2

Ollo made his way slowly through his hidden Corellian base, pacing countless halls that lead downward deeper underground. His mind was on business matters. The intricate drug ring that he constructed from the bottom up was growing too large for him to handle. Though he thought such, no one would ever hear those words escape his mouth. His leadership was based upon threats and false affirmations of his will, and any faltering would end in disaster. The Corellian crime ring was more than just a dog eat dog world, for the throat cuts came quicker than the ear or eye could sense. In this world he was revered, and if it wasn't so, he would have already been cold underground.

At the end of a ramp, Ollo came to a secured durasteel door, and with a few keycode punches, it hissed open, revealing a large open room. Harsh false lighting crackled on, illuminating it in a haze or pure light that could have rivaled the sun. Personally, Ollo hated it. He couldn't stand light of any sort, but simultaneously understood that the room's lighting was important. He was about to inspect his newest toy.

In the center of the room, upon a hydraulic transparisteel pedestal, were two gloves. They seemed to be constructed of ordinary leather, most likely from one of Corellia's indigenous creatures. What lay within each were quite extraordinary. The gloves, once placed upon the hand reached completely up the wrist, ending in a hem at the elbow. Upon the outer wrists of both gloves were two metal cylinders separated by about ten inches. To the untrained eye they seemed nothing more than common decoration. In truth they were a new technological advancement that could defend even a light saber attack. When activated by a switch on the top of the hand, a beam, similar to the blade of a light saber extended from one cylinder to the opposite, creating a barrier. It was the new line of defense against the Jedi who tried to quell "free enterprise."

Ollo placed the gloves upon his hands, slapped the switch, and instructed the room's defenses to begin attacking. Mounted blasters in the corners began to fire off a constant barrage of laser fire, and with these beam shields, Ollo parried every one. After a few minutes of training with them, he ended the faux battle by sending the beams back to all four corners of the room, blowing the blasters to smoldering shrapnel. They'll do just fine, Ollo thought.

Anakin, who was obviously the first choice to pilot, powered up the repulsors on the Constantantium, bringing it to a low hover over the landing pad on Coruscant. He tapped a few controls and sent the ship upward into the smoggy skies. Beside him sat Obi-Wan, and behind them were the twins and Afe.

"I've already begun the calculations for jump, Master," Anakin said, keeping his eyes on the transparisteel viewport.

Afe adjusted the purifier on her face, which almost completely covered the beauty beneath. She seemed at first uneasy about Anakin's piloting, despite his reputation for being the best pilot in the galaxy. Truthfully it wasn't Skywalker who made her uneasy, it was flight itself.

"Don't be afraid, Master Nang-Da," Luke piped up. "My father is the best pilot in the galaxy."

Under normal circumstances, the reaffirmation might have annoyed her, but the innocent look upon the Padawan's face annihilated every trace of it. She appreciated the Jedi youth, remembering quite fondly her own past. Every child is born with the idea that their parents are the best at whatever they do, but in this case it was completely true. Luke spoke no lie when he said his father was the best. She personally watched him bring in the detached half of General Grievous' flagship at the end of the Clone Wars, and ever since, her opinions sided with the Chosen one's son. Anakin was the best, and it would be quite some time before another usurped his position.

Obi-Wan rechecked the jump coordinates, and then ran them through R2-D2 who sat jacked into the Constantium's navigation computer. He did so not out of insecurity of Anakin's navigation, but merely for safety measures. No one wanted to end up as an oil spot on some rock in the middle of an asteroid belt, and he was certainly one of them.

The droid whistled in acknowledgement.

"R2 says the coordinates are correct, Anakin. We can make the jump as soon as we're out of the atmosphere."

As Anakin piloted the craft, watching the golden evening atmosphere morph into the pitch of space, he had many thoughts on his mind. Most concerned the mission, which was his ordained duty, but a few strayed away from topic. He pondered over Padme. It had been so long since she'd been able to see her children, and he knew that it must have had an effect on her. Honestly, he couldn't imagine a moment without Luke near him. Leia was not left out. This was the fact that drove the point home. He had been away for nearly a month without seeing Leia's beautiful face. Even in that short amount of time, she had grown so, maturing into a magnificent young woman.

Bringing himself from his revery, he turned to the others. "When we jump, we'll need to have a meeting. It's best if we know our plans before we actually reach Coruscant."

They all nodded. As Obi-Wan did, he had the most curious sensation. It was as if he were looking directly at himself in the pilot's chair. Anakin had become the spitting image of Obi-Wan. It almost frightened the aging Master. What came with the shock was a tremendous amount of honor and respect for the young man.

Anakin stroked his thin brown beard, peering over the navigation computer screen. He watched the seconds count down to jump.

"Here, we go. Luke, Leia, strap yourselves in tightly."

The two did so without hesitation, for they knew the burst of speed was far too fast for the gravity engines to compensate. If they didn't strap in securely, they'd both be thrown around the cockpit like two fugitive blaster beams.

The control panel claxon sounded, and before they knew, the stars wheeled overhead, changing from pin pricks to beams of light. Hyperspace waited for them.