Part II

Chapter XXVIII

It's Snowing on Coruscant

Imperial Inquisition: Part I


Seven Months ago…

[**/-\**]

Terrific! Ahsoka screams bitingly within her mind.

"The hell am I gonna say doc?" Ahsoka steps out of Cenova's hand and turns to face her holding a haunted look on her face. "That I killed her father and I'm sorry? How's that gonna cut it huh… for what I did to him—to her!?"

"Ahsoka, if you walk away now, you'll feel ten times worse in the long run," Cenova speaks the truth, "it's time you stop running away and face this thing. That's what I tried to accomplish back in the seminar by allowing Gerrera to participate so that you could confess what you did without exposing yourself truly. But seeing how that went, we're back to square one."

"So you did rig that seminar?" Ahsoka says confirming her suspicions.

"This entire thing has been rigged since before you boarded that transport ship, Ahsoka. The Jedi have commissioned this entire operation just to get your mind straight. They're doing all of this for you Ahsoka, now how's about you return the favor."

"I'm not doing this doc," Ahsoka replies. "Not for the Jedi, but for myself."

That's actually the answer Cenova was willing to hear. The doctor allows her face to mellow out as she takes a shallow breath. "Good Ms. Tano, very good."

"Well, you better get in there and finish this Ahsoka," Tyzen pressures her. "Don't let failure tame you this time."

"Yeah… thanks for the advice," Ahsoka gives gratitude thinly. She takes a deep breath, "alright," she exhales, "I'm ready as I'll ever be."

Turning to the door, Ahsoka hesitated a moment before conjuring up the courage to pass through it. She reopens her eyes… starring out at… nothing. Not nothing, she corrects herself… but an endless void of white.

The door, the room, Gerrera… doctor Cenova and Tyzen—the entire hospital zapped from existence. Leaving only herself… not physically… she could feel her body no longer, but she felt her mind, as well as another, much more powerful presence.

"Padawan…" the disembodied voice sounded far from her ears yet at the same time so close. She recognized the voice belonging to the Lord of Darkness.

"Master…?" Ahsoka calls out, only not with her voice… but with her mind. "Master… wh…where are we?"

"Where you've always been, you are," the Lord of Darkness replied. His scrappy voice neared as he spoke. "Your mind, lost far from your body, it was. Still lost even now."

Ahsoka felt like she was shaking her head, feeling the sway of her own short headtails. "Master I don't…"

"Understand? You do, I sense. With your eyes, do not look. Feel through the Force… find yourself, you must. Find the Darkness, you will. Consume you once again, allow it. Fight it, you won't."

Ahsoka saw and felt the pure light around her slowly erase in a blanket of darkness. She felt afraid…vulnerable.

"Afraid, don't be," the Lord of Darkness voice echoed. "Welcome the Darkness, young one…just let go… resist, you won't."

She felt the icy chill of dark energy crawl up what she felt were her legs. It quickly scales up to the rest of her body until she felt like she was going to suffocate.

"Master!" She whimpered.

"Control your fear… you must. If you fail…forever in torment, you will reside. And then, die you will."

Struggling to heed her master's words, Ahsoka suppresses the strong urge to let fear overtake her. Like holding back the brunt of her hurricane… she reinforces her resolve until the invisible vice grip of dark energy ceases bit by bit.

"Good…" The Lord of Darkness cooed. "Good…"

The press of Dark Side energies became less and less suppressive until Ahsoka was able to feel at ease. She and the Dark side were one, and it felt… it felt better than anything she's ever felt in her life.

"Now, come back, Padawan. Come back to me…"


Present


"Now, without further ado, here he is… the man of the hour—a man I am proud to introduce here onto the stand… Captain Rush Clovis!"

Anakin involuntary cringes under his robes at praise build up behind the name, just as the audience cadences an applause that breaks the silences of the atrium.

Director Tarkin steps aside and allows the other man, Rush Clovis, to step up and take the podium. Even from his poor vantage point at the very back of the auditorium, Anakin can't help but hold back at gag when he sees Clovis absorbing the continued applauses directed at him. Waving that gloved hand of his, throwing out that fake toothy smile that seems to brighten off the overhead lights.

Clovis was always the flamboyant type: it definitely showed in the way he carried himself but mostly in his choice of clothing. Anakin can't recall a time he's ever seen the man around the IPI headquarters in piratical attire. No, Clovis always has to dash out. Wearing the lavished of designer tunic/scarf combo and donning the latest and most expensive footwear… you'll think the guy was going out on a dinner date or something rather than coming in for work. It doesn't take someone coupled to the Force like Anakin to know the man was showing out for someone… and he actually had an idea of who that someone was.

"Thank you… thank you all," Clovis speaks from the podium to the audience before him via microphone, still holding that nervous smirk. The hundreds or so spectators—mostly personnel and agents of the Inquisition, stop their applause and the atrium lapses into silence. That is until the silence is broken by Clovis' generic Basic accent.

"Well… I don't know where to begin—I should've… written this down somewhere," he says, stifling a gutsy laugh, earning a few scattered chuckles from the audience. Gathering himself, and making his face neutral, Clovis goes on with, "well—I'll…I'll start with thanking you all… for recognizing me as a proficient officer within the Imperial Inquisition. I've spent the last ten years of my life— a long ten years devoted to this security sanctum, defending the people of the Core Worlds within this— within our glorious and mighty Empire…"

Anakin momentarily zones out on Clorvis' words, focusing his attention on Padmé seated at the front row. He can just make out the side of her face, particularly hidden behind a fashionable headdress fixed on top her hair.

"…None of what we do would be possible, for it not be the generous funding and material granted to us by our most, favorable Senators." Clovis shoehorns one of his signature cocky grins as he extends an arm out to the row of Senators at the foot of the stage.

