Chapter Forty-Seven: The Witness Stand
The saber's glow loomed overhead, its incessant hum tickling at the edges of Anakin's ears.
Each Senate hearing had felt like an eternity as he sat at Palpatine's side, the ceiling of the legislative chamber hanging over him like an omen. The roof of the Senate dome had long since been repaired, recovered from the wound left by the bow of the Charybdis—but the scar had not been hidden, covered over with matching materials and an identical coat of paint.
Instead it had been embraced. Inset with jagged panes of glass, the overhead mosaic was a stark reminder of what had happened to the Republic's capital. The transparent panes drew in the outside light—now the azure of a clear afternoon sky.
The streak of glass across the senate chamber ceiling bore a striking resemblance to a lightsaber. His lightsaber. Every moment he'd sat beneath its light, he'd waited for the weight to come crashing down. For the harsh truth to echo in the halls of the Galactic Senate. The sins of the Jedi. The sins of Skywalker.
He'd spent every Senate hearing watching, wishing, silently praying his name would not cross anyone's lips. That he would not be dragged into the mud with the rest of the Jedi Order—much as he might deserve to be.
So far he'd gotten lucky. So far, the Senate had seen fit to inquire about matters that didn't involve him. Today, he feared, that all would change.
Today's witness meant the war. Had Abbadon. Serenno. Everything in between—all of it was on the table. Anakin was no longer safe from the eyes of the investigation. The truth would come out—after all, the witness had sworn to tell it.
The ringing in his ears resonated with the painful flutter in his chest as Commander Temeura Cody, seated in the center of the Senate chamber in a borrowed hoverpod, lowered his right hand.
From up here, Anakin could do little more than bear witness—he and Palpatine, along with Director Tarkin, were seated not in the Chancellor's usual central podium but in a special executive pod at the very upper level of the Senate chamber. As with every hearing pertaining to the Jedi investigation, they were there to observe. Nothing more. All you can do, a voice hissed from within the back of his mind, is wait.
And then it began, with the utterance of a name—one Anakin hadn't expected to hear. The booming tones of Mas Amedda's voice rumbled across the chamber, starting at the Chagrian's central podium and effortlessly reaching the chamber's edge.
"Senator Organa?"
This was enough to snap him out of his anxious trance. Tarkin shot forward in his seat as the chancellor raised a pensive hand to stroke his chin.
"What is he doing?" the director hissed, snatching a notebook from his breast pocket and thumbing through the pages. "He's not on the list—"
"Shh," Palpatine interrupted, raising a hand to silence the man seated at his left. Anakin gazed with uncertainty at both of them before turning his attention back to the cavernous Senate chamber—and to the Alderaanian hoverpod detaching from the wall and gliding toward the center.
"I must say, Senator Organa," Mas Amedda continued as Bail's hoverpod came to rest before the central podium, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you today. Have you consolidated speaking time with your fellow delegates?"
"No, Mister Speaker," Bail answered—Anakin could feel a nervous edge to his words. "I have not."
"I see." The Chagrian's voice was low, barely audible from the executive pod at the chamber's edge. "Very well, then." He spoke again, his words full and booming. "The Chair recognizes the gentleman from Alderaan. Senator Organa, you have thirty seconds."
On the opposite side of the executive observation pod, waves of tense anxiety echoed off Tarkin. Confusion danced in Anakin's mind—How much damage can Bail do in half a minute? he thought to himself.
You've done plenty of damage in as little time, the dark voice snapped. And today everyone is going to find out—
"Thank you, Mister Speaker," Bail began, his words providing a welcome distraction from the voice's nagging. "I don't have any questions for the commander today. In fact, considering my position as his representative in the Senate, my status as a member of Alderaan's royal family, and"—Bail paused, seemingly weighing his next words—"to be frank, my role in the start of the war, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to question our witness today.
"I recuse myself from this hearing and yield the remainder of my time."
