11

Ollo recovered a small chest from his ship and brought it into his makeshift living quarters. With a flip of the switch, it opened to reveal a plethora of fine clothing. Cloaks, masterfully woven tunics, and Corellian boar leather boots. He selected from the neatly folded pile the finest in his collection, and began dressing himself for his final confrontation. As a general would before an ominous battle, he made certain that every thread lay in perfect harmony with the next.

He stood before a mirror, gazing into the reflection of himself. He no longer saw himself, but more the man he had been borne from. For this, he hated Sidious. Ollo would never be allowed to take refuge in his uniqueness. Over his entire life, he was forced to wrestle with the fact that he was nothing more than a replica, a single copy of another. He was a pawn of the Sith, created for the simple task of destroying the Jedi Order. Nothing more, and nothing less. He hated Sidious for this fact, and wished that he could simply disappear. In truth, he had failed at everything he had tried to accomplish. He had failed the Sith.

As he watched his ice-blue eyes twinkle in the low light, he thought of the Republic's Grand Army. They were clones. Thousands upon thousands created to drive back the Separatist forces. They were bred to think of war and nothing more. The clones never had a moment where they pondered their existential meaning. The clones were simply living robots. Ollo felt sorrow for them, but he often wondered if their ignorant lives were more pleasing. The term ignorance is bliss came to mind.

He locked the silver buckle on his belt and pulled a thick shirt over his under-tunic. Every crease was pressed properly. He made certain of it. When everything was in place, he pulled his black robe over his shoulders. It was a gift given to him by Sidious. The only gift he had ever been given, actually. Each shoulder flared out like a billowing cloud, and was then wrapped tightly by the two shield gloves he had created. The collar rose behind his head in smoky blackness, standing rigidly in a royal manner. Behind him, the robe fell long and graceful in thin arcs toward the floor. To a witness, he would have seemed a Prince of a rich nation. This look did not reflect the feelings he held about himself. At this point, he realized that he was nothing. Yes, he was the last remnants of the Sith in the Universe, but what exactly was that? Was it something for him to take consolation in? He was nothing more than the final member of a dying religion.

At length, he buckled the shining buckles on his black Corellian boar boots. They shined sinisterly in the dim light, and they were among his most prized possessions. With a final sigh, he stood tall once again, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. A ghastly visage peered back at him. Though he was the clone of Anakin Skywalker, he knew he could never surpass the hero of the Republic. Even his looks were failing him, replaced with a sick pale face that grimaced in the dim light. Ollo hated himself.

Anakin Skywalker was coming for him. Whether he fought it or not, the young man would soon be standing before him, blue blade of plasma in hand. Ollo understood Anakin's anger, and he regretted his mistakes. If it had not been too late, he would have faced up to his crimes, but now he knew that things had progressed far from that option. It was now time to go unto his death. A time to explode into a supernova instead of fading away into the stars. Though he was going down in flames, he would not do so without giving Anakin Skywalker the fight of his life.

Anakin brought the Constantium from hyperspace, guiding it gently into real space. Along the circumference of Dantooine's stratosphere, he saw a forked craft. It's signature 'X' silhouette proclaimed its identity. It was Ollo's skyhook spacestation.

"There," He said, guiding the ship's controls toward the object. "Is everyone ready?"

The four others nodded silently, knowing all too well what lay before them.

"Luke, Leia. I want you two to stay on the ship. Remember what I asked of you."

They nodded again.

Obi-Wan took his leave of the cockpit to clear his head. The recent fluctuation of emotions had clouded his mind, and it worried him. At length he came into the main hall of the ship, where he paced back and forth. There wasn't time for meditation. In his hand he held the silver recording datapad that Anakin had given him. It was strange, that the grouping of electronic circuits and metal fashioned together was the single key at restoring Anakin's reputation. Obi-Wan turned, hearing a voice that, at the moment, was the last he thought he needed.

"Are you alright?" Afe asked, placing her hands on his shoulders.

He sighed. "Afe, I really need to be alone right now."

She could sense exactly what was bothering him. Before she could clarify his mind, he spun around.

"What happened between us has clouded my thoughts. This is exactly why the Order had instated the doctrine of no attachments."

She smiled. "Those doctrines are no more, thanks to your former padawan." After a few moments, she released her grip on his shoulders, and took a seat in front of him. "I want you to ponder this over the next few moments before we go into battle."

"Yes?" He asked, rubbing his brow.

"Let our feelings for each other be your guiding light. Love gives you strength. It is only clouding your mind because you let it. Despite the changes our Order has went through, in a way, you are still clinging to their former teachings."

"I can't help that. For almost forty years it has been drilled into my head."

"I understand that, Obi-Wan," She replied. "But let the force clear your thoughts for you. I believe Anakin went through the same thing not so long ago. I want you to use your feelings for me with every strike against Ollo. Every parry. Every dodge. My feelings for you will reflect back and forth a thousand fold. Love is the key. You love Anakin, do you not?"

"I do."

"Why do those feelings not cloud your mind?"

Obi-Wan ran his fingers along his chin. "Because he is an extension of me. A reflection of my thoughts and teachings. He is my brother. He is, in many respects, my son. His actions fuel my desire to do better."

"Exactly. I want you to use the same thoughts for me. You will find the clarity you so desire, I promise you."

She stood, pulled her mask up, and kissed him deeply.

"I love you, Obi-Wan," She stated quietly. "I loved you from the first time I saw you walking through the temple with Qui-Gon. I was but a girl, not quite old enough to be taken as a padawan learner, but I loved you the same. And time and time again Master Yoda chided me for my deep feelings, but he could never drive them from me." She brushed the light brown hair from his eyes.

Obi-Wan gave a her a final kiss, and checked his light saber, making sure everything was in order. He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eyes. A smile crawled over his face. "Shall we go to war, then, my love?"