The audience respond with a respectable round of applause. Anakin folds his arms as he beams a glare right into Clovis' face. He can tell the other man's eager attention is zeroed in on Padmé. Clovis even lets off a sly wink and cracks a slight grin in the Senator's—Anakin's wife… direction. At this point, even Anakin's surprise in himself for not calling on the Force and flipping that podium on top Clovis' stupid head. It takes him a moment to cull the Dark Side from influencing his actions at the moment.

Relaxing the tension inside him, Anakin eases off the charging essences boiling inside him, exhaling a breath through his nostrils.

"You don't like him, do you?" Ahsoka asks, standing by his side.

Anakin shakes his head slightly, his arms still folded tightly over his chest. "Is it that obvious?" He grumbles out, though he didn't intend his tone to reflect his emotional state.

"You make it obvious," she says back. "But I can't blame you though, master." She sighs, then goes on with, "for being jealous."

Jealous?! Anakin explodes in his head, turning a sharp eye to his apprentice. She doesn't return his gaze, though he can see a suppressed smile fixed on her lips.

"He's so tall… and good with people," Ahsoka goes on, her tone slipping into a feigned zeal. "Oh, and his hair…! So thick and vibrant, for a human."

Anakin shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He stares fixedly at Clovis as he says, "then maybe I should cut his head off and hand it to you as a gift. That way you can stare at his hair for as long as you wish." A slight pause hangs the air between them before Anakin comes back with. "That was a joke, if you were wondering."

"Of course, master," Ahsoka replies, slipping a laugh between her words.

Anakin darts another glance his apprentice's way. He finds it refreshing and a bit odd to see that she seems well-adjusted here, but he doesn't question her behavior aloud. In all honesty, he's just glad Ahsoka had climbed herself out from that last predicament a few months back. Now that he thinks back to it all, everything that occurred then didn't even seem like it happened. But he is quickly reminded when he unfolds his arm and stares at the gloved over forearm, concealing his cybernetic appendage.

Asajj Ventress had cleaved off most of his lower right arm… after taking advantage of Anakin's wild connection to the Dark Side. He vowed since that day to always control his power… to siphon off it when need be. He nearly died on the hot sands of that world, seeing visions of some woman who claimed to be his mother. Anakin could never figure out the voices and visions he saw… he never told anyone about it—not even his apprentice or Padmé at that matter. Neither didn't need to know. It was his problem and it ran its course. The rejuvenating feelings he felt radiating from that phantom woman in the desert have all but vanished, leaving all but repulsiveness left in its wake. Just like Obi-Wan always said: the Dark Side is and always will be your true ally.

Breaking him out of thought, Anakin hears the erupting ovation of the audience as they stand and applause Clovis who steps down from the podium. The hundreds of spectators then begin to mingle amongst one another as the ceremony concludes.

"That's our cue," Ahsoka says, turning for the door situated behind them.

Anakin hears the pneumatic hiss of the door opening, but his attention is set on Clovis, snaking his way through the groups of people shaking hands and nodding thanks to every person in his path. Though Anakin can tell the other man is making his way towards Padmé.

"Coming, master?" Ahsoka asks.

He doesn't turn her way when he says, "yeah…you go ahead."

She doesn't reply, but Anakin envisions her nodding her head as a reply before stepping through the doorway. When he no longer feels Ahsoka's close proximity, Anakin begins to make his way down the carpeted isles, weaving his way pass the dozens of people in his wake an attempt to intercept Clovis before he could get anywhere near Padmé.

His gaze dances across the sea of Imperial representatives and higher-ups of the Inquisition. It takes him just a moment to spot Padmé, conversing with a small group of people ahead of him. Anakin catches her gaze, frequently glances up his way even as she continues the conversation with the people near her. A thin smile forms upon her face, directed at Anakin, but she plays it off well enough that no one else notices.

It doesn't take Anakin long to file through the thinning bodies of people until he comes within ten feet of Padmé. He maintains a respectable distance, falling into a nonchalance stance, collapsing his hands before him and nodding at a few people that pass his way. He doesn't try to force himself into the Padmé's conversation, even though he's sure she wouldn't mind at all. So long as Clovis isn't one of the people around her, than that's all Anakin cares about at this point.

It's not that Anakin's envious of the other man's obvious and direct affection towards his wife, it's just the fact of the other man's constant advances towards her that works his nerves. Padmé had explained that she and Clovis had a history… back when she was just starting out on the Galactic political scene. Back then, she and Clovis were rather close, but she quickly explained to Anakin that it wasn't anything serious…just fooling around, she said in her own words. She never went into any details of their former relationship, and Anakin never pried into it. None of it mattered to him anyway, Padmé is his… yet here he is, casually idling by… and keeping an eye out for Clovis.

To Anakin's surprise, the other man hasn't actually made a move towards Padmé's way as he first expected. He catches Clovis, situated on the opposite side of the atrium conversing with Director Tarkin and a small assembly of uniformed Inquisition officers. The Director and Clovis begin to slowly make their way towards the exit along with their entourage.

"Satisfied?"

Anakin jumps slightly at the voice close to his ear. He turns only to see Padmé looking up at him, wearing a silly grin.

"Oh..." he gasps, exaggerating a shocked expression, "Senator—pardon me… didn't noticed you standing there. I was just—"

"Keeping tabs on Clovis…?" she says, her grin growing wider.

"No…" Anakin says innocently, scratching the back of his hair. "More like making sure my favorite senator has everything and…everyone, accounted for."

