Author's Notes: We just had a heck of a thunderstorm here a couple of days ago! It left a funny smell in our hallway…in the end, my sisters and I found out that the phone had blown! Seriously. I also managed to get caught in the beginnings of this storm with my dog – we stood under a tree for several minutes as the rain came crashing down, until she began to get bored, and something told me that the rain wasn't going to stop any time soon, so we legged it home and got rather soaked – it beat waiting under a tree for a couple of hours or so for the rain to stop, though! And all that is completely irrelevant to this story! ^_^ A small insight into the plain and simple life of Jurious, living in a suburb, in the virtually unheard-of city of Lincoln, which was once the second most important city in Britain… Honestly. But we were called Lindum then and overrun by Romans. But I digress… o_0

Strider's Girl: Heh – I was just messing, I know what you meant! ^_^ And your 'feelings' are well justified – or at least 50% of them. Hint. (PS: Seen the 'Return of the King' trailer…? Trés cool!)

Merrymoll: I think Boba can take care of his sen – I haven't really thought much about his future, but it'll be all right, I promise you! And I'm leaving the Obi-dad theorem out in the open for a while. ^_^ Let the reader's have a lil fun with thinking about it first. The clues are there already, though, but they're subtle.

And of course everything'll go pear-shaped – that's what stories are for! ^_^

PadawanMage: Sullust, according to the SW Factfile, is on the Outer Rim border, near Eriadu (Tarkin's home planet). Can't say much more about it, I'm afraid! I just chose it for no apparent reason! Thought I may as well use it…^_^ And Obi definitely looks like his mom if Yoda has anything to do with it! LOL. And the postcard notion with the Twi'lek beach-babes? Heh – class! If I ever get time, I'll try and make one up like that on Photoshop! ^_~

Shadow-Angel: Here's some more for you!

Silverphoenix: Well, thank you! u_u I'm flattered that you like my work so much. And I know it's twisted, but there's nothing better than going against convention once in a while, right? Keep reading!

Kathy: I'm glad you like it! I'll try and keep up the suspense. ^_^

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"ECLIPSE"

Part 18

/His eyes upon your face/

"Padmé…"

/His hand upon your hand/

"Don't forget…"


/His lips caress your skin/

"Don't give in…"


/IT'S MORE THAN I CAN STAND!/[1]

"Padmé!!"

Anakin's eyes shot open, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he greedily swallowed the air about him; his heart was racing, starving for oxygen. Staring up at the ceiling, he found that his bed covers were stuck to him once again, soaked in his sweat. It had been yet another nightmare…

He sighed, running his hand back over his head, before wiping his eyes, attempting to steadily calm himself; these foul dreams were only getting worse. He couldn't leave it much longer. But he hadn't nearly trained enough to become any better a fighter. It was only becoming more evident to him, as he tried and tried to train, with only himself as a guide, that he needed some form of outside assistance, someone to help him become stronger, to direct him along the right way. And with Kenobi not around at the moment even if he wanted to ask him for his help, Ani was at a loss as to whom he could invite to help him achieve his goals.

It was no use…there was no one who would, or even could help him.

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Sullust was a volcanic planet, with a most nauseous atmosphere that spanned all the way over its red-brown surface. However, a book should never be read by its cover, and this gaseous, blazing exterior hid a sophisticated and glorious subterranean civilisation within, one that existed solely below the surface of the globe. The finest minerals could be found in the planet's lower caverns, many of which were mined and exported for fine prices, as well as the richest of spices and the greatest metals, plus cheap yet durable plastics were harboured and produced there as well; it was easy to see why Sullust was renowned for having some of the finest manufacture and craftsmanship in the universe, having all of these marvellous materials at its disposal, and having a populace with the skills to match.

However, despite these obvious commercial gains, Sullust had little to offer the Confederacy of Independent systems, at least little of what it hadn't got already. And its trading protocol was unlike those of which the Techno Union and Commerce Guilds were so notorious for adopting – Sullustans were a pleasant people, and commended for being sound businessmen, never resorting to underhand tactics in the name of personal gain, rather sticking to simple and reputable transactions. Not to say that they were not a flawless people – amongst other things, they were a little xenophobic, and quite paranoid.

