After some experimentation, Amidala found that if she pushed her heels into the riveted seam of See-threeargee's palm and sat with her back against his middle finger, she could wrap both arms around the support bars that held his hands in shape and still be comfortable. That way, even if he made another of his annoyingly frequent sudden turns, she could catch hold and keep from sliding off. The deck was passing by very, very far below, and she knew if she were to fall, the results would probably be fatal.
Even with the added danger, though, this particular ride was much more comfortable than clinging to the back of a mouse-droid as it whipped through the ship's air ducts. On the other hand, she thought, at least that wasn't a painful reminder of her tiny stature. Now she was being held aloft and carried by this massive droid, as if she were little more than some kind of package it had to deliver. Was there no end to this humiliation?
At least she was good for something, Padmé thought irately. She did at least manage to disable the hyperdrive, even if she did nearly get killed in the process. Still, if these two droids hadn't shown up at that moment, she'd probably be a prisoner now, if that technician hadn't crushed her underfoot in his rush to put out the fire she caused.
How much time did she have now? She had no idea, but if she wanted to have any chance to get the prisoners to safety, it had to be quick. She figured the only way the ambassadors could possibly get away was on one of those shuttles she saw earlier, and those couldn't launch while the ship was in hyper. That gave her people what, maybe a couple of hours at best?
Artoo forced her attention back to her surroundings by emitting a series of anxious beeps. See-threeargee immediately halted, turning to face a large bulkhead opposite the hallway. "That's the brig," the immense silver droid announced. "According to the schematics Artoo downloaded earlier, there's a series of independent cells inside, beyond an initial secure entry area."
"You've been busy, I see," Padmé said to Artoo, who whistled cheerfully in reply.
"It's likely to be guarded," See went on, "but Artoo says it's the only chance we have to get the doors open. We need to go in and give the command directly from the control console."
"Can you do that?" asked Amidala. "I mean, if you knew the commands to give, that is."
"I suppose so," C-3RG replied. "I am not programmed for subterfuge, but I will do what I can. These people shot my previous owner, after all, so I feel absolutely no loyalty to them."
"They did? I'm sorry to hear that," said Padmé. "Of course, they're pirates, so it doesn't surprise me."
Artoo beeped insistently. "Terribly sorry!" See said quickly. "I shouldn't burden you with my story now. Anyway, Artoo says when we get in, he'll attempt to plug in and locate the access codes. When he has them, he'll tell me and I'll open the doors. Hopefully, the prisoners will be able to overpower the guards and we can be on our way."
Amidala sighed. That plan sounded hopelessly optimistic, and yet she couldn't think of anything better. Perhaps the guards would be too distracted by C-3RG's freakish appearance to realize what Artoo was up to. Not only that, but she felt decidedly useless. At best, she could only hope to get in the way in there, and besides which, she didn't want to be seen by--
"Artoo," she said suddenly, "do me a favor, would you? Let me stay inside your access panels while you two go inside. Not that I don't appreciate the ride, See-threeargee, but I'm afraid I'll just be too easily spotted in the open like this."
"No offense taken, Senator," the taller droid replied while Artoo gave a series of beeps. "Ah, he doesn't, um, think you're being quite truthful, ma'am, and wonders if there might be more to your request."
Padmé hung her head. "Oh, all right, if you must know," she replied after a moment, "I don't want the others to see me like this. When they get free, just keep me hidden, all right?"
Artoo bleeped sadly. "He says he understands, Senator." As See translated, the R2 unit opened his front panel, so C-3RG bent over and set her carefully inside.
"Thank you, Artoo," Amidala said as she settled in amidst the wires and controls in the back, actually feeling quite a bit safer now than before. "I really appreciate it."
"He says you're welcome," See replied. With that, the doors shut and sealed the tiny senator in darkness.
Artoo bleeped again and started to roll forward. "Yes, we should get going, I suppose," his taller companion agreed. "And I know what you mean, Artoo. I don't understand the human ego, either."
Bail Organa had his head firmly pressed against the cell door when he heard the exterior doors open. The sound of muffled speech came to him, and he turned to his companions. "I think this might be it," he whispered quietly. "Get ready to move."
"Good!" Kalar Tragla replied, glancing around with a grin on his face. Nearby, Ambassador Marita blanched and tried to move a little bit further away, even though he was already pressed up against the back wall as far as he could go.
Tragla almost laughed, but merely let his smile widen. "It's about damn time," he muttered under his breath, easing closer to the door and flexing his muscles expectantly.
Captain Levan strolled into the still smoky drive control chamber and smiled. Six people were present now, all working furiously to tear the place apart. A couple of them looked rather tired, but they weren't letting that stop them. They all seemed to understand the urgency of the repairs, so much so that none of them looked up as their superior officers entered the room.
At the captain's side, Ethan Pirett nodded. "Well, they certainly seem to be busy," he muttered. "Ensign Markel! Are you in here?" he called loudly.
The youthful crewman's face popped up from under the floor, through one of the open access panels. A streak of dark ash covered his forehead and sliced its way down across his left cheek. "Sorry, Captain, Commander," he said apologetically as he climbed out, setting his tools aside. "I almost forgot I called you! It looks like the power regulator just lost control in there. We're lucky there wasn't more damage. If it had happened while we were jumping--"
"Never mind that," Levan interrupted. "What was this amazing thing you just had to show me?"
"Here, sir," he replied, leading the two men over to the farther wall and pointing at a thin cable that extended down from the general area of the ceiling. "See this line here? It comes out of the vent, and there's something that looks like a mini grappler at the end. See what I mean?" He held up the tiny thing to show them what he was talking about.
"So?" asked Levan with a frown. "A toy model is hanging out of the air duct, and you call me all the way down here for that?"
"Well, sir, it's just that--well, before the explosion, I thought I saw--"
"What?" demanded Levan. "A little tiny saboteur? Does the Republic have a member race now that's only a few centimeters tall? Maybe they've got their own special forces units they carry around in diplomatic bags!"
Markel hung his head, looking chastened and embarrassed. "Sorry, sir, it was foolish of me to bother you. I'll go back to work now."
"You do that, and you'd better have that thing fixed within the hour, or we'll be dropping you off at the next asteroid--without a radio!"
"Aye, Captain!" Markel shuffled off, red-faced, to resume his duties with the best possible speed. Across the room, he caught the eye of his friend Ivaran, who only shook his head sadly and mouthed the words "I told you so."
Levan sighed and turned to Pirett. "Can you believe that?" he asked, rolling his eyes, but then stopped. "Hey, what's the matter with you now? You're white as a ghost!"
"Well," said Ethan with a weak gulp, "I think, um, Ensign Markel might've been on the right track.
"What the blazes are you talking about?" demanded Levan.
"Um, it's kind of hard to explain," replied Pirett nervously. "We'd better go somewhere else, I think. You need to be sitting down for this one."