AUTHOR'S NOTE: MY APOLOGIES FOR THE EXTENDED WAIT ON THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER, I NEEDED TO TAKE AN UNEXPECTED MENTAL HEALTH BREAK. AS A RESULT, THE SECOND PART HAS SUFFERED SOME MAJOR RE-WRITES AND NEEDED TO BE SPLIT INTO THREE.

HOWEVER, THERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS— THIS IS A DOUBLE UPLOAD, SO PART TWO AND THREE ARE BOTH BEING RELEASED AT THE SAME TIME.

THANK YOU FOR READING, AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY.

Chapter 25: Pascuntur Draco

—Part Two—

INQUISITORIOUS HEADQUARTERS: THE WORKS DISTRICT

Vader stared at the glowing blue holo-image of the sixth brother, listening to the Grand Inquisitor as he gave his report. The lesser inquisitor had found evidence of Jedi activity on the distant farming moon of Raada, confirming the emperor's earlier suspicions. Apparently, the sixth brother had captured some poor local girl in the hopes of luring the Jedi out of hiding and was now unreachable.

Which, to Vader, meant the sixth brother had likely confronted this Jedi and was now lying somewhere; dying or dead. He had witnessed the inquisitors' mediocre fighting skills when his master had first brought him to the Works District headquarters. They hadn't impressed him then. They impressed him even less so now.

"It would appear your subordinates are incompetent, Inquisitor," Vader said. He crossed his arms below his chest plate and eyed the grey-faced Pau'an dubiously. "Perhaps the emperor overestimated their abilities."

"They followed your orders as instructed, Lord Vader," the Grand Inquisitor said. He shut off the recording and turned to face the dark lord. "I despatched the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother to hunt down and track the two Jedi on Coruscant, as per your request. If there are issues with their performance…"

He had no patience for this. Vader gritted his teeth and growled. "No, Inquisitor—they failed. Your orders were to track the Jedi to their hideout and report back to me. Not to engage. Their inability to follow simple commands has jeopardised this entire operation."

The Grand Inquisitor baulked at his reprimand. He bared his pointed teeth in a snarl. "Perhaps if you had taken the time to properly explain your intentions…"

"I need not explain anything," Vader scolded, and he stabbed the air with his gloved finger. "You obey my orders, Inquisitor—they obey yours. Their failure is your failure. That is the chain of command, and the only explanation you require."

The Pau'an wisely backed down, lowered his eyes to stare at the floor. "Understood, My Lord."

He shouldn't need to spell out such basic hierarchical rules. Vader served the emperor. The Grand Inquisitor and his subordinates served Vader. Every point outside of that was mute. Perhaps a quick reminder of who they were dealing with was in order. But it would need to be quick. Every second wasted here was time he couldn't spend liberating Padmé from Organa.

Vader flicked his wrist and thundered toward the door. "Summon them to the arena. It is time they learned discipline."

Moving to follow him, the Grand Inquisitor muttered under his breath. "As you command, Lord Vader."

Padmé sat on her dais, silently staring at the thousands of parked pods filling with senators in the rotunda. Her confrontation with Anakin and Palpatine in the grand vocational hall was weighing heavily on her mind. Anakin had often commented on her differing personas: her normal one, and her Politician face. Now she was doing the same with him. There was her Ani's persona—the passionate, loving and adoring Jedi that she still saw on occasion. And then there was his Vader face. The stone-cold, aggressive and intimidating Imperial Sith lord enforcer.

Seeing him walking so loyally beside Palpatine had made her head explode. She'd had to fight the urge to storm up to the two of them; grab hold of Anakin by the arm, forcefully drag him away from Palpatine's side and march him straight back down the corridor as fast as she could. But she knew she couldn't. And while she'd been standing there engaging in a volatile war of words with his dear master, Padmé had found herself questioning things.

Just how serious was Anakin on taking down Palpatine? Had he truly thought about what it meant? Or was he stuck in limbo again, struggling to come to terms with the harsh reality of his and Palpatine's abusive relationship?

The thought troubled Padmé, already knowing how badly Anakin struggled with attachment. She came to the conclusion she would have to fight hard for her husband. Potentially against Anakin's own ill-perceived wishes. That realisation lit a fire inside her belly, one that during their confrontation had seeped into her tone and turned her words to acid. If Palpatine wanted a fight, he would get it.

Bail slumped into the seat beside Padmé, stopping her thoughts dead. She looked to the Viceroy, saw the disturbed expression on his face. He'd been on edge since their exchange with Vader and the emperor, barely speaking more than two words before reaching the dais. Then, he'd quickly excused himself and disappeared to call his wife. Vader's not-so-subtle threat had scared him, made him worry for his wife's safety.

"How is she?" Padmé asked.

Organa blew out a breath. He pulled out his datapad and tapped at the screen. "She is fine for now. I have put the palace security forces on high alert and doubled their patrols, just in case." He stopped tapping for a second and chuckled. "You know, Breha feels that I am working too much. She thinks I'm being paranoid."

Padmé stiffened and returned her attention to the rotunda. "Perhaps she is right."

"Am I being paranoid, Padmé?"