The Confederacy could hold advantages for them, however, and with business-related interests much at its heart, the planet Sullust looked to be an easy target, but one that the Republic was reluctant to allow slip so early in the intergalactic hostilities…

Obi-Wan sighed, hyperspace blurring out of the window before him as he sat within his trusty Jedi Starfighter. Or his latest trusty Jedi Starfighter – this wasn't the same one he had used recently in his misadventures, but they were all the same in his eyes. To keep the nature of their mission as calm as possible, the decision had been made for the two Jedi to travel in unarmed and small vessels to meet with the Separatists – this meant getting back into a Jedi Starfighter, taking a hyperdrive-ring out of capital space, and travelling into the distant regions of the Republic – which meant a good few hours flight, seeing as Sullust was right on the Republic/Outer Rim boundary. He and Windu were obviously in separate starfighters, each craft only able to fit one Jedi, and one droid co-pilot out on the wing, at any one time. They were quick and agile craft, their only down side being that they were so nimble that they didn't have room for their own hyperdrives, so required the use of giant hyperdrive-rings to get them further than a few parsecs into space.

Obi-Wan looked down over the control interface of his craft, trying to find something interesting to focus his attention on; he couldn't stay peaceful enough to meditate – his mind was buzzing too frantically, too full of worries, anxieties and curiosities to be able to rest for a while. For one thing, he was incredibly sceptical about negotiations with the Separatists (if they even got as far as talking with them, that is); he thought that Bail was being way too optimistic if he thought that both sides were willing to back down and resolve everything over lunch, finishing with the complementary handshake, and 'Sorry about all that trouble'. He knew better – he and Mace may just get a couple of words in before the Separatists would tell them to 'push off' and a battle would ensue. Perhaps Palpatine was right – perhaps they should have just sent in the ships to force the Confederacy to back away. Or they could have even just left it, seeing as Sullust wouldn't be an immense loss to the Republic, anyway, though no doubt the holo-reporters would make a fuss about the first planet to slip into Dooku's hold during the conflicts… Sullust was a fine, if not quite isolationist part of the Republic, with nice craftsmanship and culture, but it didn't go much further than that – other than lose a fine tourist destination, Kenobi doubted that the Republic would suddenly become overwhelmed if the Separatists added this red planet to their ranks. It was not a militaristic civilization; it didn't have much in the way of artillery (at least not anything that wasn't already in a museum somewhere), so it would make no difference to either side in any skirmishes that erupted in the ensuing months whether they counted Sullust amongst their allies or not.

He heaved another deep sigh, running his finger inattentively along the metal border of one of the control panels – he was also concerned about Anakin. Though the boy may actually need some time on his own, Obi had a terrible gut feeling that Anakin was a danger to himself when alone, and that to leave him was the worse thing he could have possibly done. He prayed that his Padawan behaved himself – he'd never forgive himself otherwise.

And the final main point of concern was this 'wonderful' new situation concerning his parentage, something he would never have known about had it not been for the slip of the tongue of one of his old crèche nurses. Every time he saw his reflection now he thought of his mother, thinking about how she may have looked and, more importantly, who she may have been. There was something not right about Madam Della having known his mother, or having seemed to have known his father, too, something that bothered him immensely; what kind of profession must she have been in for Madam Della to have known her so greatly? And what line of work had his father been in (or possibly still was in, if he was still alive) too? What sort of people did the Jedi often make the acquaintances of? Besides other Jedi, he could think of few types of people, apart from politicians, with which the Jedi had the fortune to blend regularly, and then, even with the politicians, it was only really the Council members or the most trusted Jedi who got to mingle with them frequently.

He shook his head – he half wished Madam Della hadn't mentioned this, at least not right now. It was, just as she had predicted, another additional burden weighing down upon his shoulders…and he could do without complimentary liabilities when he had so much else to think about.

