[12]

Seated in a semi-circle, the Council scrutinizes the three men standing before them, each member assessing according to their species and custom. Two are familiar figures in their midst. The third bears himself with both dignity and humility and sweeps a respectful bow to the wizened creature with heavily lidded eyes and a stick grasped in its clawed fingers.

A seat over, Mace Windu leans back. There is a faint pucker in the smooth skin stretched over his brows and the way he steeples his fingers betrays keen interest. All around, there is the faintest rustle of heavy cloth as individual Jedi shift; each seeking to discern why the Force has brought them together in this moment. Smaller details like who and what and how are signposts in a larger picture and for the moment they remain shrouded.

It is a silent assessment, each side considering the other. After his initial reaction to Master Yoda—which the grand master has not acknowledged—Luke gazes about the room with an expression Anakin cannot quite place. The Force is quiet and still, giving little indication of what emotion stirs beneath the young man's breastbone.

Anakin cannot fathom why he sees Obi-Wan in Luke's posture. Perhaps it is something in the stance that reminds him of his teacher; an outward expression of ingrained reverence for the Force and the Jedi precepts. Perhaps it is because they share a fiery core, principles and passion for a cause tempered by hard experience. Perhaps...

(What Anakin does not know is that others see something of him in the smaller man. Those privileged to have served on the Council for many years also see echoes of another Jedi— a devoted servant of the Living Force, stubborn and immovable when championing a cause he felt was right, and remembered for his fondness for 'pathetic life forms'. Yoda's ears twitch as he mulls over the resemblance.)

Luke shifts his position, the better to see the effect of the gathered Jedi who are backlit by Coruscant sunlight. It's sinking in at last, where he is, that he stands before the highest members of an ancient order, the best and wisest of the age, that he's really here and that their eyes are on him.

Anakin feels the rippling current, the floodgate opening and deep waters washing away in an instant to reveal the room to each questioning mind. He sees each occupant shining in the Force—a luminous being instead of soft flesh and brittle bone—reality superimposing reality—history scrubbing them bare and leaving legend behind. His world tilts briefly, as if a darker nightmare has stepped through the doors with them, something cloaked and waiting like the Sith on Naboo. He'd been terrified then but that was no excuse for inaction. He grits his teeth. The raw emotion has beaten Luke to his knees, fair head bowed, and Anakin puts a hand under Luke's elbow and brings him upright once more. There is no need to abase oneself here.

For Force's sake, why doesn't the Council speak?

"Why don't you tell us about yourself, Luke Lars?" Mace Windu's invitation has all the subtlety of a direct order. Luke complies, the direction steadying him; retelling a tale that has become familiar to Anakin but not mentioning the family ties between himself and the tall Jedi at his side. In presentation the only remarkable detail is the lost week between Endor and the Separatist base.

Questions about the lightsaber Luke wears at his side, crafted from scraps of knowledge and a flotsam of parts, do little to illuminate the mystery of his origin. Luke speaks of building the casing in an abandoned hut in the desert, spending an unknown amount of time meditating on the desires of his heart. More than an instrument of death and destruction, a Jedi's weapon is his life, a tool of defense and insignia of his calling. The completed weapon is passed from hand to hand, testament to his skill.

"See visions, do you?" inquires Yoda.

"Not usually, master," says Luke, prompt and certain in his reply.

"Not your master yet, am I," reproves the diminutive Jedi.

There's the smallest hint of mischief on the young man's face as he answers, "But we're not nearly well enough acquainted for me to call you Yoda."

A taunt silence as the Council isn't certain whether to be shocked at the audacity of the statement or to follow their first inclination and laugh.

"Hmmmm," grumbles Yoda. "So sure of yourself, are you?"

Luke bows his head.

The gnarled stick beats out a contemplative rhythm against the side of the seat. The final master in the circle finishes her inspection of the lightsaber and returns it to Luke. The act signals the end of the interview. Mace Windu gravely thanks Luke for his time and instructs Anakin to escort the young man out.