She glanced back to Bail, saw the demand for answers burning in his eyes. The one pressuring her to admit the truth of her marriage to Vader. It was time to don the Politician face. Padmé stoically held his stare. "I'm sure the emperor keeps his emissary busy enough as it is," Padmé said drily, "without him needing to harass senators' wives." She forced a half-smile and added: "No offence."

The Viceroy didn't seem convinced though. He held her gaze a moment longer, as if searching for the truths she kept hidden. Then, he sighed and slumped back. "I hope you're right."

Anger overflowing, Vader drew on the Force and punched the air with his fist, unleashing a burst of power that launched the Seventh Sister across the arena. She smashed into the wall and hit the floor, landing in a heap beside the Fifth Brother. The two inquisitors groaned, limbs shaking as they struggled to right themselves.

Vader deactivated his lightsaber and hooked it to his belt. He watched the Seventh Sister awkwardly sit up then retract her helmet visor. She glared at Vader, her pale green Mirialan skin glistening with sweat, her narrowed yellow eyes flaming with hate and anger.

"Be thankful you are still in one piece, Inquisitor," Vader growled, propping his fists to his hips. The next time it will be different. He whirled to face the Grand Inquisitor and his two subordinates stood behind him. The grey faced Pau'an had his arms locked tight over his chest, the two others stunned and staring at their beaten comrades in petrified silence.

"As for the rest of you," Vader said, jabbing at them with his finger. "Failure to follow orders is unacceptable. Those choosing to disobey my command will suffer the consequences."

A loud chirp rang from his com and Vader checked his wrist. It was a message. Three simple words: I am here. He sneered inside the mask. His guest had arrived, and not a moment too soon. Vader spun on his heel and strode for the door, calling out to the Pau'an over his shoulder. "Grand Inquisitor," Vader said. "Brief your team on their upcoming mission and have them wait here for my return."

"It will be done, My Lord."

Wind howled across the elevated walkway, tugging and yanking on the cloak chained around Vader's neck. He crossed his arms and waited. On the platform ahead of him sat a squat tank-looking ship—a Firespray. It was an old patrol and attack craft with twin blaster cannons mounted either side of the arm-like hull. The ship's red and green paint was battle-scarred, the sloping dome-shaped deck covered in long scratches and carbon scoring.

Movement stirred on the deck and a caped figure strode out from under the hull overhang. He was clad head to toe in a suit of Mandalorian body armour, the helmet and plating of which painted green and red to match the ship. Not moving, Vader watched the bounty hunter walk toward him. The armoured man stopped halfway across the platform, glanced left and right over the industrial landscape. Then, seemingly satisfied, he looked back at Vader and nodded to the tower behind him.

"Nice place," the bounty hunter said caustically.

Tightening his arms over his chest, Vader snorted. "It isn't mine. I am merely borrowing it."

"Pity...," the bounty hunter remarked. "So ... you said you had a job for me?"

Vader growled. "Not out here." With no time to waste, he turned on his heel and beckoned for the bounty hunter to follow. "Come. I will brief you inside."

He led the bounty hunter deep into the bowels of the tower, through a maze of corridors and down flights of winding stairs, retracing the route his Master had taken him on less than a week prior. Vader strode out onto the viewing platform overlooking the arena. The bounty hunter came to a stop alongside him and peered over the balcony ledge.

The inquisitors were back on their feet, gathered around the Grand Inquisitor in the middle of the arena. He was issuing them their new orders. And they, still visibly shaken, seemed to be appropriately listening.

Seeing the Inquisitors, the bounty hunter cleared his throat beside Vader. "Seems like you have enough help already," the armoured man said in his trooper sounding voice. "What did you need me for?"

For a long moment, the rasp and hiss of mechanical breathing echoed between them. Vader leaned forward, braced both gloved hands upon the balcony balustrade. He hated having to outsource, but had found it a necessary practice on occasion. Especially in situations such as this where his own involvement needed to remain inconspicuous. Despite their embattled history, Boba Fett had earned a reputation for being one of the best bounty hunters of his trade. He had already proven his usefulness more than twice to the dark lord. He would do so again.

"You have skills they do not possess," Vader said. He kept his masked gaze fixed on the arena below. "Namely... that of discretion."

Fett crossed his gauntleted arms beside him. "Since when do you need discretion?"

Vader squeezed his grip on the balustrade and growled. "Since now."

"Who's the target?"

Vader sneered. He retrieved a small holodisc from his belt and held it out. "A Senator," he said.

The bounty hunter took the offered disc and activated it. A small holo-image of a prestigious dark-haired man with dark eyes and a trimmed beard hovered above his hand. Glowing lines of aurebesh rotated around the base of the image, the name and details of his bounty.

"Hmm... high profile," Fett mused, watching the holo-projection. "That's going to cost more than my usual fee."

Vader flicked his wrist dismissively. "The Empire will provide whatever you require."

Fett switched off the disc and tucked it into his belt, an action Vader recognised as his acceptance of the bounty. "Dead or alive?" he asked.

"I will settle for intimidated," Vader said.

"You want me to scare this Senator? Can't you do that yourself?"

