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Padmé waits in stony silence.
She waits for the High Council to finish their deliberation, for the droids to be retrieved, and for the transport which will remove her from Coruscant. She does not see Obi-Wan between her dismissal from the Council Chamber and their departure from the Jedi Temple.
When he appears, Padmé has trouble recognizing what has changed in her friend.
They board the transport without a word, but what can either of them say? (Nothing will help.)
Their silence continues until after they make their second ship transfer.
“By now a wave will have gone out: the Nubian royal starship was destroyed on a return flight to Naboo. Its crew and passengers were all killed, among them Senator Padmé Amidala.”
That’s it, Padmé thinks. She’s a dead woman – no, she’s less than dead. Her name is borne by a shadow and a lie. She is no one, at all.
“I’ve been also instructed to inform you, the Order is investigating your claims. If they are substantiated, Anakin – he – he will be tried for treason and executed as Sith.”
His tone is hollow.
He believes Anakin is innocent. That’s why the Council chose to send him with me.
Obi-Wan’s hollowness matches hers, but she won’t allow herself to give in to false hope. She already lost Anakin once; she doesn’t want to experience that pain again. Yet her hands tremble at the words.
She still loves him, or who he was.
Her mouth is dry, “What about Ahsoka?”
Obi-Wan shakes his head, “There was no time to try to find her. She’ll be fine at the Temple.”
Padmé’s brow furrows, “But she’s not at the Temple.”
“What are you talking about? Where else would she be?”
She pales and whispers, “Oh gods. Anakin attacked her; she came to me and I told her to run.” There hadn’t been time to think of her; Padmé was so swept up by the Council’s concerns, she forgot her own for her husband’s student.
“What?! Why didn’t you say something before?! What did she say? Where did she go?”
“Felucia! She said something about Felucia.”
Obi-Wan paces, rubbing his face in palms; then, decisively, “We’re going after her.”
Padmé doesn’t argue; she wants to find Ahsoka as much as Obi-Wan. (Why didn’t she think to take Ahsoka with her to the Temple? Why did she let her go off by herself?)
They do not make their next scheduled transfer. Instead, they make for another transport headed for the Outer Rim. The dead cannot rendezvous anyway.
----------
Thin lips curl into a cruel smile when he senses them approach. He expects them.
(They seal their own fate.)
“Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, by the authority of the Jedi Order, I am placing you under arrest for treason against the Galactic Republic.”
He does not turn around to face them, “Is that really all, Master Windu?”
“No. In our investigation of the turning of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, we discovered his true master. You are outnumbered. Surrender, Sith.”
“How brave and noble of you to abandon the pursuit of the student in favor of an old man, or is the apprentice proving elusive?”
“Do not toy with us,” barks Agen Kolar.
Saesee Tiin speaks in a low rumble, “Your Sith apprentice will be dealt with.”
“Come now, Master Tiin, Master Kolar, Master Fisto – Master Windu; as long as we are speaking openly, call me by my true name.” They will fall; their convictions cannot save them, “I am Darth Sidious.”
He relishes in their collective shudder. The greatest Jedi masters cannot deny the full power and might of the Dark Side of the Force.
“You admit to being a Sith Lord,” Fisto says. It is a statement of fact, not a question.
Finally, Sidious turns toward them, standing at his full height, “Yes.”
All four Jedi ignite their lightsabers at once.
“You will come with us to await trial.” Windu takes the lead, moving around the desk. Sidious knows the practice well, a predator circling its prey, but an animal cornered is an animal at its most dangerous.
“I won’t be going anywhere.”
“You have no choice.”
Cackling, “That is where you are wrong.”
The Jedi do not respond, but close in; the tip of Windu’s lightsaber practically at his throat.
A fifth glow illuminates in the darkening room; Skywalker’s shape (but not Skywalker) steps into the doorway, blocking the exit.
The Jedi turn, distracted, and Sidious seizes his opportunity to strike, directing Force lightning at his enemies.
Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar all fall to the ground; Windu deflects a bolt with his blade.
Recovering from the surprise attack, Windu unleashes his framed skill with a lightsaber. He is kept at bay by more lightening and Sidious’ overpowering control of the Force. They are at a stalemate.
The lesser masters deftly recover, but are apprehended in their attempt to aid Windu by Darth Vader. He duels all three, striking at them without hesitation and without mercy. Fisto pleads with him, imploring him to see reason, “This is not the way of the Force.”
“This is the way of the Force,” his apprentice replies, gutting his opponent. “It is not the way of the Council. And the Council is wrong.”
The nautolan slides off the end of the blade and it slices at the zabrak and the iktotchi.
Windu still bears down on Sidious, ignoring the duel and using all his might to get closer. The lightning crackles and sparks throughout the room each time the Jedi master deflects it. He is more powerful than Sidious thought.
Time to finish this.
He shoots a bolt of lightning at the Jedi’s heart. The purple blade catches it again, sending it not to the wall, but back at Sidious.
