Then.
When he's in the shadows, his vision is no longer hindered by eyesight.
He doesn't really… see, per se, not in the way eyes permit one to. Rather, he can picture in perfect detail the places he wants to look into, able to visualize the image he can see from each shadow in the area.
Tell me, Chosen, One, who is the most powerful being on your side of the war?
It's easy to move between shadows as long as they're present in the area he wants to go to. When he's incorporeal, he's One with the Force, his Presence merged with the dull colours of the asphalt on the road or the shining transparisteel of the buildings.
What power do you mean? Political power in the Senate?
The only place he can't move is off-planet. There are no shadows in space. He's unsure how it's limited, but as far as he knows, he can only move to shadows that are physically connected - be it a ship touching the ground at a landing platform or different buildings in a city block.
You did not heed my words, Son of the Force. You asked for knowledge. You did not use it.
The journey to the Chancellor's office takes little time. There is no concept of distance in the shadows - he moves as quickly or as slowly as he wishes as long as he knows where he is going. In the back of his mind, he pulls up his shields, ignoring the insistent calls of Obi-Wan through their bond.
This late at night, the office is empty, long shadows cast by the desk and the chairs thanks to the ever-present light of Coruscant's skyscrapers and night-life. There's no one around - a quick scan shows active motion sensors and alarms, easily disabled by pulling the shadows over their lenses. After all, they aren't set to trigger because of a small change in lighting. Such a thing happens frequently, with the speeder traffic passing constantly on Coruscant and making the glow of the skyscrapers flicker.
Anakin casts out his senses, searching for the sliver of the strange presence he had detected earlier. It's elusive and hard to find - after minutes of fruitless searching, he begins to relax, glad that his fears were unfounded-
There.
Incorporeal as he is, his stomach drops and he feels his heart in his throat. He catches onto it - the sliver of the Dark Side, so indiscernible and subtle that had he not been given the Son's legacy, he likely wouldn't even have caught it. And even then, he had been so very close to brushing it off as nothing. The only thing that had pushed him to look again was the word of Revan.
The word, and the memory of the power Sith Emperor, whose Presence is floating in the Chancellor's office, subtle and poisonous. The words of the Chancellor float through Anakin's mind again.
To advise you to trust in the Force, as if it were possible be at peace within your mind while your student is accused, to simply stand aside while your friend is in trouble… well, that possibility is simply a lie.
He can't believe he missed this. But then again, the workings of a Sith are subtle.
As if it is possible to be at peace while your friend is accused… it is a lie.
Very, very subtle. His mind had wondered at the wording of the phrase, yet he had discarded the thought, putting it off as something unimportant. But he hears the underlying phrase, the words of Revan fresh in his mind.
Peace is a lie.
The first tenant of the Sith Code.
If the Sith had snuck in the influence of the past Emperor and had hidden it in Palpatine's office, Anakin can't help but wonder what it would have done to Palpatine's mind over time. The Chancellor is not a Force-Sensitive - for Palpatine to begin quoting the Sith Code means that the Sith Master has truly begun to sink his claws into the Chancellor, and that is something that cannot happen. Anakin needs to destroy the source of the Sith influence.
(The other possibility- that Palpatine might even be in league with-
No. Anakin refuses to consider it. It isn't possible. It just isn't.)
Before he steps out of the shadows, he hesitates. He's fairly certain in his abilities to stay hidden and not get caught. Still - there is a possibility, and it wouldn't do if he got caught lurking in the Chancellor's office during a search for a Sith Holocron that he wouldn't have sensed had he not been given an enhanced affinity for the Dark Side.
So a disguise, then.
Ekkreth, Ar-Amu had said of him. Shape-Changer.
He remembers how the Son had taken the form of his mother on Mortis. He hadn't even been able to sense the Son's presence while he was in that form - all he could sense was his mother's presence, warm and comforting, a soothing calm in the Force.
But whose form should he take?
He doesn't want to implicate any living being that he knows, but-
Ah.
Who said that he had to take the form of a living being?
Anakin calls on the memory of Revan's presence and wraps it around his own, allowing it to settle around his form like a second layer of clothing. It's cold and it feels wrong, feels foreign, but he pushes through and emerges from the shadows in the Chancellor's office in a body that isn't his own.
"Damn," he whispers, and his voice is Revan's.
Memories that are not his own whisper in the Force, close enough to be reached but far enough not to press into his mind without him reaching out. He calls to the memory of the Sith Emperor, refreshing what he remembers of the Emperor's presence, and he casts his senses out into the room, searching to pinpoint where the Dark influence may be coming from.
His feet begin to shift of their own accord, drawing towards an inconspicuous vase near the wall. In the Force, the vase is unassuming - nothing more than the dull brown of a dead object, looking and feeling like nothing more than a simple decoration.
But.
Anakin leans deeper into the Force, his feet sinking into the shadow of the vase, and he hears the whispers he wouldn't have heard had he not been given the gifts of the Son.
I am nothing but a simple vase, the Force murmurs around it, acting like a shield that cannot be seen. It's laced with a persuasion so subtle that even the most powerful of Jedi masters would fall for it. I am nothing. I am beneath your notice.
He reaches out and nudges the vase with the Force.
Nothing.
Of course. It will need to be a bit more deliberate.
He falls deeper into the Force, allowing it to guide his actions. He feels his arm being lifted - not by his own will, but guided by tendrils of the Force - and he stretches out a finger from his flesh hand. A single bolt of crimson lightning strikes the vase, and for a horrible moment, he's afraid that he's just destroyed it, and that he needs to go before anyone notices-
The vase shudders, but does not break. A compartment opens, and in the Force, Anakin senses the shielded bubble around the vase expanding, moving to cover him as well and protecting him from being detected by other Force-Sensitives. And in it-
The holocron.
It glows a sharp crimson, writhing in the Force with power and rage so strong that Anakin recoils. Compared to this, Dooku's presence is weak, Ventress' presence feeble, Maul's presence serene. Even the vision of Revan's holocron pales in the face of such evil.
And yet…
It calls to him.
He should destroy it. He should take out his lightsaber and burn it, he should disintegrate it with his Force Lightning, he should-
But it's so alluring.