Padmé's grin flattens and she drops her gaze off Anakin. "You didn't have to come," she says, caressing a hand over her protruding womb easily visible from behind her dress gown. "I know how you feel about Clovis and…"

"Enough," Anakin says, gently grasping her hand into his own. The simple gesture is enough to resonate a spike of anxiety within Padmé. Quickly sensing her emotions as well as becoming aware of what he just did, the Jedi quickly withdraws his hand and chances a glance around their immediate area.

Satisfied that no one noticed that brief spell of affection, he turns to her and says. "I don't care about that guy, Padmé. There is only one person in this room that I'm living for." He fights the urge to reach out and touch the womb holding his heir. "And another person of which I'm willing to sacrifice everything in this galaxy for."

Padmé angles her eyes back on him, the grin reappearing on her face as she says, "it's two, actually."

Momentarily, Anakin feels the hovering heat of the Dark Side dissipate and be replaced with delighted emotions. "Twins?!" He whispers.

Padmé nods the confirmation, gasping a laugh at the expression on his face.

Sliding a hand across his face, Anakin can't suppress the gleeful smile from stinging his face. All thoughts of Clovis… of what happened on Tatooine months ago evaporate and are replaced with possibilities. A bright and fruitful future in the works at this very moment. But now he'll be sharing this future with not only one child… but two.

Anakin quickly bottles his feelings once the group of people Padmé was conversing with approach. Anakin turns away, looking to the near empty atrium as they exchange brief words and casual laugher with Padmé. Once they have passed by, the Jedi turns back to her.

"You know, we look like a bunch of weirdos standing around here…" Padmé says jokingly, in response to everyone making their way towards the exit doorways.

Anakin coughs a laugh, "right," he offers an arm in which Padmé takes.

In silence, the pair take their leave out the atrium, following behind the last of the ceremony' spectators. Passing the threshold of the doorway leading into the foyer, Anakin feels Padmé's hand slip from his bicep.

Collected in the foyer beyond, many of the individuals that made up the audience—mostly bureaucrats of the IPI have gather in groups around tables situated around the luxurious lobby. The smell of cooked food and appetizers fill the air. A trio of musicians play a pleasant melody of stringed instruments off to the side. He doesn't see his apprentice amongst the sea of Imperial uniforms.

"Senator Amidala…"

Anakin turns to the source of the voice to his side. It's Director Tarkin, approaching Padmé with a glass of wine in one hand.

"Director," Padmé says out a way of greeting.

"Apologies for not speaking with you earlier, my lady" Tarkin says. "Please, I would be honored if you'll share my company."

Her eyes cut to Anakin—whom of which the Director doesn't even acknowledge.

Padmé manages a well practice smile then says, "I'll be delighted, Director."

"Just Wilhuff, for the night, my lady," Tarkin replies, referring to his first name. He downs the rest of the wine in his glass. Without even looking, he places the empty glass on the passing servant droid then effortlessly places a hand to the small of Padmé's back, ushering her into motion.

Showoff, Anakin reflects with the roll of his eyes.

Getting into motion, Anakin follows behind the Director, leading Padmé towards a table situated at the base of an enormous, panoramic window showcasing Coruscant's face of durasteel and glass. And oddly enough, a full blown blizzard which blocks out most of the vibrant nightlight of Galactic City in a sheet of white. Snow on Coruscant is an extremely rare phenomena, Anakin read that it occurred once in the last thousand years or so. The world was fixed temperate, which supposedly kept extreme weather such as this from ever happening.

Bringing his attention back to his immediate area, Anakin reacquires Tarkin and Padmé. The two arrive at a table surrounded by two Alderaanian naval admirals… and not surprisingly, Clovis.

Anakin sighs shallowly as he continues on until he comes within a few feet from the table, standing to Padmé's left and slightly behind.

Tarkin flags down a servant droid to fetch Padmé something to eat or drink.

"Oh no, that won't be necessary, Direc… Wilhuff," Padmé declines. "I'm not really hungry."

"As you wish," Tarkin waves the droid off, but not without grabbing an appetizer off the dish.

Anakin senses that one of the admirals is about to say something next, after seeing the silver haired, Human woman chancing an inquisitive glance at Padmé's womb. "How well off are you—if you don't mind me asking, my lady."

Padmé returns an approachable smile to the admiral and says, "any day now. I'm trying to stay off my feet… but we all know how that can never happen." She half laughs the last bit of her sentence.

When Anakin first found out that Padmé was pregnant… he felt his entire world light up and explode in his face at the same time. The Jedi Order cultivated the idea of nonattachment, long before the Order changed their idealism in the Force. Having any form of attachment to anyone was instantly breaking that ancient code… having that someone pregnant with his future heirs is a sure death sentence. Unfortunately, the individual put to death would be the Jedi's partner. Anakin physical shutters at the thought of Padmé being killed with their unborn children still inside her. Words haven't even been invented yet on what he'll do if such an outcome would transpire…

"Mind if I go fetch a chair for you?" Tarkin says, breaking Anakin out of that dark thought.

Again, Padmé dismisses his kindness with the shake of her head. "I'll be fine, but thank you," she says, side glancing Anakin who lingers behind them. She beckons him over with the shift of her eyes.

Anakin breaks his rigid stance, uncrossing his arms and steps up to the table. All of a sudden, everyone notices him.

"Master Skywalker," Tarkin says as a way of greeting. His tone held no ill-will, despite his earlier and apparent attempt in ignoring Anakin. "I take it you enjoyed the ceremony?"

"Yes," Anakin says, looking across the table at Clovis who holds his gaze. "Yes, I did. Clovis and the others deserve such recognition for their actions in the field. They're a… intricate part of this organization's wellbeing." He almost gags on his own words. But still, he has to admit, Clovis is a good asset on the ground. Though annoyingly cocky at time…and often exaggerates most of the things that really occur out in the field… and often takes credit from other well respected officers in the Inquisition.

