Chapter XXIX - Under Arrest
The two strike teams collided at the doorway to the bridge. While Anakin and his team were trying to get in, the second group was trying their hardest to get out.
"Where are you going?" demanded Brigham. "This puppy's gonna blow any minute!"
"I'm here to prevent that," Anakin replied. "Where's Artoo?"
The astromech beeped his willingness to help and made his way to the self-destruct mechanism. Anakin threw open a panel and studied the wiring.
"Well?" demanded Liz.
"Give me a minute," he replied. "I think I can deactivate it, but the only method I know to bypass the broken switch takes at least five minutes. The mechanism goes off in three."
"I say we evacuate," Mike suggested, heading for the door.
Artoo plugged himself into a computer outlet, humming to himself as he reviewed the Executor's computer. After a minute he whistled something to Anakin.
"Thanks," he replied, ripping a wire out of its socket. "Artoo's found a shortcut!"
Everyone held their breath as, with guidance from Artoo, Anakin rerouted the computer circuits. Red numerals on the display counted down the seconds as the two of them worked furiously against the clock.
"Why are we trying to save this hulk in the first place?" asked Emily. "It makes more sense to just get off."
"The bond between a man and his ship is not one to be taken lightly," Han replied.
"Thirty seconds remaining!" shrieked Cody.
"We didn't need to know that!" barked Li.
There was a loud click from the console, and the numbers froze at 0:25 and disappeared. Anakin sighed deeply and shut the panel.
"Back to Star City," he announced. "I'd like the remaining stormtroopers to inform all on board that the Executor is officially an Alliance ship, and any men who will not join the Alliance are to be imprisoned."
"Yes, sir," TK-577 replied, and he and the others marched briskly away.
"That was close," panted Conrad.
"No, that was idiotic!" Fett snapped. "We should've just evacuated!"
"This ship has been my home for twenty years," Anakin replied coolly. "She's a magnificent vessel, and I'm not about to let her go down in flames. You feel much the same way about your own ship, do you not?"
Fett grumbled under his breath but didn't argue.
Artoo tootled merrily.
"Yes, you saved the day," Luke huffed. "And I'm sure we're going to hear about it every day for the rest of our lives."
The main passenger hold of the Falcon had been turned into a makeshift medical bay. Amethyst's leg had been swathed in bacta wraps and splinted to keep her from further stressing the burned tissues. Zack was making a dramatic production of his wounds, though everyone agreed the burns weren't deep enough to be life-threatening. Fett helped Anakin and Jason tend to Patrick's wounds with his good arm.
"I'm surprised to see you, Fett," Anakin remarked as he smoothed bacta gel onto a neck wound. "I thought you had no desire to get involved in the Civil War."
Fett shrugged, hissing as the injudicious movement pulled injured sinews in his arm. "You promised me a reward. I don't intend to leave this world until I receive it."
"Right," Anakin remarked with a knowing nod. "By the way, I have a message for you."
"From whom?" asked Fett.
"Jango Fett."
He looked up from applying a bandage, startled.
"He's very proud of you," he went on. "But he wants you to quit wallowing in the past."
The hunter nodded slowly. "When did you see him? Was it a vision?"
"Patrick!" screamed Jason. "He's not breathing!"
Anakin grabbed Patrick's wrist to make certain he still had a pulse. "He's in deep shock. Jason, start rescue breathing! Fett, tell Han to contact Lucas and have an ambulance ready on landing!"
Fett ran for the cockpit while Jason tipped his brother's head back and clamped his mouth over his.
Anakin delved into the Force, feeling Patrick's wounds, judging their severity. The burns themselves wouldn't kill him, but the shock would if nothing was done to correct it. He slipped deeper into meditation, becoming one with Patrick's life Force.
Patrick's heart was pumping blood to his extremities, trying to keep tissues in the limbs alive. But his internal organs weren't receiving the supply they desperately needed and were shutting down. Anakin sought to correct this, adjusting the blood flow to his vital systems. Sweat beaded on his forehead -- healing was not a task Jedi undertook lightly.
Patrick's chest gave a sudden heave, and Jason turned him quickly on his side as he vomited. He took a few deep breaths, then opened his eyes.
"That was weird," he commented before passing out again.
Anakin lowered Patrick's hand as weakness swept through him. "Keep him warm and elevate his feet. That should prevent a second occurrence. He can't go into shock again."