No. He shouldn't-
His hand reaches out, and he nudges it with the Force.
The holocron swells, rage and hatred swirling around it in a chaotic mass of Darkness, and a figure flickers into view. Memories that do not belong to Anakin dance around his mind and he pulls at them, using them to understand who he faces.
"Darth Revan," greets the Sith Emperor.
Anakin doesn't answer him, though the names of the Emperor are on his tongue. Tenebrae. Lord Vitiate. Eternal Emperor. Valkorion.
"But you are not he, are you?" Vitiate asks. He tilts his head, curious, and something cold and slimy presses against Anakin's Force-presence, searching for answers. He slams his shields up to his highest, wrapping the appearance of Revan around himself. "Yet you look like him. You feel like him."
Anakin grits his teeth, grateful for the mask of Revan that hides his expressions, and he presses forward with a statement. "You were brought here by the Sith Master."
Vitiate gestures. "Of course. Even millennia after my death, my influence spans across worlds."
"You are nothing but a shadow of what you once were," Anakin replies, denial and horror rising from a pit in his stomach. "What influence you claim to have is little." For an ancient Sith to be influencing modern events is- not good, to say the least. The desire within him to draw his lightsaber and to destroy the holocron wars with his desire to learn more, his fingers twitching, and Vitiate notices it.
The ancient Sith Emperor doesn't smile. Still, his dark humor leaks into the Force, gleeful and sadistic. "Little influence? You are blind. The most powerful Sith in millenia has arisen, and he carries within him my legacy."
Part of Anakin wants to know why Vitiate is revealing this so readily, but he's sure he knows.
The Sith are arrogant. The Sith are not loyal.
After all, treachery is the way of the Sith.
"Are you sure he is the most powerful?" Anakin asks, and he holds out his flesh hand, palm up, allowing the crimson currents to spark over his skin. Vitiate doesn't react - not visibly - but the Force colours with a subtle interest. "Your legacy may be wasted."
"Is it?" Vitiate's eyes glimmer - the dangerous yellow of poison - and a hunger leaks into the Force. "Will it be wasted if you take my holocron with you?"
It's tempting. So, so tempting, to take the holocron for himself and to drain it of knowledge. If he could use it, he could defeat the Sith Master and become the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. He'd make sure that no Sith would ever rise again. He'd-
Anakin!
Through his training bond with Obi-Wan, he receives a stiff poke, and he flinches.
Right. Taking a Sith holocron of one of the most powerful Sith in history into the Jedi Temple - not a good idea. He sends an irate I'm alright, don't bother me through the bond, and turns back to Vitiate.
(But it doesn't mean he can't take knowledge right now. He casts out his senses, and finds no one approaching or even aware of Vitiate's presence. Even Obi-Wan, connected to Anakin through the bond, is clueless.)
Anakin tilts his head, focusing on the holocron. It's easy to call on his rage when a beacon of it floats in front of him. "It would be a waste if you were to be destroyed right now," he says softly, and he curls his fingers.
The holocron cracks, but does not break.
Something flares in Vitiate's eyes, then - rage, and a hint of respect. "What is it that you wish?"
Anakin takes a moment. Vitiate is dangerous - even more so than Revan - and Anakin needs to tread carefully to prevent himself from being manipulated.
"Who is the Sith Master?" Anakin asks. "And what did you pass on to him?"
Vitiate's posture is unchanged, standing straight-backed with his hands folded behind him. "He did not reveal his identity," he says. Anakin resists rolling his eyes - of course. The Sith Master would know that all Sith practice treachery. "As for knowledge - what do you know of Nathema?"
The name murmurs in the Force, the memories of Revan swirling around Anakin. He calls on them - Nathema, show me Nathema, he tells it - and he recoils at what he sees.
A world, barren of life. But what is worse is the emptiness he feels of the memories there - the emptiness of a world that is devoid even of the Force, corrupted by a deep perversion of the use of the Force in an ancient ritual conducted by Vitiate.
An ancient ritual to increase his power and his lifespan by a thousandfold, at the cost of the lives and Force of an entire planet.
Horror engulfs Anakin. If the Sith Master has learned that technique, not a single planet is safe from his hunger. "You taught him that?" he snarls, and his lightsaber flies into his hand.
Vitiate stares back, unfazed at the sudden sign of impending doom for his holocron. "He has not conducted the ritual as of yet," he says, tone dismissive. He tilts his head a fraction, a sliver of amusement leaking into the Force. "You are fearful of death, little Jedi."
Fear twists Anakin's stomach. How does Vitiate know this? "Who said I was a Jedi?" he retorts, and he ignites his lightsaber. The blade shines, flickering between violet and crimson, and at the back of his mind, he's grateful that his gift of Shape-Changing has extended to the kyber.
After all, the kyber crystal is but an extension of its true wielder.
Vitiate ignores the question, his eyes piercing. "But you should know the tenets of your Code, should you not? To be fearful of death is not the Jedi way. For there is no death, there is only the Force." His mouth curls into a smile, and the Force sings with terror. "And I am its master."
Memories thousands of years are called to Anakin's mind. He sees Revan, defeated and imprisoned by Vitiate. He sees millions of lives destroyed because of Vitiate's hunger for power. He sees the Force, writhing and twisting as it is subjugated by the will of a man who wields too much power.
In the back of Anakin's mind, he hears the voice of Ar-Amu. The Force is not meant to be used this way.
"You may have been, in the past," Anakin growls, "but you are its master no longer. You are nothing but a memory of what you once were."
And one swift movement, he slices the holocron in two.
The split second before he does, Vitiate laughs.
And the holocron explodes.
The Force howls, a mixture of rage and hatred and pain bursting outwards and lashing out towards Anakin. On instinct, he pushes back, using the Force as a barrier against the Dark Side energy pulsing against him. It howls, and it howls, and it howls, pushing back at him relentlessly until his feet strike the Chancellor's desk, and he's afraid that it's never going to stop-
Then it stops.
Three things happen at once.
One, he hears Obi-Wan and Ahsoka frantically calling to him through their bonds.
Anakin, what did you just do?
Master! Master, are you alright-
Two, he realizes that the Force-bubble that had hidden the presence of Vitiate had collapsed the moment the holocron had been destroyed, leaving the presence of the Sith hanging heavily in the Chancellor's office.