They wait in the antechamber. Anakin would have liked to show Luke around the Temple but he can't shake the premonition of lurking darkness and for once it seems the path of wisdom is to await the judgment of the masters.

"That is not what I expected," says Luke, leaning against the window frame and gazing down over the city below. Anakin catches the whisper of thought: It never is.

"Why not?" asks Anakin.

"Because I'd created a picture in my head and it didn't match." Luke is solemn and direct as a child, and about as helpful.

"I noticed," says Anakin, remembering the moment. His own notions of the Jedi based on spacer stories had missed the mark as well but not in the same fashion. What made Luke look on the Jedi as distant legend and view them as sages instead of warriors? "For a moment, I doubted my senses."

"I'm sorry," says Luke. "I—maybe it was a vision after all. I...can't tell."

There is a chime on the comlink and Anakin answers it. At the other end is a secretary from Palpatine's office, voice shaking with terror and barely able to communicate that Separatists have raided the Senate complex.

It is a bold stroke. Anakin feels as if his heart is a stone in his chest sinking into a pit of fire. For the second time in as many days he is frustrated and helpless because of his lack of proximity. He can commandeer an air car as he did when Padmé was attacked and though he may arrive in time to turn some droids to slag one man will not neutralize the threat. If he stops to roust out a company of clone warriors the Separatists will already be retreating. Screams and the sound of heavy fire are transmitted as background interference and the man pleads for reassurance.

Anakin's voice betrays nothing as he orders the man to keep his head down and let the Senate security forces do their job. He clenches his jaw. The galaxy has a morbid sense of humor. It's almost as if this raid were planned for the exact moment when he, Obi-Wan, and Luke are otherwise occupied. Padmé and Leia will be at the center of a resistance and the private Naboo security is the only piece of the puzzle he would trust. The Senate guards are sufficient in number to repulse an attack but there were Separatist supporters who might bribe an indifferent defense.

The connection is lost as Obi-Wan comes out of the Council chamber accompanied by the other Masters. Anakin pockets the device as he and Luke are absorbed into the company. There is a classroom with a screen large enough for everyone to see, and the holo-net shows live footage from the Senate. It is as bad as Anakin anticipated: billowing smoke and prone bodies; small groups of uncoordinated self-defense; and Padmé recognizable even from a distance as being one of the Senators standing with Palpatine and surrounded by Separatist troops.

The Jedi have as good a view as anyone on Coruscant when Count Dooku personally takes as a prisoner the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.

Leia is also visible among the hostages. Before the broadcast camera is destroyed as part of Dooku's grand departure they see the Senators divided into two groups. One will remain behind to cover the Separatist escape. The other contains those valuable for forcing the Republic to comply with their demands. Padmé is in the one remaining planetside. It's the smallest of blessings, Anakin thinks, even if it doesn't guarantee her safety.

"Let's go," says Luke. He's looking to Obi-Wan and Anakin, clearly ready to tackle the project of rescuing Leia and the others by himself if necessary and not seeing a point in waiting for the Separatists to send a ransom message. "We'll intercept them before they escape gravity."

It's as much of a plan as Anakin has so he's already on his way to the door, falling in step with Luke, when Mace Windu hauls them both up short. "Kenobi and Skywalker will go, but Lars will not."

"His sister is among the prisoners," points out Obi-Wan. "He won't slow us down."

"His skills are not in question," says the Jedi Master.

Luke looks sick.

Remembering the premonition he upon realizing Luke looked upon the Jedi as if they were only distant legend, Anakin feels as if destiny has placed a clammy hand on the back of his neck. The Force itself demands alignment with one side or another and the Dark waits for the unwary soul. He rebels against the idea. Luke is—Luke is no more Dark than any Jedi among them and Leia is staunch in what she believes is right.

If you will not turn, young Skywalker, perhaps she will.

Anakin isn't sure if the vision was Luke's or his own.