The blur of lightspeed continued to sprawl on ahead – he sat back and closed his eyes, waiting as patiently as he could for the bleeping of his console to tell him when he was finally at Sullust…

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It had reached that time again where Anakin felt that the entire galaxy was against him. And the only man in that entire galaxy that he felt he could trust was the one who, to a certain extent, ruled all over it. That man was the Supreme Chancellor, Palpatine.

The Chancellor had managed to set aside some time at the request of the boy, of whom he was so fond, realising how distressed and upset he was, and was prepared to hear what he had to say, and to then console and advise him on where to go next. With Obi-Wan not around (as much as Anakin confided in him, anyway), he was the only person that Anakin had left to open his heart unto. And that dark, veiled shadow of a man within him knew it…

"He's just gone…" Anakin explained as he stood staring out of the window of the Chancellor's office, a place he knew almost as well as his Jedi apartment back at the Temple, "Left me to go on some 'important mission'…"

Palpatine nodded patiently, his crystal eyes focused firmly on the boy, registering his every move, seeming to pierce his very essence and mind, and read the soul within. Anakin liked how patient the Chancellor was, how he let him get all of his words out before deciding to comment, let himself get accustomed to the whole picture without jumping in. He admired those skills.

The Padawan shook his head, "I'm sure that my Master reckons I'm still not 'fit' to go on missions," he went on, briefly lifting up his metallic appendage in gesture, "Just because of this – and I'm more than used to it now, your Excellency, you can see that, can't you?"

Palpatine made his ever-calm nod of ascension, "Of course, Anakin, I can see that more than clearly. You've had enough time to recover now."

Ani nodded, "I know…so why would he leave me behind?" He turned to Palpatine, "He hasn't been helping me train or anything, though… Well, not that I've asked him to either, but you'd have thought that he'd have offered…"

"Of course."

"Thought that he'd have given me some advice, or…" He paused for a moment to collect himself and arrange his thoughts, putting everything in order that he needed to tell the Supreme Chancellor, "Well, I just don't think he trusts me. I even reckon he might be envious of how far I've come in my training, and is just holding me back again. He wants me to rest all the time, wants me to calm down and to stop thinking of rescuing Padmé –"

"Padmé?"

Anakin turned to Palpatine, a little surprised at his early intervention – he didn't usually butt in like this but, because he had, Anakin presumed that he had something important to say. He watched the Chancellor's ever-trusting facer fall slack and sombre, and the elder man shook his head; "Oh, Anakin," he sighed, "I thought we'd discussed about her…"

Anakin shook his head, his wide eyes appealing for Palpatine to see things his way, "Oh, but your Excellency, I can't just abandon her!" He rushed to the Chancellor's desk, lowering himself to his haunches by its side, gripping its edge and looking hard into Palpatine's eyes, "I keep dreaming about her, Excellency… Each time it gets worse and worse. I don't want to betray you, Excellency, I really don't – you must know that! – but I love her, and I know that she's in pain, and in trouble…" He swallowed, looking down, beginning to feel his muscles all over his body tense up in rage – infact, so hard did his grip become on the Chancellor's desk, that his metallic hand dented its surface; Anakin heard the creak as it gave way, and swiftly removed his hold from it, before briefly making an embarrassed and guilty glance toward Palpatine. Palpatine's eyes betrayed no signs of anger as he saw the new depression imposed upon his bureau, however, and he merely encouraged the boy to continue with his venting. Anakin was glad of this, and rose to his feet, going on before the uncomfortable silence had a chance to become stagnant; "I have to help her…" he decreed, staring into space as his mind raced, "I must help her."

Palpatine sighed once more, "Anakin, I fear that the Padmé you rescue will not be the same one that you lost…she made a decision, she joined the Count, she –"

"The Count is a bastard!" Anakin snapped before rational had chance to tell him to hold his vulgar tongue; his foul language didn't register itself in his currently rampant mind as anything to be ashamed of, and he merely continued as if it were an affable thing to say, "He may seem to be a gentleman, but he's not – he's a twisted, sick bastard…and he needs to be punished for it."