"Thanks, Anakin," Jason said gratefully.
"Star City dead ahead!" called Han. "I'm landing now. Stang, what happened here? Looks like a bombing site!"
The citizens of Star City watched in awe as the Millennium Falcon touched down in the convention center plaza. Firefighters and construction workers were beginning the laborious process of cleaning up debris, and yellow police tape kept curious passerby away from the ruins. The morning light shone upon still-smoking rubble, the filthy blackened fountain, and dazed fans who shuffled about aimlessly as if lost. A trio of ambulances and a news crew awaited the Falcon's passengers.
"Get lost!" Liz ordered the newscaster who got in her face. "We've got casualties here! Where's the EMTs when you need them?"
Paramedics boarded the ship, bringing out the injured on stretchers. Upon seeing Anakin and Diana's injuries, they asked that they accompany them to the hospital for treatment.
As the ambulances streaked away, sirens blaring, the rest of the Elite surveyed the damage done to the convention center. The Paris France Outpost of the 501st stood solemnly before the ruined building, heads bowed as if they were attending a funeral. A Rebel trooper cradled a chrome-plated chunk of one of the spires in his lap, turning it over in his hands. A Fett impersonator was arguing with a newscaster, while a female Jedi sat on the edge of the fountain and wept, absently running her fingers through the stagnant, ash-filled water.
"If Palpatine weren't already dead, I'd kill him for this," hissed Darcy.
"It's a shame," Li said. "It was a beautiful building."
"What are all the fans going to do without a convention center?" asked Han.
"I don't know," replied Austin. "I just don't know."
After a moment's reflection, they walked away. A bus would be by soon, and they could hitch a ride to the hospital.
Ten minutes later, a second ship touched down next to the Falcon. Immediately the media besieged it, climbing the landing ramp and swarming about the entrance. Guards had to force the crowds back to allow Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Commander Wedge Antilles, Commander-in-Chief Trigger, and Captain Dzi to disembark.
"This is madness," noted Ackbar.
"They probably haven't had much experience with off-worlders," Wedge replied. "Cut them some slack."
"Madam Mothma, what brings you to Earth?" a newsman asked.
"What's being done about the Empire?" a journalist demanded.
"I'm with the Free Press," another reporter informed her. "Will the Alliance help rebuild Star City's convention center and repair surrounding businesses?"
"Back off!" shouted a guard.
"We cannot anssswer quesssstionssss at thisssss time," Dzi answered. "We are looking for Lord Darth Vader, who isssss currently on your planet."
"If anyone has information regarding him, we'd be most grateful," Mothma added.
"He's at the Star City Medical Center getting his shoulder stitched," a Padme Amidala impersonator offered. "I'm a bus driver. I can take you there."
"Thank you, ma'am."
As the Alliance guards cleared a path for Mothma, she and her company piled into the vehicle. Just as Dzi was about to slither aboard, a teenager in Sith robes approached him.
"Hey, didn't I see you on 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?'" he asked.
Dzi regarded him blankly. "Not likely, sssssir," he replied before boarding the bus.
The fake Sith gaped. "Holy Sith spit, I'm a Parselmouth!"
"Yeesh, this bird is dry," grumped Amethyst, throwing her turkey sandwich back onto her tray. "Haven't these folks heard of basting?"
The Elite had gathered once again in the cafeteria of the local hospital, eating lunch and carrying on about their latest adventure. Lucas, Piett, and Sparky had rejoined them, Sparky with a gauze bandage taped to his forehead to cover his stitches. Amethyst wore a cast on her leg, and Zack had his shirt off and was bragging about how he had gotten his wound, which was invisible beneath a cocoon of white gauze. Fett's arm hung in a sling, a condition he didn't appear to be too happy about. Everyone else had gotten off pretty lightly, with a handful of members treated for minor burns or given stitches. Only Patrick, who had been flown to a burn unit in Denver, was missing.
"They say his prognosis is very good," Jason informed everyone once he was off his cell phone. "He'll be sent home in a few days and have some interesting scars to brag about."
"The day I hear Patrick brag will be the day banthas fly," Luke laughed.
"I got stitches!" Trapper bragged. "Who wants to see?"
"No!" Leia replied quickly. "We believe you."
"Three cheers to Anakin Skywalker!" declared Austin, holding up his soda can. "For bringing balance to the Force! For saving Trapper and Rachel! And for defeating the Empire! Kudos!"
