A/N: I don't suppose people are going to like me after this chapter, but never mind ;-) The architecture and layout of the shadow temple owes a great deal to ancient Egypt, particularly with reference to the decrease in size of sacred space as one progresses through the temple. The layouts of Deir el Bahri and Karnak are good examples. Inspiration also comes from KOTOR I (I love that game...) and some of the fanfics of Redone, particularly The Halaqua and Take Me To Korriban. Interested parties can find both in my Favourites (New Moon is also well worth the read, but has little to do with Sith tradition). I hasten to add that I didn't crib directly, but the atmosphere of both fics really gets the Sith temples. Also, an aside to Konig15: Sidious, too Machiavellian? Bite your tongue :-p Thanks for the comments, guys (all four of you). I like it when words like 'brilliant' and 'Machiavellian' get bandied about in my reviews ;-)

Disclaimer: The usual applies.

Threads of Fate 7: Embers

Jharred Ta'Maal schooled his mind to stillness. He had been in this business a long time, and you didn't survive a galaxy crawling with Jedi without learning a few little tricks.

All around him, the crowd shouted and brandished fists, tentacles, sundry appendages. Some held placards, others just commented by the mere fact of their presences. Before them, the truncated pyramid of the Jedi Temple rose to block out the sky. This close, it was huge.

They virtually had the plaza blocked to a standstill. And still the Jedi refused to emerge and answer to the angry crowd who demanded to know what they had done with their beloved Chancellor. There were very few people who believed the official story. The Sith were extinct, after all. And shouldn't the Jedi have realised and done something about it a lot sooner, if it were true? It was obviously a ploy to keep hold of the power they had gained through military action in the war. A war, some said, they had started in the first place. And now they had taken the Chancellor, who had prosecuted their war to a successful end and brought peace to a troubled Republic. So people said, at any rate.

As a point of fact, Jharred didn't much care if the Jedi had Palpatine or not. He was mildly uneasy about the Jedi running things in the Senate, but only because he suspected that they could make life much more difficult for people like him. Upholding and enforcing Republic law themselves, the Jedi tended to frown upon those who disrupted it, more so than the average, corruptible Senator.

Mostly his concern today was getting paid. And in the interest of earning the substantial payment he had been promised, he eased the small frag grenade out of the hidden pocket in his large sleeve. There were too many hostile people here for a Jedi to be able to pick his intent out of a crowd of thousands, but he intended to try not to draw too much attention to himself. It just wasn't professional. Besides, he liked his limbs and his head exactly where they were.

The crowd sounded ugly now. Peering over the heads of the beings in front of him, Jharred caught a brief glimpse of a robed figure in the great doorway. The figure held out its hands in entreaty.

Jharred flicked the pin-switch and clicked it five times. Then, as protestors waved hand-made signs denouncing the Jedi Order, he snapped his arm up in a practiced arc. The tiny silver disc left his hand and he turned at once, slipping between two Biths and a human and weaving his way towards the edge of the crowd.

Five seconds later there was the crump of a small explosion. He had aimed well; smoke rose from the wide steps that fronted the Temple. Other small explosions followed it. Jharred shrugged; unsurprised to find that he was not the only one who would be getting paid today.

Glancing back, he saw other Jedi come outside, lightsabers in their hands. It was the wrong move. The crowd roared its displeasure, and a few moments later, the Jedi were deflecting stones, bottles, refuse and just about anything the people could get their hands on.

As he made it to a side street, the sound of anger turned into one of destructive violence. The protest had become a riot.


Anakin answered the call, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes. He didn't pay any attention to the originator of the communication, so he was surprised and pleased to see Padme. The small holographic image flickered fitfully every now and again. Shield was far from Coruscant, and many of the relays had been damaged or destroyed in the war.

'Morning,' he said, yawning. 'Or is it afternoon there? I forget.'

'No, you were right the first time,' she said. He thought he detected a note of strain in her voice.

'What's wrong?' He combed his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to restore to it some semblance of order.

'I...' she hesitated, then said 'the Council has taken temporary control of the Senate. They've ordered us to vote for new Chancellor. The Senate and the people are in an uproar. It's difficult at the moment...'

