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“It’s over, Obi-Wan! I have the high ground!”
Anakin smugly points the tip of his lightsaber at his master, relishing his first victory over Obi-Wan and the humming sensation coursing through his arm.
Obi-Wan laughs heartily, “Very good! You’ve come a long way these past few weeks.”
He yields and their duel is over.
Anakin leaps from his position to sit by Obi-Wan, “Don’t feel too bad about it.”
“How can I? It was only a matter of time before you overtook me. Now, if only you could show the same devotion to your other studies.”
The brothers knock shoulders in jest; Anakin’s laugh a little unsure.
It’s not that he dislikes his other studies; they just don’t come as easily to him. Fighting, flying, and mechanics are what he excels at. And he understands the Force well enough without the hours of meditation.
Obi-Wan must sense his unease because he changes the subject, “Don’t worry about it now, we’ve been summoned by the High Council.”
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“Disappeared?” Obi-Wan sounds incredulous.
“Being held captive by Count Dooku,” Master Mundi corrects.
In the corner of his eye, Anakin sees Obi-Wan tense. The man who taught Master Qui-Gon: an apostate of the Order and now a traitor to the Republic.
Master Windu explains further, “So far, the Senate is ignorant of his absence. It is the Council’s belief Count Dooku is attempting to instigate a conflict between the Republic and his new Confederacy. We hope to locate and retrieve the Chancellor before this escalates.”
It is Obi-Wan’s cue to reply, but he is still rattled.
Anakin speaks up, “And what is our mission, Masters?”
The members of the Council glance at one another. It is not a padawan’s place to address them.
“Too dangerous would it be, to hide Chancellor Palpatine on Raxus Prime. Track him down on Serenno and return him to Coruscant you must,” Master Yoda replies unperturbed.
“It will be done,” Obi-Wan says, coming back to his senses.
“May the Force be with you,” Master Yoda concludes.
They bow and take their leave.
Safely out of sight and earshot, Anakin hits Obi-Wan on the arm, “What happened in there?”
“I was caught unaware. It won’t happen again.”
Anakin bites back a retort.
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They make the drop in the dead of night about six klicks west of Carannia – two klicks from Dooku’s palace.
The pair of them make for the palace. If Dooku is hiding the Chancellor anywhere in the system it will be in the lap of luxury; if not, they will hopefully be able to get some information relevant to their mission.
Thankfully, the surrounding grounds grant them plenty of cover to get in close. Finding an access point is not as simple. They have to scale the central tower to find a way in.
Anakin’s foot slips when they’re nearly at the top. His heart pounds as he looks down. Obi-Wan reaches down to pull him up.
Inside – inside, they’re lucky. Hiding spaces are plentiful and they only encounter droids for the first few floors.
“I’m going to find security. If the Chancellor is here he’ll be under guard and security will have record of it, probably a map of the complex too,” Obi-Wan whispers when they duck into an empty room. “Take this, keep searching,” he hands Anakin a comlink. “If you find –”
“I’ve got it.”
Obi-Wan nods and goes back out into the hall. Anakin heads through a door in the opposite direction. Separate, they’ll be less easy to spot, especially on the more occupied levels of the palace.
It is at once exciting and nerve-racking to be apart from Obi-Wan. It means Obi-Wan trusts him enough to carry out the mission on his own; it means he won’t have anyone to check him if he’s getting overzealous (something Obi-Wan always warns him about).
Halls continue to be empty. Anakin uses less caution. Rounding a corner, he comes face to face with an armed guard.
He dives around back the corner, but the droids don’t come after him. Anakin hazards a glance. Five battle droids guard a door behind them; either Dooku is incredibly paranoid or that’s where he’s keeping the Chancellor. Anakin bets it’s the latter.
Forgetting the comlink – forgetting Obi-Wan, he charges forward.
“Halt!” His lightsaber slices through the droid’s center.
Another one fires. The blast ricochets off the blade and back at it. He cuts through two more in a single swipe and disposes of the last one by sending it flying down the corridor with a Force push.
He doesn’t bother trying to unlock the door manually and pushes his lightsaber through its heavy metal.