"Such kind words," Clovis says, his tone somewhat genial as he turns one of his well-known cynical grins. "I hold them highly, especially coming from a powerful Jedi such as yourself." The other man tips his glass in Anakin's direction.

"Plenty of work ahead of us we have," Tarkin says. "But today we aren't here to discuss our duties to the Empire. Today, we rejoice from the hard work we've already laid out."

Everyone except Anakin nods around the table to Tarkin's words.

"So let us have this day," Tarkin continues. "It only snows once on Coruscant every other millennium."


Having long since left the atrium upstairs, Ahsoka took a plate of food from the foyer and made her way down to the hanger bay. Coming off the turbo-lift, she made herself comfortable in the noisy and animated environment. Not to mention cold, due to the hanger bay doors left open to the outside air to accommodate the ships and shuttles to come and go.

The hanger isn't as luxurious as the rest of the Inquisition Headquarters. Most of the construction resembles that of a bunker intended to be buried below ground rather than a hundred stories off the ground, right smack in the middle of Imperial Tower.

Sitting cross-legged on top a durasteel shipping container, Ahsoka stares upon the dozen or so hanger personnel going about their duties. Picking at the food in her plate rested in her lap, she makes eye contact with a few of the workers. Most quickly steer their attention away… others act like they don't see the obvious Togruta sitting high above the hanger floor. They all know who and what she is, and she can sense their apprehension. Though to be honest, she doesn't crave their fear to fuel the ever-present Dark Side entity that resides within her. Something she would've done by reflect several months ago… but her outlook on the Dark Side has radically shifted since then.

"You achieve nothing by channeling the fears of those too weak to defend themselves…"

Those were the words spoken by Master Aayla Secura to Ahsoka, after the Padawan had her brain poked by the Lord of Darkness in that trippy, lifelike dream-sequence.

Ahsoka had the chance to attend a lecture at the Temple when Master Secura stopped by just for a brief moment. The Lord of Darkness had allowed the Twi'lek Jedi to speak to Padawans who had a hindrance to their connection with the Dark Side of the Force. It was then that Ahsoka realized that she wasn't alone in juggling the moral implications of being a servant under the Lord of Darkness as well as a conduit to the Dark Side. Her mind and very existence was in so much turmoil that she sought out a desperate means to escape anything and everything the Jedi stood for. Only she was a fool then, she admits, now reflecting on those bleak, episodic moment in her young life.

"You must be acutely aware at all times…the power of the Dark Side can and does have cost whenever you utilize it." Master Secura had said. "Its power has the influence to draw out emotions that aren't your own… but of the beings that encompass you. Fear, uncertainty, depression—they can all latch on to you—if… and only if you fail to secure your conduit; and thus allow these invasive emotions to influence your judgement."

That made all the sense in the universe to Ahsoka, and it actually felt like Master Secura was speaking directly to her. Back on Tatooine, when Ahsoka accompanied Asajj… she allowed the emotions of those captives they had in the desert to corrupt her conduit. Their dread, trepidations and uncertainty had invaded and severed her connection to the Dark Side. It made her more vulnerable than an initiative on their first week of learning the ways of the Force. And in that same moment… disarmed from her connection, those captives were able to take advantage of her.

It happened in a blink of an eye, and Ahsoka can still recall that dreadful moment in which she was nearly killed. She can still see that Human man's eyes—feel his desperation to defend his son and the other alien that was with them. She ignited her lightsaber—forcing herself to take their lives on Asajj's order. Only the Human was quicker on the action and she didn't sense it. She failed to secure her conduit and allowed the emotions of the three captives at her mercy to drive her on a collision course with death.

The Human man drew a concealed blaster and aimed it at her. Like time itself had frozen in place, Ahsoka hurried and angled the blade of her saber in anticipation of the incoming blaster bolt. She can remember, faintly, that her saber caught the bolt, but in that close range, the bolt had phased through her lightsaber and struck right below her right shoulder, shattering her collar bone. And then, everyone—including herself, thought she was dead.

Though fortunate for her, she later learned that it wasn't a miracle that brought her back from the dead after all… because she was never dead to begin with. Her quick reflexes, her lightsaber and the Force all worked in unison to save her life. For one, her lightsaber had actually slowed the deadly bolt down dramatically enough to only cause otherwise treatable bodily damage. Otherwise, if she hadn't deflected it at all, the bolt would've easily sliced right through her. And at that instant the bolt struck her down, the Force had instinctively cocooned itself around the Padawan, and ultimately locked her into a deep comatose state.

So yeah, to anyone that saw her at that moment… she looked pretty dead. Especially with a pin-size hole in her chest.

But her troubles were far from over. That awful mission on Tatooine was just the beginning of her degraded state of mind.

She carried the last ghostly imprint of those emotions back to the Temple where she forced herself to bottle them from surfacing. She ultimate failed when she was reminded of the grim act of publicly executing a supposed radical who had arrived on Coruscant to invoke an uprising against the Empire. She didn't know at the time, but she had yet again allowed her conduit to become disrupted by outside influences. Only this time, it nearly pushed her to the limit on doing the unthinkable…

Ahsoka's withdrawal from the Dark Side had forced her onto the path of cowardice. Her anguish had grown to the point where the seams of her sanity were ready to explode… and they did. The only way she saw a way to escape the exacting mental pain… was to kill herself.

It wasn't you, Ahsoka contemplates in the here-and-now. That wasn't you.

