Two years ago...

Tanil Vitej came back to herself slowly, and Ahsoka could understand why. It was possible she was only confused, but Ahsoka's friend Barriss Offee had only had a Geonosian brain worm in her skull for a few hours, and she'd woken up to find gaps in her memories from the entire preceding week.

Vitej had been in the chancellor's employ for six months. If the Zygerrian had had that ugly little parasite in her head that whole time, then Ahsoka couldn't even begin to fathom the ramifications that would have on her mind.

Vitej's alarm spiked in the Force, and Ahsoka looked up to find her staring between Obi-Wan and Anakin's lightsabers and robes with an expression of sheer terror. She remembered then that Zygerria had all but declared itself an enemy of the Republic, and winced.

"You're– you're Jedi?" Vitej gasped out. "All three of you?"

"Yup," Anakin said, crossing his arms in the way anyone who didn't know him would instantly find menacing. Ahsoka snapped a warning at him along their bond about his body language. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he relaxed, tucking his hands carefully behind his back.

Vitej's alarm bloomed into full-fledged panic. "Where am I? Why am I here?"

"You don't remember anything?" Obi-Wan asked gently.

Not gently enough, Ahsoka thought as Vitej's fear rose impossibly higher. "No, no, I can't remember anything but being at work in the villa. Am I even still on Zygerria? What have I done to get me in trouble with Jedi? I have never broken the law. I am a loyal, obedient citizen of my Queen." Vitej pawed her ears anxiously, looking like she was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. "Why am I here?"

"We'll try to figure that out for you. Give us just a second," Anakin said, and dragged Obi-Wan and Ahsoka a short distance away by the shoulders. He glanced warily back at Vitej's prominent ears, and pulled the two of them a few steps farther before finally turning to Obi-Wan. "Could she be faking?"

Obi-Wan's brows furrowed. "I sense no deception from her."

"This happened to Barriss and the clones, too, after Geonosis," Ahsoka broke in at a whisper. "Those brain worms are a menace."

"What should we do with the Zygerrian, then?" Anakin asked.

"Comfort her, I suppose. She has been torn out of the environment she knows without explanation, and she's nearly at the point of doing something rash." Ahsoka and Anakin exchanged a look, and Obi-Wan frowned at them. "What is it?"

Anakin grinned like he had not a care in the galaxy, but Ahsoka could see the strain beneath it. "Thanks for volunteering for the job, Master."

"Anakin–"

"Did we not establish earlier that you're the one everyone likes?" Anakin hissed. "Please, Master. Maybe she'll have some more information for you about the brain worms. Think about it. Six months in a host. She's gotta remember something."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and shut it. Sighing quietly, he patted Ahsoka on the shoulder and walked back to where the Zygerrian was sprawled against a pair of crates of frozen vegetables. With his most calming smile at the ready, the Jedi Master removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. "No need to worry, my dear... Tanil, was it?" he said. "A rare parasite in your brain has been causing you to act... erratically, and put you in a compromising position with the law. But we have long experience with these particular parasites, and we know you are not to blame for what has transpired."

Ahsoka stopped listening after that, and one look at Anakin told her he had as well. He strode a few paces farther from the walk-in freezer they'd used to trap Vitej and her brain worm freeloader, then stopped, turning to her.

"What are our chances of getting anything out of her?"

Ahsoka shook her head, confused. Why is Anakin deferring to me on this?

"You're kind of the resident expert on these things," he said, answering her unspoken question. She hadn't given anything away on their bond that she knew of, but Anakin was long practiced at reading her body language.

"Master Luminara and I sat with Barriss for hours once she was well enough to speak. She didn't remember anything from the period the brain worm was in her head, and she showed other signs of memory loss, too. We had her walk us through the whole siege and cleanup, and compared it with her mission reports. She had gaps in her memory like a droid after a partial memory wipe." Ahsoka shivered. "Or flimsi chewed through by bugs."

"Could it have been the trauma of having another entity overwrite your brain functions? My grasp on neuroscience isn't the best."

"Neither is mine!"

Anakin shrugged. "You had to write those research papers more recently than I did. They'll be fresher for you than they'll be for me."