Anakin tried to stifle another yawn. 'But Jedi control is a good thing, surely? The Council only wants the best for the Republic. We need to break his hold on the Senate and the courts, you know that.'

'I know that,' she said with a hint of reproof. 'But try explaining it to the several hundred Senators who only see the Jedi interfering in matters of policy... For that matter, I'm not so sure...' she sighed, trailing off again.

'That the Jedi should interfere in matters of policy,' he finished, frowning. 'Padme, in this instance, I think we need to do whatever we must to get the job done. It's not the Council's fault that idiots in the Senate refuse to believe the truth about Palpatine. Anyway, soon we'll have proof.'

She glared at him. The holo flickered again. 'Anakin, I can't support your line of reasoning, and you know it. But – I didn't call you to argue about politics.'

'What did you call me to argue about, then,' he asked, grinning.

She bowed her head. 'Anakin, we need to talk.'

He sat down on the edge of the bunk. 'Well, this can't be good.' He spoke lightly, and saw the brief flash of annoyance on her face. 'I'll be serious,' he promised.

'Anakin... please,' she hesitated again.

It wasn't going to be good. He knew it with an awful certainty. Clenching his fists on the edge of the bed, Anakin leaned forwards. 'What's wrong?'

She bowed her head, staring at something he couldn't see. 'There is no easy way to say this, Anakin,' she said. 'But I must.'

Panic raced through him. 'Is it the baby?' Suddenly scared, he jumped to his feet. 'Is there something wrong with the baby?'

'No, it's not the baby.' She smiled, weakly. 'The baby's fine, I promise.'

Suspicion grew in his mind. 'It's us, isn't it?' He squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. 'That's what you want to talk about.'

Padme bit her lip. 'Anakin, it's pure chaos in the Republic at the moment.'

He glared at her, trying to mask his fear with something, anything, else. 'Don't bring politics into it,' he said. 'If it's about us, it has nothing to do with politics.'

'Just hear me out, Anakin,' she said sharply. He could tell that his words had annoyed her. 'This – us – it isn't working. It's not your fault, or mine, really. Circumstances – '

'Circumstances?' He cut her off abruptly. 'We knew it would be difficult. I'm a Jedi, you're a Senator. But we can make this work, Padme. We have to.' Anakin tried to inject a note of reason into his voice, but he was finding it difficult. It was suddenly hard to breathe; the small cabin had become close and confining.

'No, I can't, and I don't have to.' She said it gently, but the selfishness of it staggered him.

'Why?' he demanded. 'So you can pursue your damn political career? Padme, we're going to have a child. I love you. How can you do this to me, and our baby?'

Padme straightened up, meeting his gaze. 'It's precisely for the baby – and you – that I think we should end it. And for me, too. I can't do it. I can't be a wife, a mother and a Senator all at the same time. I can't keep lying and living in secrecy like this, it's destroying me. And in the end, the baby is important, and the Republic needs me.'

Black spots danced before his eyes. He realised that he had forgotten to breathe, and dragged in a lungful of air. In a void somewhere within him, something stirred. He was angry. 'So I'm not important anymore, is that it?'

'No! That's not it at all. Of course you're important.' She glared back at him, seeming as frustrated as he was. 'The Republic needs you too, but it needs a Jedi Knight. A Jedi Knight who is focused and... well. Not torn between two destinies. You're too important, Anakin. You have a duty to the Republic, and the Republic may stand or fall depending on the outcome.'

He couldn't make sense of what she was saying. Was it because he was supposed to be the Chosen One? What duty – Palpatine? Behind him, a glass of water on the nightstand began to rock backwards and forwards, spilling liquid all over the surface and his pillows.

He clenched his jaw, eyes shining with bright, unshed tears.

Padme reached out an insubstantial hand. 'Anakin, I want you to understand. It's too dangerous for us to be together. It's too dangerous, and we are needed elsewhere.'

'No!' He slammed his mechanical fist down onto the desk beside the holo-projector, causing the silver disk to leap an inch into the air. Padme wobbled, and the signal solidified again. 'No. You are mine, Padme. I love you...' He glared at her, all the rage inside him directed at the small holographic image. 'I'm going to save you.' It hurt to breathe, as if something had kicked him in the ribs.