Palpatine maintained the most ignorant expression upon his face, "Anakin, you've told me about these dreams before…and I understand your frustration, but think about it all; whether it was forced or not, Padmé is a traitor."

He shook his head, "No, she's a victim," he replied firmly, "A victim of that man's horrific powers, of that man's subterfuge. He can control her sometimes, and he abuses his powers…he must be taught a lesson."

"He's a powerful warrior, my boy," Palpatine reminded him.

"I've been training!" he returned quickly, "I downloaded all this stuff from the Archives! Stuff on every Form of 'sabre combat, stuff that I can use against him!"

"Well that's good news. At least you have been making constructive use of your time," the Chancellor admitted, giving Anakin a favourable glance, "And it is on those lines that I believe you should continue. You have no idea where Count Dooku is, and you have no idea of whether Padmé's allegiances are with the Republic or not…or, for that matter, even with you or not."

Anakin's heart dropped – this was it? The Chancellor still wasn't going to back him up on this? He needed someone just to tell him that he was right and that Padmé needed rescuing…he knew that she did!

The Chancellor gave him a fleeting look, one that he couldn't read, as though the elder Nubian were waiting for something to happen in him, or was seeing if he had pushed the right buttons. Anakin dismissed that with a furious shake of his head – Palpatine wouldn't toy with him in this state; "Your Excellency, please!" he begged, "You have to believe me! I know Padmé, I know her really well! She wouldn't betray me…perhaps the Republic, if forced, but not me! And I know my dreams are showing me reality! I just pray that, when I finally find her, it's not too late…I can still save her."

"Can you?" the Chancellor rejoined.

A deep furrow cut across Skywalker's brow – what was wrong with Palpatine? Why was he being like this?

"Your Excellency…?" he murmured; he didn't know what to do – had he lost his final confidant? The only man he thought he could trust in, even when the whole, wide universe was against him…?

Palpatine's cold eyes stared into his own blue orbs – no, stared straight through them. He planted his hands flat out upon the desk, and leant over it a little toward Anakin, "I can see that you love Padmé, my dear boy," he said, his tone arid and crisp, not comforting in any respects, "But love is a fickle thing. It causes many things…has launched wars, split families and incurred murders. It is but a stone's throw away from hate, and a very good friend of blindness."

Ani's eyes tightened a little on the artful politician as he strove to follow his erratic train of thought; "I don't understand," he muttered uncertainly.

A slight pitiful smile rose faintly at the corner of the Chancellor's mouth, "You fear for Padmé, but you hope – you hope that she is still waiting for you, that she is still yours and will only ever be yours. You try to block out the visions that interlace your mind and permeate your every waking thought of her perhaps not being yours, of her not loving you. I just want you to be prepared for life, my boy, because it gives mercy to no one. I don't want you to expect to find her and to believe that she is the same woman you left, because, let's face it, if your dreams are true, then she isn't the same person, now, is she?"

Anakin felt a lump, hard and hurtful, grow in his throat; Palpatine was right – he'd used every part of the dreams he'd been having as excuses to want to cut Dooku's throat, but the thought hadn't really forced itself through him that what he had seen in his visions had really happened – though he claimed they had, internally he was still denying that everything he had seen had actually occurred; he was trying to convince himself that Padmé was still waiting to be saved, that she was still unsullied, and, only if he actually failed to rescue her, would any of the atrocities he had been privy to during his slumber take place.

He swallowed the lump and it hit home as all of his denial was swept away, replaced by yet more waves of rage and ire. He tried to breathe, but found it difficult. What if Palpatine was right? How would he cope with things if it all had happened…?

'If'? Perhaps there was no 'if'… The question was how would he cope now that it had happened…how would Padmé cope?

"She doesn't belong to you any more, Anakin," Palpatine continued; if Anakin hadn't trusted the man so much, he'd have said that he was taunting him; "She belongs to him."