As gasps and murmurs rolled throughout the chamber, Bail Organa's hoverpod retreated toward the wall—Anakin followed it until it settled into its resting place, then watched as Bail stood up and disappeared from the Senate chamber.
The smack of Tarkin's notebook hitting the floor prompted him to jump slightly in his seat. "Bastard," Tarkin hissed through clenched teeth. "He's done it again."
Slowly, Palpatine turned to glare at the man. "Director—"
"He's sabotaging these hearings," Tarkin said, bending down to pick up the notebook at his feet.
Before Palpatine could reply, the rap of a gavel echoed throughout the room. "Order!" Mas Amedda called, his voice even and firm. "We should be moving on to proper business—the first delegate on our speaking list today. The Chair recognizes the senator from Commenor, speaking on behalf of a coalition of one dozen Core and Inner Rim senators. Senator, you have six minutes."
"Thank you, Mister Speaker," a voice called back as the Commenor hoverpod detached from the wall and floated toward the chamber's center. "Since Senator Organa brought up the issue of his role in starting the war, I'd like to begin there. Is that all right, Commander Cody?"
"Of course, ma'am," the commander replied with a nod. "What would you like to know?"
As Anakin leaned forward to hear the senator's first question, Tarkin shot up out of his seat. "I've seen enough," he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "This is pointless." Spinning on a heel, he moved toward the observation pod's exit
"Sit down, Director," Palpatine said, turning in his chair to face the departing prosecutor.
Tarkin froze in place, glancing down at the floor briefly before whirling back around to face Palpatine and Anakin. "None of us need to sit here and watch the Senate relitigate the early days of the war, not now. Organa dangled that nonsense in front of them—it was obvious bait, and it's clear they've taken it. Nothing productive will come of this, just as nothing productive has come of any other hearing. We've wasted months watching on while the Senate tried to weed out every single Jedi hiding in their staff. A diversion that amounted to nothing, no doubt spearheaded by Bail Organa and his cronies planting ideas in their colleagues' heads. And now he's sent them on another useless rabbit trail. You must step in, Chancellor. It is clear the Jedi problem requires executive action—"
"Executive action," Palpatine cut across, the words sour in his mouth, "is not a permanent solution, Director. You lack the patience for Senate politics. And you're underestimating a powerful component of them."
Tarkin glowered. "And what is that?"
"Mounting public pressure," Palpatine answered, turning back to face the open cavern of the Senate chamber—below him, the hoverchair-bound witness spoke in answer to a question Anakin hadn't heard. "When there are Jedi hiding within the ranks of the Senate staff, that is the Senate's problem. But if the Jedi started a war . . ." he trailed off, allowing the words to linger in the air for a moment. "Well, that's everyone's problem. When they know the truth, the people of the Republic will demand action. Pressure from their constituents will force the Senate to act, and they'll have the public's full support when they do. The war is a crucial topic of discussion, Bail Organa's troublemaking or no."
"If they know the truth," Tarkin said with a shake of his head. "I'm as tired of saying this as I'm sure you are of hearing it, but reality will not come to light until we force it to. What we really need is a Jedi on the witness stand. One who could testify personally to the damage they've caused."
He paused, turning to glare at Anakin. "If only there were somebody involved in this investigation who could give us one."
Anakin felt his chest tighten, his throat filling with sand as he opened his mouth to object. The two of them had been bickering for long enough that he'd hoped his presence wasn't important to them at all.
Making sure they aren't talking about you, the voice in his mind snarled. You want this hearing to be fruitless. You want this investigation to fail. You're no better than Bail Organa—
"I gave you a whole list of Jedi!" Anakin shot back, his voice a raspy half whisper, addressed to the voice as much as to Tarkin.
Shame flared to anger as Tarkin rolled his eyes in response. "And it's quite convenient that none of them have turned up, isn't it? Every one supposedly resides on Coruscant. It's a large planet, Skywalker. Many hiding places."