Under normal circumstances, yes, he was perfectly capable of doing this himself. In fact, Vader was certain his earlier threat had hit its intended mark with the Viceroy back at the senate. But he wanted to ram his point home. He needed to do it indirectly, so that his involvement was not easily traced. "My hands are presently tied," Vader said.

"Hence the need for discretion?"

Stepping back from the balustrade, Vader balled his hands into fists. "Precisely."

A moment of silence passed between them, the rasp of Vader's breathing marking the passage of time. The bounty hunter seemed to consider his words.

Fett broke the silence. "So... how far did you want me to go?"

He had been working on this part of the plan. He wanted Organa's fear, wanted him to be so concerned about his own wife's safety that he would return to Alderaan and leave Padmé alone. And if he deduced, Vader had been the one to orchestrate the threat on her life, even better. "He has a wife."

"That's dark," Fett said. "What about her? Dead or alive?"

"Her fate does not concern me," Vader nonchalantly replied.

"You really don't like this Senator, do you?"

Vader ground his teeth. No, he hated Organa. He could've almost called the man a friend—once, long ago. But that was before the Viceroy had stolen his daughter, founded a rebellion intent on tearing his Empire apart, and had decided to try to seduce his wife. Now he was nothing more than some bug he wanted crushed beneath his boot. He pushed his anger aside. "I have ... a particular distaste for politicians," he said.

The bounty hunter chuckled darkly. "Right. I'll see what I can do." He turned and headed for the door.

Vader spun from the balustrade. "Fett!"

The bounty hunter stopped, looked back over his shoulder.

"Do not mess this up," Vader barked, angrily jabbing his pointed finger.

Boba Fett nodded. "As you wish."

The long hours of the day had all but evaporated into late afternoon. Padmé and Bail walked the hall after their session of congress, Senators Danu, Breemu, and Commander Bly trailing closely behind them. They were on their way to the emperor's ant echamber to prepare for the meeting. The grand vocational hall was significantly less populated than it had been this morning, with only a handful of senators left milling about the passage.

"So, Padmé... have you given any thought to my earlier proposition?" Bail asked her.

"What proposition?"

"About coming to the base with us tomorrow?"

Padmé kept her eyes glued to the passageway ahead. "Not really," she said. It was a lie, of course. She had thought about it several times, but still needed to discuss it with Anakin. Besides, she wanted to see how Palpatine reacted to her submission before making a decision. If he reacted badly, she would need to be around to support Anakin. She couldn't do that from the other side of the galaxy. Padmé sighed wearily. "I have a lot on my mind."

"We could really use your help," Bail said, pressing his point.

She looked at him then, as they rounded the last bend before the emperor's office. A hint of desperation had been clear in his tone, a gentle pleading for her to go with him. The desperation seemed to echo in his eyes. And to Padmé, it felt something more than a simple request for help with his rebellion. Like the Viceroy would say whatever he deemed necessary to draw her away from Coruscant.

Up ahead, two red-robed royal guards came into sight, the pair standing station outside the emperor's office. Padmé stopped five metres from the sentries and turned to face Bail. She'd grown tired of their conversation, and it was time to end it. The impending meeting with Palpatine being all she could think about. Bail stopped and gave her a questioning glance, while Commander Bly and the other two senators were still several paces behind him.

"Bail, I said I would take your request under advisement," Padmé said, pointing her finger. "And until that opportunity presents itself, that will continue to be my answer."

Bail opened his mouth to respond, seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. He lowered his eyes to the floor and nodded.

"Now, can we please try to focus on what we came here to do?" she asked, turning away, and gesturing for them to continue on toward the guards. "This meeting is far too important for either of us to become distracted."

"Yes. Of course, m'lady."

Caleb stood beside his master at the Senator's desk, reading through the schematics for the soon to be departing freighter. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't dismiss his feelings. It was a trap; it had to be. Why else would an Imperial cruiser, Pelta-class or otherwise, be chaperoning it across the galaxy? And how that informant from the club, whose name he and Ferus had never learned, had wished them luck with the freighter and said they were going to need it. Everything about the situation felt off.

Then there were those two mysterious Inquisitors. Appearing out of nowhere and jumping them in the alley when they'd gone to leave. Couple that with their terrifying brush with Vader and the emperor at the senate, and Caleb was looking forward to getting off Coruscant now more than ever.

Ferus pushed away from the senator's desk and leaned back in his seat. "Is everything alright?" his master asked him. "You seem on edge."

Caleb sighed. "Yeah ... Just itching to leave this place."

"I know what you mean," Ferus agreed. "I don't think I'll ever willingly return to Coruscant. At least, not before the Empire is gone."

"That's just it though, isn't it, Master?" Caleb said. "The Empire isn't going anywhere soon. Not while Darth Vader and the emperor are still around."

"The shadow of the dark side blankets this city, Caleb. Be careful not to get dragged down under it." Ferus rose from his seat and took hold of Caleb's shoulders. His touch felt warm, heavy—reassuring. "I know it is difficult to see through all of this darkness," he said. "That is how Sidious defeated the Jedi to begin with. But you must try to keep your balance. Focus on the positives, Caleb. Be mindful of your thoughts."

Caleb felt his jaw tighten. "But what positives are left for us to focus on? The Jedi Order is gone. The temple is gone. Along with all the Jedi who once called it home. For all we know, we could be the last."

