As the lift bore him upwards through the levels of Coruscant, Mace Windu reflected on what might have happened during those few hours where he had been unconscious. The last thing he remembered was Anakin slicing off his arm with his lightsaber, and Palpatine attacking him with the traditional Sith attack which involved using the Force under the form of pure physical energy, likewise to lightning. All that followed was blank, and he assumed he must have been out for at least four hours. Skywalker must have become a Sith Lord. After what he had done he knew he could not return to the Order. And Palpatine…Palpatine had shown his true colors as well. He was indeed the Dark Lord of the Sith they had been hunting. He undoubtedly corrupted young Skywalker to the dark side. It would seem logical, as they always spent time together. Anakin spoke very highly of the man who had been usurping his mandate as President of the Republic Senate for several years. And after all, had he not sacrificed a Jedi Master to save Palpatine? Yes, Skywalker was undoubtedly a Sith lord, Palpatine's new apprentice. After Dooku's death, he must have been seeking a new disciple, and Skywalker had filled that place. Mace glared at the wall in front of him as he meditated over this. And what of the blank he felt in the Force, the eerie void? He did not know what it meant, yet he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Habitually, he could always feel the presence, close or distant, of his fellow Jedi. Master Windu was very sensible to the Force, and could feel his friend's emotions from over great distances. Yet he presently felt nothing. What could that mean?

And then it came to him. If Palpatine was a Sith Lord, and he controlled the Republic, then the Republic itself was led by the dark side of the Force. He could easily have declared the Jedi as enemies to the Republic, and there would have been none who would stand against him. The Senate was in the palm of his hand, they both knew it. The unknowing Jedi could have been trapped. They could have been ambushed. They could have been killed. As this realization came over him, Mace Windu felt his world ebb away beneath his feet. It could surely not be. The Jedi Order, which had lasted for so many millennia, couldn't have been destroyed in so short a time. No. A single tear leaked down his cheek and fell into his robes. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of these thoughts, as the lift bore him ever up.

Finally, after over ten minutes of standing in the small tube, the doors opened and Mace Windu stepped out into the semi-darkness of Coruscant's mid-levels. These areas were still considered as inhabitable by most of the population, and were home to many poor folk, or smugglers that weren't too desperate about being caught or else too foolish to care. Mace stumbled along the walkway, drawing many awkward glances. Not caring for any attention, he put his cloak back on and lowered the hood, to pass unrecognized. He tucked his right arm by his side and wrapped his right sleeve into a knot. He walked along amid the crowd of strangers, some of whom looked suspiciously at him. Luckily, clone security forces were not present this far down. Ever since the Separatist strike at the capital, the Republic had set a guard all over the planet, mobilizing several tens of thousands of clones just to guard the place. He walked into the nearest medical center he found, and banked some cash to get his wound cleaned and stitched. When the medical droid suggested grafting a biomechanical arm, he denied the offer, stating that he would come back if he estimated he needed one. The truth was that Mace had little time to spare. The operation would undoubtedly take him the entire day and cost him the greater part of his credit account, and he had to get moving. If the Republic had, as he suspected, turned against the Jedi, it would be foolhardy for him to stay on it's capital planet. He ignored if any other Jedi had survived, but he could feel nothing at present. His thoughts turned to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Yoda. They had been two of the greatest Jedi Masters within the Order. He had great trouble imagining them dead. He could simply not picture Yoda in defeat. He had seen him in battle before, and if he was small in size, he was the greatest warrior Mace had ever seen. He could simply not imagine any force, however overwhelming, getting the better over Yoda.

After getting his wound mended, Mace took another lift towards the upper levels. He would have to be quick. He could not risk being recognized by any Republic official. As he reached the sunlit upper levels, he strode towards the nearest shuttle platform. Scrolling the schedules on a small holographic display, he spotted a public shuttle that was bound off-planet in fifteen minutes. He walked up to the republican droid behind the ticket counter and bought a ticket. Ten minutes later, Mace sat in the cramped passenger compartment of the shuttle, meditating, waiting for the vessel to take off, when something unexpected and uninvited happened.

A patrol of three clone troopers climbed onto the shuttle and into the passenger compartment, apparently looking for someone. Mace remained immobile as a statue of stone, following the three clones with his eyes only. As they drew closer to where he sat, he tensed, prepared to run. He didn't have the strength at present to fight off three clone troopers, and he had lost his lightsaber along with his right arm. However, when the clones were about five meters from him, a man right behind them jumped to his feet and made a mad dash for the exit. The last clone in line turned, brought his blaster to bear, and fired a stunning round right between the man's shoulders. He fell down in a heap. The three of them walked over to the unconscious figure, and one of them turned him over with his boot to get a look at his face. He glanced at him comrades, nodded, and they lifted the man up and dragged him away. The remaining clone stayed for a few seconds, and his gaze drifted over to the corned where Mace was sitting. The clone stared at him for a few seconds, his hands fidgeting on his blaster. Then he spoke in a muffled voice.

"You want to be careful when picking your jokes sir. Pretending to be a Jedi in these moments is a bad idea you know, it could get you killed. If you want my advice, stop fooling around."

With that, he walked out of the shuttle and onto the bay. One of the clones gave a thumbs-up signal to the shuttle pilot, who sealed the hatches, ignited the engines, and took off. Mace sat there, still as immobile as before. His eyes were now glazed however. So it is true, he thought. I was right. The Republic has turned against us. His mind was blank as the shuttle roared into the sky, out of Coruscant's atmosphere, and finally far away from the planet. He felt a slight lurch as the ship entered hyperspace. He would have to hide. At least until he had regained his strength. He also needed a place where he could rebuild his lightsaber in peace. He needed a new arm. As Mace mulled all these things over in his mind, he tried to decide where the hell he was going to go. Any Republic-controlled planet would be dangerous for him now, and every planet within three hundred parsecs of Coruscant was Republic-controlled. And then the obvious choice came into his mind. He would rather have avoided it, but is seemed like the only option available to avoid the Republic. And he could find all he needed there, a new arm and materials to construct a lightsaber. So be it, he thought. He would go to Tatooine.