They're all hiding in the Temple, aren't they? the voice taunted him. He'll never find them there. Just like you wanted.
I lived in the Temple, he hissed back, infuriated at himself for arguing with nothing, it's not my fault I don't know other Jedi, other enclaves—
"And then there's Executor Vader's investigative unit," Tarkin continued, allowing the name to dance on his tongue, accompanied by a sarcastic flourish of the hand. "We gave the Executor an entire team of detectives to command, and he's turned up nothing. No leads, no evidence."
Anakin's heart was still, then wrenched back into rhythm. Before Tarkin—or the dark voice—could taunt him any further, he found himself half rising from his chair. "If you have something to say, Director, just say it."
"Gentlemen," Palpatine warned, drawing out the word as if he was scolding a misbehaving child, "please—"
At this, Tarkin turned back to face the chancellor. "What about your list?" he asked. "We could show it to Skywalker. Have him select a Jedi witness that way."
What?
Anakin's gaze shifted from Tarkin to Palpatine. A harsh fire sat behind the chancellor's eyes as he glared at Director Tarkin—one that Anakin had dreaded every time he'd found himself on the receiving end. Whatever this list was, he got the distinct feeling he wasn't supposed to know about it.
If Tarkin was taken aback, he showed no sign, simply holding his gaze. After a few moments had passed, Palpatine's eyes shifted from anger to disgust. Keeping them on Tarkin, he reached into the folds of his ceremonial robes.
When he withdrew his hand, he was clutching an ornate notebook bound in leather. Without a word, Tarkin snatched the book from the chancellor's hand and whipped it open, whirling around to shove it in Anakin's face.
It was a list of names, neatly arranged in columns, stenciled in the perfect penmanship of the chancellor himself—real ink, as he'd always prided himself for using. Some had been struck through with carefully etched lines, while others were marked with various symbols—bullet points, question marks, small stars.
Anakin's eyes flitted up and down the page, too quickly to truly parse everything written on it.
"This is a list of suspected Jedi," Tarkin said, paper crinkling beneath his fingers as his grip on the notebook tightened. "Go ahead, Skywalker. Confirm our suspicions."
The letters on the page seemed to blur together as Anakin's eyes darted back and forth, desperately searching for a name he knew. Nothing, nothing, nothing, Qui-Gon J—
He forced his eyes all the way to the bottom of the list, latching onto the one other familiar name like a lifeboat. "Tyyria Nox," he said, feeling a pang of guilt gnaw at his heart. He reached toward the notebook; a mechanical finger tapped against the page. "She was a Jedi."
Tarkin's jaw tightened as he yanked the notebook away and snapped it shut. "I can't question the dead, Skywalker." Then, turning back toward the chancellor: "You see? He doesn't really want to help."
He's right, the voice whispered in his ear.
"That's not true!" Anakin said aloud, fighting to keep himself from shouting.
"Gentlemen," Palpatine said again, raising a hand to cradle his forehead.
Tarkin continued, giving no indication he'd heard. "Then why won't you give us someone we can question? Someone we know will be useful. Give us Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"I don't know where he is!" Anakin snapped.
"Yes, you've said as much. I was willing to play along at first, but that time has passed. This investigation needs Kenobi, and you're going to tell us how to find him—"
"Gentlemen!" the chancellor repeated, his voice a harsh and pointed whisper. "That is quite enough. There is a time and place to have this discussion. Not here, and not now."
Anakin felt himself sinking into his chair—but as the chancellor's words hung in the air, Tarkin seemed to only grow taller.
"Very well," the director said with a shake of his head. "When you change your mind, Skywalker—when you actually decide to help—you know where to find me. Enjoy the rest of the hearing."
With that, he spun on a heel and marched out of the observation pod, disappearing into the outer corridor and leaving Anakin alone with the chancellor.
Palpatine said nothing. His gaze lingered on the empty doorway for a moment; then he turned in his seat, returning his attention to the center of the Senate chamber.