Tightening his grip on his shoulders, Ferus shook his head. "Only... we're not the last," he said firmly, trying to break through his sudden bout of melancholy. "You already know this. Obi-wan is still out there, and so is the Jedi Senator Organa has been liaising with. Plus, we know of at least four that went after Vader on Kashyyyk. One of them survived. There could be even more still, hiding somewhere out in the galaxy like us, waiting for the right moment."

"You forgot about Jaina," Caleb said, dropping his gaze to the floor. "She's still out there, too."

"Yes, and Jaina," Ferus agreed. He gave a resigned sigh. "And I promise ... once we leave here and are safe back at the base, we will do our best to find her, okay?"

Caleb sniffed, lifted his gaze to meet his master's, and silently nodded.

Ferus tapped his hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Come on," he said, steering him away from the desk. "Let's go for a walk. The fresh air will do us some good."

"Fresh air?" Caleb echoed with a grimace. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"

The sound of his master's heartfelt laugh lifted his spirits, and they both headed for the suite exit. They opened the door to the hallway and stopped. Directly across from them, the turbo-lift whooshed open and a familiar black uniformed figure blocked their path.

"Hello again, boys," the Seventh Sister said, bracing her hands on either side of the lift. "Did you miss me?"

It had been almost thirty minutes since they had been admitted into the emperor's antechamber, and Padmé noted Bail was on his tenth lap of the office.

"What's keeping him?" Senator Danu asked, dressed in his pearly white hat and robes, sitting to the left of Senator Breemu.

"I'll bet he's pulling out again," Bail grumbled, stopping his pace to glare at the doors. "I told you he would do this."

Padmé shook her head at him. Palpatine was in the next room. She could feel his oppressive presence. He was probably stalling for time, trying to draw out their wait to increase their discomfort. She expelled an exasperated breath. "Bail, sit down," she said. "Your pacing is making me nauseous."

Organa jerked to face her. "Aren't you worried, Padmé? Or even the slightest bit nervous?"

Strangely enough, she wasn't. She was past being ready to confront Palpatine, their earlier altercation in the hall only strengthening her resolve. Now it was his turn to squirm. "No, I'm not," Padmé said matter-of-factly. "He is the one who should be nervous."

A tremor surged in her belly and Padmé looked to the door. It was time, she could feel it.

"What makes you so certain?" Bail asked.

Padmé rose from her seat and strode toward Bail. She stood between him and the doors and stared determinedly into his questioning brown eyes. "All those who gain power are afraid to lose it, Bail," she said darkly. "And that balance of power is about to shift."

The Viceroy frowned, his interrogatory stare; deepening. He lowered his voice, as if suddenly afraid to speak. "Shift to whom, Padmé?"

She held his stare for a long moment. The doors to Palpatine's office slid open, and Padmé turned to see the blue face of Mas Amedda standing in the entrance.

"The emperor will see you now," the Chagrian Vizier said. "Your bodyguard will need to wait out here. The rest of you, if you will all follow me."

Caleb ran back into the suite, heart hammering in his chest. Ferus turned and locked the blast door behind them.

"How did she find us?" Caleb asked, stopping in front of the twin sofas to catch his breath.

"She must have tracked us here," Ferus said. He grabbed hold of Caleb's arm and hurriedly dragged him across the room. They dropped to crouch behind the senator's desk.

"Tracked us?" Caleb asked, then thought back to their scuffle in the alleyway. He remembered the Seventh Sister swinging her arm like she'd thrown something back when they'd taken off in the speeder. He turned to Ferus. "The speeder!" he said. "She tracked the speeder!"

His back pressed hard against the desk, Ferus glanced to the window ahead of them and grunted. "It doesn't matter," he said. "She's here now, and this apartment is too small for us to mount an effective defence." He turned to stare at Caleb. "We need to get out of here."

The acrid stench of burning durasteel and the thrumming hiss of a lightsaber filled the air. Caleb jerked up to see over the desk, saw the super-heated tip of the Seventh Sister's scarlet blade cutting a circle through the door. He dropped behind the desk again. "But how? That door is our only way out!"

"Yes..." Ferus muttered, staring at the window again.

Caleb traced his gaze, caught the impression of his master's thoughts, and snorted. "The window? No, you can't be serious. Do you know how high up we are?"

Ferus jumped to his feet, ignited his lightsaber, then turned to glare at him. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Well..." Caleb glanced left and right—pointlessly. He huffed. "Not really. No."

The sizzling sound stopped. A second later, the heavy thud of durasteel hitting the floor shook the suite. Ferus swung his head toward the sound's origin, his expression pained, face pale. Caleb lurched to his feet beside his master. Through the gaping hole that was once the door, Caleb saw the Seventh Sister. She stepped through the hole and into the apartment, the glowing blood-red blade of her lightsaber still hanging at her side.

"Surrender, Jedi," she said in her robotic voice. "There is no escape."

Caleb blinked, and in a sudden flash of blue, saw his Master turn and slash at the wall sized window behind them with his lightsaber. The transparisteel shattered, spraying shards of broken glass out into the open air and onto the streets below. Ferus grabbed for the frame as a freak gust of wind tore through the apartment, ripping holo-pictures from walls and scattering sheets of flimsi over the suite. Caleb yelled at him, "Master!"