She finds it hard to reflect on those dire moments. Not because of how vulnerable she made herself be, but in the fact that she finds it hard to believe that that person… that individual, was her. Someone who held the capacity to conjure up Force Lighting at such a young age… able to learn and utilize some of the difficult forms of lightsaber combat in under a few months, was on the verge of allowing her wimpy understanding of the Dark Side to be her downfall.

But with Master Secura's understanding in the Force dictating her outlook, Ahsoka has made a promise to never allow herself to slip like that ever—ever, again. She's a Jedi… one of the most powerful beings in the known galaxy. It was her duty to be strong, not only for herself but for the Order and the Empire as a whole.

As Master Secura had put it: "unleash your hatred on those deserving of it—never on those unwilling to uphold resistance. We are not Sith. We only mend suffering to those that negate or possess a threat to our Empire and its inhabitants."

Harboring out of her floating mind, Ahsoka is reminded of the constant noise and activity that encompasses the hanger bay. As she continues to watch the numerous droid and organic personnel shuffle across the floorspace, her gaze zeros in on a young human male—roughly her age, exiting the down the drop ramp of a shuttle. He's dressed in the simple flight jumpsuit sporting the insignia of the Inquisition on the right shoulder. Ahsoka recognized the young human as one of the shuttlecraft personnel of the Inquisition, Lux Bonteri.

Unlike most agents that make up the Inquisition, Lux hardly showed or expressed any hint of fear whenever around the Jedi. He once explained to Ahsoka that he held neutral opinions about the Jedi and the Empire. He didn't see them—the Jedi— as a force for good nor evil… just people knowing they held a significant advantage over the rest of the galaxy, and have sought out the means to establish such dominance. The strong should rule over the weak, to put it another way. And he also knows his place in it all, but what surprised Ahsoka was that Lux never allowed his position in this society to dictate the person of which he is. That's one of the main reasons she respects him, he possess a strong will for someone detached from the Force. Even after losing everything close to him.

Setting her plate of half-eaten food aside, Ahsoka stands out of her cross-legged sitting position and leaps the four meters down to the hanger floor. Adjusting the fabric of her cloak, she begins to walk the distance towards Lux who has his back to her.

A few astomechs and organic workers take notice of the Jedi apprentice combing her way pass them. They either paused in step and allowed Ahsoka to continue her way, or merely turned the other way altogether. They're trivial anxiety towards her is inane at best, and she knows they're intimidation towards her is merely based off her reputation as a Jedi, rather than herself mostly. Fear and respect are critical components of maintaining the Empire's integrity, so the Lord of Darkness had lectured time and time again.

Having crossed a section of the hanger bay, Ahsoka comes up short behind Lux who doesn't even know the Jedi's standing right behind him. A Sullustan hanger worker standing in front of Lux lifts her dark, orbital eyes from the screen of the datapad in her face and looks to Ahsoka. In that split moment, Ahsoka feels the spike of uncertainty emitting from the Sullustan who promptly grabs Lux's attention and nods to the Jedi behind him.

Twisting his torso around, Lux looks back at Ahsoka with a scrunched facial expression that spells bewilderment and surprise. It only last a split moment, when he realize who he's looking at.

"C-Commander!?" He sputters, clumsily whirling around with a datapad still clutched in one hand. His mouth quivers before saying, "I…I didn't notice that you…" he cuts his own sentence short, slightly shaking his head, his stringy, dark hair swaying about like a used mop.

Ahsoka can feel his heart fluttering in his chest, she suppresses a smirk from showing on her face. She also notes that his boyish features, of which she was founded of, are hidden behind a dark shade of facial hair, making him look older than what he really is. Not to mention the dishevel appearance of his once acceptable hair, and the slightly slouched posture. Still, there was that innocent… vulnerable twinkle in his eye of which Ahsoka saw even from where she sat a moment ago.

"I-is there anything you need from me, Commander?" Lux finally utters, forcing himself to stand at attention. His eyes looking pass her and she could tell the muscles in his face were tensed to maintain an acceptable greeting. He doesn't have to be so rigid with her, Ahsoka reflects. Then again, he's simply following the protocols put in place by the Inquisition.

Ahsoka shakes her head, "No, just checking in. Haven't seen you in a while… how's everything been?"

Seemingly caught off guard by her courteous remark, Lux steers his eyes down connecting with Ahsoka's own. The muscles in his tense face relax just slightly. "Things have been well—the weathers a bit overzealous these days…but," he half shrugs, subconsciously cutting his eyes. "I've been able to managed, Commander." He hastily adds in that last word in a stamper, quickly licking his lips.

Ahsoka snickers inwardly. He's never been this formal with her before…some other Jedi must had come along the line and shoved a principles book in his face. Though he could really thumb through a book on personal manicuring.

"Though, I am glad to see you again," Lux adds. "I half-expected you to be with the Director and his party the rest of us weren't invited to."

Ahsoka waves a dismissive hand, "parties are overrated. Especially with Tarkin as a host, a service droid has more charisma than that guy."

Lux slips a laugh, breaking out his stiffen stance. "I wouldn't know, I've only had the chance to meet the Director a handful of times since being here."

"Then count yourself lucky," Ahsoka says, turning a slight grin.

Lux creeps a slight smile himself, thought it ultimately fades within seconds behind his thin beard. Through the Force, Ahsoka senses the sudden shift of his emotion state, and she doesn't have to guess what's passing through his mind at the moment.

Many of the agents, pilots, flight mechanics and overall noncertified employees of the Inquisition were—for lack of better words—forced into service to the Empire. Over the course of the Empire's reign, dozens of former independent worlds and star systems have been claimed by the ever expanding galactic superpower.