Anakin matched the chancellor's motions, though he could not bring himself to focus on the hearing. Commander Cody's testimony echoed throughout the room with confidence and clarity, but to the executor it sounded as though everything were happening underwater.
The only thing he could clearly hear was the voice in his head, parroting Tarkin's words back at him over and over.
He doesn't really want to help.
"Organa?"
Even in the low whisper required for a private conversation during a Senate hearing, the gruff tones of Garm Bel Iblis cut through Bail's reverie.
After recusing himself from the day's proceedings, he'd moved from his own Senate hoverpod to the one assigned to his Corellian colleague, where Bel Iblis—along with Mon Mothma—had chosen to sit and watch things unfold. Ever since he'd arrived, Bail had spent his time staring not at the commander seated in the center of the room, but up at the chamber's perimeter—at the executive observation pod set high above the rest of the senators.
After several seconds of silence, Bel Iblis spoke again. "You miss the view from up there?" he asked, following with a dry and humorless chuckle.
"Hm?" Bail said, his mind elsewhere. He had indeed spent several Senate sessions in the very same observation pod—from afar, its unique red markings and banners bearing the emblem of the Republic helped it stand out against the sea of identical pods that lined the walls of the Senate chamber. "Ah, no," he continued with a shake of his head, as his mind caught up with his mouth. "It's Tarkin."
"Tarkin?" Mon Mothma echoed under her breath.
Bail nodded. "He was up there with Palpatine and Skywalker when the hearing started. He was talking to them both, then he got up and stormed off."
"That tracks," Bel Iblis said. "I've got a couple of old CorSec friends in the Office of Special Investigations. They won't tell me much—don't want any leaks to get traced back to them—but it sounds like Tarkin and Skywalker aren't exactly getting along."
A long sigh escaped Mon Mothma's lips. "That doesn't seem to have deterred the chancellor. You should hear him in the Defense Committee meetings. He's shifting his focus away from the war, asking us how prepared the Republic is to deal with 'internal threats.'"
"The Jedi," Bel Iblis muttered. "And us."
Bail felt a twinge of irritation nibble at the back of his brain. It isn't fair, he thought. Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis had their committee assignments, their intelligence sources. Mon was appreciated throughout the Senate—and Bel Iblis, at least, was begrudgingly respected.
Not him. A disgraced former chancellor, whose closest confidants had turned against the state. In the months since Obi-Wan and Padmé had disappeared, he'd been able to do little more than run interference—creating distractions while others did the real work. Today, even that had been nearly impossible—at the insistence of his colleagues, he'd recused himself from involvement in Cody's testimony. He could do nothing but sit back and watch as the entire Senate was once again reminded of his misdeeds. At least you were the one who turned the conversation in that direction for once.
"The commander's really putting it all out there," Bel Iblis said with a shake of his head, throwing a sideways glance at Bail. "He's making you look bad." Then, turning back to face the Senate chamber: "Not that that's particularly hard to do."
"Cody's doing what must be done," Bail said, forcing himself to ignore the Corellian's jab. "Having him lie for us would only make things worse in the long run." He remembered the bitter taste of the words in his mouth as he'd denounced his friends, spoken against their actions. He only hoped that Cody didn't feel the guilt now that he'd felt then. God knew he'd suffered enough.
"Blaming yourself for the war during your recusal was a smart move," Mon said, as if trying to focus on the positive. "It keeps everyone distracted, only asking about things they already know. The longer we can keep the focus off the Jedi, the longer we keep Palpatine from justifying anything drastic."
As the words left her lips, a lump formed in Bail's throat, his palms dampening. Recusing himself from the proceedings had made it nearly impossible for him to influence things. Nearly impossible for him to advance their alliance's agenda . . . but not completely so.
He'd found a way—he'd set things in motion that he could no longer undo. His colleagues were about to find that out.