Anakin waved the praise away. "Without you -- all of you -- I could not have done anything against the Emperor. Without Luke, I would still be serving him. And without the help of the Elite, the FBI agents, and Lucas, I wouldn't have survived the encounter."
"Fettster, how's the arm?" asked Zack.
"Broken wrist bones, dislocated shoulder, and just about every major tendon and ligament either sprained or torn," Fett replied. "I'll be in this wretched cast for eight weeks."
"They couldn't do a complete physical on him, the stubborn nerf herder," Liz added. "If he would have just buckled down and taken off the stupid..."
"I don't remove my helmet for just anyone," Fett replied. "And besides the arm I know I'm healthy. I'm not letting some stupid medic..."
"Oopsie!" Cody interrupted. "Guess who just walked in?"
"The President?" asked Emily.
"Nuh-uh, bigger."
Marching into the cafeteria were Mon Mothma and several of the Alliance's military leaders. Piett looked as if he wished he could crawl under a table. Luke, Leia, and Han stood in respect while the Elite just stared. The nurse and patient who were sitting at a table not far away lost no time in making themselves scarce.
"Lady Mothma, did you get my message..." began Piett.
"You are in a great deal of trouble, Piett," Mothma told him.
"But my lady, the children were in danger!" Piett protested. "I had to act..."
"We'll deal with you later," she cut in. Locking eyes with Anakin, she said "Darth Vader, I place you under arrest for crimes against humanity."
"Now just a fraggin' minute!" protested Austin, standing.
"This isn't your business," Mothma told him.
"It's every bit our business," Lucas replied. "This is taking place on our planet, so we have some say in what happens."
"First off, Miss Mothma, his name's Anakin Skywalker, not Darth Vader," Darcy told the Rebel leader. "You gotta get this right, 'cause he's on the light side now..."
"Skywalker?" repeated Wedge, shooting Luke a curious glance. "A relative of yours?"
Luke steeled himself. "He's my father. Leia's, too."
Mothma's face went white. "All this time, we've had the son and daughter of Vader in our midst..."
"Mothma, I had no idea he was my father until I came here!" Leia protested. "I was in no way affiliated with him before..."
"We'll disssscusssss thisssss later," Dzi interrupted. "It isssss trivial. Vader -- Anakin -- whoever he isssss mussssst come with ussssss."
"But he killed the Emperor!" protested Steve. "He rescued Trapper and Rachel! He helped defeat the Empire! He should be called a hero, not a criminal!"
"One day of heroism does not discount a lifetime of treachery," Ackbar replied. "He must answer for his crimes. He must be put on trial."
"But..." began Luke.
"Luke," Anakin told his son, "they're right. I'm afraid I must pay for my sins. It is the only way I can fully atone."
"Father, they'll kill you!" Leia cried.
"Or worse!" Cody gushed. "I've read the fan fics! Lots of them go into pretty graphic detail about how Anakin's punished by the Republic! Exile, execution, torture, lifetime imprisonment... you name it. This one I read, I forget the name, the Jedi step in and they strip him of the ability to use the Force! It was a nightmare!"
"Oh, that's 'Of Burdens and Choices' by Clarus," Liberty replied. "That was depressing. But Cody, you're overreacting."
"Who says I am?" Cody replied.
"Anakin's a member of the Alliance now," Liberty said calmly. "Isn't he? He sent in a request to join. I didn't think the Rebellion would reject such a potentially valuable ally."
"Normally we wouldn't," Mothma replied firmly. "But in Anakin's case, we cannot do that. If we were to allow a mass murderer in our ranks, it would be hypocrisy of the highest order."
"That didn't stop you from letting the Butcher of Malastare join," Fett pointed out. "Or do you think that, since he only slaughtered Imperials, he's an exception?"
Mothma's face was red now. "Come with us, Anakin," she snapped. "The trial will commence once we reach Corusant."
Anakin stood and embraced Leia, then Luke. "I love you both," he told them. "I want you to know that before I go. I do not know what will happen to me once I reach the capitol, but whatever happens, nothing can separate us. We are one in the Force."
The twins were in tears, but they did nothing to stop Anakin as he moved to follow the Allaince leaders.
Trigger sidled up beside Luke. "Mees'n muy muy sorry, Commander. But wes'n no have a choice."
Luke looked away. "I'm losing my father again, Trigger. I thought the Alliance would accept him. I thought they'd accept that he'd changed."