And three, the explosion had damaged the Chancellor's office, and the alarms are blaring.
Whoops. He'd kriffed up.
Luckily, he'd ended up in the shadow of the desk. The millisecond before the door opens to the Senate Guard storming in, he melts into the shadows.
As one, the Jedi in the Temple bolt awake as they become aware of a Dark presence on Coruscant.
(In one of the rooms, one of the padawans sits awake with a gasp. She'd been wracked with guilt since the bombing, that emotion warring with her resolve and hatred for what the Jedi had become, and she hadn't slept well at all in the weeks leading up to the execution of her plan. Her master had confronted her, before, about her unease, but she had brushed it off, and had pretended that she wasn't having nightmares.)
Moments before, deep in his meditation, Darth Sidious draws on the Force, pulling at the many tendrils of possible futures to examine the paths he should consider.
There have been a few… unexpected factors, of late, and he'd had to readjust his timing, but no matter. He has been planning for dozens of years. He knows well how to adjust.
As he meditates on the future, a part of him directs his energy to something else.
After all, the manipulation of dreams does require some effort. They must be carefully formed - shaped to the victim's doubts and fears. Too much, and the victim in question will seek help. Too little, and they will dismiss it. But at just the right amount, the manipulation of dreams can nurture a seed of the Dark Side, and allow it to grow.
At the same time he thinks on the manipulation of dreams, his mind turns to some of his associates, such as Tarkin. There is little persuasion or manipulation to be done there - Tarkin is already a desirable ally with similar ideals. The only issue, however, is that he may potentially gather too much power. Sidious ruminates on the Captain, thinking of ways to dispose of Tarkin should he prove too powerful to handle. It wouldn't do, of course, to kill him with a lightsaber blade. Too simple, too direct. Too many consequences. No, if the time comes - and far in the future, it seems - it would be best to eliminate him through more discreet means.
As for-
The Force explodes, a howling, writhing mass of hatred, and Sidious breaks out of his meditation in a rage.
The holocron!
He snarls, casting out his senses to his office. If he can find the offender- if he can kill the pitiful Jedi-
Nothing. There is no one in the office, no one but the guards who are clearly reeling in surprise. He shouts in rage, the sound dulled by his thick walls, and he draws back his anger to be used in a controlled manner. The destruction of the holocron - and the loss of knowledge - is very regretful, but there is nothing to be done ruminating on possibilities. As Lord Vitiate had said - one must hold the patience of stone and the will of stars to prepare oneself for the future, lest they drown in the currents of time.
Hm. No, it wouldn't do to reveal himself. It would be best if he could direct the attention to the Temple Bomber- perhaps she could be blamed, for after all, the damage to his office was caused by an explosion…
And with control honed by decades of practice, he falls back into meditation, and focuses on the poison of dreams.
The sun rises to a Temple in turmoil.
Younglings are cranky, having been woken up much earlier than they are used to, and they were all unable to sleep with the heavy cloud of the Dark Side hanging so closely just a few city blocks away. Padawans are jumpy - though they were able to shield themselves well enough to fall back asleep, their unease murmuring constantly around themselves, and the Knights are fearful, though they hide it well. The Masters continue on, heads held high and sending out soothing waves of calm and Light throughout the Temple, but even they are afraid. The presence of the Dark Side - so strong and so close, just a few blocks away - does not bode well.
Hours earlier, Master Windu had left immediately with Master Fisto to investigate the explosion. They had been delayed, and after they were finally admitted, the scene had been removed of nearly all things useful. It had been a frustrating time, searching for a place nearly scraped clean by Coruscant Police, and the claim of Jedi jurisdiction had been met with little approval.
Yet.
They had found something disturbing indeed.
It hovers, now, in the middle of the Council chambers, held aloft by Mace Windu's telekinetic grip. "This is a disturbing find in the Chancellor's office," he says. "Coruscant police have put the explosion down to an unknown explosive, possibly caused by the Temple bomber, but I believe that this is part of what remains of what caused the explosion."
Yoda holds out his hand, calling the small crimson fragment to examine himself. His ears droop as he examines it, and the Force colours with sadness and reproach. "Disturbing, it is, that sense this, we could not."
"A Sith holocron," Mace murmurs, and a quiet shock colours the Force. All of the members have already sensed the darkness emanating from this fragment, but to have confirmation of such a thing is very distressing. "We believe that it may have been deliberately hidden in the Chancellor's office by the Sith Master in order to influence him - and our side of the war."
"It is indeed disturbing that none of us could sense its presence in the many times we have walked through the Chancellor's office," says Master Tiin.
"The Dark Side has been blinding us since before the war," Master Fisto adds. "For us to be blind to such happenings close to our home does not bode well."
The Council sits in contemplation, ruminating on the implications of this situation, before Master Mundi breaks the silence. "But what caused the destruction of the holocron? Such devices have never been known to self-destruct without an outside influence. It is very likely that it was destroyed by an outsider."
As the Council squabbles and talks, Obi-Wan remains silent, well aware of the answer to that question.
Anakin had returned to his room through the shadows three seconds after Obi-Wan had been startled by the explosion of Dark coming from the Senate Dome. He'd been furious and had acted without thinking, concern leaking from him in waves as he held Anakin in place with the blue-green mist. "What in the universe were you thinking, Anakin?" He'd nearly shouted. His worry had bled through the Force, frantic and terrified. If Anakin had gotten exposed-
And Anakin had stared back, golden eyes aglow with horror, and he'd said, "I destroyed the holocron of Darth Vitiate that I found in the Chancellor's office."
Well.
That was something indeed.
They'd both been torn over speaking with the Council about it. On one hand, the presence of the holocron and of the ancient Sith Emperor was extremely urgent, but on the other hand, they were both worried that the Council would question too closely just how they came by that knowledge. And they both knew - all too well - that while Anakin can redirect the truth and omit parts of it really well, he is absolutely kriffing terrible at lying directly.
But is it not selfish? A voice had asked Obi-Wan. To put your fears above the galaxy?
(He'd always had a soft spot for Anakin.)
He'd shoved it away, and asked the Force for guidance.
