Five Years Ago
Anakin dreamed of blood and sand and the burning heat of two suns.
This will happen, the Force whispered to him. There was a crackle of tension in the air, shivering across his skin. The hot desert air did nothing to warm him as he looked into the deep, sad brown eyes of his mother.
Mos Espa, as he'd never seen it: filled with people, slaves, an angry and feverish light in their eyes.
Shmi stood in a crowd, tall and unbroken. Blood seeped from her neck, staining the collar of her rough shirt. It dripped a long line down her dress to sand already stained red. Someone had fallen before her.
He was not there. That was what Anakin knew.
The intent and certainty of the Force stretched from Tatooine to Coruscant, carrying the tension of revolution.
His mother spoke quietly, with stern defiance that clutched at his heart, even as the winds stole the words away. An electrowhip cracked out against her and Shmi brought her arm up in a clumsy defense. She fell to her knees with a cry.
And he was not there to help her, to stand by her side.
Anakin woke with a jerk, shivering against the cold sweat soaking through his sleep shirt. His breathing was harsh in his own ears, too loud for the small space of his room. Impossibly loud. Anakin suppressed a groan, clenching his jaw and pushing frustrated fists against his eyes.
Nightmares were not new. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't a child and he didn't need to wake Obi-wan, bringing him running to chide him about releasing his emotions into the Force. They aren't new, he repeated to himself. This isn't special.
But it wasn't a nightmare. It was a vision, clearer and truer than he'd ever had before.
They were fighting and dying on Tatooine, and instead of helping, Anakin was here in the Jedi Temple, dreaming stupid, useless dreams. I promised you, Mom, Anakin thought. I promised I'd come free you.
Anakin felt the Force shudder. Slowly, his breathing evened out. He dropped his hands into his lap, staring up at the smooth, featureless ceiling.
The mark on his mother's neck, the wound, unclear in his dream. He knew what it meant. It was the same as the phantom itch on his own neck, the tiny incision that had left no scar but the one in his mind. His slave tracker.
Mom is free, he thought in wonder. She'd freed herself, at her own risk and pain.
The thought spurred him to action.
He jumped from his bed, stripping off his cold, sweaty clothes and changing into his robes. After he crashed into the wall, hopping on one foot to get his boot on, he jerked to a halt, eyes wide as he waited for Obi-Wan to walk in, demanding to know what in the Force he thought he was doing. But Obi-Wan remained peacefully asleep despite the commotion and Anakin never had to explain himself. He almost wished he did.
He was running away and there was no one who could stop him.
The Jedi had told him to forget his mother; she had told him to never look back. They were both wrong, Anakin was more certain than ever. Obi-Wan would call for caution, but that was the same as inaction. Anakin shivered in his dark room, eyes wide and wild as he tried to work through the muddle of his emotions. He had no sort of plan, just pure impulse and the guidance of the Force.
But wasn't that enough? What else did he even need?
His mother's freedom had changed everything,
Without another thought, Anakin snapped up his lightsaber, hooking it to his belt.
He spared a look toward Obi-Wan's room as he snuck out of their shared apartment. He felt carefully through the Force, as subtly as he was capable of being. As long as Obi-Wan didn't wake up, he had a chance of making it out of the Temple.
In the five years since Anakin had come to live at the Jedi Temple, he'd learned a lot about sneaking out. First, it had been for the pit races, then for swoops in electrified generator corridors. Last week, it had actually just been to visit a junk salesman of a particularly shady reputation who was selling more interesting starship parts than the Jedi would let Anakin have access to. He knew the halls well and which apartments to divert around. Quinlan Vos wasn't on Coruscant right now, but when he was, he usually stayed up too late for Anakin to risk passing by his quarters. Mace Windu was too sensitive and suspicious of Anakin for him to go that direction, even if Mace was dead asleep. Siri 's rooms, on the other hand, were generally safe. Good Jedi slept deeply in the halls of the Temple.
Boots squeaking softly on the stone floors, Anakin made his way, level by level, to the Temple hangars. In the back of his mind, he could feel Obi-Wan. Disquiet was beginning to set in on his master, though not yet enough to wake him.
It would be tricky, Anakin knew, to get off planet. It was one thing to leave the temple in a speeder and another thing entirely to requisition a ship without his master. And, he realized, without clearance from Coruscant space traffic control. He glanced up, uncannily looking in the direction of where Obi-Wan turned restlessly, sleep becoming fitful. If he asked for Obi-Wan's help, then it could be an official mission instead.
Anakin bit his lip, looking back down as his boots. They were scuffed and beaten up from their last mission, infiltrating a spice smuggling ring pushing for territory near Rodia. In between mission reports and debriefings, he hadn't had time yet to polish away the marks.
Even if Obi-Wan believed his visions and even if the Council believed Obi-Wan, it would be days before they got approval to leave. If the Council even gave the mission to them. They'd probably decide Master Siri and Ferus were more qualified and that Anakin was emotionally comprised.
Anakin narrowed his eyes at the thought. Involving the Council was the worst possible idea. He'd just have to go by himself. It was what the Force was guiding him to do.
He'd flown through worse than the CSTC could throw at him, anyway.
The hangar entrance opened under Anakin's hand. It was unlocked, a symbol of perfect trust, regardless of how often he violated it. Slowly, the banks of lights overhead thrummed to life, chasing the shadows in slow waves, illuminating the enormous space. There was another hangar on the other side of the temple, and smaller landing bays in the towers above, but Anakin was not interested in the small skiffs that alighted near the Council chamber, nor the big transport ships in the primary hangar.