'No, you're not,' she said, only a slight quiver in her otherwise emphatic voice. 'I'm not yours to save, Anakin. It's over. It's for the best...' She trailed off, her voice breaking. 'One day, soon, I hope you'll understand why I had to do this, but Anakin...'

He cut her off, unable to listen to any more, snarling in fury, smashing the holoplate to pieces, repeatedly pounding his fist into it until it was an almost unrecognisable wreck. He wanted to hurt her, to make her see how much she hurt him, and the holo-projector provided a poor outlet for the torrent of anger that poured through him. Had she lost her mind? Was she in love with another? How dare she...? He reeled at the suddenness of it, without even having a chance to defend himself. What had happened just then?

He savagely punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent and causing the servos in his hand to whine in protest.In his mind, she cowered from his righteous rage and begged him to take her back...

He wanted to hurt her. He caught the thought, it stared him in the face; and with a howl of anguish, Anakin Skywalker threw himself onto his bunk and curled up, sobbing like a child.


Palpatine regarded the contents of the small refrigerator unit with some dismay. The coolant system had sprung a leak – he wasn't sure how – and evaporated, leaving the food stored inside in a less than satisfactory condition. The sour smell of curdled ghurra cheese wafted throughout the living quarters of the Night Hunter in a most insidious fashion. He was sure he could smell it from the meditation chamber.

V-3PO seemed close to panic, a familiar state for the silver protocol droid. 'My Lord! I really am most dreadfully sorry. Please don't deactivate me!'

The Sith Lord turned to his droid, one silver eyebrow raised in query. V-3PO was saved, however, from further elaboration by the shrill whistle of the ship's intercom announcing the imminent activation of the sublight engines. Without a word, Sidious turned and swept from the galley, leaving the droid to trail along in his wake.

Sidious arrived in the cockpit just in time to see the blue blur of hyperspace vanish, to be replaced with a swirling cloud of gas and dust. The celestial phenomenon seemed to eddy and flow in a stately dance of white and blue, purple and gold. It was as though some cosmic artist had spilled colour across the black canvas of space and amused himself by swirling them together to create an effortless fantasy landscape that one could easily become lost in. A lesser artist than the cosmos itself could only dream of producing a work worth a fraction of the effect of the whole. He had forgotten how beautiful it was, and took a moment to simply appreciate the sight.

R2-M4 warbled, his dome swivelling to regard his master. Sidious slid into the pilot's chair and regarded the spectacular view. Just noticeable against the backdrop of the gorgeous display was a belt of rock and debris, although it was in fact much closer to the Night Hunter than the gas cloud.

'Oh my...' V-3P0 said, trying to panic quietly.

'What did he say?'

'He says he broadcast the signal as you requested, Master, and the ship is receiving a response.' The silver droid hesitated, and then added, 'from the asteroid field.'

Sidious smiled. 'Excellent.'

R2-M4 added an emphatic whistle.

'You can't say that!' V-3P0's tone was aghast, although he attempted to keep his mechanical voice low.

The astromech droid made the binary equivalent of a rude gesture.

'Well?' Sidious enquired, curious despite himself. He had observed the two distinct personalities of the droids in his flight from Coruscant, and had noted that while V-3P0 seemed to cower in abject fear every time Sidious so much as raised an eyebrow in his direction, R2-M4 was made of much sterner stuff. The Sith Lord had heard that astro droids tended towards stubborn independence, and the little black and silver droid certainly didn't seem to be frightened of speaking his mind. It must be basic differences in the programming, he mused. Protocol droids were programmed to put everything as diplomatically as possible, after all, whereas astromech droids were tougher, designed to act independently to navigate or repair a ship by themselves if necessary. Of course, the fact that most living beings didn't speak binary probably had something to do with their habit of saying what they thought. Generally, he chose to let it slide. The droid was too useful, and he quite often had a valid point to make.

'Master, he says he... doesn't want to fly through that.' V-3P0 backed away towards the door.

'That's quite all right.' Sidious said in sudden good humour despite the refrigerator incident, and the droids both looked at him in some surprise. 'I shall take over from here.' So saying, he took the control yoke and looked at R2-M4. 'You can disconnect from the helm.'

The astro droid gave a long, rather dubious whistle and retracted his computer spike.

