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When Siri finally forces her eyes open, head aching, an orange sunburst is all she can see.
It takes a long second before what she’s looking at finally registers, as does the thump of footsteps moving quickly, but as soon as it does Siri squeezes her eyes shut again with a groan.
“Awake?” Cody asks, faintly amused, though his voice is pitched low enough that Siri can barely hear it. Still in enemy territory, that means.
So much for Obi-Wan’s promise that this would be a quick scouting trip. Next time he makes assurances like that, Siri is going to punch him in the mouth.
“Should I be glad you’re not dragging me facedown through the mud?” she asks, and Cody snorts, slides down a rainwater-sodden slope, and ducks back beneath the shelter of a huge fallen tree before he shifts. Siri eases up, lets him help her slide down off his shoulders, and puts a hand up to her throbbing head with a grimace.
“Too much of a trail,” Cody says with good humor, and offers Siri her lightsaber. “How many hilts are you seeing right now, General?”
“Unfortunately just the one, given that we could use several more,” Siri says, dry, but takes it and clips it to her belt, then glances up. It’s finally stopped raining, but the heavy canopy of trees drip incessantly, so it doesn’t feel like there’s much of a difference at all. Everything is at least quiet, though, and she sinks back against the soaked wood, trying to catch her breath.
“Maybe, sir,” Cody says, perfectly mild, “this is a good reason to stop flirting with the Sith.”
Siri rolls her eyes, regrets it immediately, and winces, squeezing them shut again. “Do I look like Obi-Wan to you? I wasn’t flirting. That was a fight.”
“Was it.” Cody couldn’t make that less of a question if he tried, and Siri pulls a face at him. Having Cody as her commander is suspiciously like having Ferus as her padawan. Ferus is in charge of the 501st, not the 212th, but at this point Siri is entirely convinced that he and Cody share notes.
“Was it? Now I feel rather led on,” a voice says from above them, low and thoughtful, and Siri's pulse leaps. She surges to her feet, lightsaber humming to life in a wash of violet as she spins, blade raised and braced in front of her as she puts herself between Cody and the intruder.
The Sith crouched on a branch above them isn't leaping, though, doesn’t even have her lightsaber out. She meets Siri's eyes for a long moment, gaze a steady threat, and then drops down to the forest floor in a whirl of scarlet and black.
“Amidala,” Siri says, and flicks a glance at the trees around them. It’s rare for Padmé to be anywhere without her Handmaidens, and there's no way Siri and Cody can face down that many Sith at once.
There's no movement in the trees, though, no sign of any Handmaidens at all, and Siri can't quite fight a frown. The Handmaidens are on this planet, she knows that much—Ferus faced two of them just the other day—and it’s deeply strange Padmé would come this far out into the forest without any backup at all. She’s the leader of the Separatist movement; if she dies, there's every chance the Confederacy falls apart immediately.
If Padmé thinks she’s at all vulnerable right now, it doesn’t show on her face. She’s smiling slightly as she straightens, sweeping a look over Siri as she tips her head, and then says, “So complementing me on my strength while I have you pinned to a tree isn't flirting to you, Master Tachi?”
It was maybe slightly flirting, but Siri absolutely refuses to admit that, because if she does Obi-Wan will never let it go. Regardless of the hypocrisy when he flirts constantly with Padmé’s pet Force Blank.
“What do you want?” she asks instead, taking a half-step back towards Cody. He has his blaster up and aimed, so tense that Siri can feel it in her own muscles, but the chances that even he will be able to hit Padmé are slim to none.
There's a reason the Sith Lady leading the Separatists has never been captured, no matter how many teams or battalions the Senate sends after her.
Padmé flicks her own glance around them, then reaches up and deliberately lowers her hood. “I had hoped to speak with you, Master Tachi,” she says plainly. “Alone, and without the chance of anyone listening in.”
Something prickles down Siri's spine, and she pauses, wary. Looks back at Cody, and finds he’s gone still, just as startled by the words.
Padmé controls all of Separatist space. The Separatists don’t have a Chancellor of their own yet, but—if they did, it would be Padmé.
“Turning yourself in?” Siri asks, mild. “I’ll admit, if that’s the result of flirting, I may have to do it more often.”
Padmé snorts, mouth tipping into a crooked smile. “Only if it’s with me, I hope,” she says. “But no, I'm not surrendering.” She pauses for a long second, then says, “I'm tired of serving a man who wants me to go against my ideals and gives me nothing in return, Master Tachi. I plan to kill my Master, and I want you to help me do it.”
One breath, another. Siri controls her shock, her suspicion, her alarm. Replays the words, turning them over, considering them and then Padmé herself, standing before her with empty hands and cold, burning eyes as she meets Siri's gaze.
“You want a Jedi Master to help a Sith gain power?” she asks evenly.
Padmé takes a step closer, another. “The Order knows that Sidious is hidden in the Senate,” she says, and she’s almost close enough to touch, the closest Siri has ever been to her without their blades locked together. “I know who he is. How much is it worth to you, Siri, to remove the Sith Lord from the heart of the Republic?”
Quite a lot, and she would know that. Siri closes her eyes for a long moment, then lets them slide open again. Anything that can help ease the war is worth it. Padmé is an honorable enemy, if left to her own devices, but Sidious's orders drive most of the fighting. Without him—
“Far more than one Jedi's life to try, even if it means working with a Sith,” she says. “Padmé.”
Padmé’s mouth curves, amusement flickering over her face. “On one condition,” she allows.
Siri raises a brow, faintly disbelieving. “You're setting conditions now?” she asks.
Just a little, Padmé laughs, taking another step to close the distance between them entirely. “Sith take what they want,” she counters. “And I want you to only flirt with me from now on.”
Siri doesn’t say that Padmé is the only one she flirts with already. “We might be able to work something out,” she allows, and ignores Cody's deeply judgmental and skeptical sound. If he really objects, he can complain about it with Ferus next time they comm each other.
Right now, as Padmé steps right into her space, as her hand curls over Siri's on the hilt of her lightsaber, Siri has far more interesting things to think about.