He was looking for something a little sleeker and much faster. Anakin let a half smile cross his face. Urgent or not, he couldn't help but appreciate the sheer wealth of choice in front of him.
The Jedi had so many resources and so many friends. Even with their appropriations budget from the Senate restricted more and more, the Jedi had dozens of starfighters that could easily blend into a royal fleet or a war lord's battered battle group.
Anakin walked through the fighters, fingertips skimming the side of an N-1, a gift from Queen Amidala five years ago. He shook his head to himself, forcing himself away. He would love to take it, a beautiful and deadly craft that he hadn't gotten to know nearly well enough. But he was going to Tatooine. And, hopefully, he was coming back, too. He didn't need something the Jawas would tear to scrap on sight and especially not a ship it would break his heart to lose.
His eyes settled on a dingy, beat up Delta-6. Large strips of paint had scraped off in an unpleasant landing and carbon scoring outlined the cockpit, but it looked space worthy. The engine outputs were clean and the hatch looked like it sealed.
Anakin vaulted up into the cockpit, hands running over the control panel. He'd have to get into the Delta-6's guts to know for sure, but his instincts were telling him that the fighter would get him home. It would manage at least that much. He looked over to the open hangar entrance, flicking his fingers at the door to close it, and licked his lower lip in anticipation.
This was it. He ran through the power up sequence, picking up the control headset wedged between the seat and the exterior panel. He was already plotting the course in his mind. He'd need the astrocomputer for the calculations, but there wasn't a day that had passed since coming to Coruscant where Anakin had not traced out the best route back home.
It was supposed to be here, he thought with sudden anger. He banged a fist against the control panel, leg kicking out. He winced as his knee connected with the envirodiagnostics and he glared at that panel. The Temple was supposed to be his new home, the Jedi his family.
They will be, he decided. He just had to take care of something first, make sure mom was safe, and bring her back with him. He should have done that to begin with.
His anger faded and Anakin was left with the dull throb in his left knee.
The systems were hot. Anakin exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and reaching out for the controls inside the hangar. He frowned, drawing his brows together as he struggled. The layout was sort of different from the tower bay that he normally swiped a speeder from. But not that different. Anakin cracked his eyes open, grinning as he found the security controls.
Perfect trust. You know, he thought idly, I thought they knew me by now.
He toggled the light, semi-permeable force field off, resetting its timer, and opened the bay doors.
"Coruscant Control, this is Jedi Skywalker," Anakin said, thumbing the comm. He spoke carefully, doing his best to avoid pubescent cracks in his voice. It mostly worked.
"Control acknowledge," returned a bored droid voice. The Temple channel had priority second only to the Senate's, but even they didn't merit a live being at this time in the district's night cycle.
"Coordinates sent, Control. Awaiting ascent window." He transmitted the standard Jedi security clearance codes alongside the coordinates, hoping the droid wasn't interested in his personal, ranked codes. He made no mention of approval for an unscheduled flight. He didn't need to give the droid any ideas if it wasn't already thinking that.
"Flight plan unfiled," the droid said. Kriff, Anakin swore to himself. Of course, it was the paperwork the droid cared about, not the security issue. "Delay your ascent and refile."
"Negative, control. It is a classified Jedi matter."
Anakin could hear whirring over the line. He prepped the engines. He was out of here, regardless of what a dumb, preprogrammed droid thought.
"Provisional approval." Anakin bit back his cheer. Instead he eased the Delta-6 up from the hangar floor, hand a light touch on the throttle. "Refile within forty eight hours, under penalty. Notice is served. The penalty of six nights in security custody and/or a fine of one thousand Republic Credits will be executed if false claims are proven."
It wouldn't be false by the time Anakin was back, so that wasn't a real concern.
"Understood, Control. And thanks," he added. It was nearly impossible to hide his elation.
Control didn't so much as thank him, though. Badly programmed, Anakin decided. And probably wiped too often to know better. The ascent flightpath flitted across Anakin's display screen. It would lead him directly to the orbital cluster of Jedi starfighter hyperspace boosters. Anakin frowned at the coordinates with faint surprise. It really shouldn't be so easy to gain access to those.
The Force was with him, he decided as he carefully piloted the Delta-6 out of the Temple, hitting the control marks with far more intent and concern than he would under normal circumstances. Fly straight, he told himself. No flourishes.
Coruscanti traffic never stopped, but it was thinner at this time of night. Anakin joined the sparse line of starships queued to fly off planet. The quiet anonymity made his mission feel more real, more official. He'd done this so many times. No one knew he was a thief and a runaway.
Anakin was in the thin upper atmosphere when Obi-Wan awakened. He knew because that was precisely when CTSC vessels started tailing him, bombarding his systems with deterrent messages.
He flipped the Delta-6, pulling a near instantaneous vertical turn to buzz the nearest ship. It wobbled, a spark of fear lighting up in the Force as the pilot reacted in shock.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice fuzzed in over the comm. "Stop this."
There was a weariness to his voice – and it wasn't sleep deprivation. He thinks this is a game, Anakin thought with a scowl. That I'm doing this for fun.
"Master, you'll understand later. I have to go."
The CTSC ships swooped in again, keeping a cautious distance. One attempted a wing waggle, testing to see how hostile Anakin was.
He hadn't been until now. Impulsively, he powered up his weapons systems. The CTSC ships broke from his path, regrouping behind him. They didn't have real weapons, but that didn't mean they wouldn't harry him into a crash if necessary.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan sounded entirely scandalized. "Power down those weapons this instant."