As a new Senate hoverpod detached from the wall and began to glide toward the center of the room, Mas Amedda's voice rumbled throughout the chamber once again. "The Chair recognizes the senator from Taris, speaking on behalf of a coalition of senators from the Republic's Outer Rim territories. Senator Pamlo, you have two minutes."
"Thank you, Mister Speaker."
From this distance, Bail could not make eye contact with the senator. Her face slightly obscured by a hooded robe, he could not motion for her to abandon the plan. All he could do was watch.
"I must say," Tyrnna Pamlo began, "it feels like we're a bit off track. Commander, I do want to thank you for your testimony thus far, but I'm hoping to refocus a bit here. The Office of Special Investigations isn't compiling a report on Bail Organa's role in the war, they're compiling a report on Jedi interference in the affairs of the Republic.
"Commander, were there any Jedi involved in the events of Had Abbadon?"
The air in their hoverpod grew thick with tension. Mon Mothma's eyes grew wide as she fixed her gaze on the center of the chamber. Bel Iblis scratched at his chin as he spoke. "I thought Pamlo was with us. What is she doing?"
Bail simply held his forehead in one hand.
From the center of the chamber, Commander Cody's voice rang out. "Yes, ma'am. There were."
"I'm almost afraid to ask. Is Bail Organa a member of the Jedi Order?"
An uncomfortable chuckle rolled in waves throughout the Senate chamber—the tension that had built up seemed to defuse a bit, as if someone had let the slightest amount of air out of a balloon. Bail felt every eye in the chamber briefly turn to him—he did his best to force a laugh along with them.
When Mas Amedda's gavel had rang out, and the mutterings had died down, two eyes still remained locked on Bail.
"Organa," Garm Bel Iblis hissed. "What have you done?"
Bail said nothing; from the chamber's central podium, Mas Amedda spoke. "Commander, please answer the question."
Even from afar, it was clear that Cody's words were being delivered through a slightly bemused grin. "No, ma'am. Bail Organa is most certainly not a Jedi."
"Is Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Silence after that—and when Cody spoke again, there was a newfound gravity to his words. "To the best of my knowledge . . . yes."
"Thank you, Commander. I yield the remainder of my time."
A cacophony of murmuring boiled within the Senate chamber as Tyrnna Pamlo's hoverpod retreated toward the wall.
"Organa," Bel Iblis repeated, speaking louder as the noise of conversation around them grew in volume, "what did you do?"
"Tarkin already knows Obi-Wan is a Jedi!" Bail shot back, aware of the desperation in his voice. "So does Palpatine. They have to be aware of it—they're working with Anakin Skywalker. It was only a matter of time before the Senate learned the truth."
"So you decided to make sure they found out today? What, did you tell Pamlo to ask the commander those questions?"
Mon Mothma held out a hand toward Bel Iblis. "It's not an entirely bad plan. Controlled release of damaging information, on our terms rather than theirs, after enough time has been spent on rabbit trails to lessen the impact." She turned to Bail and shook her head. "I just wish you'd told us beforehand."
"We would have talked him out of it," Bel Iblis muttered through the din of a hundred different conversations echoing across the Senate.
Mas Amedda's shouting halted it all in an instant "Order!" As the echo of his voice died down, another hoverpod moved toward the center of the chamber. "Senator Kestro? I don't have you on my speaking list."
"I'm aware," came the reply—the voice was sharp, as precise and snappy as the attire of the man it came from.
Bail's stomach dropped. This had not been part of the plan.
"Very well. The Chair recognizes the senator from Vardos. You have thirty seconds."
"Thank you, Mister Speaker. Commander Cody, was Obi-Wan Kenobi operating under instructions from the Jedi Order during the events of Had Abbadon?"
As Cody spoke, his voice was laced with uncertainty. "I can only speculate—"
"So speculate. This is a Senate hearing, not a court of law. Based on what you know of Kenobi, is it possible he was receiving direct instructions from the Jedi?"