He'd gotten nothing.
And he listens to the Council in silence now, and he finds himself somewhat irritated at their fruitless debates.
"We should request to check the Chancellor's mind of influences of the Dark Side," Master Mundi says. "The effect of the holocron over a long period of time may have damaged him."
"Are you mad?" demands Master Rancisis in return. "Even suggesting such a thing borders on subordination. To ask for such a breach of privacy, no matter how well-intentioned, could reflect negatively on the Order."
Obi-Wan trusts the Council - he does - but there are times where they can be trying. He breaks into their debates with a question. "Does anyone know of the holocron fragment you recovered, Master Windu?"
Mace shakes his head. "No. As far as they were aware, we left with nothing. I found it prudent to pretend we were unaware - when dealing with the Sith, we must be discreet."
Good. "It may be for the best if we do not reveal any suspicion we have of Sith involvement," Obi-Wan says. "We may excuse our involvement with suspicion of the Temple Bomber."
"Would it be best to scan the Chancellor's mind discreetly, then?" asks Master Kolar, and the temperature in the room drops by a fraction of a degree.
Of course. What he just said borders on treason. But…
"To a dangerous place, take us, this may," says Yoda. He hums. "Great care, we must take. A discreet scan, not possible, it is, for alert the Chancellor or the Sith who tried to influence him, we may."
A possibility crosses Obi-Wan's mind, then, something he had never considered before.
The Chancellor amassing power during the war.
The approval of the chips in the clone's head, signed in approval by the Chancellor.
Dooku, on Geonosis, saying, "What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of a dark lord of the Sith?"
Is it possible that the Chancellor is the Sith Master?
Impossible. His mind rejects the possibility the moment he thinks about it, because that would mean that they are incredibly blind. How could the Council never have sensed it? What's more, the Chancellor has been a great friend and mentor to Anakin-
Oh, no.
If the Chancellor is the Sith Lord-
No. No, no, no. This would not do at all. Obi-Wan draws back, carefully fortifying his shields to make sure he continues not to draw attention to himself, and he pushes back the treasonous thoughts. Of course the Chancellor isn't a Sith. Master Yoda would have sensed it, certainly. The Chancellor has been nearly assassinated too many times for it to be fake. The Force around him has always been kind and sincere. The evidence Obi-Wan can think of is nothing but circumstantial.
But as the meeting drags on, his mind keeps returning to the possibility, and he wonders.
Evening on Coruscant is like any other, the lazy movement of the speeder lanes a distant thing in the background. The constant whine of machinery and vehicles fades into a lulling background noise, easy to dismiss or to forget after one has lived here for long.
For Ahsoka, it's a noise that she doesn't have the privilege of hearing for the time being. The cell is deep within the detention facility, locking her away from the outside world. The only company she has is the convor - it calls itself Morai - and if she wasn't a Jedi, she'd be bored out of her mind.
But she is. Her hours are spent in meditation, falling deeply into the Force to calm her anxieties and to glimpse an idea of the future. Morai only breaks her out of meditation once in a while, when she falls so deeply into the Force she begins to glow.
Right. She needs to control that.
In the silence of her cell, she meditates on the gifts given to her by the Daughter. Force Healing, certainly. But she's also felt like… more. More powerful in the Force, in her foresight, in her agility and her movements. Sometimes, she thinks she feels wings of light brushing at her back, a comforting presence that reminds her of the Daughter's Light.
She tries moving them, once. She almost feels them brushing the edges of the cell, the white-gold light encompassing the walls of her room in the Force, and she pulls it back, unwilling to risk getting caught on camera. Maybe - when she's free - she'll see what she can really do with them in an open space.
Sometimes, she wonders what her reflection would look like. She'd seen Anakin's other form - his mouth too wide with too many teeth, his wings stretching to blacken the entire room, his eyes the glimmering gold of the Sith. She'd seen Obi-Wan's too, his movements a little too smooth, his eyes a little bit too aglow, and how sometimes, when he doesn't notice, his feet would pass through objects he should've tripped on.
Ahsoka falls deeper and deeper into meditation, feeling the quiet thrum of the Force around her in the air and in the many lights of the lives housed in the detention facility, and she meditates on the situation. There is little she can do for her situation - nothing but trust in the Force.
Something sparks in front of her. She opens her eyes, and she sees her older self standing in the cell.
(If she doesn't use the Force to look, she doesn't see the apparition of her older self. Of course she won't - it's a vision, after all.)
The apparition smiles, its lips rising in an unsteady grimace that shows rotted teeth. Half of the skin on the face has decayed, showing the deteriorating muscle and the white of bone underneath, and the montrals are crumbling, their tips ragged. It stares at Ahsoka, its eyes rolled up so far into its head that there is nothing but white.
But strangely enough, she isn't afraid.
"Are you happy, child?" The apparition asks, an echo of Mortis. Its chest is burnt and blackened, a single hole burned straight through its heart. Ahsoka knows well enough that it is a lightsaber wound.
"What business of it is yours?" She asks calmly. She doesn't react the same way she did on Mortis, ready to fight with lightsabers drawn. It's not like she has her lightsabers, anyway. Instead, she stares back, unflinching.
At her side, Morai hoots, a soothing white-gold to ground her.
"I was your future," it says, and Ahsoka raises her brow. Was? "But I am no longer."
"You were?" she asks. In the Force, the apparition is dead, a dull thing subdued by death.
"You became One with the Force," it says, and it tilts his head. "You cannot re-become something you already are."
A chill runs down Ahsoka's spine, her breath leaving her lungs in a woosh.
"What?" she hisses.
The apparition says nothing, its smile widening to stretch too widely, the remaining skin on its cheeks stretching and ripping. It waits, expectation snapping through the Force, and Ahsoka reels.
You cannot re-become something you already are.
"And my masters?" she asks, voice hushed. She'd felt it - when Obi-Wan dissolved into blue-green mist, his presence blending into the Force in the air, and when Anakin had collapsed into shadows, his presence dissolving into the forms of the ship, they'd become One with the Force, too. Not in the same way she had - they hadn't died.
But then again, she had died, and she's still here.