Ferus yelled back. "There's no time, Caleb. We have to jump!"

The Seventh Sister called over the wind. "You cannot run, boys," she taunted, and Caleb turned back to her. She stalked across the Viceroy's apartment, lifting her lightsaber high and extending the second blade. The blade started to spin. "This city belongs to the Sith," she hissed. "There's nowhere we won't find you."

As if stuck in slow motion, Caleb watched the Inquisitor hurl her lightsaber across the room, the spinning red rotor of death cutting the air, slicing through everything in its path and tearing the suite to shreds.

"Caleb, now!" Ferus yelled. He spun around and jumped.

Pulled from his stupor, Caleb jerked into motion. He ducked down just in time to avoid the wheeling lightsaber sailing over his head, then dove out the window straight after his master.

Emperor Palpatine rapped his fingers on his desk. On the small document reader before him was a notice of intention to withdraw, referring to the petition originally presented by the traitorous Delegation of Two Thousand. Accompanying the notice was a copy of the original petition and an amended signatory list. Palpatine considered the submission.

Perhaps the greatest advantage to being a master manipulator was that one could easily recognise when oneself was being manipulated. And this was a power play for certain. He could call it out, of course, put an end to the attempt before it took effect. But sometimes it was more beneficial to let things run their due course, see how events played out. Plus, it had been too long since he'd had any proper sort of mental challenge. This one could prove to be ... entertaining.

He lifted his hooded eyes from the reader and turned his attention to the four senators seated across from him. Through the Force, he could feel their nervousness and apprehension. But there was another sensation churning in the Force: a powerful determination laced with the dark side. And it was coming from the senator sat directly opposite his desk.

Padmé Amidala.

His apprentice's wife was staring at him, a defiant sparkle glittering in her eyes. Credit to her, though, the expression she wore was as blank as the face plate of her own husband's mask. On her left sat Bail Organa, still wearing his grey-blue tunic coat, his perfectly manicured hands tightly knotted together in his lap. In the seat to her right was a dark-skinned human male, Giddean Danu, the senator for Kuat. And in the seat next to him: the petite female Humbarine senator, Bana Breemu.

Both Danu and Breemu were of no concern to Palpatine. They were too skittish to present any risk on their own. Organa and Amidala, ... if left to their own devices, could each pose a genuine threat to both him and his Empire.

Steepling his hands upon his desk, Palpatine returned his gaze to Amidala, sensing she was once again the main spokesperson for this little committee, and smiled. "Well, this is indeed an interesting development," Palpatine said. "And I have your personal guarantee, Senator Amidala, that those listed on this document now swear full allegiance to this Empire?"

Amidala didn't flinch. She matched his stare and held her composure. "All members still living and able to be contacted—Yes," Amidala said. "The signatory list has been updated to reflect more recent events regarding current member activity."

Palpatine went back to the document reader. He scrolled through the list of names ... and at the very top of that list—

Senator Fang Zar, Hon. Representative for Sern Prime: EXECUTED.

The next name itemised—

Senator Nee Alavar, Hon. Representative for Lorrd: EXECUTED.

He scrolled on, found more names annotated with similar descriptions before reaching the actual signatures. Palpatine clicked his tongue in annoyance. "So I see...," he said, switching off the document reader. He pushed it to one side and called Mas Amedda to his desk. "Vizier. Review this."

"Yes, my emperor." The blue Chagrian grabbed for the reader. He took the small terminal, disappeared into a side office, and closed the door.

Palpatine leaned back in his chair, wrapped his fingers over the ends of both armrests. Now he understood the point Amidala was making. She was accusing him of having these senators executed and was attempting to delegitimize his ability to do so. It was a very cunning—and albeit, very effective plan.

"Emperor Palpatine," Amidala interjected, as if sensing his thoughts. "Please understand... all we are interested in is peace. Procuring stability for our homeworlds and ensuring the safety and well-being of our families has always been our primary concern."

The way she said families did not escape his notice. He suspected this action had more to do with Vader than she was letting on.

"I understand a great many things, Senator," Palpatine hissed. "And I assure you ... once the legitimacy of this recall has been properly assessed, I will endeavour to have it dealt with accordingly."

The door to the side office opened, and Mas Amedda returned to his side. He placed the document reader back on his desk. "It is an admissible recall, my emperor," the Chagrian said.

"As I expected," Palpatine mused out loud. His apprentice's wife was never anything but meticulous in preparing legal motions. He nodded to the Chagrian. "Thank you, Vizier."

Palpatine turned his attention back to Amidala and her consort. Her chin was inclined, and there was a daring gleam in her eyes. It was an expression of challenge, an invitation for Palpatine to reveal his next move. He was not about to disappoint her.

"Vizier..." Palpatine called out, keeping his gaze firmly planted on Amidala. "See that this recall is processed. I want all re-percussive actions to be ended—immediately."