An alarm goes off. He speeds up, kicking the piece of the door down as soon as he’s finished, the alarm still ringing irritatingly.
“Chancellor Palpatine?”
“Who are you?” The old man asks anxiously.
“No time to explain! We’ve got to get you to safety.”
With no regard for the man’s age or station, Anakin practically pushes him out the hole. In the hall, they break into a run away from where Anakin came in. (No point in backtracking.)
As they flee, the Chancellor protests, shouting Anakin has no escape plan (which he doesn’t). They are silenced when more battle droids come after them and Anakin chops the metal soldiers to pieces.
“Come on! Keep moving!” he orders.
They make several wrong turns before nearly colliding with Obi-Wan.
“What did you do, Anakin?!” he asks furiously.
“Rescued the Chancellor.” Anakin gestures back to the old man.
“You were supposed to contact me if you found anything!”
“There wasn’t any time!”
“You disobeyed orders!”
“But –”
“I do believe we have more pressing concerns!”
They both turn to glare at the Chancellor, but see immediately he’s right. A new platoon marches toward them. Anakin starts to lead the Chancellor in the opposite direction, but Obi-Wan holds his position.
“What are you doing?!”
“You want to play hero?! Well, this is our escape route!”
They cut through the new onslaught of droids and fight others off as they come, making their way to the hangar bay.
When the reach their destination Obi-Wan shouts, “Anakin, pick a ship and prep for flight!”
“What about the rendezvous?”
“We’re improvising!” Then to the Chancellor, “After you, your Excellency.”
Anakin races to the nearest ship. Entering the cockpit, his flying instincts take over, no time to waste. Obi-Wan holds off the droids as the engine roars to life; Anakin keeps the ship low for him to jump on.
Obi-Wan closes the hatch and Anakin punches it out of there.
Spinning around in the pilot’s seat, “Lucky we didn’t run into Dooku.”
Any other time the remark would have elicited an eye roll from Obi-Wan, now he only reprimands, “You’ll be lucky if I don’t impose disciplinary action when we get back.”
When they are not on a mission it is easy to forget Obi-Wan is his master – that he has authority and responsibility over him. Friends or not, Obi-Wan still scolds him like a child. Brothers or not, Obi-Wan still has to treat him like a student, not an equal.
Ashamed, “I’m sorry, Master.”
“If I may interrupt again: I am grateful for your efforts today, but who are you?”
Obi-Wan’s gaze moves from Anakin to the rescued party.
“Chancellor Palpatine, I am Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is my padawan, Anakin Skywalker. We have come to take you back to Coruscant.”
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He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Obi-Wan told him Chancellor Palpatine requested a meeting with him and now he’s standing before the Chancellor, enthroned in his high-backed chair, wondering what the politician could possibly want with him.
“You must be curious why I asked you here.”
Anakin stares. “Yes, sir.”
“I thought so. You can put your mind at ease. I wanted to thank you again for my rescue. You prevented a disastrous conflict.”
“It wasn’t just me, your Excellency.”
He waves a dismissive hand, “Of course. Master Kenobi deserves commendation, but you were the one who found escorted me from Count Dooku’s palace. You are quite talented for someone who began their training late.”
The praise inflates Anakin’s chest. Obi-Wan hadn’t seen his actions in that light; he saw them as a direct violation of instructions and trust. He accused Anakin of playing the hero, instead of commending him for being the hero.
“Thank you, sir.”
The Chancellor grins.
“As I understand it, you grew up in slavery on Tatooine.”
Anakin stiffens; the hair on the back on his neck stands on end.
“There’s no reason to be afraid, young Skywalker. I am merely making conversation,” the Chancellor circles around the great desk toward him.
“Yes, sir.”
“How terrible it must have been.”
Anakin makes no response. (No need to dignify it with one.)
“But you’re away from all that now. And what a far way you’ve come! You must miss your home.”
“No, sir.”
“Really? Not at all?”
A nerve is struck and his emotions betray him. “Not the system, sir. My mom.”
“Oh yes, of course. The sacrifice of the Jedi. Such a shame you had to leave her behind.”