The figure raises its hands, fingertips decaying to show the white bone underneath, and it gestures. "They became One with the Force," it says. "They may not re-become."
Ahsoka hears what's unsaid.
You died once. You can't die again.
And Ahsoka jerks awake from her bed, gasping.
What?
No.
No, no, no.
It's impossible.
Immortality is not possible.
(But the Force Wielders were nearly immortal, weren't they? They'd lived for hundreds of thousands for years.)
The possibilities whirl in her head, making her stomach hurt and her montrals ring, and she thinks again of the apparition that she had just seen. She thinks what terrifies her is not the fact that it had taken the form of a rotting corpse, but rather, the absolute certainty that she will never be like the apparition, that she will never die. She imagines herself, living long after everyone else around her has died and long after the stars burn out. She doesn't want to think of herself, alone and mad, drifting in the darkness of space with dead stars and planets that have long crumbled to dust.
Well, not entirely alone. She'll be with her masters. And while that's better, she can't help but wonder how long they can last in a dead galaxy, billions of years after everything has died, before going mad.
Morai hoots, sending her pulsing waves of calm Light, and she receives it gratefully. "Thank you," Ahsoka murmurs. She wraps her arms around herself, savoring the warmth she feels from the white-gold convor that no one else can really see.
For a few moments, there's no one but her and Morai, just like it has been for the past couple of days. Nothing but Ahsoka and her thoughts, whirling relentlessly in circles.
She knows what's a trick, and what isn't. The gifts left to her from the Daughter had greatly deepened her connection to the Force. She had sensed the truth in the apparition's words, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. Suddenly, a part of her wants to reject the Daughter's gifts, so daunted is she by the revelation.
No. What good would it do to ruminate on could-have-beens? What-
Morai shrieks, startling her out of her thoughts at the sudden warning that screams through the Force.
SHIELD! Morai screams, and Ahsoka wraps the Force around her in a protective bubble, acting on instinct before her mind can catch up.
A split second later, her sector of the detention facility explodes, and thousands of tons of duracrete begin to rain down upon her head.
In the Council chambers, there is a spike of danger in the Force, and Obi-Wan Kenobi clutches at his temples as alarm and terror, sharp as a saber, shoots through his head as Ahsoka calls for help.
In the midst of a training session in the salles, Anakin stiffens, a scream wrenching out of his throat as his training bond with Ahsoka shouts in fear.
In the same room, the same younglings he had been training cry out, their untrained senses - protected only by rudimentary shields - suddenly aware of the many lives that have just been extinguished. They do not know it, but nearly a quarter of the detention center is gone.
Fox is on break when it happens.
The building shakes, but his sector - the caf - is fine. He shouts through his comm to his brothers.
None of them answer.
(In the sudden commotion, no one notices a hooded figure slinking away to the Temple, her mission accomplished.
She feels guilt, but not really.)
The Chancellor pretends to jump at the sound of an explosion. The rest of his security detail flinches, too, and they immediately begin to shout orders in case there is another bombing. Coruscant police double down on their efforts, believing that this is the bomber's third attack, when really, it is only the second.
As for Palpatine, he secretly savors what possibilities have unfolded. It would indeed be a shame if Padawan Tano had died in the blast - poor Anakin would be lost, looking for someone to blame. And if not, the explosion would certainly have gotten rid of some other undesirable open ends in the center - a few bounty hunters and the like - and it would serve as a distraction to prevent the Jedi from looking too closely at the explosion caused by the destroyed holocron.
The holocron. Certainly regrettable, but no matter. Lord Vitiate had suggested the use of a home planet to complete the ritual, but Palpatine holds a certain… fondness for Naboo. As well, it would certainly be fitting if he were to choose a different world.
Perhaps somewhere the Jedi revere? Not their Temple on Coruscant, certainly. Too public. But perhaps, a sacred place such as Jedha…
Ahsoka grunts under the weight of hundreds of thousands of tons, held aloft by nothing but the Force. Her arms are extended, palms held upwards, and she falls deeply into the Force to prevent herself from being crushed to death.
Or- crushed to near-death. Still, she's certain she can be injured, and she doesn't think she wants to have all of her bones ground to dust. She doesn't really want to test how immortality works like this. Above her, she can feel the rubble pressing down, protesting against her grip in the Force.
She's too tired to even open her eyes or make a sound.
She sinks, deeper and deeper into the ground and into the Force, and for a moment, she thinks that she might have been rescued. There's light, shining here, light that could only-
No. A quick peek tells her that it's coming from herself. Her skin is aglow, white-gold washing over the remains of her cell and the rubble pressing down relentlessly. She feels foolish - foolish for believing that there's help, foolish for being the one to trick herself, foolish for somehow managing to get stuck under all this kriffing rubble!
Morai coos, a soft hoot telling Ahsoka that she's not alone, but she can't even bring herself to care. She's directing all of her energy into holding up the rubble, and even then, she sinks to her knees, her back hunched as she bends underneath the weight of an entire building. In the corner of her eye, she sees a spot of white-gold in the Force, flying straight towards her chest-
Morai slams into her body and disappears, and Ahsoka gasps as a sudden strength fills her entire being, heat filling her from the top of her montrals to the tips of her toes, and she screams, her eyes flying open as she pushes the rubble upwards.
The cell around her is half-crumbled, dust covering the floor and the bed crushed under the weight of the fallen ceiling. Danger whispers to her, and though she cannot see them with her naked eye, she can sense the movements of the nanodroids that have burrowed deep enough through the wreckage as they make their way towards her, clicking maliciously, each of their little presences alight with danger.
Already, she can tell that the burst of strength will fade momentarily, and soon she will either be crushed under the rubble or blown to pieces by the nanodroids. She looks around frantically - she can't hold up the rubble and push away the droids. They skitter towards her, through the pieces of rubble that cast long shadows-
The shadows.
She shouts through her bond.
Master!
Obi-Wan feels the call, and he grips the seats of his armrests.
He can't do anything without alerting the Council of his abilities. Well - he can't move physically. He'd felt the surge of power from her as she tapped into the gifts of the Daughter.
The Council cannot tell, but even from many klicks away, Obi-Wan is shielding Ahsoka, preventing her shining Light from giving her away. He'd nearly done so too late - he suspects that Yoda may have gotten a hint of Ahsoka's true presence in the second before Obi-Wan was able to shield her, but he's unsure.