"Wes'n can't change what people be thinkin'," Trigger replied. "Mees'n father, Senator Binks, he died when mees'n be little, and it hurt bombad. Mees'n know a little how yousa be feelin'."
An angry hiss from Dzi attracted their attention.
"The doors won't open!" Ackbar complained.
"Commander Skywalker, let us through," ordered Mothma. "This must be done."
"I'm not doing it!" Luke protested.
"Don't look at me," Anakin added when Mothma glared at him.
"Guys?" Mike's voice came out in a squeak.
"What, Mike?" asked Sparky.
"I see dead people." He pointed to the other end of the cafeteria.
"Holy Hoth, what's going on here?" demanded Amethyst.
Transparent, faintly glowing figures gathered a few tables down. Standing before the group was Yoda, still clutching his gimer-stick cane. Other Jedi sat in chairs or stood around the table -- Obi-wan Kenobi, Qui-gon Jinn, Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, Ki- Adi-Mundi, Coleman Trebor, Eeth Koth, Adi Gaila, Yaddle, and many others, all either former members of the Jedi Council or somehow connected to Anakin.
Once all eyes were on them, Yoda rapped his cane on the floor.
"Mon Mothma, good your intentions are," he told her in his distinctive gravelly voice. "But your business Skywalker's fate is not."
"What do you mean?" asked Mothma. "And what are you doing here?"
"It was always the policy of the Old Republic to not intervene in Jedi affairs," Ki-Adi- Mundi replied.
"When a Jedi broke a law or overstepped his bounds, the Jedi Council would try and sentence him," Qui-gon explained, folding his arms. "Republic courts would only put Jedi on trial when a member of the Council had committed a crime, which was understandably rare."
"So you're saying the Jedi should handle Anakin's case?" asked Sparky. "But Luke's the last Jedi."
"And he's biased in favor of the accused," Mothma added. "Thus, I'm afraid the Alliance must intervene in this case."
"Must intervene?" Obi-wan repeated with an amused smile. "Why do you think we're here?"
"Uh, decoration?" Cody suggested.
"Shut up, Cody," Diana hissed.
"Jedi business this is," Yoda said sternly. "A trial we will give him. Here. Now."
The two strike teams collided at the doorway to the bridge. While Anakin and his team were trying to get in, the second group was trying their hardest to get out.
"Where are you going?" demanded Brigham. "This puppy's gonna blow any minute!"
"I'm here to prevent that," Anakin replied. "Where's Artoo?"
The astromech beeped his willingness to help and made his way to the self-destruct mechanism. Anakin threw open a panel and studied the wiring.
"Well?" demanded Liz.
"Give me a minute," he replied. "I think I can deactivate it, but the only method I know to bypass the broken switch takes at least five minutes. The mechanism goes off in three."
"I say we evacuate," Mike suggested, heading for the door.
Artoo plugged himself into a computer outlet, humming to himself as he reviewed the Executor's computer. After a minute he whistled something to Anakin.
"Thanks," he replied, ripping a wire out of its socket. "Artoo's found a shortcut!"
Everyone held their breath as, with guidance from Artoo, Anakin rerouted the computer circuits. Red numerals on the display counted down the seconds as the two of them worked furiously against the clock.
"Why are we trying to save this hulk in the first place?" asked Emily. "It makes more sense to just get off."
"The bond between a man and his ship is not one to be taken lightly," Han replied.
"Thirty seconds remaining!" shrieked Cody.
"We didn't need to know that!" barked Li.
There was a loud click from the console, and the numbers froze at 0:25 and disappeared. Anakin sighed deeply and shut the panel.
"Back to Star City," he announced. "I'd like the remaining stormtroopers to inform all on board that the Executor is officially an Alliance ship, and any men who will not join the Alliance are to be imprisoned."
"Yes, sir," TK-577 replied, and he and the others marched briskly away.
"That was close," panted Conrad.
"No, that was idiotic!" Fett snapped. "We should've just evacuated!"
"This ship has been my home for twenty years," Anakin replied coolly. "She's a magnificent vessel, and I'm not about to let her go down in flames. You feel much the same way about your own ship, do you not?"
Fett grumbled under his breath but didn't argue.
Artoo tootled merrily.
"Yes, you saved the day," Luke huffed. "And I'm sure we're going to hear about it every day for the rest of our lives."