Ahsoka very nearly rolled her eyes. "No," she said at length. "Remembering things isn't like duplicating information and then deleting the copy when you're done with it. When most humanoids try to remember events, their brains create a new memory to replace the old one. Jedi can mitigate the loss of details with each new recollection of the original event by using the Force on ourselves like a lie detector, but even the Force turned up empty when Barriss tried to make her memories line up with her report. She had no recollections, just... nothing."

Anakin cursed in a language Ahsoka didn't speak, or even recognize. "So Vitej is useless to us."

"Maybe. I don't know. I really don't know." Ahsoka gnawed on her lower lip. "I only know what short-term exposure looks like – thankfully for Barriss and our men. Six months? All bets are off."

"Hey."

Ahsoka looked up to find Anakin smiling at her. She offered him a tentative smile of her own in return.

"You should be proud of yourself. After all, you were right about Vitej, and now we've caught the killer – or at least its host. That counts for a lot."

Ahsoka's smile faded. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off and she had some time to really think about it, there was a feeling of... incompletion in the Force that surrounded the whole situation. There was more to the chancellor's death than what Vitej had been involved in, but what?

"I feel it too."

"What?"

"The deeper mystery, the feeling something just isn't right. I've had it ever since we took this assignment." Anakin raked his flesh hand through his hair. His prosthetic was clenching and uncurling erratically. "At first I thought it was grief bringing out my biases. But there's more to it. I'm sure of that now."

Ahsoka nodded and opened her mouth to agree. Anakin shook his head before she got the words out, murmuring, "That's enough theorizing for today. If I have hyperspace lag, I know you do, too. You should get some sleep."

"Didn't you just say you have hyperspace lag, too?"

"I do, but I'm all right. Someone has to go check and see if the results are in for the detailed scans of that bloodstain. Obi-Wan won't want the team to risk calling me in case someone intercepts it."

Ahsoka frowned. "You need the rest, too."

"Ahsoka, it's fine."

"Really."

"Really! I'm too worked up from all the action, still. I might as well do something with the extra time until I'm tired enough to sleep again. We have a confirmed infiltrator, but we still need to know how Chancellor Palpatine died before we take action."

"And we will, but you won't help anybody if you don't sleep!" Ahsoka stole a glance at Obi-Wan. He looked too involved with Vitej to be listening in on their conversation. Good. "Go see Senator Amidala."

"Ahsoka!" Anakin hissed.

"You learned a few hours ago that an old friend died. You need the freedom to grieve without worrying it's affecting your work, and you're not going to get that at the Temple." Ahsoka had learned long ago that the Temple wasn't the same haven for her Master as it was for her, but Anakin was still looking at her funny, so she added, "You'll only think more about our assignment if you go back."

"Ahsoka, you shouldn't be getting involved in this. It's not safe for you."

Ahsoka pulled up her most innocent expression, honed near to perfection after years of being underestimated for her small frame and big eyes. "What isn't safe for you, Master?"

Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'll cover for you," Ahsoka said. "Go on, once we have a free moment."

"But–"

"Your blankets are warmer than mine. Knights' privileges, I guess. If you're not in our quarters I get to steal them. So go on."

Anakin warred with himself for a moment longer, subtle plays of emotion crossing his face and aura. Then, at last, he caved, and slung an arm around her shoulders. Paired with that signature debonair smirk of his, the gesture would've felt a little demeaning had she not known it was his way of dressing down a thank-you hug while Obi-Wan was within scolding distance.

"You sure they're not just warm because I'm usually in them with you when it gets cold?" he whispered, raising a brow.

"It's not my fault Togruta are built for warm climates. You Humans have more body heat than you need, anyway," Ahsoka said, elbowing him in the side. He flinched away, laughing, and that got Obi-Wan's attention.

"Ahsoka, Anakin, I'm going to bring Vitej back to the chancellor's mansion. I overheard something about the two of you getting some sleep. Frankly, I'm all for it." Obi-Wan's emotions were masked beyond Ahsoka's ability to probe, and despite the dullness of Human senses, she wondered what else he might have overheard. "I can tell Admiral Tarkin what we learned while I'm there."

"You'll make sure she gets medical treatment?" Ahsoka interjected. "Admiral Tarkin is good at what he does, but after what I saw today..."

"I will, young one. Have no fear."