Grudgingly, Anakin did. Really, that hadn't been his best plan.
There was muttering over the line. Anakin had the impression that Obi-Wan was keeping up simultaneous calls. Definitely one to traffic control, but also probably one directly to the Coruscant system defense irregulars, trying to stop them from blowing him out of the sky.
After a long, stressful moment, Obi-Wan resumed their conversation.
"Go?" he asked softly. "Anakin, where do you think you need to go? I'll come with you."
Anakin felt a twist in his chest. He said that now, but as soon as he knew...
"She needs me. My mom is in trouble," Anakin said. He bit out the words, hoping Obi-Wan wouldn't react the way he knew he would.
Even at this distance, Anakin did not think he imagined the ripples of fear and disapproval he felt from Obi-Wan. He took the Delta-6 up higher, breaking the atmosphere and gliding safely past the weather control satellites.
"Anakin, you cannot leave now! You cannot abandon your training. We have accomplished so much already, I don't see how you can simply throw it all away."
Rage flashed through Anakin. That response was everything he hated about the Jedi in one declaration. He sped up, feeling more than seeing the security ships keep pace. Speed was all they really had going to them, so he gunned it, trying to get them to max out their engines and then he jinked hard to the right. The CTSC ships tailing him overshot his position. He watched the atmosphere burn against their ships as they fired their forward engines, trying desperately to slow down and regain control.
"If you cared, you'd try to stop me!" he snapped back, even if it wasn't true. If Obi-Wan cared, he'd help.
Pulling up, he swooped back toward his original destination. The security forces had pushed him off of his flight path, but not far enough. The glinting circles of hyperspace rings came into view.
Anakin slid the Delta-6 neatly into a hyperdrive ring, feeling the vessel tremble as the systems linked together. He flipped switches, watching indicators blink to life. They were a hazy yellow right now, but that was good enough. Maneuverability limited, he flashed a look over his shoulder to where the CTSC ships were regrouping. They were a ways out still, and not within his escape vector regardless. He guided the Delta-6 into safe jump territory, astrocomputer humming as it calculated.
Space felt particularly cold around him as Coruscant's glimmering city lights fell distant behind him.
"Anakin," there was a helpless note in Obi-Wan's voice, "You are a Jedi. You have a duty to uphold."
Anakin closed his eyes against the words. He was a Jedi; he was trying to be a Jedi by doing this, trying to be a good son at the same time.
He swiped tears from his eyes.
"That's what I'm doing master. I made a promise." Anakin bit his lip and then added hopefully, "I'll see you on Tatooine."
He jumped to hyperspace and saw starlines.
Now
It was not often that Senator Padme Amidala was called to Chancellor Palpatine's office. His avuncular, well meaning concern for her had faded after she stepped down from her position as Queen of Naboo, replaced by a chilly professionalism that, while feigning respect, seemed instead to convey his disdain of her political leanings. Expecting a close ally in the Senate, he had not been pleased to see her align herself instead with Bail Organa of Alderaan nor Mon Mothma of Chandrila.
If he'd thought her to be a puppet, he'd been proven wrong time and again.
Still, there could be no politics without access. Being cut off from the Chancellor limited Padme's own effectiveness and in times like these, with so much discontent in the Senate and so many pressing for the creation of a Republic army, Padme needed all the connections she could get.
The blue Senate Guards stepped aside as the doors to Palpatine's office whooshed open. Padme stepped through, Dorme only a pace behind her. Already, a large group had assembled inside Palpatine's office. Neither Mas Amedda nor Orn Free Taa were not a surprising sight, but Padme nearly gasped aloud at the sight of so many Jedi gathered together. Her hand came up to her mouth before she restrained herself, settling for allowing it to cover a soft, wry smile.
And here she'd thought Jedi had no taste for politics.
Yoda, Grand Master of the Jedi, stood with dignity near the wide windows that looked out upon Coruscant's political district. His gimer stick was braced within his two small hands, a frown puckering his face as he watched lobbyists rushing in and out of the building. An unfamiliar Togruta Jedi had accompanied him, along with a much more familiar man. Padme had not had much contact with Obi-Wan Kenobi since he and his master had fought to save Naboo, but she had nonetheless followed the few mentions of his career that the holonews carried and still regarded him as a friend. As ever, a sadness lined his face and Padme could not help the swell of sympathy she felt for him.
It was a sadness she also felt, unjustified and unbidden as it was.
On the other side of the room, doing nothing so much as skulking, Palpatine had invited another delegation. The Trade Federation, once more led by Nute Gunray. Padme was almost glad of their presence; it helped her brush away the feelings of nostalgia and loss Obi-Wan brought out in her, steely anger becoming her focus instead.
"Ah, Senator Amidala," Palpatine began. There was a kind, bland smile on his face. "I am so pleased that you could make it."
"As am I, Your Excellency. You know how overprotective my security detail can be."
Dorme stiffened beside her, but Padme put out a calming hand on her arm, eyes flicking over to her in reassurance. The jab was not meant for her.
"I think not, dear Senator. In light of the recent attempts on your life, well, I would be stricken if anything were to happen to you. Their concern is well placed."
Padme let her eyes slide over to Gunray. Neimoidian expressions were not the easiest to read, but she thought she could categorize that one as a pout.
"Thank you, Chancellor," she said, dipping her head in acknowledgment.