The Chancellor smiles pityingly at him and Anakin shudders. He left her behind. Even though she has Cliegg, he still left her on that gods-forsaken rock. How could he have done that to her? He feels sick.
The Chancellor speaks some more, but he doesn’t listen, the pit in his stomach growing.
Even as he leaves, Anakin can’t shake the uncanny feeling that’s come over him.
----------
Meetings with Padmé are a somewhat regular affair. Policy and legislation go over his head, but Anakin contributes what he can and shares things about his past he didn’t think he would ever share with anyone. It is a chance to speak his mind about slavery, but it is also an excuse to be near her.
He likes watching her as she works and listening to her ideas about the Republic. She is passionate and Anakin admires her for it.
“If only Chancellor Palpatine were sympathetic to the abolitionists’ cause then we might gain some real momentum in the Senate.”
Anakin’s reverie is broken.
“What was that about the Chancellor?”
“It’s widely known he doesn’t support abolition. Sometimes I find it difficult to believe that man is from Naboo.”
He doesn’t believe it. The man had been sincere – concerned, even, when asking Anakin about Tatooine. He couldn’t have been putting on an act.
Anakin glowers, growing steadily more irate with every passing moment.
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He doesn’t know why, but Chancellor Palpatine grants him his request for an audience.
He spits, accusingly, “You support slavery.”
The Chancellor’s mouth thins, “Yes, I do.”
“You’re disgusting.”
The room turns cold as the Palpatine eyes him calculatingly. “Tell me, do you have any ambitions?”
The question catches him off guard, piercing through Anakin’s new hardened exterior. But he doesn’t answer.
“Ambition is a powerful thing. It grants you influence and control. My ambition is to lead the Republic into an era the likes of which the galaxy has never seen. I can’t do that without some… sacrifices.”
Anger flares.
“I cannot make slaves a priority, but you can, Anakin.”
The use of his name douses his rage, “What do you mean?”
The Chancellor smiles cruelly, “I need powerful allies to make my ambitions a reality. By aiding me, you would be assisting your own cause. Power, ambition; it’s the same thing. You could do great things, but you have to have the ambition to take what’s being offered to you.”
Anakin turns his back. Icy hands reach out and take him by the shoulders; the Chancellor’s fingers crawling over him like spiders. Anakin tries to brush them away, but they cling fast.
“Think about it,” the Chancellor’s voice creeps.
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“Your Excellency?”
“Young Skywalker, you have considered my offer, I presume.”
“I have.”
Chancellor Palpatine steeples his fingers; waiting for his response.
“I accept.”
“Excellent.”
The Chancellor’s tone chills Anakin’s core, but this is his choice. He can’t ensure change without authority – without power.
It won’t be denied to him.
----------
“It’s over!”
No, Anakin. I have the high ground.
The man Obi-Wan used to know leaps toward him, blade aimed at his heart; hate teeming from every fiber of his being.
In one swing, his remaining limbs are removed and he falls. His lightsaber lands in the dirt. A mechanical hand desperately reaches out for it.
For the first time, in a long time, Obi-Wan is faster and summons it to his palm. It feels cold in his grip, despite the burning heat all around him. The familiar hue, when he ignites it, no longer reflects the color of the sky. Surrounded by angry, fiery reds, it is ice.
He stops short of the pathetic creature struggling to crawl away from the ash and flame. Justice would be served, if only Obi-Wan could bring the blade down on its head.
The ground crumbles beneath them, plummeting into the magma below. Obi-Wan throws himself backward. The mangled body is saved only by its metal fingers, clinging to the edge of the cliff.
He has to finish it.
When he looks down on what’s left of the man, their eyes lock. They beg: End it.
He doesn’t know if it is his brother who pleads (please) or the Sith who goads (coward).
There is another collapse nearby; the might with which the boulders fall into the magma splashes it into the air, burning the flesh and blood dangling high above.
His screams are more terrible than anything he has done.
And Obi-Wan can’t do it. He can’t kill him, not even out of mercy.
His misery is both of their undoing.
“Goodbye… brother.”
Obi-Wan comes away from the edge, Anakin’s curses echoing forever in his mind, neither man ever truly leaves the precipice.