The Separatist Party: (as the general population know them as; whereas the Jedi know the true perpetrators behind this public false façade in being Sith), havebeen locked in a prolong cold war in an attempt to cull Imperial forces from claiming such worlds. To avoid all-out war with the Empire—a war they know they'll lose, the Sith have wisely chosen to stay cowardly hidden in the shadows as they aided and supported local rebellion groups to strike at the very heart of the Imperial State. None of these uprising have ever been successful, and the world that had initially lashed out against Imperial Space were eventually absorbed within the Empire. This was the case all the time, and it was no different to Lux's own homeworld of Ondoron.

About a year ago, Ondoron had taken the aid of the Sith and thus developed a large militia force to combat Imperial forces that threaten to invade their world. Lux's people actually putted up a good fight, having slaughtered the first wave of clone troopers deployed to ground. It would take many months, but eventually, Ondoron had folded after Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had intervened.

Initially, Lux's late mother, Mina Bonteri, was a representative for their world, and had protested against the rebellious actions that had taken root and wanted to align with the Empire. It wasn't out of curtesy, Lux had once told Ahsoka, but out of the desperation to save their world from a battle they knew they weren't going to win. Mina was trying to spare their people the painful and utter loss of thousands of lives of which transpired anyway. But Lux's mother was seen as a traitor in the eyes of Ondoron and as a result, she was assassinated by the very people she swore to protect.

Instead of following his mother's footsteps, Lux had changed his future ambition of becoming an advocate for his people and turned his services elsewhere. He willingly joined the ranks of the Imperial Inquisition, hoping to mask his painful past as a-nobody shuttle pilot.

"But don't you feel like you betrayed your people even more by joining the Inquisition?" Ahsoka had once asked him a few months back. It wasn't a question, but more like a test to see where his loyalties truly belonged.

"My mother tried to save them… and they spun her around—called her traitor and killed her," he replied, his tone laced with malice towards the Ondoronians. "I owe them nothing, they can rot in whatever hell they believe for all I care."

Ahsoka was satisfied with his response.

The somewhat awkward pause that injected between them is ultimately severed by the siren of the work-shift ending bell.

"Guess that means you're off the clock," Ahsoka says to him, having to speak over the prolong siren that wails for a few short seconds.

"Yeah," Lux breaths, his body finally relaxing. Ahsoka can sense his relief, she can tell he's beyond tired after working hard today… perhaps every day for the last standard year. She doesn't feel sorry for him… though she also doesn't take pleasure from his obvious physical discomfort.

"Is there still something else you wish to discuss, Commander?" Lux asks, keeping himself attentive before Ahsoka, even as the other hanger works begin filing their way out towards the numerous exits. She can feel his nagging urge to get out of this place as he struggles to keep his gaze from tracking the walking personnel behind her.

After a moment of studying his tense body-language, Ahsoka steps aside, sweeping an arm out. "I'll stay out of your way. You can go."

A look of relief crosses Lux's bearded face. "Thank you, Commander," he says, placing the datapad in his hand down on the crate behind him and quickly gathers his personal belongings. Having everything together, Lux loops an arm through a strap of his backpack then turns to face Ahsoka. He hesitates a moment, preparing his thoughts before saying, "it was nice running into you again, Commander. Hope our paths come across again one day."

Ahsoka dips her head in an approving nod. A part of her takes his remarks as implied words to leave a friendly impression on her. Still, behind those eyes of his, she could tell that Lux is trying to convey appreciation for her company.

Lux presses his lips into a thin smile as he passes Ahsoka by. Neither exchange further words to one another, until Ahsoka feels the need to say, "the beard's a nice touch for you." She turns, catching him stopping short in his retreat for the exit. He soon turns around, meeting her attention. "But the hair…" she goes on, shaking her head with a flat expression. "It's gotta go."

Lux's exhausted expression lifts and a wide brim smile shows from the dark stubble at his face. "Noted, Commander," he chuckles. "Is there anything else?"

Ahsoka shakes her head. "You're dismissed."

He nods approval, pivoting on his heel and continuing on his way, hefting his bag along. Only when she's certain that Lux has left her immediate area does Ahsoka allow the widen smirk to come across her face.

Her brief moment is broken by the chime of her personal holomitter in the folds of her robes. She takes the palm size device to hand, toggling the button which springs a centimeters tall representation of her master via hologram.

"What is it, master?" She asks, after catching the familiar look of annoyance across Anakin's face even before he utters a word.

"Something's come up," Anakin's hologram says. "Master Windu's hailing us down at the communications hub. Meet me there."

And with that… that is all he says, image flickering out.

Ahsoka hesitates a moment, before slipping the device back into an inside pocket in her robes.


Lux is glad to finally escape the coarse and frigid confines of the hanger bay. His entire body throbs with pain as he straddles along the main corridor of the barracks, making his way towards the men's locker room.

After a quick shower and fresh set of clothes, Lux saunters into the mess-hall with the aim of soothing the contorted pit in his stomach. He clocked in well over ten hours today and his body sure as felt it.

Sitting alone at a table with his tray of food, Lux immediately attacks the plate with just his hands alone. He's so hungry… he could probably eat a full size bantha if it were on the menu. The food of the cafeteria is bland at best, as he can remember hardly ever coming here to grab a bite to eat. Only today, he couldn't force himself to walk out in the middle of a blazing snowstorm to his favorite deli just down the block.

Gobbling down fists full of food, Lux nearly chokes…like literally chokes when a hard hand comes smacking him on the back unexpectedly.

Breaking into a coughing fit, Lux turns looking up at the individual who patted him on the back.

"Saw?!" Lux coughs out. "What the hell?!"

"Relax," the other man says, slapping a hand to Lux's shoulder as he comes around the edge of the table. Saw then falls into the seat across from Lux with a dramatic sigh.

Lux holds Saw gaze with annoyance, loudly clearing the debris of food that slid down his windpipe.