It was his own allies targeting her, a reminder he surely did not need, but perhaps bringing up the topic would at least get him to distance himself from those in his own party who thought assassination was the best way to prevent a bill from being voted down.
"Did you say attempts on your life?" Obi-Wan asked. His voice was mild, though disapproving.
Padme shrugged lightly and a frown lined his face.
"It's just politics. Nothing to worry yourself over, Master Jedi."
Yoda clucked his tongue and even the Togruta Jedi made a sound of disapproval.
"Master, Obi-Wan is not, Senator Amidala. Lose his Padawan, he did."
Obi-Wan went ashen at the words.
"Oh – I," Padme fumbled for a polite response. Such a cold way of putting things, she thought. Eventually, she simply settled for bowing her head. "I apologize. I meant no disrespect to the Order, Master Yoda."
It must have been a great scandal, Padme thought. The Jedi Order was too insular to ever issue official statements, to give press conferences to a curious galaxy, but the loss of the boy they'd called the Chosen One had clearly shaken the Order to the core. Perhaps if he had merely disappeared, become one of the Lost, the scandal would not have become a crisis of faith. But Anakin's actions in the years since he had run away were more public than those of the Order, and certainly more admired.
He'd made a name for himself, alongside a growing empire.
Padme had not considered the consequences to Obi-Wan before. That he would be punished in Anakin's place.
Yoda made a long, "Hmm."
"It is not disrespect," the Togruta master said kindly. "Only misunderstanding. It is forgotten, Senator."
From the look on Obi-Wan's face, it was not; Padme found it similarly difficult to put aside the slight. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, nodding again to the Jedi before stepping deliberately away from them.
Palpatine cleared his throat. He laced his fingers together, steepling the tips of his forefingers as he looked over the assemblage.
"I hope to address that matter, actually. Both matters." He looked to Mas Amedda. "If you would play the recording."
Padme drew Dorme to one of the couches in the office, followed by the Jedi. They stood silently behind the politicians as they waited for the recording to queue up.
There was no doubt which recording the Chancellor meant. A blue hologram of Anakin Skywalker shimmered to life in the center of the chamber. She had seen it before – the entire galaxy had – but Padme could not help but lean closer, head tilting to the side as she looked over his features. He'd changed so much in the last five years, in the ten since she had known him on Naboo.
Ani had grown up, grown harsher. His hair curled around the nape of his neck, falling into fierce eyes that burned with fire from within. His round, childish face had given way to chiseled cheekbones and a mouth that always seemed halfway between a frown and a smirk. He was tall, broad, and undeniably attractive, even his smallest movements predatory and smooth.
He did not wear Jedi robes, nor a uniform befitting the general whose cause had spread like wildfire in the Outer Rim, consuming more systems than Padme even realized had been settled. He wore the simple jacket and trousers of the average spacer, a blaster prominent on his hip. Lightsaber doubly so.
Padme ignored her suddenly racing pulse, looking away from Anakin. She looked to the Chancellor, briefly watching him watch Anakin. There was something odd to his expression, keen and hungry, and she turned away from that as well. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, eyes half-lidded so that she could concentrate on Anakin's words.
"… the Free Worlds of the Outer Rim make no demands on the Republic. And yet you send cruisers and spies into our territory. This morning, my fleets intercepted the Jedi scout ship Ascension. I have no quarrel with the Jedi," Anakin said. Padme lifted her eyes once more. There was a hard set to his jaw; nothing of regret when he spoke. "No matter what they may say. The Republic has no interest in the Outer Rim, or the fate of slaves – you never have. There's no reason to start now."
It was a short, terse message. The threat was only implicit, although Padme was aware that Anakin's interdiction zone kept expanding, kept creeping closer to Mid-Rim worlds. And it was not that the Free Worlds did not want spies, it was that the they did not want anyone. Travel to the Outer Rim had never been altogether popular, but in some regions it had become simply impossible. Travel from the Outer Rim had all but dried up.
But that was a different matter entirely. Padme had seen the reports. Anakin didn't have close to enough ships to patrol all of the Free World space, to stop every single ship that came or went. He had just enough to be precise, to stop interlopers with obvious intentions. It seemed that the Free Worlds were just that and if there were no refugees, no traders, no travelers, it was not because they could not leave. They chose to stay. In fact, commerce among Outer Rim planets, Free and not, seemed to be taking the normal course. It was the Republic that was not wanted, neither their goods, nor their people, nor their way of life.
The message Padme had seen, the one picked apart on HoloNet News for the last day and a half, ended right there. But she knew Palpatine and that sly, cunning expression in his eyes too well to think his version of the recording cut off so soon. He had a reason for gathering them together and a reason for showing a message they thought they knew.
The hologram shifted focus, zooming out to bring another man into the frame. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply at the image and Yoda grunted in surprise. Well, Padme thought, that answered that question. It was not the Jedi who had censored the message, but the Chancellor himself.
He was an aristocratic looking man, with sharp features and a well trimmed beard.
"Perhaps I am familiar to some," the man said in deep, elegant tones. His eyebrows were raised in vague amusement at the thought, though his mouth was pursed and stern. "But I shall introduce myself regardless. For six decades, I served the Jedi Order. For a time, after I left, I was known as the Count of Serenno.
"No longer," he pronounced. "I am Dooku of the Free Worlds. I have pledge Serenno's wealth and resources to the defense of all those we have unshackled – and those we have yet to emancipate."