'What?' The Sith Lord smirked, amused. 'Just because I don't fly, doesn't mean I can't.' He could feel the ship responding to the slightest movement of the yoke, feel the soft thrum of the sublight engines through the chair, and if he stretched out with the Force, he could feel... all of it. The ship, the asteroids, even the minute particles of ice and gas that comprised the cloud beyond. It was as though he floated alone in space, free from the fetters of flesh. Free from his body, but still connected to everything that was. He could see the ties that bound it all together, the Force that flowed between the stars, their worlds and the ships that moved between them. It was breathtaking.

Reluctantly he pulled himself back to the vicinity of the ship and the asteroids. They moved in a seemingly random pattern, occasionally several would collide and break apart under the force of impact. The fact that the Night Hunter's signal had received a response boded well for the Temple's survival, but one would need too much luck – or the Force – to make it through unscathed. There were no up-to-date navigation charts for this field; it was too off the beaten path and of little value.

The sleek vessel accelerated towards the mass of rock and ice, and V-3P0's wail of dismay was cut suddenly short as Sidious, without even really thinking about it, flicked with the Force and deactivated him. R2-M4 knew better to disturb the concentration of the pilot at such a time, and kept silent as the asteroids loomed huge in the transparisteel viewports.

Sidious tightened his grip on the control column, and became aware of a tiny trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck. Just because he could fly, didn't mean he had to like it. Annoyed with himself for the tiny show of weakness, even if there was only a droid here to witness it, he began a breathing exercise. The Force was with him, and he had flown this before. Admittedly, he was a much younger man then, afire with all the passion and daring of a young Sith Lord on a great adventure.

Really, he had the advantage now. He was older, wiser and much more skilled. He was the Master, and he had a great destiny before him. He smiled slightly, relaxing his hand on the yoke. No mere asteroid field was going to come between him and the future he had foreseen.

The Night Hunter handled easily, and the Force gave him the prescience to know where he should direct the ship. Weaving between the jagged lumps of rock, he followed one large one as it crashed through a group of smaller asteroids, scattering them lazily in several directions. The proximity alarms wailed, but he was distant and only half-heard them.

He sent the ship skimming across the pock-marked, battered face of the large asteroid, adroitly avoiding a hail of fist-sized pebbles. Sharp spires of rock like the broken teeth of some huge beast reared up ahead, and he pulled back and arrowed up, between two immense almost-globes as they very nearly met in violent collision. In a way, it was almost exhilarating. He had always gained more pleasure from intellectual pursuits, the subtle manipulation of others and far-distant events; and he had forgotten that there was a kind of fun to be had in the sort of seat-of-your-pants adventures beloved of the old holodramas and serials. It was simpler, not nearly as refined, but it had some value. It sharpened the reflexes and gave one a greater appreciation of the fragility of one's own life.

He had grown soft in decades of political manoeuvring.

Pulling back on the yoke again, he fired one set of thrusters, adding a flamboyant spin to a move that sent the ship racing between the jagged spires of yet another mass of rock and ice. The Force forewarned him, and he directed the Night Hunter upwards as a cratered behemoth spun past almost directly overhead. Plunging into the great pit that led through to the heart of the asteroid, he used it as cover. Emerging on the other side amidst a swarm of smaller rocks, Sidious bared his teeth in a fierce grin and fired the thrusters again, corkscrewing between them and narrowly missed scraping the communications array off on a particularly close one.

R2-M4 whistled appreciatively.

Yes. He was almost having fun.

The sound of the beacon grew louder, and the Sith Lord spared a second to glance at the console. The Temple was close, and the Night Hunter had detected its defence mechanisms warming up. Still, they were broadcasting the correct signal and barring actual tampering with the system, they would pass through the gauntlet without any trouble.

An asteroid several times larger than any the Night Hunter had yet encountered loomed ahead, surrounded by a ring of smaller ones. The arrangement looked almost natural, until close observation revealed that the smaller ones moved only slightly, and rarely out of position for very long. It was as if invisible chains held them to the large one, the largest fragment of the world this belt had once been.

