"That's outrageous!" Obiwan heard Nute Gunray's voice exclaim, and for once he agreed with the Neimoidian. He had been making his final approach to Coruscant in the Separatist leaders' transport when the supreme chancellor had astonishingly usurped the republic, laying claim to the ancient title of galactic emperor.
The subspace broadcast had come through as an emergency bulletin as soon as they'd dropped out of hyperspace, and had auto-activated the onboard holovid. It had taken quite a bit of his Jedi training to avoid staring at the projection; he needed to keep his concentration on flying the awkward converted cargo ship. It wasn't something he was accustomed to; he could fly a small fighter easily enough - if he had to - but that piloting ability didn't transfer over to just anything else. Not for the first time, he wished Anakin were here. He only hoped his impetuous former padawan had somehow managed to get through the clone ships surrounding the planet; he knew they were diligently watching for the sign of any returning Jedi.
As he prepared to bank the ship for orbital insertion, reassurance that Anakin had indeed successfully made planetfall came from an unexpected source: the holovid suddenly began to play back the recording Artoo had made of the chancellor's office while on Mustafar. Dumbfounded, Obiwan glanced over at it, paying for his lack of diligence a moment later when the ship skidded off the top of the atmosphere. Small objects rolled or bounced onto the floor, and several of the separatists who had been standing around the holovid found themselves suddenly sprawled on top of each other. All of them protested loudly.
"Sorry," said Obiwan, bringing the ship back under control, "but if any of you can do any better, you're welcome to take the helm." He almost wished one of them would volunteer. Not surprisingly, none did. "When did that recording start of the chancellor in his office?" he asked.
"Why was it there?" someone asked, bewildered. He could hear the beginning of panic in the voice as well.
"Who put it there?" asked someone else. "Did that other Jedi do that?"
They all started to talk and worry about it at once.
"WHEN DID IT COME ON?" Obiwan nearly shouted, trying to get their attention. "GUNRAY! WHEN?"
"Oh!" said the viceroy of the Trade Federation into the sudden silence, "Uh ... it was ... right after the chancellor spoke."
"When he was still there? Was is shown to the senate? Do you know?"
"I don't know," came the confused answer. "No, he wasn't. That spiral thing had already closed around his chair."
Anakin, Obiwan thought, if you've done what I think you've done, it was a good move. It's just too bad it's too late. Most of the senate appears to be eating out of the chancellor's hand. It'll take more than that recording to convince them the Jedi are innocent and he is the guilty one.
But as the recording ended, it became immediately apparent that his former apprentice had quite a bit more in mind.
------
On the Tantive IV, Anakin had clung to the Jedi meditation techniques as never before, willing himself to remain calm while he waited, if he could not quite manage the serenity. He suspected Palpatine already knew he was here, but he needed to keep the Sith Lord out of his mind as much as he could until the time was right. Not that he had any specific evidence that the old man could enter his thoughts, but certain past events indicated that possibility, and his warriors' instinct told him it would be better if he were prepared, just in case. He did know that Sidious could feel his emotions. That had been evident in his dreams, and, in looking back, also in his waking life. But in fact, he was counting on that for part of his plan.
He waited for what he thought was a suitable length of time for the senate meeting to begin, then sent Artoo off with his prearranged instructions. The little droid was just disappearing around a corner into a service corridor when the building-wide comm system suddenly squealed to life, announcing the imminent special broadcast of the special session of congress. Anakin gave a start at the unexpected announcement, then took a deep breath and plunged out into the senate building, quietly making his way as quickly as he could to the supreme chancellor's office.
He made it to the luxurious suite of rooms unchallenged (though he'd had to use some misdirection with the Force three times along the way to avoid newly implemented clone patrols). His heart pounded wildly in his chest in anticipation of the coming confrontation. Usually he made some effort to quiet it; such emotion was not acceptable for a Jedi. Now, however, he welcomed it. He would need it; it would help him draw the thing of evil from its lair at the base of the rotunda. Another desk, another office of the chancellor lay there, but Anakin knew he could not face the Sith Lord in a setting so near to the senate, nor with so many exits. Palpatine would have to come to him.
His hand reached out and tapped the blinking holovid switch on the chancellor's desk. The projection popped into view, showing the chancellor sinking into the floor, his arms outstretched. Anakin waited, his breathing becoming more labored as the thoughts he'd previously pushed away filtered in: Smoke rising from the Jedi temple, Padme dying in his dream, fighting Obiwan on Mustafar, choking the life out of Padme ... Choking ...
The iris at the base of the rotunda closed. He shut the holovid off and gave himself over to his despair.
------
Deep in the bowels of the galactic senate, the newly crowned emperor felt the disturbance in the dark side of the Force, and smiled. So his future apprentice wanted to meet him in his main office... Very well, he would oblige. For now.
------
Anakin sat alone on the edge of a low table in the chancellor's office, staring out over the night lights of the city without really seeing them. In his mind, he saw what the city had looked like earlier in the day: The Jedi temple had been burning, smoke rising from several places on the roof and near the ground. Mentally, he followed the smoke down to its source, seeing the Jedi inside cut down, hearing the clashing drone of lightsabers as they parried blaster shots, seeing the clones - the overwhelming number of clones - overrunning the few remaining of the Jedi, most of them padawan students, who nevertheless fought bravely and fearlessly to the end. He was there, too, the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head, his lightsaber ignited, its blue radiance reflected back from polished surfaces as he passed them. From time to time one of the Jedi would step in his way, demanding to know why he did not stand and fight with them, and he would cut them down, as if they were no more than a training hologram, and go on. He picked his way through the battle, finding the winding stair to the younglings' hall; knowing that they too would need to be eliminated. Although they were not a threat to the empire yet, they would become a threat all too soon, seeking retribution for what had been done that night, if nothing else. He walked forward, and stepped through the door into their chamber. Tears slid unheeded down his face.