"Come on, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. "It's a long way back to the speeder."

Obi-Wan waved his free hand. His other one was supporting Vitej, who was still trembling like a leaf – though Ahsoka suspected it was more because of the cold in the walk-in freezer than her nerves. "I'll send for another one. Covertly, of course. I don't think it's in Ms. Vitej's best interest to make such a long trek."

Anakin nodded. "Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Master."

Obi-Wan smiled warmly. "Sleep well, you two."

Anakin nudged her shoulder and started back down the hallway in what she assumed was the direction of the door he and Obi-Wan had entered the enormous carbon freezing plant through. Ahsoka took a deep breath, exhaled it, and followed him. Yes, she could definitely do with a nap – or a full night's sleep, if the hyperspace lag would give her that much. And if it didn't, Anakin was always easier to deal with after he spent time with Senator Amidala.

That alone would be enough to make a hard morning better.

A small part of herself, the only one she dared allow to cross-examine what Anakin and the Senator were involved in, wondered what it would be like, if ever she were to have the same opportunity they did. She didn't think she was cut out for romance, but the war had made it difficult to keep in touch with many of her friends from her youngling days, save those like Barriss whose paths she occasionally crossed on the front. It would be... nice, to have someone to come home to whom she knew would always welcome her back with open arms.

She checked the voice with a cool reminder that it wasn't something normal Jedi could aspire to. As similar as they were in most ways, Anakin had grown up differently than she had, and he had different needs. She'd never begrudge him for it, but it wasn't the example she was meant to follow.

She nodded at nothing, ignoring Anakin's questioning glance, and prepared herself for the walk back to Chancellor Palpatine's manor. If she was lucky, maybe that weird bunker they'd run through on their way here would have more answers about who'd built it and why on a slower second pass.

Padmé was asleep on the veranda, her bare feet dangling off one of the two curved sofas framing the entrance to the penthouse apartment, when Anakin got home. He smiled fondly as he landed and disembarked, shucking his Jedi cloak on an afterthought; it was a warm night, and he had no further need for the presence of person it gave him here to threaten or persuade. If he knew her at all, she'd been waiting for him, hoping he'd find some way to come to her.

He sat down beside her and lifted her head and shoulders into his lap. She stirred, but didn't wake. "I guess I'm not the only one who's tired tonight, huh," he murmured, and bent over to kiss her forehead.

Her eyes blinked open, slowly at first, then faster as she realized what was going on and tried to call wakefulness back to her. "Ani?"

Anakin grinned. "Hi again, angel."

Padmé sat bolt upright and spun on one hip to throw her arms around his neck, kissing him hard on the mouth. Delighted, Anakin leaned into it, pulling her closer until she was half-seated on his lap. He almost didn't notice when the calluses on his left hand snagged her gauzy nightgown, too caught up in the very forward way she was teasing at his lips with her tongue, but within a moment he summoned the strength of will to move his hands up to her shoulders.

Padmé was everything soft and perfect in this galaxy. He didn't want to mar that with his rough edges.

At last Padmé broke the kiss and leaned back, flushed and a little breathless. Anakin watched the rise and fall of her chest, and thought that if he drew on the Force just right, he could almost feel her heartbeat, thrumming away at the core of all her pristine loveliness.

"That's what I wanted to do earlier, in the speeder," she said.

Careful not to catch the fabric this time, Anakin slid his arms back around her waist and shifted her properly up onto his lap. "That's more than the welcome I was hoping for," he murmured, kissing her cheek. He could hear the reverence in his voice, and he was not ashamed of it. "I wasn't sure I'd even be able to see you until we got everything resolved about... well. Until we resolved it."

A hint of tightness appeared at Padmé's brow. She was less careful about her tells with him than she was with other people – with a colleague she would never let slip even the slightest expression she did not intend to show – but the fact that she was trying to hide a frown from him bothered him.

"Angel?" he pressed.

"Is that it? Are we not going to talk about what happened at all?"

Taken aback by her intensity, Anakin looked away, muttering, "Listen, angel, you've already heard almost everything there is to hear. Besides, I wasn't supposed to tell you anything in the first place."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Anakin frowned. Why did Padme insist on jumping from one question to the next? Tiredness from the long chase and the longer day before it was settling in his bones faster than he could shake it, now; he didn't think he could keep up if she kept at this. "What's that got to do with it?" he demanded.