Guiding his ship between two of the outer ring of asteroids, Sidious saw an irregular black opening in the side of the huge chunk of rock, a tunnel that led into the asteroid. As the Night Hunter came closer, lights around the entrance lit up. He headed directly for it, and noted the quadlaser emplacements tucked into small craters on either side of the cavern mouth. The batteries tracked the Night Hunter, and had they not been broadcasting the security signal, they would have opened fire once the ship was in range.

If they hadn't been broadcasting the signal, though, it was unlikely that they would have made it through the outer ring intact.

More lights illuminated the tunnel that plunged deep into the heart of the asteroid, Here and there along the route, black chasms and holes broke the monotony of the worn and twisted tunnel walls, and the tunnel narrowed until manoeuvring became difficult.

Ahead, the dim guide-lights illuminated an old plasteel blast door slowly opening to admit them. The ship slipped through into the cavern beyond, and Sidious could hear the ancient gears rumbling as the doors closed behind them. Blinking landing-lights indicated a spot on the other side of the hangar where he should land, and he ran through the landing routine quickly, eager to get his feet on solid ground again. Traversing the asteroid field had been entertaining after all, but he much preferred operating from the ground.

Leaving R2-M4 to complete the post-flight checks and shutdown, Sidious reactivated V-3P0 and gestured for the droid to follow him. Bewildered and cowed by his deactivation, the droid silently complied.

Striding down the landing ramp, the Sith Lord saw another droid ahead of him, standing in a pool of light before the great, arched doors that led to the Temple proper. It was another protocol droid, but of an older model than V-3P0, and its black carapace was chased in silver with markings that recorded its function as factor, keeper of the Temple in its Master's absence, and the most senior of the Temple droids.

It bowed deeply. 'My Lord Sidious, the Temple welcomes you. I await your command.' It spoke in carefully modulated Basic, and shot a tiny, curious glance at V-3P0, standing at Sidious's shoulder. 'Your quarters are being prepared as we speak.'

Sidious nodded in satisfaction. 'Excellent. How is the Temple?'

'All systems are operating at full efficiency, my Lord. There have been minor changes to the position of Nakada in relation to the rest of the asteroid field, but nothing to cause concern.'

'You have done well, Factor.' Sidious said. 'How are we for provisions?'

Factor bowed slightly in acknowledgement of his Master's praise. 'There is enough preserved food to last one to five human-sized sentients a year, Master. Alas, we have nothing fresh.'

It was only to be expected; after all they hardly got out much here. Still, he missed having fresh fruit and other dainties. Perhaps hydroponics would be a worthwhile investment against future visits. It bore looking into.

'Will you inspect the Temple, my Lord?' Factor inquired.

'I shall go up to the shrine,' Sidious said. 'Have a bath made ready in my quarters. And rouse the hangar staff, I want the Night Hunter inspected, serviced and... cleaned. The refrigerator unit in the galley requires repair, and the smell dealt with. The astromech droid in the cockpit can give your staff a complete run-down of the tasks that require attention. V-3P0, attend to my belongings on board.'

'It shall be done, my Lord.' Factor bowed again, his joints whirring slightly.

The Sith Lord inclined his head at the droid, and moved past him, heading for the arched double doors that separated the hangar from the Temple. They were huge and ancient, their tops lost in shadow. Yet they were mere copies of the great bas-relief doors that had once graced another, long-destroyed Temple in the days of the Mandalorian Wars. Their reliefs depicted a Sith victory over the Jedi Order, the triumph of the philosophy of Dark over that of the Light. They stood ajar, awaiting his entrance.

He passed between them into the dimly-lit passage beyond, glancing up at the carven image of Darth Revan as he did so. The hooded Sith Lord stood in dramatic pose, her arm flung out towards the sky, her fleets of ships pouring out of an obscuring cloud, obliterating the enemy forces with overwhelming firepower. It was an inspiring, if slightly over-the-top image of power and might.

A sense of security such as he had not felt since that night on Coruscant came over Darth Sidious then. He was, if not home, then at least at home here. This was his territory, his domain and he was comfortable here. A tension he had been almost unaware of lifted, he had become so used to its presence that it came as a surprise to realise that it had gone. He slowed his pace to a casual saunter. There was no need to rush everywhere as if the Jedi might pop out of the shadows at any moment. He favoured the shadowed niches between the great stone buttresses that marched down the corridor with a half-smile of sardonic amusement. The Jedi would get short shrift if they did, indeed, turn up here.