Padme watched Yoda as he reacted; two lost Jedi stood together in the holomessage. Dooku placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder, not quite proprietary. Affectionate, perhaps. Loyal. Yoda's long ears twitched and his claws tightened on his gimer stick. Twenty Jedi lost in ten thousand years – twenty one, if a Padawan counted. These last two in the last five years and Yoda the Grand Master of the Order. The HoloNet would surely have a field day, calling again for the Temple to unbar their doors and allow a real investigation, perhaps even an official, Senate led audit. Yet there was no hint of anger from him. Instead, there was a deliberate, still calm about him that belied his earlier harshness on Obi-Wan. In its own way, it was frightening.
"We take no titles," Anakin interjected. He folded his arms across his chest, chin lifted as if daring anyone to question him. It was, after all, rather hypocritical. Title or no, he was the unelected, unchallenged leader of the Free Worlds.
Dooku's expression shifted slightly. Padme leaned forward again, chin nestled in her palm, trying to decide if the irritation she saw on his face was real or imagined.
"Indeed, we do not. To the Jedi and the Republic, I put a question. Where is your honor?"
"We know what we stand for," Anakin said. Padme's heart stopped for a moment. His eyes were not that clear and blue, she reminded herself. It was the hologram. Still, he looked nothing like the little slave boy she remembered; he was too proud, too beautiful. "Do you?"
Padme closed her eyes, waiting for Anakin's image to fade. Her heart returned to her, beating once more, and she pressed her hands against her knees.
"This is outrageous!" Gunray shouted. "The Trade Federation will not stand for this!"
Well, that was familiar. She blinked her eyes open with a sigh.
"Calm yourself, Viceroy," the Togruta Jedi said. Padme rubbed at the frown line forming between her brows, turning to Dorme. Her handmaiden had already predicted Padme's plight. She had up a list of members of the Jedi Council on her datapad. Padme pressed a quick, thankful touch to Dorme's hand. She really did hate being ignorant of whom she dealt with, ally or not. Shaak Ti continued, "This is clearly the concern of us all."
Gunray jabbed a finger at Shaak Ti.
"It is a Jedi matter! These two, two Jedi! They are threatening us and you do nothing!"
"A threat?" Yoda scoffed. "A threat it is not. A threat you will know, when they give it. A challenge it is."
Shaak Ti gave Yoda a long, measuring glance and then turned to Obi-Wan, whose expression shuttered immediately. Padme pursed her lips, trying to understand what was passing among the Jedi. Something unspoken, a shared history and understanding that they were not explaining.
"To our principles," Obi-Wan agreed softly, after a long moment. "But to what end, Master Yoda?"
"Unclear, that is. Meditate on this, I will."
"Wonderful," Palpatine said briskly. "In the mean time, there is the matter I wished to discuss. We must deal with Skywalker and Dooku immediately to negotiate a peace accord."
Padme sat up in surprise. That was not at all what she had expected from him. With Gunray at the meeting, she'd feared the worst, that Palpatine would ask her to put aside her opposition to the Military Creation Act and call upon the Jedi to back it. At minimum, she had thought he would call for a show of unity and force to calm the many nervous Mid-Rim and Outer Rim Republic worlds.
It was a stunningly good development.
"I would be happy to lead such negotiations," Padme said, standing to meet Palpatine's eyes.
"I was hoping you would. And you as well, Master Yoda, do you agree to pursue this mission of peace?" Palpatine mouth curled on the last word, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
"With the Council, this matter I must discuss."
Shaak Ti inclined her head apologetically.
"We cannot make a unilateral decision, I am afraid. This is not merely a diplomatic issue, but a Jedi matter that strikes to the heart of who we are."
"Ah, of course," Palpatine sounded only the faintest bit disappointed. Turning, he said without missing a beat, "I humbly turn to you, then, Viceroy Gunray. We Naboo have had our share of differences with the Trade Federation, but surely you see the importance of this mission. Will you provide Senator Amidala with an honor guard?"
Dorme's hand clutched at Padme's arm.
"That is – You can't ask us –" Nute Gunray sputtered out. For once, Padme agreed with him completely.
"Chancellor, surely you are not impugning the competence of our home security forces?" Padme asked.
"Of course not, my dear," Palpatine replied kindly. There was a bit of a twinkle in his eye. Padme did not like it one bit. "But the Viceroy has voiced vociferous opposition to the Free Planets' embargoes against the Trade Federation. I had hoped only to give him an opportunity to speak his piece to young Skywalker."
Gunray's entire demeanor changed. His head twitched from side to side, confusion evident. He was politician enough not to trust the offer, but still avaricious enough to hope it was real.
"Now wait, that is an entirely different –"
"I don't believe you have thought this out," Obi-Wan interjected. "Anakin's force has responded with increasing hostility toward Republic incursions. They have not yet turned violent, but do you really think sending a fleet of droid battleships to escort Senator Amidala will strike him as anything less than provocative?"
"You suggest something more discreet? Jedi protection, perhaps?"
Master Yoda and Master Shaak Ti shook their heads.
Obi-Wan's gray eyes found Padme's before sliding back to the Chancellor.
"Yes," he said stridently. "With respect to her personal security detail, this situation is one that warrants the expertise of a Jedi Knight. One alone can fulfill the duties of a dozen conventionally trained guards."
"I agree," Padme said. "A Jedi guard presents a show of strength without appearing aggressive. We can also travel faster if it is only myself and my Jedi protector on a single ship, without a convoy."