"Com-on," Saw chuckles, "you're acting like I hit you for real."

"You almost…killed me," Lux says between coughs.

Saw throws his head back and laughs. "Bro, if I wanted to kill you…trust me, you'd know."

Lux doesn't say anything in reply, going back at his food, only this time he uses his spork.

"So I see you've finally worked up an appetite to be down here with the rest of us lowlifes, kid," Saw says, leaning upon his meaty arms folded on the table.

Lux glances up at Saw after the other man uttered that last word. Saw himself isn't that much older than Lux, though he has the height advantage… and the barrel chested build and burly arms of both which Lux's lack. Saw's also an IPI field operative, given the holstered blaster at his side. Lux supposes it's slightly better than what Saw and his sister's prior occupation was before being detained by the Empire and being transferred into the rank-and-file of the Inquisition.

"Well I can't go outside," Lux says, regarding the storm. "Had no choice but to camp in," he takes a bite off his spork, chewed and swallowed. Then he says, "besides, I don't think I could've walked another inch on an empty stomach after working two shifts."

Saw bobs his head in a nod, showing a toothy grin as he leans slightly across the table. "I see you, Lux…putting in them doubles down in the hanger, huh? Tryna get that extra bread… maybe saving a-little up to take a certain Jedi Commander out on a date?"

"Yeah, I—" Lux freezes upon hearing what Saw said. He returns a deadpan expression towards the former bounty hunter then shakes his head.

"Don't be shaking your head," Saw says teasingly. "Word travels fast around here, kid. Everyone here knows how the Commander's been singling you out all the time."

"Not all the time," Lux sets straight. And that's actually the truth, he and the Commander only shared a few brief words here and there—nothing ever meaningful… just small talk. Though, Lux always held the belief that there was some hidden agenda behind the Jedi's approachable façade; that she was subconsciously mocking the son of an influential envoy who choose to distance himself as an ordinary shuttle pilot. Still, he doesn't believe that's the case. The Commander never held a patronizing demeanor that his BS detector could interpret as far as his perception goes. She was always genial in her approaches, and in that, Lux admits to himself, is what makes him wary.

He's no fool, he knows the Commander along with the countless other Jedi superiors he's had to put up with while serving in the Inquisition are deceitful individuals by nature, bounded by their principles. His mother had warned him that the Jedi are notoriously hypocritical, and that there is always some ulterior motive behind every—and she stressed—every single action they do. And with that insight, Lux's mind rationalizes the worst in regards of Commander Tano.

"So what?" Saw says, bringing Lux back into the conversation. "You denying that the Commander has an eye for you?"

"She doesn't," Lux says matter-of-factly, hiding his growing annoyance of Saw continuing to instigate this conversation. "The Jedi are forbidden to show affection to any sentient life form in the galaxy. It's treasonous to their Order."

"It's only treasonous if they're ever caught," Saw restates, sliding back in his chair. "You honestly think there hasn't been a single Jedi in the history of their Order who hadn't broken that code. Or even breaking it right now actually?"

Lux shrugs, "anything's possible," he says, agreeing to Saw's broaden statement.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Saw replies smirking, making no effort to hide his sarcasm.

Lux sighs, bringing a palm to his face. He just wants Saw to squash this entire thing or just leave, it isn't long for both these outcomes to come true.

"Aye, you know what," Saw begins to say. "If you down…Steela and I were gonna hit the gym in an hour. Maybe get a spar in or two..."

"Thanks but… I'll pass," Lux declines in a yawn. "Think I'll just hit the bunk and crash for the rest of the night."

Saw nods, "alright wussy." He pushes back from the table and stands, adjusting the belt harness to his holster at his waist. "Don't you work too hard for these assholes—you hear?" His tone sounded serious but Lux knows otherwise. Just as he anticipated, the feigned solid expression on Saw's face drops as he breaks into a chuckle.

"Stay afloat, kid," Saw says as closing remarks, knocking a fist to the table as he passes by.

Lux doesn't bother watching the lager man depart. Alone again, he continues to finish the rest of his meal, in peace this time.


[**/-\**]

The door to the communications center slides open to the hardly lit room beyond. Ahsoka steps through the threshold, drawing her hood back off her head. Already present within the room, she sees her master and Director Tarkin standing along with holographic representations of Master Windu and Kenobi.

All four humans turn her way as she approaches, and already, she can sense exactly what her master's about to say.

Anakin folds his arms, "you're…"

"Late…I know," Ahsoka says cutting him off as she falls in within the group. Without looking Anakin's way, she continues to say. "Turbo lift got stuck." She chances a glance in his direction this time, only to catch that all-too familiar sneering look on his face. Ahsoka shrugs slightly to his expression.

"Right…" Anakin sighs unconvincingly so, turning to face the hologram of the two Jedi Masters. "Well since everyone's finally here, let's get down to whatever this is."

"We believe that there are vast amounts of unregistered shuttlecraft activity at an abandon shipping dock on one of Coruscant's subterranean levels," Master Windu briefs, wasting no time as usual. Ahsoka also sees that Master Windu isn't covering up his robotic left arm with the glove that he used to wear. He had suffered the loss of his original limb in the battle to defeat the Mandalorian Guild several months ago. He never explained how it happened, being the most stoic and non-approachable Jedi at the temple, no one ever asked. And now, he's technically the overseer of the Temple with the Lord of Darkness having retreated to some dark corner of the galaxy months ago.

Anakin shrugs, "okay… sounds like your average, nobody run-of-the-mill smugglers to me. A bunch of cavern-junkies."

"Only these junkies," Master Kenobi begins to say. "Are shuttling in a vast amount of material to continue their notorious trade and manufacture of a deadly spice agent within an abandoned warehouse located on the same level."

