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Padmé—oh, Padmé, what are we going to do?

He didn’t know. He didn’t have a clue. But he knew one thing he wasn’t going to do.

He wasn’t going to give up.

Even with the Council against him—even with the whole Order against him—he would find a way.

He would save her.

Somehow.

“I am no happier than the rest of you about this,” Padmé said, gesturing at the flimsiplast of the Sector Governance Decree on Bail Organa’s desk. “But I’ve known Palpatine for years; he was my most trusted adviser. I’m not prepared to believe his intent is to dismantle the Senate.”

“Why should he bother?” Mon Mothma countered. “As a practical matter—as of this morning—the Senate no longer exists.”

Padmé looked from one grim face to another. Giddean Danu nodded his agreement. Terr Taneel kept her eyes down, pretending to be adjusting her robes. Fang Zar ran a hand over his unruly gray-streaked topknot.

Bail leaned forward. His eyes were hard as chips of stone. “Palpatine no longer has to worry about controlling the Senate. By placing his own lackeys as governors over every planet in the Republic, he controls our systems directly.” He folded his hands, and squeezed them together until his knuckles hurt. “He’s become a dictator. We made him a dictator.”

And he’s my husband’s friend, and mentor, Padmé thought. I shouldn’t even be listening to this.

“But what can we do about it?” Terr Taneel asked, still gazing down at her robe with a worried frown.

“That’s what we asked you here to discuss,” Mon Mothma told her calmly. “What we’re going to do about it.”

Fang Zar shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“None of us likes where anything is going,” Bail said, half rising. “That’s exactly the point. We can’t let a thousand years of democracy disappear without a fight!”

“A fight?” Padmé said. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing—Bail, you sound like a Separatist!”

“I—” Bail sank back into his seat. “I apologize. That was not my intent. I asked you all here because of all the Senators in the galaxy, you four have been the most consistent—and influential—voices of reason and restraint, doing all you could to preserve our poor, tattered Constitution. We don’t want to hurt the Republic. With your help, we hope to save it.”

“It has become increasingly clear,” Mon Mothma said, “that Palpatine has become an enemy of democracy. He must be stopped.”

“The Senate gave him these powers,” Padmé said. “The Senate can rein him in.”

Giddean Danu sat forward. “I fear you underestimate just how deeply the Senate’s corruption has taken hold. Who will vote against Palpatine now?”

“I will,” Padmé said. She discovered that she meant it. “And I’ll find others, too.”

She’d have to. No matter how much it hurt Anakin. Oh, my love, will you ever find a way to forgive me?

“You do that,” Bail said. “Make as much noise as you can—keep Palpatine watching what you’re doing in the Senate. That should provide some cover while Mon Mothma and I begin building our organization—”

“Stop.” Padmé rose. “It’s better to leave some things unsaid. Right now, it’s better I don’t know anything about … anything.”

Don’t make me lie to my husband was her unspoken plea. She tried to convey it with her eyes. Please, Bail. Don’t make me lie to him. It will break his heart.

Perhaps he saw something there; after a moment’s indecision, he nodded. “Very well. Other matters can be left for other times. Until then, this meeting must remain absolutely secret. Even hinting at an effective opposition to Palpatine can be, as we’ve all seen, very dangerous. We must agree never to speak of these matters except among the people who are now in this room. We must bring no one into this secret without the agreement of each and every one of us.”

“That includes even those closest to you,” Mon Mothma added. “Even your families—to share anything of this will expose them to the same danger we all face. No one can be told. No one.”

Padmé watched them all nod, and what could she do? What could she say? You can keep your own secrets, but I’ll have to tell my