"Anakin," the chancellor's silky voice said softly into the silence. "I ... I understand ... why you've come."
Anakin glanced over at the chancellor's reflection in the glass, seeing him dimly, the image rippling in his watery vision. A part of his soul remained behind in the Jedi temple, frozen in place in the younglings' classroom, his lightsaber at hand, though not yet ignited, pain squeezing his chest.
"You know, don't you," the chancellor went on, walking over to him and laying a hand on his shoulder affectionately, "that it was necessary. The Jedi were once a noble order, but their time has passed. You of all people should be aware of that."
Anakin's mouth worked; he struggled to speak, chest heaving. "They ..." he managed to exhale, "they didn't ... attacked ... senate." Or had they? Had he actually even spoken? He couldn't remember.
"It was only a matter of time before they did," Palpatine explained. "They visited me just the other day with their 'request' that I relinquish my emergency powers, which they themselves should have known was unthinkable, even with Grievous defeated. The Separatists had not yet been apprehended. Waiting for the Jedi to strike us would only have cost the lives of innocents. Surely in that light you can see the necessity of my preemptive decision to destroy them."
The trusting face of a small boy swam before Anakin, close enough to touch, his mouth moving, asking him something: What do we do?
"The younglings ..." he croaked miserably, unable to take his eyes off the vision of the boy.
The chancellor sighed heavily and sat down beside him.
"Regrettable, I agree," he said wearily. "But necessary, nevertheless. They were all taken from their families so young expressly so that the Jedi could brainwash them with their doctrine. You, my friend, are the only one who escaped that fate. No, even the youngest would have become a danger in time. It was far kinder to end their lives quickly, now, before they became a danger to the law-abiding citizens of the galaxy. A difficult task, yes. But one must sometimes choose that which is more difficult over the quick and easy path. That is the mark of a true and wise leader."
In Anakin's mind, the lightsaber thrummed to life. The boy's face became a blur, the features indistinct, for which he was grateful. He raised the weapon to strike ...
... and took off Master Windu's hand at the wrist. From somewhere he heard glass breaking, and a violet-bladed saber went flying out into the night sky of Coruscant as Windu screamed in his ear. Blue lightning licked at the Jedi Master, engulfing him, lifting him clear of the floor before tossing him effortlessly from the building, 190 stories up. A voice, something like the chancellor's, only huskier and drier, cried, "UNLIMITED POWER!!"
"What have I done?" Anakin whispered, hearing a lightsaber power off as he stared out the broken window. His nerveless fingers relaxed and the weapon dropped soundlessly onto the carpet.
"It is, you know," the chancellor was saying, "unlimited. Or, I should say, limited only by what you can imagine; dependent only on yourself. No one to stand in your way; no one to tell you whom you may or may not love or hate, you and you alone, completely in control ... of everything and everyone. All looking up to only you. All loving only you, openly and without restriction ..."
Padme.
"Become my apprentice, Anakin," the chancellor purred, "Learn to use the dark side of the Force."
Padme, lying on a hospital bed, screaming in pain as the children are taken from her ...
Stiffly, Anakin bent to one knee, his vision blurred with overflowing tears, sobs quaking through him, his whole body shaking with grief.
"Join me and together we can save Padme's life," Palpatine promised him, his hand extended like a royal's whose ring is to be kissed. "It is your Destiny."
From her deathbed, Padme called his name, looking up at him, her eyes pleading ... pleading ... for him to stop choking her, her mouth forming the words "Anakin, no!" seconds before she fell lifelessly to the pavement.
I can't live without her.
Something cold touched him inside, clinging to his heart, crushing it. He felt numb, as if there were no feeling anywhere in his body. All had gone with her passing.
I can't live without her.
Blinking, he saw the hand, still extended towards him. It grew old and gnarled, the nails thickening and lengthening, the fingers curling inwards on themselves. A bluish light arced between the digits, then leapt forth to strike not him, but another man near the railing. A man he should have known; a man with his mother's gentle heart. He was all he had left of her. Dying.
"No," he groaned. In a single fluid movement, he grasped the hand and rose to his feet, lifting the chancellor easily over his head. The blue lightning from the Sith lord's fingers licked down over him, engulfing them both in its deadly crackle. He staggered under the pain, but it was nothing compared to the torture in his soul, the anguish of a loss he couldn't bear. He took a step toward the railing, then another. The onslaught grew in intensity, his assailant growling, roaring wordless rage; fury flinging from his fingertips to surge down Anakin's arms to his lungs, to his heart, through his legs to the carpeted floor, lancing around him, mocking the emptiness, the nothingness he felt as his breathing failed. With a final, anguished sigh, he tossed his burden through the shattered window. A dark thing, it fell, the flickering tongues of dissipating energy licking hollowly around it.
His breath spent, his legs buckled, and he pitched forward onto the sill.
------
Across the galaxy, in the lake resort on Naboo, his wife stared in frozen denial as the scene played out on her father's holovid for all to see, holding her breath against the inevitable. As if in slow motion, she saw his body sink past the broken pane of glass, falling, falling forever. Then she saw no more.