Isn't all spice deadly? Ahsoka contemplates inwardly.

Don't let the innocent word fool you, spice is literally a Basic slang term for some of the most nasties drugs out there in the Galaxy. Blackmarket dealers and pirates alike trade and transport vast quantities in hopes of scoring a big profit. Most the times, a lot spice havens are usual within Hutt Space…and even legalized in some isolated systems within the Imperial State. But within the Core Systems… it's strongly forbidden and punishable by many years in prison, or even death at times.

"So what makes this spice specifically deadly, Obi-Wan?" Anakin asks.

Both Master Kenobi and Windu turn to face one another. Ahsoka feels the gravity in their demander, even if they aren't physically here in the room with her.

"It's toxic to your kind," Tarkin says, finally speaking. "To those sensitive to your, precious… amplitude."

"Speak plainly," Anakin says.

"He is, Anakin," Master Kenobi response. "This spice—Glow Spice our Intel has referred to it as… has the capabilities to cull our connection to the Force. Momentarily, of course."

"Yet is was still enough to eliminate your former master—as powerful as he was," Master Windu says to Kenobi, regarding Qui-Gon's demise onboard a ship owned by two members of the Bounty Hunter Creed. The ship was literally called Negative Force, and it somehow had the ability to sever a Jedi's connection to the Force. Ahsoka can recall a similar occurrence…

But… wait a second… a hollow pit begins to form within Ahsoka. She can tell Anakin picked up on it, given the quick glance he takes her way. She quickly projects an aura of confidence through the Force to conceal her real emotions. She knew it wouldn't be of use with someone like her master, but she doesn't care in the least. Her mind is still in conflict of figuring something out.

She does recall the moment where the Force was out of her reach. After she mentally snapped due to her crippled relapse to the Dark Side… the Jedi had transported her to a facility for her own safety, they said. After a few days there, Ahsoka was moved again, only this time she was appointed a personal phycologist and taken to some luxurious hospital to seek closure to her turmoil state…only, in reality… none of that ever actually happened.

There was no hospital…no Anakin visiting her in that room, no Doctor Cenova... but most of all, no culled connection to the Force. It was all a fabrication, created by her own disturbed subconscious that was being plotted by the Lord of Darkness, of which—when she finally woke from the ordeal days later—was the mirror master behind it all. But if all that was an immersive illusion… then how was Master Jinn killed in reality via his connection to the Force dampened by Negative Force? And why are Master Kenobi and Windu talking about a spice that could possibly do the same exact thing to Force-sensitives right now? It… it doesn't make any sense to the Padawan…

"Master Qui-Gon perished because his own failures to see pass his own nose," Master Kenobi says repulsively. "We're here now to make sure we don't follow a similar fate. This Glow Spice production facility… it has to be destroyed."

"If it endangers the Jedi Order…" Director Tarkin says, holding Ahsoka's gaze. "Then it shall be destroyed with extreme prejudice." He takes his gaze off Ahsoka, looking to the two Jedi Masters. "However, if I may suggest, Master Jedi. I believe such an operation shall be handled with precision coordination."

"You mean going undercover?" Anakin chimes in. "Sending in a small team to infiltrate the facility."

"Precisely so, Master Skywalker. I have no doubt in my mind that you and your apprentice would be most ideal for the mission. Though I believe a lighter hand should be used in disbanding this operation—one that wouldn't potentially harm you nor your apprentice if you should come in direct contact with the poison."

"A joint operation," Windu says. "Have agents of the Inquisition invade the compound and sabotage it from within while Skywalker and his apprentice shadow."

"Exactly my point, Master Windu," Tarkin says. "I can have assets briefed of the situation within the hour. Once our reconnaissance drones hail in, proceedings to eliminate the source of the Glow Spice will have begun."

"Very well, Director," Master Kenobi replies, massaging a hand to his jaw. An involuntary gesture Ahsoka has caught him doing ever since the conflict on Mandalor. "We will keep you updated with those reconnaissance units."

Ending with that, both Masters' holograms flicker out and the communications center energies with light again.

"I'll go see to it the proper personnel are to accompany you on the mission," Tarkin says to both Anakin and Ahsoka, though he was already heading for the doorway as he spoke.

"Something the matter with you?" Anakin questions her once Tarkin leaves the room.

Ahsoka shakes her head, mostly to her own numbing mind as to what's going on here. "It's just…everything feels… wrong, master." She confesses.

"Explain," Anakin says. "You don't feel good about the mission?"

She shakes her head again, trying to wrap her mind around something she senses is right at the tip of her headtails. She doesn't know how to begin to explain the odd sensation to her master. "I-I don't know."

She feels his hand on her shoulder, "maybe you should get some rest. It's been a long day."

That she agrees with. Maybe that's all she needs to get a grip on whatever's going on with her. Rest, that sounds like an idea.


Stretching a yawn, Rush Clovis emerges from his personal washroom and into his own luxurious suite within the Inquisition Tower. In his sleeping garbs, Rush enters the darkness of his room prepared to retreat under the covers and drift off into a much rewarding sleep. Today's been a well-regarded day in Rush's book and he's sure there will be plenty in his…

"Do not be alarmed…" A voice says through the darkness.

Startled, Rush hurries over towards the light switch, brightening up his bedroom only to see Director Tarkin sitting at the edge of his bed.

"Director?! What're you doing…" he cuts his own sentence short and a grave pit begins to settle in his gut.

Tarkin steps off the bed and approaches Rush. "Our baggage have painted a target on their backs. And the Jedi are aware."

Rush opens his mouth yet he is unable to utter a word. He fears that his worst nightmare is unraveling itself right before his eyes.