The Chancellor looked like he was mulling the matter over, as if it was a change from what he intended. Padme most certainly doubted that. She'd never seen him go into a situation without setting up at least three different results he desired equally.
"Speed is of the utmost concern," Palpatine said eventually. "Especially with the Military Creation Act due to come to the floor so soon."
Padme cocked her head to the side, smiling at him.
"Surely that could be delayed. I mean, if you wish to give me a chance to succeed. To bring the Free Worlds into the Republic, under your rule."
He had never said he wanted her to bring the Free Worlds into the Republic – though there would never be peace if they were completely sovereign, outside of Republic law. It was a risk to acknowledge it aloud, that his peace plans were a kind of power grab.
There was a flash of something very unpleasant across Palpatine face before geniality replaced it. He gave a hearty chuckle.
"Well played, Senator. Very well, the bill can wait until your return. By then we shall know if it is truly necessary." Padme shivered at the last word. Gunray, who had been looking quite put out in the corner, rubbed his hands together with distasteful eagerness. "Obi-Wan Kenobi will accompany you to meet with Anakin, and you will sort this silly mess out and bring the boy home. It is settled."
Yoda rapped his gimer stick hard against the floor. It was the closest to an angry gesture Padme had ever seen from the old master.
"Settled, it is not. Sit on the Jedi Council, you do not, Chancellor. Make our own decisions under our own counsel, we shall."
Palpatine affected an innocent look.
"But surely Master Kenobi is the best man for the job," he said, word choice entirely deliberate. Obi-Wan gazed steadily at the man. Padme could not tell if he took the praise to heart. "Anakin will respond well to the sight of an old friend, I think. Even better to two. I am only saddened that I do not myself have the opportunity to join this mission."
"Make our own decisions, we shall," Yoda repeated. "Informed, you will be."
Shaak Ti bowed deeply to the Chancellor and Padme in turn.
"We have much to discuss," she said, before leading the Jedi party out. Obi-Wan did not turn once to look back, walking with the slow deliberation necessary to not overtake Master Yoda. Padme felt a dull ache at the sight and quickly made her own excuses to leave.
She did have a great deal of research to do, after all, and even more packing.
"That was a surprising meeting, but I think it went well, my lady," Dorme said as they walked through the Senate corridors. "I hope the Jedi do decide on Kenobi."
"So do I," Padme murmured.
He of all men deserved a second chance.
Obi-Wan waited in the antechamber outside the council room for hours. He supposed he was permitted to leave and return to his quarters, or even go out into the city, but he knew that with his luck, the moment he stepped outside the Temple, the meeting would end and he would be called upon to return. There were no chairs, no gestures toward the comfort of non-Jedi guests, so he sat on the floor, hands light on his knees.
The Jedi Council was debriefing Luminara Unduli and her Padawan, just now returned from Free World space.
Obi-Wan had all but stopped breathing when the news of their capture came through days before, their mission to Ansion disrupted when they flew too close to Anakin's forces.
A rescue had been planned, he knew, though he was not party to the process. It happened around him, to the side. In the rooms where voices fell silent as soon as he entered. The distrust was nearly as galling as it was earned, but he could not honestly claim that he would render the aid they desired if a choice was forced. He would not turn on his Padawan, not this time.
Oh? Had you not already? He chided himself. In truth, he had expected far worse for Luminara and Barriss than a day in captivity eating ration bars.
He had hardly been alone in that. The Jedi had feared the worst – though they would never use that word. The Jedi did not fear. They were concerned. They prepared for unfortunate eventualities. They were hardly gripped by fear, waiting in terror to see if one of their own would become a Jedi killer, terrified that any interference would make the situation worse and thus paralyzed into inaction.
Obi-Wan sometimes felt he had become a cynic in his old age.
He closed his eyes, reaching into the Force. This bitterness was unbefitting a Jedi. He released it, imagining it curling upwards and away, vanishing like smoke on a breeze.
It was quite some time before the tenor of the Council meeting changed, the cold wall of silence fading. An invitation was extended and Obi-Wan cracked his eyes open. He rose to his feet, fingers flicking at his robes to brush away dust. The door to the Council Room opened and closed behind him and he took up a spot in the center, next to Luminara and Barriss. They offered him curious looks, but had the grace not to sidle away from him.
Obi-Wan bowed to the masters of the council in turn before straightening, hands tucked into his sleeves. The sun was setting in the distance, orange light flooding the room; he'd been called to the chamber in mid-morning.
"Impertinent, you have become, Obi-Wan," Yoda said.
Obi-Wan gave him a nod and a thin smile.
"I was hoping to begin on a different note, Master, but now that that is out of the way, perhaps we can speak of Anakin?"
When Obi-Wan was nothing more than a youngling, he remembered Yoda kindly doting on him. He remembered the warm chuckle that greeted even the strangest, most childlike question, the firm tap of Yoda's gimer stick on the floor at the end of each lesson, somehow sounding affectionate rather than stern. He remembered being fond of the old master.
Yoda did not appear to remember it nearly as well as Obi-Wan did.
"Impertinent," he repeated.
"And worse," Mace interjected. His arms were folded across his chest, every line of his posture disapproving, "he is colluding with the Chancellor."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
"I do not believe working with the democratically elected leader of our government can rightfully be called 'collusion', Master Windu. And in any case, I did initially disagree with the plan he outlined."
"Let him dictate to the Jedi, you did," Yoda said.