The main passenger hold of the Falcon had been turned into a makeshift medical bay. Amethyst's leg had been swathed in bacta wraps and splinted to keep her from further stressing the burned tissues. Zack was making a dramatic production of his wounds, though everyone agreed the burns weren't deep enough to be life-threatening. Fett helped Anakin and Jason tend to Patrick's wounds with his good arm.
"I'm surprised to see you, Fett," Anakin remarked as he smoothed bacta gel onto a neck wound. "I thought you had no desire to get involved in the Civil War."
Fett shrugged, hissing as the injudicious movement pulled injured sinews in his arm. "You promised me a reward. I don't intend to leave this world until I receive it."
"Right," Anakin remarked with a knowing nod. "By the way, I have a message for you."
"From whom?" asked Fett.
"Jango Fett."
He looked up from applying a bandage, startled.
"He's very proud of you," he went on. "But he wants you to quit wallowing in the past."
The hunter nodded slowly. "When did you see him? Was it a vision?"
"Patrick!" screamed Jason. "He's not breathing!"
Anakin grabbed Patrick's wrist to make certain he still had a pulse. "He's in deep shock. Jason, start rescue breathing! Fett, tell Han to contact Lucas and have an ambulance ready on landing!"
Fett ran for the cockpit while Jason tipped his brother's head back and clamped his mouth over his.
Anakin delved into the Force, feeling Patrick's wounds, judging their severity. The burns themselves wouldn't kill him, but the shock would if nothing was done to correct it. He slipped deeper into meditation, becoming one with Patrick's life Force.
Patrick's heart was pumping blood to his extremities, trying to keep tissues in the limbs alive. But his internal organs weren't receiving the supply they desperately needed and were shutting down. Anakin sought to correct this, adjusting the blood flow to his vital systems. Sweat beaded on his forehead -- healing was not a task Jedi undertook lightly.
Patrick's chest gave a sudden heave, and Jason turned him quickly on his side as he vomited. He took a few deep breaths, then opened his eyes.
"That was weird," he commented before passing out again.
Anakin lowered Patrick's hand as weakness swept through him. "Keep him warm and elevate his feet. That should prevent a second occurrence. He can't go into shock again."
"Thanks, Anakin," Jason said gratefully.
"Star City dead ahead!" called Han. "I'm landing now. Stang, what happened here? Looks like a bombing site!"
The citizens of Star City watched in awe as the Millennium Falcon touched down in the convention center plaza. Firefighters and construction workers were beginning the laborious process of cleaning up debris, and yellow police tape kept curious passerby away from the ruins. The morning light shone upon still-smoking rubble, the filthy blackened fountain, and dazed fans who shuffled about aimlessly as if lost. A trio of ambulances and a news crew awaited the Falcon's passengers.
"Get lost!" Liz ordered the newscaster who got in her face. "We've got casualties here! Where's the EMTs when you need them?"
Paramedics boarded the ship, bringing out the injured on stretchers. Upon seeing Anakin and Diana's injuries, they asked that they accompany them to the hospital for treatment.
As the ambulances streaked away, sirens blaring, the rest of the Elite surveyed the damage done to the convention center. The Paris France Outpost of the 501st stood solemnly before the ruined building, heads bowed as if they were attending a funeral. A Rebel trooper cradled a chrome-plated chunk of one of the spires in his lap, turning it over in his hands. A Fett impersonator was arguing with a newscaster, while a female Jedi sat on the edge of the fountain and wept, absently running her fingers through the stagnant, ash-filled water.
"If Palpatine weren't already dead, I'd kill him for this," hissed Darcy.
"It's a shame," Li said. "It was a beautiful building."
"What are all the fans going to do without a convention center?" asked Han.
"I don't know," replied Austin. "I just don't know."
After a moment's reflection, they walked away. A bus would be by soon, and they could hitch a ride to the hospital.
Ten minutes later, a second ship touched down next to the Falcon. Immediately the media besieged it, climbing the landing ramp and swarming about the entrance. Guards had to force the crowds back to allow Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, Commander Wedge Antilles, Commander-in-Chief Trigger, and Captain Dzi to disembark.
"This is madness," noted Ackbar.
"They probably haven't had much experience with off-worlders," Wedge replied. "Cut them some slack."
"Madam Mothma, what brings you to Earth?" a newsman asked.
"What's being done about the Empire?" a journalist demanded.