He's also shielding Anakin, too. Obi-Wan can sense that his former padawan is slipping. Strength now, he sends to Anakin through their bond, and he hopes that it is enough.
Yoda did sense it, but he does not notify the rest of the Council. The words of Qui-Gon echo in his head, reminding him not to interfere.
This is a path they must walk alone.
Sidious senses it, too, but he is in the company of a Jedi Master. He cannot extend his senses without notifying her of his power.
He grits his teeth, and pretends that all is well. He will trace this presence later in meditation.
Anakin is already bolting through the hallways, looking for places that are without cameras or people. Obi-Wan's presence is in the back of his mind, tethering him to reality and preventing him from just leaping into the closest shadow, gargoyle wings and wild golden eyes on display for all to see.
And finally - finally - he makes it into the privacy of his own quarters, and the moment the door hisses shut, he's already in the shadows. He can sense Ahsoka, a shining beacon of Light that's starting to waver in despair, and he leaps from the shadows of the remains of her cell and takes her back with him.
It's so cold.
Ahsoka doesn't know how long she spends in the shadows. It presses into her mind, a cold slithery thing that wraps around her limbs with the Dark.
Sister, it whispers. Sister. Sister. Sister.
She knows Anakin has his arms around her, guiding her to a safe place, but she can't feel them. She can't even see him - all there is around her is cold, sending her tumbling head over heels into nothingness. Then there's a surge of feeling, as if she's surfacing from the depths of deep waters, and she emerges from the shadows into her quarters, never feeling so glad to suck the musty air around her.
"Ahsoka!" Anakin moves his hands to grab her shoulders, staring into her face with worry. "Ahsoka, are you alright?"
She groans, wanting nothing more than a good nap on her bed, but she settles for falling into his arms for a hug. "I've been better," she mumbles into his shoulder.
(When leathery wings that are not her own wrap around her in an embrace, she doesn't flinch. She relaxes, allowing herself to enjoy the company of an older brother.)
In her mind, a quiet poke from Obi-Wan inquires about her well-being, and she sends him an I'm okay, don't worry immediately. The relief she feels from him is immediate, washing over her like a soothing balm of warmth, chasing away the remainder of the chills she feels from the shadows.
"There were nanodroids approaching me," she mutters, and Anakin stiffens, his incredulity spiking in the Force. "I think whoever it was wanted it to look like a- a suicide blast. From me."
It makes her extremely uneasy when the Force rings with truth at her words.
"We'll find who it is," he growls, and she shudders as the temperature of the room drops by a few degrees.
She hopes she finds them before Anakin does.
(She pretends it isn't because she'd rather give them some justice from her own hands.)
As the Council discusses the best course of action to deal with the explosion, they continuously receive reports, be it from Jedi who are simply checking in from missions or from updates from their own troops. Much of these are set aside for later consultation, but one name in particular catches Mace's eye.
Quinlan Vos.
Mace's eyes widen. Perhaps Vos' skills in psychometry could prove useful in finding the culprit.
Yoda's voice breaks into his thoughts. "Master Windu, on your mind, what is?"
Mace looks up to see the rest of the Council staring at him with worried eyes. A quick scan in the Force tells him that some of his emotions have leaked into the Force, distracting the rest of the Councillors. He offers an apologetic look. "It has come to my mind that we may have a solution. Knight Vos has just returned from a long-term mission in the Outer Rim - his skills in psychometry may prove useful in identifying the culprit. What's more, given how he's been away for such a long period of time, his insight will be impartial."
The room falls silent, the rest of the Jedi Masters sitting in quiet contemplation. Mace turns to the Force, asking it for guidance, and he receives nothing but a slight nudge to wait for his fellow Jedi to speak.
"Would it be dangerous for himself?" From across the room, Obi-Wan speaks up, brow furrowed. "To be exposed to something that may be the source of much pain and death may be very taxing for Quinlan."
There's truth in those words. Mace himself knows the pull of the Dark - he did not develop Vaapad on a whim. There is a reason his kyber is the colour of amethyst.
"He must agree for us to proceed, of course," Luminara says from her seat. "This risk should not be undertaken without his understanding - if we decide to include him in the investigation, I believe you would be well-suited to guiding him should something go wrong, Master Windu."
He inclines his head in acknowledgement. In the room, the Force murmurs in agreement.
"Very well," says Yoda. "Contact Knight Vos, we will."
(They move on to a different topic. The Council is dismissed after the sun goes down, and Obi-Wan is assigned the task of investigating the course of the possible Sith Holocron. The Council is cautious enough not to let the investigation be cast aside in light of the sudden explosion at the detention center.)
Once most of the Councillors have left the room, there is only Mace and Yoda, sitting in contemplation of recent events.
"Fortify the Temple, against attack, we must," Yoda says quietly, and had Mace been a lesser man, he would have whipped around in surprise. Instead, he merely raises an eyebrow, a slight questioning feeling leaking into the Force.
"You worry that the Sith may be making their move?" he asks quietly.
"Know, I do," Yoda says. "Remove the chips from the clones on Coruscant, unlikely, will it be, without drawing attention. Prepare for attack while we fight back with non-lethal means, we should. Their fault, it will not be."
In his near nine-hundred years, never has he felt a weight on his shoulders as strong as this. The very fate of the Jedi lies in precarious balance, held by a single thread, and Yoda is well aware that he may not be able to see the blade that cuts the string, so clouded are his senses.
He thinks of history. Of the sacking of Coruscant. The Jedi of three thousand years past had been nearly destroyed by the Sith, then, and the Temple was razed to the ground. He cannot allow that to happen.
"I'll see if I can… discreetly find a shield generator to prevent the Temple from being hit by artillery bombardment." Mace shifts, moving to gaze out the window at the Senate Dome. "We will need to keep the Chancellor unaware of these dealings. If he has been influenced by the Sith, any reports to him may inadvertently hamper our progress."
Something shifts in the Force - a hint, a nudge that there is something large that Yoda cannot grasp. He searches, but the thought is formless, falling through the fingers of his mind like sand. "Careful, we must be. Speak with Master Che, I will, and the healers. A non-lethal sedative, enough to temporarily incapacitate the clones, useful, it may be, in our defense."
