Masters of the Game

Chapter 12: Is It All ...

CHAPTER 12: IS IT ALL A PUZZLE MAZE BUT WE NEVER SEEM TO WALK OUT THE OTHER SIDE?

Sereine sat alone on a transport bound for home. She had packed her few belongings as quickly as possible after election night, seen to her staff, some of whom needed help with their own travel arrangements, and left.

She knew Palpatine had planned to stay another three days or so; the house. What house, she neither knew nor cared.

She had avoided him and managed to get out without seeing him again—something only possible, she knew, if he were also trying to avoid her.

She hadn't slept well in the last three days at all. Her head ached, and in every unguarded moment, tears still threatened. She leaned her head against the thick transparisteel window, staring out at a cold, starry blackness that felt every bit as fathomless as her heart.

She couldn't stop the tears that tracked down her face. She angrily wiped them away, wondering why it had to be that now, at the moment of achieving her greatest dream, she had met such sorrow.

Over a man. A client, yet. She had sworn at the beginning, never to get involved with clients. Most of them were married, anyway. She wished she were older already and felt no desire for male companionship. Then, with an ironic smile, it hit her that, when she got there, she would be mourning her lost youth and libido.

She had her datapad with her. He could have sent her a message.

And, just as she thought that, she heard the telltale ping. She drew her datapad from her pocket.

It was him. He had sent her only one letter, an X, in their old, old signal.

She allowed herself a small smile. She felt a little better.

Should she answer it?

She thought, and decided in the negative. Best to drive the lesson home, in case she ever saw him again.

The next day, he pinged her again.

***

Her small apartment several blocks from the Rotunda looked like a foreign country after so many weeks offworld. She attended to life maintenance tasks, doing the laundry, restocking her cooler, freezer, and larder, attending to messages and sending final paychecks to departing staff. Several of them needed references. She rather thought their stock would go up after having worked on this campaign.

Her next task was to visit the Traveling Salesman's office to collect all the tools and items she'd thought she would need for the Naboo campaign that hadn't turned out to be so useful.

The name had been given to a spare bit of office space in the Naboo Delegation at the Senate Office Building, a space that no one liked. It was always empty, given its awkward, long, narrow shape and lack of windows and decent lighting, so Palpatine's staff reserved it for assistants who were there to do some time-limited job and wouldn't be staying on. She was an independent contractor, so whenever she needed work space at Palpatine's, the Traveling Salesman's office was where she got stuck.

They had briefly been intimate there once, late at night, when no one else was around ... so the memories weren't all bad. Sereine had chosen a time to go when she knew Palpatine would be on the floor and not in the office.

A tall Umbaran woman with bright yellow eyes met her at the entrance to the Delegation's office suite. "Ms. Lumisol. I am Ms. Moore." Rather than simply letting her in, the woman showed her all the way through the Senator's offices to the Traveling Salesman's room, all the way in the back. Sereine raised an eyebrow at Palpatine's personal secretary; everyone here knew who she was and realized she knew her way around.

"First day," Drin mouthed, and Sereine nodded.

Ms. Moore insisted on opening the door for her. Her boxes were scattered about as she'd left them. And then she spotted a new box, something small and red perched on the edge of her table.

"The red box is for you from Senator Palpatine," said Ms. Moore, and left her to collect her things.

Sereine walked to the table. Sat. Picked up the box and lifted the lid.

A brooch winked back at her. The blue planet of Naboo set in precious gems, a sort of nebulous sash of emeralds trailing about and behind it.

She snapped the lid closed as if it were radioactive. The name on the box was well-known in Theed; a very old and expensive jeweler.

She opened the lid and admired the brooch again. It was beautiful, yet not so flashy that it would have to sit at home except for special occasions. Clearly, he had meant for her to wear it, at least some of the time.

Well. A gesture like this merited some consideration.

She wondered what he would have to say for himself.

She took out her datapad, mindful that he might not be able to answer her right away, since he was on the floor. She typed, X—Thank you for my gift.

In a few moments came, At last. I assume this means you're speaking to me?

She smiled and typed, I'm not sure.

Enough, Sereine. Dinner?