"I'm with the Free Press," another reporter informed her. "Will the Alliance help rebuild Star City's convention center and repair surrounding businesses?"
"Back off!" shouted a guard.
"We cannot anssswer quesssstionssss at thisssss time," Dzi answered. "We are looking for Lord Darth Vader, who isssss currently on your planet."
"If anyone has information regarding him, we'd be most grateful," Mothma added.
"He's at the Star City Medical Center getting his shoulder stitched," a Padme Amidala impersonator offered. "I'm a bus driver. I can take you there."
"Thank you, ma'am."
As the Alliance guards cleared a path for Mothma, she and her company piled into the vehicle. Just as Dzi was about to slither aboard, a teenager in Sith robes approached him.
"Hey, didn't I see you on 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?'" he asked.
Dzi regarded him blankly. "Not likely, sssssir," he replied before boarding the bus.
The fake Sith gaped. "Holy Sith spit, I'm a Parselmouth!"
"Yeesh, this bird is dry," grumped Amethyst, throwing her turkey sandwich back onto her tray. "Haven't these folks heard of basting?"
The Elite had gathered once again in the cafeteria of the local hospital, eating lunch and carrying on about their latest adventure. Lucas, Piett, and Sparky had rejoined them, Sparky with a gauze bandage taped to his forehead to cover his stitches. Amethyst wore a cast on her leg, and Zack had his shirt off and was bragging about how he had gotten his wound, which was invisible beneath a cocoon of white gauze. Fett's arm hung in a sling, a condition he didn't appear to be too happy about. Everyone else had gotten off pretty lightly, with a handful of members treated for minor burns or given stitches. Only Patrick, who had been flown to a burn unit in Denver, was missing.
"They say his prognosis is very good," Jason informed everyone once he was off his cell phone. "He'll be sent home in a few days and have some interesting scars to brag about."
"The day I hear Patrick brag will be the day banthas fly," Luke laughed.
"I got stitches!" Trapper bragged. "Who wants to see?"
"No!" Leia replied quickly. "We believe you."
"Three cheers to Anakin Skywalker!" declared Austin, holding up his soda can. "For bringing balance to the Force! For saving Trapper and Rachel! And for defeating the Empire! Kudos!"
Anakin waved the praise away. "Without you -- all of you -- I could not have done anything against the Emperor. Without Luke, I would still be serving him. And without the help of the Elite, the FBI agents, and Lucas, I wouldn't have survived the encounter."
"Fettster, how's the arm?" asked Zack.
"Broken wrist bones, dislocated shoulder, and just about every major tendon and ligament either sprained or torn," Fett replied. "I'll be in this wretched cast for eight weeks."
"They couldn't do a complete physical on him, the stubborn nerf herder," Liz added. "If he would have just buckled down and taken off the stupid..."
"I don't remove my helmet for just anyone," Fett replied. "And besides the arm I know I'm healthy. I'm not letting some stupid medic..."
"Oopsie!" Cody interrupted. "Guess who just walked in?"
"The President?" asked Emily.
"Nuh-uh, bigger."
Marching into the cafeteria were Mon Mothma and several of the Alliance's military leaders. Piett looked as if he wished he could crawl under a table. Luke, Leia, and Han stood in respect while the Elite just stared. The nurse and patient who were sitting at a table not far away lost no time in making themselves scarce.
"Lady Mothma, did you get my message..." began Piett.
"You are in a great deal of trouble, Piett," Mothma told him.
"But my lady, the children were in danger!" Piett protested. "I had to act..."
"We'll deal with you later," she cut in. Locking eyes with Anakin, she said "Darth Vader, I place you under arrest for crimes against humanity."
"Now just a fraggin' minute!" protested Austin, standing.
"This isn't your business," Mothma told him.
"It's every bit our business," Lucas replied. "This is taking place on our planet, so we have some say in what happens."
"First off, Miss Mothma, his name's Anakin Skywalker, not Darth Vader," Darcy told the Rebel leader. "You gotta get this right, 'cause he's on the light side now..."
"Skywalker?" repeated Wedge, shooting Luke a curious glance. "A relative of yours?"
Luke steeled himself. "He's my father. Leia's, too."
Mothma's face went white. "All this time, we've had the son and daughter of Vader in our midst..."
"Mothma, I had no idea he was my father until I came here!" Leia protested. "I was in no way affiliated with him before..."