Mace nods. "Preventing loss of life while we protect ourselves." His brows furrow, and Yoda feels a spark of fondness for his friend and former student. Mace had always made the same face when he was a padawan and thinking of a new plan. "I'll go through the archives. I'll see if there are any weapons we may use that are non-lethal and long-range to aid in our defense."
Yoda inclines his head, sending Mace a gentle pulse of approval. Little more discussion on this topic will be fruitful - it is best to get started soon.
As Mace stands and moves to head out, he suddenly stops before the door, curiosity and worry leaching into the Force. "And what of Skywalker and his padawan?"
Yoda frowns, knowing that Mace is not referring to the framing of Padawan Tano, but rather, the other things he and Mace thought they had seen in the Council chambers. It is truly unnerving to see the manifestation of the Mortis gods walking the Temple, well-hidden as they are. But Qui-Gon had given Yoda advice, and he would do well to follow it. "A concern of ours, it is not," he tells Mace, but the hardness in the Korun master's posture does not soften. Yoda smacks him across the shins with his gimer stick, eliciting a yelp that is entirely unbecoming of the master of Vaapad. "The Will of the Force, for us to interfere, it is not. Faith, we must have."
Faith, indeed.
Now.
War can be very good for business, but sometimes, it can also be bad.
And this? News of treachery all around the galaxy? Horrible, horrible! But Hondo Ohnaka is a pirate, and he adapts. He always adapts.
Well, alright. Fine. He'd known this was coming. His survival instincts had told him to be far, far away, preferably in a neutral system and stealing- no, no, liberating some wonderful goods, but his good friends Kenobi and Skywalker had recruited him and his crew to pick up any straggling Jedi in whichever sector he'd found himself in. And, mind you, Hondo had been very reluctant, but when Skywalker had sighed and offered him a synthetic kyber crystal that was graciously liberated from one of their precious stores, how could Hondo possibly say no?
Well, that, of course, and around twenty crates of corellian rum. When Hondo inquired where exactly Skywalker had gotten such a large shipment, the Jedi had smirked and given no other response.
(He receives news of one of Gardulla's ships having been ransacked a week later, the slaves freed and the cargo gone.)
The prospect of facing not just the droid army but also the clone army is daunting. Daunting, even for Hondo Ohnaka! Two armies is never good for profit, especially when they are firing on you. But he had faced an irate Count Dooku as well as Kenobi and Skywalker, and had survived. That must count for something, yes?
What? Are you telling Hondo to double-cross them? That he should just be off with the payment and not uphold his part? No, no, no. When Hondo Ohnaka makes a deal, he holds up his end of the deal. He has a code, thank you very much!
Okay, fine. He was promised a bonus for each Jedi he'd manage to save. But still. He is an honorable pirate!
As it happens, he is in the Quelli Sector, and he'd received word of the treachery just moments ago. Wonderful! Now he can finally test out the properties of this synthetic kyber once modified to fit into his blaster. He has a good feeling about this.
The job - ahem, the wonderfully noble rescue - goes splendidly. Many explosions, many firefights, and many, many chances to test out his new blaster modification. It is amazing! It packs the equivalent power of five blasters into one without overloading his weapon. He must be careful, though. It certainly draws attention, and it just wouldn't do if Hondo were to shoot an enemy and then accidentally shoot one of his men since the blaster bolt went clean through his intended target.
Hah! Hondo? Careful? Of course! He is always careful. Always.
"Come quickly!" he shouts at the Jedi. The kiffar - Hondo thinks the Jedi is a male kiffar - spares him a glance, running at full speed and deflecting blaster shots. It is a little confusing - it seems as though there is a squadron of clones at the Jedi's side, fighting with him, yet they shoot at another squadron with a different colour.
Eh. Whatever. All this treachery business is making Hondo's head hurt with feelings and confusion.
The Jedi runs closer and closer, giving a signal to his men, and they make it on board Hondo's ship. They take off to the lovely sound of blaster bolts giving chase, too late to make a difference.
Wonderful, wonderful! One Jedi saved. Who knows how many to go. Skywalker and Kenobi hadn't been very specific, not really, but their young padawan had taken Hondo aside and told him with perfect seriousness that he would rescue five Jedi and three padawans.
He'll never admit it, but in the moment, she'd reminded him of the space-angels he'd heard of. Tall tales, of course, but he could have sworn that she was one of them right there, her skin glowing white-gold and her wings spreading to blind his eyes, shining across the walls of the room. Her mouth had looked wrong, sharp like the beak of some animal, and she'd glared at him with a thousand eyes that told him with absolute certainty that he better save the number he'd just been given.
Ooh. Okay. No, no, no. No focusing on the past. Focus on the job- ah, the rescue!
The kiffar Jedi is looking at Hondo suspiciously, lightsaber blade extinguished but the weapon still in hand. "Who are you?"
"I am Hondo Ohnaka!" he declares proudly. At the look on the kiffar's face, Hondo deduces that his name indeed does mean something to this Jedi. "You must know Kenobi, yes? He and I are great friends!"
"Oh, I've heard of you, alright," the Jedi grumbles. "You are without a doubt the worst pirate I've ever heard of."
He says worst in such a way that's not very flattering to Hondo, but he decides to take it as a compliment. "But you have heard of me!" he exclaims. "Now, come, who do we have the pleasure of being acquainted with?"
"It's Vos," the Jedi - Vos - grunts. "Hand me your blaster."
Hondo thinks about protesting - he really does consider it - but the posture of the Jedi and his remaining troops show that they have little patience. At his side, one of Hondo's men - Jiro - hesitates. "Are you sure that's a good idea, boss?" Jiro asks as Hondo hands over the blaster.
Hondo waves him off.
Vos holds the blaster, brow furrowed, as his men and Hondo's men stand there in silence. After the thirty second mark of standing in silence, it starts becoming a bit awkward.
What? Hondo is not really a… quiet man. He knows how to be stealthy, certainly, but there's no need for stealth here inside the ship at the moment.