The corridor opened up into a great, oval hall, its entrance guarded by two immense statues of hooded figures, their features hidden in darkness. He swept past them, into the centre of the hall. Ahead, huge, arched transparisteel windows looked out across a cratered landscape of jagged, sharp rock and gleaming pillars of ice. Starlight and the colours of the nearby gas cloud spilled across the smooth stone floor in a delicate display of colour, chasing the shadows away to the sides. It was an object lesson, or so he had considered it, in the value of subtlety and patience. While the light was strong, the shadow was a gift, allowing one to marshal one's forces and wait for the appropriate moment. And, of course, the view from here was quite spectacular.

Sidious ascended the stair at the far end of the hall, passing across the face of the great window, and left the Entrance Hall behind. On the level above was the shrine itself, and he was eager to walk its pillared halls once again and bask in the solitude, the history and the grandeur of the place.

The first Hall of the shadow Temple was a mighty affair, hollowed out of the living rock, its every surface hewn with reliefs depicting the philosophy, history, victories and deeds of the last thousand years of the Sith Order. As he walked beneath the vaults and pillars, he felt a surge of pride. He was Sith, the continuation of the ancient lineage whose story was begun on the doors of the hangar, and continued in the halls of the shrine. He was Sith, and it was at moments like this that he felt most keenly the grandeur, the majesty and secret power that was to be a Master of the Order. He was Sith, and though he might be hunted from one side of the Galaxy to the other, the Jedi Order could not take this away.

He passed between the seated statues of Bane and his immediate successors that marked the end of the first Hall and the entrance to the next and smaller chamber. The halls of the shadow Temple decreased in size the closer one came to the heart of the shrine, the most sacred part of the Temple. It was a symbolic feature of the architecture that emphasised the intimate and secret nature of a Sith Lord's relationship with the Force and the Dark Side in particular. This Hall, the throne room, was less than half the size of the one he had just crossed, and just as dimly lit. On a dais in the centre, flanked by two pillars, was a black basalt throne. Sidious skirted around it, knowing from experience that the stone was both cold and unyielding and thus proved an uncomfortable seat. As he passed the dais, though, four small lights began to glow softly, illuminating the room a little more. Darkness was all very well and good in a Sith Temple, but after all, it would not do for a Sith Master to trip and fall on his face.

The chamber beyond the throne room was his destination, and he hurried the last few steps. It was a circular chamber, the centre taken up with a large black pillar, or obelisk that pointed towards the domed ceiling like an accusing finger. Smaller obelisks were spaced evenly around it, each small copy corresponding to the larger one's flat, carven sides. It was called, by some, the Heart of Darkness. Sidious stopped in front of it, and a gentle blue light suffused the room as an ornate galactic map glowed into existence overhead. He had always considered the name as something of a misnomer, as the arrangement of pillars in the centre was intended to represent the Force as a whole, not just the Dark Side. So it was that even the Light Side was honoured here, as an aspect of the greater Mystery.

Often he entertained the almost-heresy that the Force was no more light or dark than life itself. He had never yet encountered an all-knowing awareness behind the great power that pervaded the Universe, and something without awareness could not adhere to a moral code. The Force acknowledged no difference between the Light and the Dark; this he knew but had not taught his apprentices. Tyranus, coming at it from the point of view of the Jedi, had soon figured it out, but Maul had never grasped the unspoken truth. There was only the Force, and those with the skill and wit to use it.

It only made the Jedi greater fools in his eyes, prattling on about the 'will of the Force,' as if they were in touch with some cosmic awareness that told them what to do and think. Nerfs, guided by the hand of a herdsman that did not, could not exist.

Still, there was the Dark Side, and there was the Light. Whether they were artificial creations out of the minds of hide-bound sentients was neither here nor there at the present moment. The Dark Side was strong here, and he opened himself to it. It was warm and deep, deliciously complicated and rich, and it was a raging torrent of fury and hate, an icy shock of want and fear, and almost overwhelming. He stood, entranced, carried away on the tide of power. And far away, beyond the confines of the Temple, he felt the other stir. 

Deep hatred called to furious anger, and they faced each other across the stars in a silent communion and battle of minds.