"Answer the question, Ani," she murmured, her soft brown eyes searching.

Anakin searched back in his memory, and realized he couldn't remember eating or drinking anything since the night before. "I did my best to adjust on the way here, but I've still got some hyperspace lag," he said, hoping to escape a lecture. "My meal times aren't synced up with Coruscant yet."

"That's a no, then."

"So?"

"So, you're running on fumes, even–" Anakin opened his mouth, but Padmé held up a hand, "–even if you can use the Force to sustain yourself."

"Angel–"

"After your mother died, you didn't eat for two weeks unless I reminded you. Forced you to, more like." Her expression warmed a little, and she rubbed soothing circles into his chest between the folds of his tabard with the pads of her thumbs. "Anakin, my love, in the speeder we talked about what happened to the chancellor, but we didn't get the chance to talk about how it made you feel."

Anakin could only look away. She meant well, but how could he begin to tell her that if he stopped for more than a second to dwell on it, his feelings would wash in and overwhelm him? How could he begin to tell her that it wasn't the Jedi way to process grief, but to let it go? And how could he tell her that he didn't want to let it go, because if he did, then he would have nothing left of Chancellor Palpatine at all?

Padmé slid forward on his lap and curled against his chest, her arms draped loosely around his shoulders. Anakin breathed in the sweet smells of her shampoo and the oil she used to keep stray hairs from frizzing out of her ringlets, and felt his eyes slip shut.

"You're grieving for a friend, a mentor," she said quietly. "Don't shut me out. Let me help you, Ani."

Anakin ran the fingers on his left hand through her hair instead of answering, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea how to explain the fine line he was walking, that he needed the anger, he needed the grief, but that he couldn't let himself feel it enough to take on a life of its own. His feelings had... power, unlike the other Jedi. But if that power consumed him, he'd be trapped in it. Useless.

"I don't know how to word it right now," he lied. "And I don't want to just throw formless emotions at the wall for you and hope something sticks long enough to analyze. Give me time, and I'll come to you with what I figure out, I promise."

The last part wasn't a lie. Anakin wouldn't let it be a lie. He didn't run from anything, so he wouldn't run from this.

"You know what I do want to talk about, though?" he asked, nudging the crown of her head playfully with his chin.

He couldn't see her smile, but he could feel it against his collarbone. "What?"

"Our baby."

Padmé sat up again, meeting his gaze with shining eyes. "It's a boy."

"How do you know that? Angel, you said it yourself that you're less than a month along. Did you get genetic testing done?" Anakin felt unease curling up in his gut, and forced it back down. "People always make such a big deal out of the fact that the Jedi serve the Senate. If it's on record that you're carrying my child–"

Padmé kissed him softly to quiet him. "I haven't done anything, and I won't until it's absolutely necessary. Call it... mother's intuition. We're going to have a son, Ani. I know that in my soul."

"Do you, now?" he teased, and swooped down to capture her mouth again for another quick kiss. She pouted when he drew back, and he had to grin. "What if I looked to the Force for answers, and said we were having a girl?"

"Then I'd call you biased. You've had nearly three years' experience at raising one already. I'd expect you to want a girl."

"Ahsoka's a teenager! Those are totally different than infants. My experience with her wouldn't mean anything for years. Besides," he said, smiling affectionately, "if it's a girl, I can name her after my mother. Or we can name her after her mother, who is, without question, the most beautiful woman in the entire galaxy."

"Now that I simply could not stand for. A middle name, maybe, but as a first name..." She shook her head. "Well, there would be complications from naming our child after anyone we know. I couldn't very well name a son Anakin, or everyone would know who his father is."

"We could name him after one of your relatives."

"Our child will already have to live up to the legacy of a great warrior and a former queen. Let's give them first names they can make with what they will."

Anakin nodded patiently and brushed a loose curl off her forehead. He'd been told more than once that he could be overbearing – though he preferred to consider it protective of those he cared about – and Padmé was the same, when she wanted to be. The baby would already have their last names. That was enough.

"Then what other Naboo names do you like?"

Padmé thought for a moment. "Well, I've always liked the name Luke."