The blue Chagrian acknowledged the order, disappeared inside the side office and again closed the door. When he was gone, Palpatine smiled at his apprentice's wife. He then allowed his gaze to slowly drift across the other three senators. The echo of victory rang from them through the Force; with them clearly thinking they had won this round. And perhaps, to a degree, they had. But Palpatine had other weapons at his disposal, and he was not afraid to use them.

He rose from his seat, his mind made up. "Well... the hour is late," Palpatine said, picking the document reader back up. He brandished it in the air like a weapon. "And you have given me much to think about. Now, unless there is something further you wish to add, Senators, I shall call this meeting ended."

Amidala rose from her chair and the three other senators followed her lead. She gave a mock smile and gently dipped her head. "On behalf of the former Delegation of Two Thousand," she said, "I thank you, Emperor, for taking time out of your busy schedule to discuss this matter."

Palpatine smiled back at her just as mockingly. "It was my pleasure, Senator Amidala," he purred, knowing she would hear the dark threat in his tone. "Ensuring the unity of this Empire is my primary concern. We must all work together if we are to achieve this. After all, without unity, there is only chaos."

They filed out, his apprentice's wife leading her followers to the exit. When they reached the main door, Palpatine straightened and called out to her.

"Senator Amidala."

She stopped, allowed the others to pass, and silently turned to face him.

"A word in private, if you wouldn't mind?"

Eyeing him cautiously, she nodded. "Of course."

Hearing this, the Alderaanian Viceroy returned to her side and put his hand on her arm. She shook him off. "I will catch up with you later," Amidala said, dismissing him.

Organa briefly glanced between her and Palpatine. He hesitated a long moment, then begrudgingly followed the others from his office. Palpatine used the Force to wave the door closed behind him. When Amidala returned to her seat, they both sat down and permitted their official masks of cordiality to slip free.

Padmé glared at him from across the desk ... and Darth Sidious glared straight back. This was no longer Senator versus the Emperor. No, this was the wife of Darth Vader, and his Sith Master. And they were about to go head-to-head.

"Now, Padmé, my dear..." Sidious said, leaning forward and clasping his hands together upon his desk. "I think it's time you and I... had a little talk."

Rushing air whistled in Caleb's ears. Through the roar, he heard the distant thrum and whine of passing speeders traversing the sky lanes. Keeping his eyes glued to the rippling brown waves of his Master's robe, Caleb watched on helplessly as Ferus hurtled down the side of the building. Window after window flew past, the streets below getting ever closer—and fast. A loud chirp sounded from his comm, and Caleb fought the air lashing at his limbs to activate it.

"Caleb!" his Master's voice echoed over the comm—He was yelling over the wind. "There's a hangar built into the base of the complex. Follow my lead. Use the Force to pull yourself into it."

"Yes Master," Caleb answered, squinting at the base of the building, looking for the hangar he was talking about. More windows passed him by, blurred with the cold grey duracrete of the skyscraper's anterior walls. Ten metres below him, Ferus thrust his hand out, the ensuing pulse through the Force letting Caleb know they were approaching the end of their fall. His master veered right, altered the trajectory of his descent—

And ahead of him, Caleb spotted the hangar. It looked like a gaping trapezoidal hole built into the wall, a small platform jutting out to the side of it. Calling on the Force, Caleb pushed out his hand and focused on the hangar.

He landed cat-footed on the platform, the Force cushioning his impact. Straightening, he ran to join his master. Ferus was hurriedly looking around the hangar, possibly for a speeder to commandeer, possibly for somewhere to hide. Caleb stopped alongside him.

The giant hangar was largely abandoned, save for two technicians manning the command console. Thanks to the emperor's meeting, most of the Senators who lived at the apartment complex were still working at the rotunda. That left Caleb and his Master with their pick of the transports. Speeders of all makes and models were docked against the left wall, decorated in a variety of different colours. To the far-right of the central command console were a few larger, box-shaped personnel and cargo transports.

A male voice echoed from somewhere in the distance, and Caleb and his Master quickly ducked down to hide behind a yellow Soro–suub speeder. The voice was vaguely familiar, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. Caleb peered over the speeder's bonnet and stared across the hangar.

A tall man emerged from behind the command console, wearing a black, double-breasted military jacket with two bright blue emblems attached to his shoulders. His brown hair was split in two; half hanging loose around his neck, the other half tied atop his head. Walking beside him was a silver protocol droid and a small woman—possibly an aide.

"Garm Bel Iblis," Ferus whispered.

Caleb glanced across his shoulder to his master. "The Corellian senator? Do you think he can help us?"

Ferus shrugged. "I've seen Bail talking to him a few times over holo-comm; they seemed close enough. It's worth a shot."

"That's good enough for me," Caleb said, jumping to his feet. "I'm not hanging around here waiting for psycho-sister to show up."

"Nor I," his master agreed.

They took off across the hangar and bolted toward the Corellian Senator, but the man must have heard their approach. Within seconds of them getting within speaking range, the senator shoved the small woman toward the idling transport. Then, he spun around, drew his blaster and levelled the weapon at the two incoming Jedi.

"Stop right there!" Bel Iblis demanded.

Caleb and his Master threw their hands up and skidded to a stop.

"Senator Iblis," Ferus called, lowering his hands. "Please, we need your help."

"Do I know you?" the man countered, frowning.