This line would take them nowhere. Yoda and Mace would happily upbraid him for hours if given the chance. Obi-Wan looked to the other Council members, attention settling on Master Plo Koon. He was not nearly as negative on the Chancellor as Mace, nor had Obi-Wan ever accused his former Padawan of being a Sith Lord, as with Yoda.
"I take your correction to heart," Obi-Wan said. He bowed deeply to Yoda and Mace again and then looked directly to Master Plo, "But surely you have called me here for more than a lesson to Master Unduli's Padawan in how not to behave."
Master Plo's rasped out a breathy laugh.
"Indeed not, Obi-Wan," he said. "Master Luminara, if you would."
Luminara glanced at Obi-Wan from under her hood. Her vividly blue eyes studied him cautiously, undecided on how much information to impart. It was obvious that Obi-Wan was not cleared for the whole story, or he would have been in the chamber for the first telling of it. It was a signal of trust to her that she was expected to divulge only as much as Obi-Wan needed to know and no more.
"My Padawan and I were on our way to Ansion to negotiate a peace accord between the many tribes of that world. Perhaps we strayed from our flight plan," she said. Her voice was quiet and considering, restrained even for a Jedi; Obi-Wan was struck with the thought that Anakin had not been wrong to call her a spy. "We fell into the Free World interdiction zone.
"We were boarded, briefly, and then towed further into Free World space. Two light cruisers accompanied by nearly a dozen fighters joined us as escort until we reached Tatooine, where the main fleet remains."
Which was to say that Anakin still felt his homeworld was not safe from Hutt reprisals.
"The in-orbit fleet was perhaps a dozen starships, mostly carriers. Skywalker favors snub fighters to full battleships. Better for quick, nuisance attacks which carry minimal danger to his larger cause."
Obi-Wan snorted. That was giving Anakin rather too much credit. He preferred snub fighters because it was easier for him to jump in a ship and win the fight than to rely on his commanders in interstellar ship to ship strategic conflicts. He had little doubt, in fact, that Anakin had flown one of the fighters escorting Master Unduli to the main fleet. It also spoke to the composition of his navy. Dooku's influence might well bring a sea-change, but Anakin's forces had few members with any kind of formal training. They were slaves and bush pilots, many of them learning guerrilla tactics directly from Anakin himself. Capital ships were of no use in a navy that literally had no officers fit to command them.
"The fleet itself is larger than either Republic Intelligence or our own sources have previously led us to believe. Ships continuously jump in and out of the system, all bearing unique transponders with unique Force signatures aboard."
Luminara looked directly at Obi-Wan, bright gaze piercing.
"It is why we have few intercepted transmissions from Skywalker. Nearly all communication is handled in person."
Obi-Wan held her gaze, trying to read her intent. She was subtle, elusive. Obi-Wan's concern for his Padawan had been described, on more than one occasion, as obsessive. He did spend quite a lot of time in the Temple communications room, as well in the cryptology computer bank. He had found little of relevance to Anakin – although he had found quite a bit that he felt the council unfairly ignored. Perhaps Luminara meant it as a comfort to him, that he had not failed in that pursuit.
He had to wonder if she would obsess as well, if Barriss turned rogue. If she had envisioned that and felt sympathy for him.
But perhaps he was just projecting and did not she mean anything by that look at all.
"Paranoid," Shaak Ti said. Obi-Wan snapped his attention to her, embarrassed to realize she referred to Anakin.
"But intelligent," Plo Koon said. "A very intelligent tactic, for one so young."
It was at that, but Obi-Wan could not help but see it in a different light. Anakin's caution was unnatural to the brazen boy Obi-Wan remembered. It seemed he had taken the lesson of their very last parting a little too much to heart. It should not have been as disappointing as it was.
"But did you see him?" Obi-Wan asked.
Robes rustled as the masters murmured their disapproval.
"Only briefly," Barriss offered. She looked hesitantly to Luminara before continuing, "He gave us a message for you."
"For me?"
"He said that you 'aren't as subtle as you think' and 'not to bother sending anyone else to interfere.'"
Typical. Obi-Wan was unsure why he'd even been surprised to hear that Anakin singled him out for a message. His Padawan had always been stubbornly convinced that Obi-Wan somehow secretly controlled the Council and that all their rulings were merely his own in disguise.
"It is comforting to know that he still thinks so highly of me," Obi-Wan replied dryly.
"And incongruous," Barriss said.
The dear child thought she was being helpful. Obi-Wan tried not to let his distinct lack of affection for her insight reach her through the Force, but could not say that he was entirely successful. She went nervelessly pale nevertheless, clearly aware of the offense she had caused.
"Barriss is right," Shaak Ti said before the Padawan could apologize. She leveled a thoughtful look at Obi-Wan. "Anakin Skywalker thinks of you, even with no reason to. He remains ever your Padawan."
"He does not, Master. He severed that bond five years ago."
Plo Koon's rough laughter again echoed in the chamber.
"Always so contrary, Kenobi. We are now on the path to that which you desire, but you now position yourself against it, merely out of pride."
Stung, Obi-Wan looked away.
"You are right. Of course."
He stilled himself in the Force and his irritation vanished. Barriss was, indeed, right. It had been a long five years. In all that Anakin had done, it was surely long enough for him to forget Obi-Wan. It meant something that Anakin still thought of him. It had to.
"Decided it is not," Yoda said, interrupting the moment. "Repeated your failures are with young Skywalker, Obi-Wan. This time, what will the difference be?"
It will not be like before, Obi-Wan wanted to say. It will not be Tatooine – or Nar Shadda. Or Zygerria.