For once, he has no control over the Force; lightning continues to emit from his fingertips. He screams, shriveling beneath his own power. The Sith Lord is seized by weakness. He suddenly knows what it is to be and feel frail – to be unable to command and bend the Force to his will. It is terrifying.
“You will answer for your crimes in the Senate!” Windu shouts over crackling lightning and Sidious’ screams.
“And you will answer for yours here!”
At last, the pain ceases; drained and crumbled on the floor, Sidious breathes heavily. Windu turns his attention to Vader.
“Skywalker, by aiding this Sith Lord, you have made yourself a traitor to the Republic and an enemy of the Jedi Order.”
“The Jedi made their own enemy.”
Windu charges at Vader and the two clash with a deafening sound. Blue and purple collide again and again, intent to kill.
Windu swings and Vader ducks, extending a hand to Force push the Jedi into the wall. The purple lightsaber falls to the ground, as Windu claws at his neck. It is magnificent to behold what the Dark Side is truly capable of: sheer, unrestrained power.
Even struggling against the invisible hand around his neck, Windu still has a fighting fire in him; he does not break eye contact with Vader.
“It seems as though you were right to oppose my instruction, Master Windu. Look at what I’ve done.”
Vader gestures to the bodies strewn haplessly across the floor. For an instant, Windu continues to hold Vader’s gaze, then his resolve shatters. His eyes widen as he looks on his fallen comrades. Vader releases Windu from his grip and he falls to his knees trembling.
Grief, anger, pain; Vader forces the master Jedi to feel and experience them all. Windu will die knowing his failure.
The man lets out a terrible yell and is suddenly silenced. The head of the Jedi master head rolls to Sidious’ feet.
Vader stands, rigid, and looking down, unfeelingly, on the corpse before him.
“Lord Vader.” He comes when called, assisting the still weakened Sidious to his high-backed chair. “You know what must be done.”
“Yes, my master.”
It is time to expose the Jedi for the murderers and hypocrites they are.
“Execute Order 66.”
Vader bows and exits, his robes sweeping over the bodies.
“And Lord Vader,” his apprentice halts at the door, “I want you to personally deal with any Jedi still on Coruscant.”
Sidious turns back to the skyline. Night has fallen. He catches his reflection on the dark glass window. It mocks him; his cowardice and weakness are plainly etched on his face. He’s been playing a dangerous game from the start. He is too close to falter now.
There are, however, too many variables. He shall have to dispose of his other apprentice. Darth Tyranus has served his purpose.
Disgusted by his appearance, Darth Sidious pulls his hood over his head.
----------
There have been disturbances in the Force before, but none like this.
Yoda’s brow furrows further in meditation. He worries; he does not doubt. That something is coming for them, he is sure, but the Force is unclear.
It has grown increasingly ambiguous. The Force slips away from the Master of the Order.
Suddenly, there is a shift in the Force so strong no Jedi could mistake it. Yoda’s eyes snap open. He staggers forward, reaching for his cane, unable to balance the new weight bearing down.
Death and anguish have been a constant throughout the years of the Clone Wars. Never before has it felt so close – changed so much.
They are dying. They are dead. Jedi he served with. Jedi he trained.
It is devastating.
He knocks into the cane, clutching his heart.
“Clone troopers are marching on the Temple,” Shaak intrudes. (She would not unless it was dire; she must have felt the disturbance too.) “Skywalker is leading them, Master.”
Then it is as they suspected and as Senator Amidala warned: the Dark Side has claimed Anakin Skywalker as its own. He will not say he warned Qui-Gon; he will not say he discouraged Obi-Wan. That Anakin Skywalker fell falls on all of them.
“What word from Master Windu have we?”
She shakes her head, “None. We believe he and the others are dead. Master, it is time to evacuate.”
He nods and stoops down for the fallen crutch.
His limp is far more pronounced than usual as he follows Shaak from the chamber, the dead across the galaxy still weighing heavily on his mind. In the corridor, screams and blasters echo, adding more weight. They did not begin their evacuation soon enough.
“Arrived they have.”
They head in the opposite direction, making for the hangar bay near the western entrance, altering course every so often to avoid detection. It is not long before they realize the Temple is completely overrun. Troopers storm through every hall, killing at will.
Yoda’s ears twitch as they move through an empty corridor; the lightsaber’s hum may as well be the roar of a ship’s engine. Shaak spins around, unsheathing her lightsaber and defending them from Skywalker’s attack.
“Run! As long as you survive, so do the Jedi!”
There is nothing to say. He knows (as she does) she is only buying time. If Skywalker doesn’t kill Shaak, the clones will overpower her. He will not let her sacrifice be in vain.
Yoda continues on his own. He moves more slowly, ducking in and out of chambers; it is safer than walking openly through the halls.
One door opens revealing a sight he never imagined, but knowingly feared most. Younglings lie on the ground in heaps, terrified looks worn by all. None of them bear traces of blaster wounds.