The Jedi finally opens his eyes, tossing the blaster back carelessly. "He's trustworthy, alright," Vos mutters to his men, jerking his head towards Hondo. Then he pauses. "Well, as trustworthy as a pirate can be."
Hondo gasps, putting a hand over his heart. "My friend, you wound me! I would never back out of a job." He holsters his blaster, showing the Jedi a sign of trust. "I am an honorable man!"
Vos rolls his eyes. "You're only honorably because Obi paid you in kyber, Ohnaka."
Good point. "Still, I do not back out on my deals, my friend! And a friend of Kenobi is a friend of ours!" He gestures to Jiro, and together, they begin to make their way to the cockpit, Vos and his men trailing warily behind them. "Now, come. We have more of your Jedi friends to save."
The walk to the cockpit is fast and silent, the clones looking warily at all of Hondo's men. He refrains from commenting - they look a little trigger-happy, and it wouldn't do to make them angry. Oh, well. It's understandable.
"Are there any more of you in the sector?" Hondo asks once they've settled into the cockpit.
"Aayla," Vos mutters. "She was on one of the moons."
"Ah, that's not very helpful," Hondo volunteers. "There are eleven moons."
Vos' gaze is withering. A lesser man would have stepped back. Not Hondo, though - he'd faced Dooku's stare and lived. Instead, he grins. All the Jedi are such fun to joke with.
"There's no time for jokes, Ohnaka," Vos says, his voice strained. Hondo gestures, and Jiro pulls up a star map, the planet and its eleven moons illuminated in a gentle red of a holomap. "There. How quickly can we get to it?"
"Five minutes." Hondo gestures to his pilot, who promptly pushes the ship forward, making the clones stagger on their feet. "How many should we expect, Master Jedi?"
Vos' face is drawn tight, a picture of worry. "It's just her."
Ooh. That's bad. "No men?"
The Jedi shakes his head. "They were not-" he cuts himself off, and refuses to say more.
Eh, whatever. One more Jedi, one more bonus.
They find the twi'lek Jedi, half-dead and with an arm that's next to useless with the blaster holes that have nearly blasted it off, but she's alive, and that's what matters. She stumbles into Vos' arms, her still-functioning arm falling limp as his lightsaber flashes to deflect blaster fire. Around him, his men fire one stun blast after another, covering their retreat and incapacitating the brainwashed clones.
As for Hondo, he has delegated himself to taking down the artillery cannons. He's having too much fun, he thinks, but he doesn't really care. A single blaster shot that can take out a cannon? Splendid, splendid! He needs to remember to thank Skywalker for the little fragment of kyber the next time he sees him.
"Do you have bacta?" Vos snaps. The ship shudders as they make their getaway, pounded by blasterfire, but luckily, all of the heavy artillery had been taken out.
Hondo sighs. "Bacta is costly, Vos," he says, but before the kiffar can draw his saber to make some threats, Hondo waves his hand. "Jiro, give the Jedi some bacta - we wouldn't want a dead one on our ship, eh?"
Jiro smirks. "Right on it, boss," he says, and he disappears to the back of the ship.
Okay, fine, Hondo might be motivated by the payment for each live Jedi he'll deliver back to Kenobi and Skywalker, but he's not heartless. He'll just collect compensatory payment after for expenses.
The twi'lek - Aayla? - is limp in Vos' arms, breathing heavily as her eyes are squeezed shut to ward off what must be a horrible pain that is afflicting her. He holds her like a father would hold his daughter, worry for her health and anger at the hurt inflicted leaking from every inch of his body language.
Hondo looks away to give them privacy for the moment. A father was not somebody he'd ever had - sweet mother had been a wondrous teacher for all things thievery, but father had been too hooked up on spice to be any good. Eh, whatever. Hondo's quite happy where he is now.
Jiro returns with the bacta and some bandages, passing them off to one of the clones. They treat the twi'lek, and Hondo notes with some curiosity that she's mumbling about some man named Bly. A clone sweetheart, maybe? Naughty, naughty! Jedi aren't supposed to have sweethearts, from what Hondo knows. Not that he cares.
"I catalogued the proper costs, boss," Jiro tells him. "Just the way you told me to do it, of course."
Proper cataloguing when charging extra expenses for a job means marking it up by 1.2 times its original cost, of course. Hondo grins. "Well done! Now-"
Anything he means to say is promptly cut off when the ship jerks, throwing most of them off their feet. Mercifully, the twi'lek Jedi is already on the ground and in the arms of Vos, so nothing terrible happens to her.
"We're under fire from Republic forces, boss!" The speakers crackle as the ship lurches again, moving to avoid blasterfire.
"Understood," Hondo snaps into his comm. He turns on Vos. "Is the entire sector filled with hostiles?"
Vos shakes his head. "No. My flagship is safe, but it may fall under fire the moment we're seen landing inside it." He swallows, face filled with concern. "We need to get onboard, though. My padaw- Knight Secura needs the medical facilities there."
Ah, interesting! So she was his apprentice. Hondo files that away for later contemplation in case it's of any use. "Do you have coordinates?"
The ship lurches again, and Hondo falls onto Jiro.
"Sorry, Jiro," he chuckles, standing again patting his man on the shoulder. Jiro rolls his eyes.
"I'll get you them," Vos growls. "Just make sure we don't die first."
It takes a lot of maneuvering and some damage to the exterior hull to get to Vos' flagship. Thankfully, they set down alright, and Secura is immediately taken by the medics on board. As Vos and his men turn to leave the ship, the kiffar pauses, and faces Hondo.
"Thanks," he grunts.
"Of course!" Hondo replies easily, and Vos rolls his eyes with a huff.
"We'll search the upper end of the Sector for survivors," Vos says. "You can take the lower end." He flicks a datachip at Hondo, who catches it in surprise. "Coordinates for survivors. I pulled the data from known missions in this sector."
"Wonderful!" Hondo tells him, and Vos leaves without another word.
The datachip is filled with not too many coordinates, which makes their search siginifacntly easier.
It's still a bit of a hassle. But, if young Padawan Tano had been correct in her prediction, he should end up with three more Jedi and their apprentices saved.
Ah, wonderful profit. Hondo thinks of the rewards, and orders his men to move forward with the rescue.