"What will be different is that he will not be my Padawan," he said with deliberation. He held up a hand, forestalling the inevitable protest – from Shaak Ti, that he would dispute her judgment ,and from Yoda, that he would use an unearned title for his lost apprentice. "The Senator and I will approach him as equals, in peaceful negotiations."
"Then you do not intend to bring him home?" Mace Windu asked. He steepled his hands in front of him and Obi-Wan flashed on the image of the Chancellor doing the same. If Mace felt the comparison, however, he did not react.
"I," Obi-Wan paused, searching for an honest answer. "I cannot say that I do not, but if I may, Masters, Anakin is not yet lost. That was my mistake before, I am sure of it, to treat him as misguided and in need of a master's correction. The more I treat him as lost, the more he will truly become so, and that is nothing I intend."
Yoda blinked slowly, nodding his head.
"Wisdom, you have, Knight Kenobi. Agree, I do. Those who fall, often it is because treated as fallen, they were."
The Council chamber bore a long silence. If it was equally true of himself, the Masters were at least in a mood to ignore it. They did tend to find discussion of the obvious rather unsavory.
"And on that subject, Masters," Obi-Wan said lightly. He welcomed any form of apology that Yoda extended, but it was hardly pleasant to be considered as fallen as his runaway, empire building Padawan; though Obi-Wan could hardly say it was the first time he and Anakin had been conflated. "I am concerned of Dooku's influence on Anakin."
The chamber turned chilly.
"Know we of your theory, Obi-Wan. Brought it to us before, you have."
"I should hope that it is not so easy to dismiss now that Dooku has thrown his lot in with a massing fleet of very angry former slaves who have a vendetta against the Republic," Obi-Wan said crossly.
"Specious, it was. Specious, it remains," Yoda replied.
"Master – !"
"Settled this matter, we have. The apprentice, you slew on Naboo. Think you Dooku was his master, hmm? When only due to Qui-Gon's death he left the Order? Think he murdered your master, do you?" Yoda's gaze was harsh and his tone even moreso. "No. No revenge will you seek. No phantoms you will chase."
"I have never claimed Dooku was the Sith Master. In fact, I presented a case of exactly the opposite! He left the Order following Master Qui-Gon's death and all but disappeared on Serenno, doing stars only know what. The transmission I found showed him in communication with the true Sith Master..."
"A half-decrypted holomessage of uncertain provenance is not concrete evidence," Mace Windu said. "No matter how much you wish it to be. We need more to suspect Dooku of misconduct, let alone act against him."
"Excellent," Obi-Wan said. His jaw was clenched tightly, but he offered an angry smile to the council. "I shall bring you evidence upon my return."
Shaak Ti, at least, appeared to be amused. The rest of the council was not. Yoda's stern face remained unmoved by Obi-Wan's glibness.
Frustration bubbled within Obi-Wan. He was a fully fledged Jedi Knight. It verged on the ridiculous than he had to fight tooth and nail to be trusted with even a simple mission, let alone one regarding his own Padawan. He looked within himself, to the root of his anger.
He was right about Dooku's Sith allegiance, he felt it in the Force, he knew it to be true even with as little evidence as he had. He knew that Dooku could not be allowed anywhere near the Chosen One without disaster following and he knew that his Padawan needed him, needed him now like he'd needed him these past five years.
And he'd failed Anakin before, he knew that as well.
"With every day, you become more like your former Master," Mace said. He rubbed at the line between his brows, as if to will away a headache.
That was, if anything, a compliment, but Obi-Wan did not tell them so.
He knew of a much more offensive response to give.
"I shall take that, Master," he said through bared teeth, "in the spirit in which it is intended."
"You should take it and let go pf your anger," Plo Koon advised.
Obi-Wan blinked at the older Master. He had been focused on his own feelings, blind to the swirling currents in the Force around him as the Council debated. The Jedi Council were skeptical of him and distrustful, but neither callous nor stupid. Obi-Wan sighed, disgusted at his own behavior. He let go of his anger, his hurt pride, and he felt the better for it.
The Council sent a wave of approval his way. It made Obi-Wan feel small, childish. They were right. His fit of temper did not countenance a Knight. This is why, the Force told him softly, why you remain a Knight. Obi-Wan released that feeling as well, that sense of shame.
Yoda waited until Obi-Wan's Force presence felt as clear and honed as any Jedi rightfully should be.
"Pursue revenge, you will not," he said again, sternly, but with an undertone of acquiescence. It was not an admonishment; it was an order to follow on his mission.
"The Dark Side of the Force clouds everything. It surrounds your Padawan and, yes, Dooku," Mace Windu said. He tilted his head to the side, as if listening to something distant. "They form an important shatterpoint."
Which was only an acknowledgment of Obi-Wan's point by halves. It could be Anakin that was the shatterpoint, or Dooku, or the pair together. It could be some objective of theirs that was not yet known to the council, or some obstacle that would be thrown into their path, changing everything.
"We must discover more about Skywalker's intentions toward the Republic," Plo Koon said. "And if his conversion to the cause is true, what Dooku's role in it will be."
They had hope, Obi-Wan knew. Dooku had been a respected Jedi Master before he left the Order. His influence on Anakin might well be positive.
"Go you will, with Senator Amidala," Yoda said. "Protection she needs from many enemies, perhaps some unknown. But set aside your suspicion, you will. Foolish it is to pursue personal vendettas in a time such as this."
Obi-Wan bowed deeply to the assembled masters.
He would follow their orders. After a fashion.