For a second, the room and the woman in his lap disappeared, hazed over by the omnipresent dust and grit and sand of Mos Espa, all whipped together into the unstoppable frenzy of a sandstorm. Then it was gone, and Anakin was left reeling in the wake of a past life he'd thought until this moment was well behind him, buried with his mother outside the Lars homestead.

"Is that a traditional name?" he managed to choke out.

"No. I've met one or two in my lifetime, but no more than that."

"It's perfect," he whispered. Luke. Lukka. Freedom from depur, from the greatest of all slave masters, free, free–

Padmé beamed. "Really?"

"Really. Luke for a boy, and..."

If a girl couldn't take Padmé's name, then she would take her might and her spirit and her determination to protect her family. The answer surged up out of his bones, ancient knowledge relentless in its power.

"Leia," he said. "Leia, for a girl."

Leia, the Mighty One, the Krayt Dragon who was the daughter of the trickster Ekkreth. Ekkreth, whose name translated from Amatakka, the secret language of the slaves of Tatooine, as the Sky-walker. Anakin had left his old religious superstitions behind – that much he was sure of – but a son named Freedom or a daughter named after the Mighty One, she whose parent was the original Skywalker...

That was just too perfect to be a coincidence.

"Where'd you get that from?"

"I... heard it once, long ago. It's a strong name, and a beautiful name. What better way for our daughter honor her mother's beauty and strength?"

"So you do want a girl!"

Anakin grinned sheepishly. "You caught me. But really, angel, so long as the baby favors you, I'm happy with a boy or a girl. Or neither, if our baby grows up and chooses something different." He reached down to touch her belly. "Someone I love is creating someone else I'll love. That I already love."

"I had some help."

"Some," Anakin conceded with half a nod, and snorted out a laugh. The sound faded into a happy hum the instant Padmé snaked a hand up into his hair and began stroking his scalp. The other followed after it, gently combing the tangles out of his hair, and Anakin's eyes went half-lidded with pleasure.

"You are... absolute perfection," he mumbled at the blur of brown and peach and lilac on his lap that shone like a star in the Force. His star, the one that guided him home after every battle.

"You know my flaws, Anakin."

"They only make you more beautiful. Like... like bits of another mineral that grew into a fire ruby, all carved and faceted so the pieces inside it catch the light. What are those things called?"

"Inclusions, I think."

"Inclusions." He sat up, cupping her face in his hands. "Your inclusions only make you shine brighter, my love. You're beautiful."

Padmé laughed quietly. "Because I'm so in love."

"No, it's because I'm so in love with you."

"Then love has blinded you to my defects," she said, nodding to herself. "No one else could speak so reverently about them."

"On the contrary. Things are... clearer, when I'm with you. Easier. I know who I am or what I'm doing." Anakin wet his lips. "In fact, I think loving you has opened my eyes to some pretty harsh truths about the Jedi and the Republic."

The joking light left Padmé's eyes. Anakin regretted saying anything at all, but it was too late now to escape the interrogation. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't like a lot of the way the Council is handling the investigation."

"You're in a position to change things about it, if you disagree. You can lead this investigation however you please. If the worst they did was send Master Kenobi to supervise when you broke protocol, it means they're with you, whatever you do."

"But there are lots of things I can't change, Padmé. The bribes, the threats..." He shook his head. "I don't know why it's hitting me so hard; they kept secrets from me when I thought Obi-Wan died. No, actually, I do know. Back then, they tried to keep me out of it until Obi-Wan's mission was over. This time, they expect me to do their bidding without questioning their methods. Well, I can't! I've only been at this a day and I'm tired of it."

"Then question them! Hold them accountable, if that's what you need to do. There's a war going on, and sometimes people need to make hard decisions, but this doesn't have to set a precedent for the future."

Anakin sighed, and breathed deeply for a moment to calm himself. He wasn't angry at her, so he wasn't going to take it out on her. "The Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers. I'm sure you've heard Master Windu say the exact same thing a hundred thousand times over by now. But I'm afraid of what we're becoming. Oftentimes, out on the front, our morals stop us from going as far as we need to in order to achieve victory, and we're torn between doing what needs to be done and doing what the Order expects of us."