"Where is he?" Anakin breathed, almost hissed, as his cold, grave breath finally emerged from his flaring nostrils; he didn't even bother turning to look at the Chancellor as his thoughts now wandered away into the darkness that had suddenly decided to cloak his future.

Palpatine relaxed, "I'm not sure," he replied, "I can only hope that he will be with the other Separatists, those that have converged at Sullust, and pray that we capture him before it is too late."

Anakin glanced to the Supreme Chancellor, " 'Sullust'?" he asked.

Palpatine nodded slowly, "Yes…didn't your Master tell you that was where he'd been sent?"

Ani shook his head, "No." Thoughts blazed around his mind – it couldn't be too late, could it? And even if it was, he could still save Padmé, right? There was still time! He'd make time if there wasn't; she would come back to him, no problem.

"Thank you for your time, your Excellency," he quickly nodded, beginning to head for the exit of the Chancellor's office at a brisk pace.

"You're leaving so soon?" Palpatine asked, rising from his seat, watching the boy hurry away.

"I've just remembered something I have to do," he said, picking up his pace as he went along, "See you soon, Excellency. Bye!" And, with that, he was gone, tearing past the mute, scarlet Guards that bordered the door in a mad and blind frenzy. The doors paused for a moment before closing behind him.

Palpatine sat back in his seat, and a slow smile spread across his lips – bait taken.

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Obi-Wan's starfighter sprung to a virtual halt as it came out of lightspeed, hovering within its hyperdrive-ring patiently as Kenobi got his bearings. He flicked about on his control panel, glancing to his right to see Windu's hyperdrive-ring and starfighter waiting patiently near by. The Jedi Master had arrived just before him.

"What took you so long?" Mace's voiced buzzed through the interface.

"Very funny, Mace," Obi replied with a grin, detaching his fighter from his hyperdrive-loop, and glancing up at the red planet ahead, "You got the coordinates?"

"Yep – we're bound for the capital city – original destination as always. And make sure you stay alert – they have to open hatches to let us land below ground. May take some skilled piloting."

"Too gaseous to land on the surface, right?"

Windu chuckled, his hearty laugh fizzing quite loudly across the communication channel between them; "Yeah, and your fighter may just melt in the process…common volcanic eruptions this time of year."

"Oh, what a joy," Kenobi muttered.

Hovering about the rim of the planet were the motherships of the Confederacy, and a lot of them; "They do know that we're coming, don't they?" he asked.

"Soon find out."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, "You're a real comfort to have around, Mace," he sighed, flying his craft on ahead as Windu led the way, both leaving their hyperspace-loops in the orbit of Sullust.

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Passel Argente watched from his ship as the two, small and distant dots of the Jedi Starfighters made their way into the planet's atmosphere; "We seem to have guests," he hissed to his ally, who looked very alike him, complete with black shroud and all; he could have been his twin if you ignored the fact that his face was purple, contrasting to Argente's green complexion.

"Hill is aware of these Jedi Ambassadors…" purple replied, rubbing his hands together, hunched over as though his back couldn't take his full weight, "They should be little trouble."

"It's obvious that they're 'negotiations' will do their Republic little good. We have our orders of…'disorder'."

Purple chortled, "Yes…I like that about the Count. Plays the most simple manoeuvres against the Republic, who, in their blindness, believe that he is playing more complex ones…"

"To put what you're trying to say simply, they cannot see the woods for the trees!"

"Yes, exactly!"

They both laughed a little, that cold, callous laugh that defines a simple villain. Boba, stood silently behind them (remembering the risk upon his larynx) shook his head in a quiet disapproval – he'd seen many people like them in his time, people who had made contracts and deals his late father, people who thought that they ruled the galaxy and demanded the ultimate respect, but who were, infact, mere puppets to the galaxies' greater minds – not that they'd ever admit that, of course. Infact, they probably didn't even realise it – their mental capacities didn't work that way. It was these blind idiots that Sith Lords fed off.

It was no wonder that the Dark side never starved…

TBC…


[1] Those four lines are from 'Roxanne' on the Moulin Rouge (2001) OST – it just fits too well! ^_^ I had to use it!