven Winged Shields climbed from the unarmed V-35, blaster rifles already in hand. None emerged from the V-19 yet; their job was to sit ready and waiting to provide covering fire if things went wrong.
Turning back toward the speeder, Cade offered Padmé a hand as she stepped toward the edge.
That earned him a stern look.
He chuckled. "What? Just being polite."
Padmé rolled her eyes but accepted the help anyway, allowing him to steady her as she stepped down onto the grimy street. Once beside him, she brushed at her clothes despite there being no actual dirt on them.
Making their way up to the doors, they slid open with a soft hiss as Cade, Padmé, and their guards stepped into the cantina.
The inside was quieter than Cade expected.
Most of the tables and booths sat empty beneath dim, flickering lights. The only occupied booth rested near the back wall, where two rough-looking human men lounged in dirty, worn clothing that looked more like rags than actual attire. Both glanced up as the newcomers entered before quickly looking away again.
Behind the bar stood a Quarren in moderately decent clothing. He wore a white button-up shirt with purple stripes, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. At first, he casually cleaned a glass with a rag, but the moment his eyes landed on the armed group entering his establishment, his movements slowed. Then stopped entirely. The Quarren carefully set both the glass and rag down before placing his hands flat against the bartop.
"I or this establishment don't want any trouble," he said in a deep, warbling voice.
"Good," Padmé replied as she stepped up to the counter, Cade and two Royal Guards moving alongside her. "I'm here on a mission from the Queen herself."
The Quarren visibly tensed at that. "A mission from the Queen?" His gaze flicked briefly toward the guards, then toward Cade, before returning to Padmé. "And what kind of mission would bring you to my little establishment?"
"Did you happen to see four men recently?" Cade asked.
There was the slightest hesitation before the Quarren shook his head. "No."
"Tan robes with silver markings ring any bells?" Cade pressed.
"We don't get n-nobles in these parts anymore," the Quarren replied shakily. "I-If you're really here on a mission from the Queen, you should know that."
Padmé leaned forward sharply, her patience snapping. "We know the four men responsible for the attack on Guard Captain Mariek were here in your bar!" she shouted.
The Quarren recoiled slightly at the sudden force in her voice.
"We know this cantina hosts meetings for the Anti-Armament Movement, and I demand, in the name of the Queen, that you tell us—"
Before she could finish, the Quarren suddenly ducked beneath the counter. A blaster pistol snapped up into his grip and leveled directly between Padmé's eyes.
"No!" Cade roared.
Without hesitation, he vaulted over the counter and slammed into the Quarren, driving both of them to the floor just as the first blaster shot went off.
The blaster bolt struck harmlessly against the floor as Cade slammed into the Quarren, the shot going wide from the sudden impact. In the same motion, Cade brought his arm down hard against the Quarren's wrist, knocking the blaster pistol from the alien's three-fingered grasp. The weapon skidded across the floor beneath a nearby table.
The Quarren thrashed wildly beneath him, tentacles flailing as he tried to shove Cade off, but Cade quickly seized him by the collar and hauled him upright with brutal force. He slammed the Quarren back-first into the shelves behind the bar, rattling the entire counter and sending several glasses crashing to the floor in a spray of shattered shards.
Before the Quarren could react further, Cade grabbed hold of the alien's mouth tentacles and yanked them downward tightly, preventing him from spraying ink into his face.
With his free hand, Cade drew his BM-1 and jammed the barrel against the side of the Quarren's head.
"Tell us what you know!" Cade demanded.
The Quarren froze, breathing heavily.
Cade shoved the pistol harder against his skull, drawing a pained wince from the alien. "Now!"
"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you!" the Quarren cried. "Just don't kill me!"
"Cade!"
Cade glanced back over his shoulder. Padmé stood there with a pleading but slightly angry expression on her face. The look in her eyes was enough to make him pause.
After a moment, Cade slowly eased back a step and lowered the pistol, though he kept it firmly in hand.
Padmé stepped forward carefully, making her way around the bar. "Tell us what you know," she said, stepping up beside Cade, trying to steady the terrified Quarren. "The Queen can protect you if that's what you're worried about."
The Quarren's breathing came fast and uneven as he glanced nervously toward the now-empty booth in the back of the cantina. Whatever little composure he had left seemed to crack further at the realization that the two men sitting there had vanished during the chaos.
Locking eyes with Padmé again, the Quarren whispered harshly, "These people… you don't understand what they'd do to me if they found out I talked! They preach democracy and peace, but they're some of the most violent beings I've ever met!"
"Maybe so," Padmé replied firmly, "but those people have already murdered others. Innocent civilians. Guards. They took husbands from wives, wives from husbands, and children from their parents. They've destroyed families."
"What?" the Quarren asked, genuine shock entering his voice. "B-But they said they were only targeting the guards…"
"No," Padmé said, anger and sadness mixing in her voice. "They killed civilians and guards alike. More were left critically injured. Some may never recover."
The Quarren stared at her in stunned silence. "I… I didn't know," he stammered weakly.
"That's why we need your help," Padmé continued. "We were told this cantina is a common meeting place for the Anti-Armament Movement. We need to know where they are."
The Quarren swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. "I-I don't know all of them," he stammered. "I swear it. They only use first names or aliases around me. They don't trust outsiders."
"Then tell us what you do know," Cade ordered from beside him, BM-1 still lowered but very much visible in his hand.
The Quarren flinched before nodding rapidly. "The meetings usually happen downstairs. There's a hidden room beneath the storage cellar." He pointed shakily toward a narrow hallway behind the bar. "They gather there every few nights. Sometimes ten people, sometimes thirty."
"And Wilheim Arcourt?" Padmé asked immediately.
The Quarren hesitated again before giving a weak nod. "Yeah… he's one of the leaders. He and a woman named Iayabella Estrange, she-"
The rest of his sentence never came.
A crimson blaster bolt suddenly streaked through an open window and slammed straight through the Quarren's throat. Before anyone could even react, two more bolts followed, punching into his chest and hurling him backward against the shelves.
"Get down!" one of the Royal Guards shouted.
The guard drew his blaster pistol and immediately returned fire through the window, several bright bolts flashing out into the street beyond.
Cade reacted on instinct.
The moment the first shot hit, he grabbed Padmé around the waist and pulled her down behind the bar counter. The two of them crashed to the floor just as more blaster fire tore through the cantina, bolts scorching the walls and shattering bottles behind the bar.
The cantina doors slammed open. Four Winged Shields stormed inside with their M2 Battle Rifles raised, visors glowing red beneath the dim lighting as they swept the room for threats.
"Outside! They fired from the open windows!" Cade heard one of the Naboo Royal Guards shout toward them over the chaos.
But for just a brief second, the noise around him faded.
Cade found himself staring upward into Padmé's hazel eyes.
She lay partially on top of him behind the counter, one hand braced against his chest, while his arms remained wrapped around her back from pulling her down to safety. Her breathing was uneven from the sudden attack, strands of hair falling loose around her face.
Hazel eyes locked onto dark sage-colored ones.
For a heartbeat, both were locked in their own little world.
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A/N: Welcome to the seventh chapter of my fic: Star Wars: House Atreides! Maybe posting this gave me a kick in the ass or really kicked my brain into overdrive, but I have been churning out chapters faster than I honestly thought I would haha. So two chapters in a day! Enjoy!