They were slaughtered by lightsaber. Slaughtered by Skywalker.
It is too much for the Master of the Order.
He considers going back for Shaak, remembering her as a young girl in the training rooms. They were all his students – all of them, those dead or dying on distant worlds or here on this hallowed ground.
He should have protected them better. He will do what he must in their memory. The Chancellor, Skywalker’s master, will condemn the Jedi to justify their extermination.
The galaxy must know the truth.
Accessing the security records is only a small detour. He stores the recording of the younglings on a holodisc, tucking it safely away in his robes, and slips out of the Temple unnoticed.
In the under city, he finds transport off Coruscant, not knowing exactly where he is heading.
When Yoda looks his last on the Temple, it may as well be burning.
----------
Ironically, his right arm is the only part of him which feels real. Vader clenches it around his new lightsaber.
The blade has a different quality to it from the one Kenobi stole; it is heavier – stronger, more powerful. It is more a part of him than his new limbs.
An arm and a lightsaber, they are all he needs in order to demonstrate his control over the Force.
He doesn’t need flesh or bone, not when he can bend the Force to his will. He doesn’t need a past or a history before Mustafar when hate and revenge drive him.
Kenobi failed to save Skywalker, failed to kill him, and in his attempt, baptized Vader in fire (cleansed him of that sentimental fool for good).
There is one way the Light and Dark sides of the Force are the same: there are absolutes.
Skywalker died; Vader lives.
And although the Empire reports Kenobi’s death on Mustafar, he must die too.
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He can hear their hushed tones beyond the cabin door. Padmé struggles to defend their (his) actions to Yoda. But the door opens and the small, green creature hobbles through anyway.
“Ordered, you were, to stay here.”
Ben doesn’t respond.
“To make rendezvous, to protect Senator Amidala. Allowed yourself to be ruled by emotions you have.”
Still Ben does not respond. Yoda is right; he doesn’t care.
“Enough now. Return to your mission you must.”
“My mission is over. Padmé is dead. The Jedi are dead. Obi-Wan is dead.”
A lie he created for himself is now a truth throughout the galaxy. Vader destroyed both of them on Mustafar. He’s been assigned the fate of a dead man, why should he not haunt the galaxy as he chooses?
“In name only. A task you still have.”
“And I intend to see it through.”
He grips the hilt of Ahsoka’s lightsaber. If she’s out there, he’ll find her. He’s already lost one student, he won’t lose another. She’s not dead; he won’t allow himself to believe it.
Yoda eyes Ben’s whitening knuckles.
“No,” he says more vehemently than Ben has ever heard the master. “Futile the search for young Ahsoka is. Clouded your judgment has become. Danger there is for Senator Amidala. Protect her you must.”
She is listening on the opposite side of the door; he can feel her presence. He knows she is hoping Yoda will bring Obi-Wan back.
But Yoda doesn’t seem to care if Ben refuses that name, doesn’t care if Ahsoka is alive or dead, or about the consequences of a galaxy overrun and controlled by Sith. All Yoda cares about is retaining the few shreds of dignity and tradition he clings to.
Not for the first time, Ben thinks they all might have been better off if they had died when they were supposed to. They have been left to linger and drift, purposeless.
If Ahsoka is out there, nobody is coming for her. Not Ben and especially not Obi-Wan.
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Kashyyyk is oddly peaceful. The galaxy is falling apart as Ahsoka knows it, but the night here is quiet. It makes her nervous; she sleeps fitfully.
All ties to her old life are broken, either cleanly cut or ripped apart. It’s not exactly easy to live with the fraying ends. Her last encounters with Anakin and Padmé, never finding Obi-Wan, clones turning on Jedi; it is impossible to tie a knot in those ends.
Days come and days go; she hears little or nothing of what is happening beyond the Mytaranor sector, though Chewbacca keeps an ear to the ground. Ahsoka listens (but doesn’t hope) for news of any other escaped Jedi.
If anyone else did escape they’d go underground, like me.
She is anxious to be on the move.
She is grateful for everything Chewbacca’s done for her, but Ahsoka fears she puts him in more danger than he bargained for. He can’t possibly know how close she was to the traitor in the Jedi’s midst or that she should be dead.
She should have been at the Temple. She shouldn’t have escaped Felucia. There are any number of reasons she shouldn’t be here, but she is.
She needs to be off again before the inaction drives her mad.
Chewie does eventually come with news: Onderon and several other Separatist systems have been made an example of.
The death toll rises. The difference this time is she is certain of all the facts. King Dendup is dead, along with General Tandin; executed for failing to comply with the Emperor’s demands.
The news isn’t all bad. Several rebels managed to escape, they’re holed up somewhere in the Iseno sector. They’ve put out a call for others to join them. Chewie has trouble pronouncing the names of the leaders, but the cryptic message reeks of Lux’s rhetoric.
She has to go; they need all hands and she needs a way to justify her life for others.