"We'll disssscusssss thisssss later," Dzi interrupted. "It isssss trivial. Vader -- Anakin -- whoever he isssss mussssst come with ussssss."
"But he killed the Emperor!" protested Steve. "He rescued Trapper and Rachel! He helped defeat the Empire! He should be called a hero, not a criminal!"
"One day of heroism does not discount a lifetime of treachery," Ackbar replied. "He must answer for his crimes. He must be put on trial."
"But..." began Luke.
"Luke," Anakin told his son, "they're right. I'm afraid I must pay for my sins. It is the only way I can fully atone."
"Father, they'll kill you!" Leia cried.
"Or worse!" Cody gushed. "I've read the fan fics! Lots of them go into pretty graphic detail about how Anakin's punished by the Republic! Exile, execution, torture, lifetime imprisonment... you name it. This one I read, I forget the name, the Jedi step in and they strip him of the ability to use the Force! It was a nightmare!"
"Oh, that's 'Of Burdens and Choices' by Clarus," Liberty replied. "That was depressing. But Cody, you're overreacting."
"Who says I am?" Cody replied.
"Anakin's a member of the Alliance now," Liberty said calmly. "Isn't he? He sent in a request to join. I didn't think the Rebellion would reject such a potentially valuable ally."
"Normally we wouldn't," Mothma replied firmly. "But in Anakin's case, we cannot do that. If we were to allow a mass murderer in our ranks, it would be hypocrisy of the highest order."
"That didn't stop you from letting the Butcher of Malastare join," Fett pointed out. "Or do you think that, since he only slaughtered Imperials, he's an exception?"
Mothma's face was red now. "Come with us, Anakin," she snapped. "The trial will commence once we reach Corusant."
Anakin stood and embraced Leia, then Luke. "I love you both," he told them. "I want you to know that before I go. I do not know what will happen to me once I reach the capitol, but whatever happens, nothing can separate us. We are one in the Force."
The twins were in tears, but they did nothing to stop Anakin as he moved to follow the Allaince leaders.
Trigger sidled up beside Luke. "Mees'n muy muy sorry, Commander. But wes'n no have a choice."
Luke looked away. "I'm losing my father again, Trigger. I thought the Alliance would accept him. I thought they'd accept that he'd changed."
"Wes'n can't change what people be thinkin'," Trigger replied. "Mees'n father, Senator Binks, he died when mees'n be little, and it hurt bombad. Mees'n know a little how yousa be feelin'."
An angry hiss from Dzi attracted their attention.
"The doors won't open!" Ackbar complained.
"Commander Skywalker, let us through," ordered Mothma. "This must be done."
"I'm not doing it!" Luke protested.
"Don't look at me," Anakin added when Mothma glared at him.
"Guys?" Mike's voice came out in a squeak.
"What, Mike?" asked Sparky.
"I see dead people." He pointed to the other end of the cafeteria.
"Holy Hoth, what's going on here?" demanded Amethyst.
Transparent, faintly glowing figures gathered a few tables down. Standing before the group was Yoda, still clutching his gimer-stick cane. Other Jedi sat in chairs or stood around the table -- Obi-wan Kenobi, Qui-gon Jinn, Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, Ki- Adi-Mundi, Coleman Trebor, Eeth Koth, Adi Gaila, Yaddle, and many others, all either former members of the Jedi Council or somehow connected to Anakin.
Once all eyes were on them, Yoda rapped his cane on the floor.
"Mon Mothma, good your intentions are," he told her in his distinctive gravelly voice. "But your business Skywalker's fate is not."
"What do you mean?" asked Mothma. "And what are you doing here?"
"It was always the policy of the Old Republic to not intervene in Jedi affairs," Ki-Adi- Mundi replied.
"When a Jedi broke a law or overstepped his bounds, the Jedi Council would try and sentence him," Qui-gon explained, folding his arms. "Republic courts would only put Jedi on trial when a member of the Council had committed a crime, which was understandably rare."
"So you're saying the Jedi should handle Anakin's case?" asked Sparky. "But Luke's the last Jedi."
"And he's biased in favor of the accused," Mothma added. "Thus, I'm afraid the Alliance must intervene in this case."
"Must intervene?" Obi-wan repeated with an amused smile. "Why do you think we're here?"
"Uh, decoration?" Cody suggested.
"Shut up, Cody," Diana hissed.
"Jedi business this is," Yoda said sternly. "A trial we will give him. Here. Now."