The commander's head bobbed up and down in a slow nod. When he spoke, it was with the barely concealed irritation of a man unwillingly suffering a fool. "It's possible, yes."
"What about Serenno? Were the Jedi giving him orders then?"
"It's possible."
"During the attack on Coruscant?"
Cody was again silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Possible."
"Commander Cody, do you know where Obi-Wan Kenobi is now?"
At this, the commander's posture straightened. "No, sir. I can't say that I do."
"Well then, we'll just have to find someone who does. Thank you, Commander. I yield the rest of my time."
The moment Senator Kestro finished speaking, the uproar throughout the Senate chamber began anew.
"Senator!" Mas Amedda said, shouting over the chatter. "That was entirely uncalled for. This legislative body will work collectively to select its next witnesses. You alone do not dictate that process." The Chagrian turned to his left, where a droid sat beside him in the central podium. "Strike the senator's last comments from the record, please." Then, turning back to address the entire chamber: "I think that's quite enough for today. In closing, Chancellor Palpatine has a few words he'd like to share."
As the chancellor's executive observation pod detached from the wall, Bail followed its movements through the air. He felt his eyes glaze over as the pod came to a stop near where Commander Cody sat, its ceremonial banners still drifting from the motion.
"Commander," Palpatine began, "I just want to thank you for your cooperation today. Your testimony will be of great assistance as we seek to correct the misdeeds that have brought us to where we are."
He paused, spreading his hands wide. "I also want to thank you for your faithful service to the Republic. Despite the injuries you've suffered in battle, you remain committed to valiantly defending our space from all who threaten it. I hope that you and your crew find respite as Typhoon Division returns from the battlefront to patrol its home system of Alderaan."
At that—finally—Bail felt the wire that had been vibrating in his chest loosen just a bit. Looking at his colleagues, he could feel the small grin forming at the edges of his mouth. "We got Typhoon back," he whispered—more to himself than to the colleagues at his side.
"I hope it was worth it," Bel Iblis muttered. "We have another loyal ship to add to our fleet—if fighting becomes necessary. But it doesn't help us now. You do realize what's going to happen next? They're going to question you."
"He's right, Bail," Mon Mothma said, her right hand's fingers agitatedly tugging at those of her left. "Any hesitation the Senate had about calling a former chancellor to testify has likely vanished. Senator Kestro's remarks may have been stricken from the record, but the damage is done. The Senate will want to find General Kenobi. They're going to ask anyone who might know where he is."
Bail said nothing, his eyes turning away from his companions and back toward the center of the chamber. Not to Palpatine, but to the young man seated beside him.
All the color had gone from Anakin Skywalker's face. It was as if he'd seen a ghost.
I'm not alone, at least, Bail thought. Though he and Anakin had more than their share of differences, right now they also had one thing in common.
The Senate wanted to advance the Jedi investigation. The next step was finding out where Obi-Wan Kenobi was. That meant questioning Bail Organa.
But it meant questioning Anakin Skywalker too.
Republic Archives: Kenobi's Known Associates
[note addressed to Director Isard of the Senate Intelligence Bureau and Captain Fox of the Coruscant Guard]
Gentlemen,
In light of revelations from this afternoon's hearing, I believe we are justified in increasing our search efforts for information relating to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Any of Kenobi's known associates are fair game for questioning—even the most aggressive civil liberties organization would not object to us temporarily detaining the acquaintance of a Jedi-turned-traitor.
Our cross-department collaboration has been extremely productive up to this point, and I hope that will continue. I have no problem with the Bureau or the Coruscant Guard making the initial pickup of any potential witness, so long as my office is contacted and I am permitted to participate in the interview process.
We should leave no stone unturned. Question his landlord, his hairdresser—hell, find out if he had any places he frequented for lunch. Anyone who he made regular contact with may have more information about the Jedi, or be a member of the Order themselves.
I'll be in touch with any further developments.
Regards,
Wilhuff Tarkin
Office of Special Investigations