"We're friends of Bail Organa," Caleb added, following his Master's lead. "I am Caleb Dume, and this is my Master; Ferus Olin."

Bel Iblis lowered his blaster and holstered it. "So... you're the two Jedi Organa keeps telling me about. He shouldn't have brought you here. Coruscant is where Jedi come to die."

"Yes, we are aware of that now," Ferus said sharply. He started toward the Senator. "We're being hunted, and we were hoping you might be kind enough to give us a lift."

The Corellian senator looked to his transport as if seeking counsel, then let out a heaving sigh. He shook his head. "My wife is going to kill me for this," he muttered. "Hurry up and get inside," he said, waving them over. "There's a secret compartment up back. You can hide in there."

Caleb and his Master ran for the transport. The instant they reached the boarding ramp, a loud rumbling sounded from the hangar entrance and they froze. A glossy black speeder had docked on the outer platform and a looming figure dressed in black lumbered out.

"Oh great, he's here too?" Caleb groaned, staring at the other Inquisitor they knew as the Fifth Brother.

"And I'll bet your girlfriend's not far behind," Ferus said, shoving him up the ramp. "Now hurry up!"

They reached the back of the transport and Caleb dropped to lift the secret hatch in the floor. He wrinkled his nose. It smelled like whiskey and spice and rotting flesh all mixed together. "I think the last person Bel Iblis helped might have died in here," Caleb groaned. "It smells awful."

"Just get inside!" Ferus growled, and gave him a hard push in the back. "You can be squeamish later."

Clambering down into the stinking dark floor compartment, Caleb wriggled over, gave his Master room to climb in beside him. Then, they used the Force to secure the baseplate back on top. Seconds later a commotion sounded from outside. Bel Iblis was yelling at someone, using that authoritative tone senators always used when demanding respect.

The Seventh Sister exited the turbo-lift and strode out into the hangar. She'd followed the Jedi's Force signatures here, but to her bitter disappointment, had apparently lost them. The rumbling sound of engines echoed from across the way, and she glanced toward the hangar exit. Their black speeder sat idling on the platform. Blast it! The Fifth Brother had beaten her here.

"Have you seen these two Jedi?" she heard his voice ask. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the command centre. She ran to the centralised bunker and peered around the wall.

The Fifth Brother was talking to some human Senator preparing to leave in his transport. The male Senator sounded hostile and didn't seem very interested in cooperating. Fifth Brother was fast losing patience with the man.

"Yes, I've seen them," the dark-haired man said gruffly, folding his arms over his chest. "But I'm not saying a word until you move that giant scrap heap off our platform."

Fifth Brother noticeably bristled at his response. "I will move it after you answer my question," he said.

"This is a private hangar, reserved for Senatorial residents only," the Senator snapped, not backing down. "You are trespassing on Imperial Government property. As an official representative of the Senate, I demand you move that speeder out of my way before I call the authorities."

Clenching his fists, the Fifth Brother growled at the man threateningly. If he kept this up, there was a very real chance their witness would try to make a break for it, possibly getting himself killed in the process. Seventh Sister was certain her master would not be pleased if that happened. Determined to take control of the situation, she abandoned her spying place and strode toward them.

"Now, now... you heard the man, Fifth Brother," the Seventh Sister said, moving to stand beside her counterpart. "There's no need for hostilities. Go move the speeder—I will handle this."

Fifth Brother growled at her. "I know he saw them," he said, his black eyes glaring.

"Yes. He admitted as such," the Seventh Sister said. "And the good Senator has requested that you move the speeder before he tells us."

Grunting, the Fifth Brother turned and strode back to their ship.

"Now, Senator..." the Seventh Sister said, turning back to the man, "you said that you saw the Jedi. Where did they go?"

The dark-haired man pointed to a large, dimly lit tunnel at the far end of the hangar. He was seemingly more responsive to her more civil manner of questioning. "They took off down there—looked like they were heading for the basement," he said. "Blasted Jedi. I caught them trying to steal one of the speeders. Nearly took out my droid in their rush to escape."

Well, that wasn't so difficult. Seventh Sister nodded to the man. "Thank you, Senator. You have been most helpful," she said. Then, she twisted, and sprinted toward the tunnel.

"Your friends are gone," Bel Iblis's voice came over the transport intercom. "Strap yourselves in gentlemen, it's about to get bumpy."

Feeling the vibration of the engines growing stronger, Caleb braced himself against the inner wall, trying to give his Master lying beside him enough space to breathe comfortably. It was easier said than done. The crawl space was cramped, and the smell was near on intolerable, the foul stench causing his already unsettled stomach to surge and churn in protest. Caleb groaned.

"Brace yourselves," Bel Iblis called out again, his voice muffled by the thick floor-coverings securing the hidden compartment. "I'll let you know when it's safe to come out.

Caleb considered answering the Senator, but soon thought better of it. Where was the point? He probably wouldn't be able to hear them buried inside here, anyway. He groaned again and tried to get comfortable. A moment later, the transport shuddered, and the familiar feeling of inertia swept over him as they departed the hangar. Seconds after that, the engines roared into life, and they blasted off into the bustling Coruscanti sky.