Padmé's fingers tightened around his hair. "Your morals make you strong, Anakin. They make you good people. You're a glimmer of decency, of normalcy in the insanity of this war. You and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and all the other Jedi are living reminders that there are still people who seek to do good in this galaxy, without compromising who they are or innocent people to do it."

A retort jumped to Anakin's lips, but he forced them shut until he could come up with something nicer. Arguing with a trained diplomat was usually more trouble than it was worth, and if he could avoid it tonight, he would. "I... I'm sorry, angel," he said instead. "This wasn't what I wanted tonight to be about."

"What do you want it to be about, then? Talking or sitting quietly, I'm yours for the night. Whatever you need, I'll be here."

He let his eyes drift from her face to the gauzy nightgown she was wearing – most likely, he expected, for his benefit. She couldn't sense his emotions through the Force, so he let them show on his face instead, warmth and longing and promises of enough satisfaction to put them both right to sleep.

Her porcelain cheeks flushed a deeper pink, and she shifted on his lap. Her presence, he could read, and his interest was most definitely reciprocated.

"I'd prefer neither," he said at length. He put his hands on her hips, and she leaned into his touch like a beautiful, multihued flower toward the sunlight. "Really, what I'd like is more of the way you kissed me hello."

"A meal, first. You won't have any energy."

"Now."

She wagged a threatening finger at him as she dismounted him and rose to her feet, but her eyes were bright. Stars, did he ever love her. "Don't push me on this, Ani! I promise you, it won't go well."

"Will you forgive me if I eat quickly?"

"Only so long as you chew with your mouth closed," she said imperiously.

"I think I can do that, my Lady," he murmured, and stood to kiss her.

Two years into the past, things are finally starting to look up – for both the grieving Anakin and the investigation he leads. But many secrets still remain for him, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan to uncover. Was Tanil Vitej a willing host for the brain worm, or was she roped into carrying it into the chancellor's household? If it was done against her will, then who is responsible for infecting her? Only time will tell...

At last, some pure, unfiltered, unencumbered-by-other-characters Anidala content! I've missed writing these two more than I realized, and I'm pleased with the way it turned out. Doubly pleased, considering the second half of this chapter was a great excuse to dive into the way Anakin processes emotions – particularly grief. I've always sensed when watching the prequels and TCW that Anakin is at war with himself emotionally, one side of him his Jedi training in letting go and the other a natural tendency to feel very deeply and hold on. I could never hope to portray it with complete accuracy, but I'm doing my best to show it in little snatches here or there.

Only three more interludes until the end of the book, and one before we get some really concrete answers about what the hell happened. Actually, we'll be getting a good deal more information in the next one, but in terms of the updates schedule that's still a good few chapters away...

Hope you'll all forgive me!

Next chapter, we return to the present day, where, at long last, Vader is finally starting to put a few pieces together.

"Lord Vader, I have been speaking with the captains of the two dreadnoughts assigned to the battlefield salvage operation," Tarkin said, his body relaxed – or as near to relaxed as he ever strayed from his rigid military bearing – but eyes as sharp as vibroblades. "Their report on the damage done to our forces is most favorable. Congratulations are in order."

Compliments were not at all Tarkin's style. In fact, Vader doubted there was anything further from it. Frowning beneath his helmet, he probed for the man's intentions. Frustratingly, as usual, he could sense almost nothing. Vader could break those shields if he cared to, and perhaps break Tarkin's mind in the process, but explaining himself to his Master when the Emperor himself might have been the one to teach Tarkin to use them was not an appealing thought.

Left with no option but to go in largely blind, Vader chose the confrontational tact. "Three weeks ago, the day after my victory, you had the gall to rebuke me for taking action without confiding my plans in you."

Tarkin examined the liquid in his nearly untouched champagne flute for a long moment before taking a careful sip. "I spoke too rashly," he said lightly. "I am unused to tactics that rely more on instinct than strategy. But I suppose that is the way of most Force wielders. Your plans defy the traditional order of things, but their effectiveness cannot be overlooked."

The gaggle of sycophants behind Tarkin inhaled a collective breath, certain Vader would take offence. Vader knew he could, if he wanted to; Tarkin certainly had a rather inflated sense of his own importance, and it worked its way even into phrases that had all other appearance of compliments. But he didn't sense that offending him was Tarkin's goal.