Darth Sidious leaned back in his seat; his gnarled fingers methodically tapping on the armrests, his glowing eyes studying the Nabooian Senator sat before his desk. Padmé Amidala Skywalker held her head high, her confident stare meeting his own without fear—looking ever the true wife of a Sith Lord. The dark side of the Force emanated from within her, the subtle tremor of power rippling between the two of them with surprising intensity.

Well aware the woman was not naturally gifted with the Force; Darth Sidious could only surmise the tremors were in-fact coming from the child growing inside her. He could take her back to the palace of course, conduct further tests to find out for certain ... but he knew his apprentice would be violently opposed to such an idea. Still... the prospect of securing an actual prodigy of the Sith was beyond tempting. However, losing his powerful new apprentice—as emotionally and physically damaged as he was—was a steep price even Sidious wasn't willing to pay.

Perhaps attachment was an affliction he and Vader had both become infected with. Or perhaps it was some long-suffering symptom owed to the many years they'd spent in each other's company. After all, Sidious had practically raised Vader. He had taken him under his wing as a young child and mentored him, patiently grooming him over the years to prepare for his destiny.

This woman had the potential to undo everything.

Sidious rose from his seat and walked around to stand on Amidala's side of his desk. "I must say... that was well-played, my dear," he said, resting back casually. "You are a much shrewder politician than I gave you credit for. I believe you manipulated my hand on that matter rather well."

Padmé pushed further into her seat and crossed her arms. "Yes, well I did learn from the best," she retorted.

Sidious cackled with feral glee. "So you did," he agreed. How right she was. After Padmé had served her two terms as Queen, and he had replaced Finis Valorum as the new Supreme Chancellor, Sidious had mentored her in her new position as Senator for their homeworld of Naboo. Mentored her perhaps a little too well for his own good.

"And now what is your plan?" Sidious inquired. "You do realise that no-one is beyond my reach? Not even you."

She gave him a contemptuous grin. "Come now, Palpatine... We both know you can no longer touch me," Padmé said.

At first her confidence had amused Sidious. Now his patience was wearing thin. He dug his fingernails into his desk and sneered. "Is that so?"

"Yes," she said knowingly. "You know my husband's power is growing. You've felt it yourself—I know you have. And now you're afraid of him. You're afraid because I am still here when I should be dead. You're fearful, that because of me, he is going to suddenly wake up to all the lies you've filled his head with, and decide to strike out against you."

Sidious gritted his teeth and shoved away from his desk. Needing to distance himself, he strode over to the transparisteel wall and turned his gaze to the cityscape outside of his office. He took a deep breath, then clenched his jaw tight. "This is a dangerous game you are playing at, my dear," Sidious hissed. "You wouldn't be so confident if it weren't for your friends."

"My friends have nothing to do with this," Padmé said. "You blackmailed me into joining this game. I am simply playing by the rules."

Feeling his lip twitch, Sidious whirled to glare at her. "The rules?" he scoffed. "You are mistaken. There are no rules," he snarled venomously. "I make the rules. How supportive do you think your friends would be... if I were to publicly announce the truth of your marriage to Lord Vader? If I were to reveal to the masses that the two of you are now expecting a child together?"

Finally, he got a reaction. Padmé's eyes went wide for an instant. Then, her expression hardened. She lurched up from her seat and stabbed the air with her finger. "You wouldn't do that!" she protested. "You would humanise your own enforcer and expose his sole vulnerability. That would only create an opportunity for your enemies to strike out against you.

"Admit it, Palpatine! You need Anakin," she spat, thrusting her hands onto her hips. "In order to maintain stability and obedience in your Empire, you must appear to remain benevolent and uphold your integrity. That's why you need Anakin so badly. You need him to do your dirty work for you."

Sidious had to fight the urge to choke the living daylights out of her. How dare she speak to him in such a manner? Whether what she was saying was accurate. Fine! She wanted to play dirty? Well, two could play at that game. And unfortunately for her, dirty was his specialty.

He lowered his voice and pushed the full power of the dark side through his words, showing her the true nature of the being she was really dealing with. "I'm warning you, my dear... I will turn him against you," he hissed, feeling the electric energy of the Force charging his fingers. "I know what you are planning, Padmé," Sidious said, "and let me make this very clear..."

Striding around his desk, he forced her to back step until her legs hit the chair, then leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching. "When you return ... Lord Vader will be mine. Even your seductive little ways will not be enough to separate him from me."

Padmé continued to defiantly glare up at him, fearful, but apparently not enough to back down. "It doesn't matter what you do to him, Palpatine," she said, her voice notably quieter and more subdued than before. "Or whatever horrific crimes you order him to commit ... I will still be here fighting for him."

Sidious narrowed his gaze at the woman, then balled his hands into fists and forced himself to step away. "We will see..." he said darkly, making his way back to the window. "We will see."

In the reflection of his office in the transparisteel, Sidious watched his apprentice's wife walk away and head for the door. Just as she was about to exit, she stopped and turned back to face him.

"And just so you know, My Lord," Padmé hissed, with that same viperous tone she'd used earlier on in the hall. "You are never getting your hands on my child." Then, she spun on her heel, stormed from his office and closed the doors behind her.