Sorry about the huge gap between updates, but I have bee out of town for most of the time, on vacation at my grandparents, in the mountains. The trip was a welcome change, seeing as I couldn't last much longer in the city, with the heat, high pollution levels and all.
BGTom: You said it! The tension between the two warring sides escalates, until the spark of the battle will be ignited.
Dawn369: I'm glad that you like the storyline. You're right, there will be much sadness, and the first part will end on a bitter note.
Stephanie C: Lol! Very right about Palpatine:) He just wouldn't be same without his trademark evilness! As for the Jedi-Emperor's identity, I'm not going to say anything at the moment. It's fun to see all of the speculations:)
Elessar-Lover: Will do! Will do!
Trinity Day: I'm very sorry for the spelling mistakes, but since I finished writing at 4 AM in the morning, spell-checking was nearly an impossible task!. :D
Haunting echoes of the past combine with hints of the future to come, as dark clouds begin to gather over the Jedi Order.
Chapter XVI – Appearance of the Silver Phoenix
I wonder if the things I did were just to be different,
To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence.
And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation,
Here and now, I'll express my situation.
There's nothing ever wrong, but nothing's ever right
Such a cruel contradiction.
I know I've crossed the line: it's not easy to define
I'm born to indecision.
There's always something new
Some path I'm supposed to choose
With no particular rhyme or reason . . .
Shinedown – Burning Bright
"Red alert has been initiated! All personnel are to evacuate the vessel immediately! This is not an exercise!"
The droid's monotone voice repeated its warning over and over, not knowing that very few were still alive in The Praetor's corridors to hear it. The gigantic Cruiser was floating dead in space, its few emergency systems left operational barely receiving enough power to function. All around the ship, swarms of Separatist fighters and bombers were pelting it with an endless barrage of laserfire. With the shields down, the vessel was a helpless target, as a well-placed bomb ignited several explosions on its belly.
Another Cruiser came in view, its massive bulk having been hidden up to the point by the radiance of the system's pulsar. The ship's turbolasers flared to life, tearing through the tight-knit web of enemy crafts that were surrounding the other vessel.
"Hostiles on the run" an Ensign reported, hunched over his console. "Enemy task Force has left the System. I repeat, the enemy Task Force has jumped into hyperspace. We've routed them!"
A small chorus of cheers and applause broke out on The Invictus' command deck, as every soldier savored the feeling of victory after a space battle that had lasted for nearly three days.
One person, however, did not appear to be overjoyed by the victory. Leaning against the main view pane, General Obi-Wan Kenobi watched The Praetor slowly spin out of control. His frowning face was bathed in a reddish glow, from the flames that were spreading through the dying ship.
"Obi-Wan, what's the matter?" inquired clone Commander Cody, as usual the first to notice the subtle change in his friend's demeanor. "You don't seem very happy about the victory."
"Happy?" Obi-Wan intoned somberly, as he kept his misty eyes on the other vessel. "No, I am not, because this is not a victory, Cody."
"What do you mean?" the Commander asked, perplexed. "And will you stop talking in your damned Jedi gibberish? I can barely understand anything you say!"
Obi-Wan's features relaxed somewhat, as he heard his friend's annoyed tone.
"Translated for simpletons" Obi-Wan continued, smiling slightly, as Cody rolled his eyes behind the helmet, "I mean that we have lost too much to be able to say that we have actually gained something from this battle."
He jerked his chin in the other ship's direction, for emphasis.
"How many crewmembers died aboard The Praetor? How much will it take to commission and build another Alpha-Class Cruiser? How will the Sixth Army fare without its flagship?"
"I see your point" Cody agreed, as he watched the small stream of shuttles containing survivors dock with the gargantuan vessel.
"Anakin must be on one of those" Obi-Wan pointed toward the shuttles. "I just hope that he hasn't strained himself too much during the battle. If his wounds will reopen, he'll be stuck in the med center for over half a year."
"Knowing Lieutenant Skywalker, I think that he has thoroughly ignored your advice."
"I believe so as well" Obi-Wan sighed, with a mix of fondness and exasperation. "That headstrong Padawan of mine . . . "
The two men watched the evacuation in silence for a few minutes, when a haggard-looking Saesse Tiin practically burst trough the blast doors and onto the bridge. The Jedi Master's robes were torn in many places and he was covered in grime and dried blood from head to toe. Both Obi-Wan and Cody whipped around instantly when they saw him..
"What is it, Master Tiin?" Obi-Wan asked, concerned, as he felt waves of urgency hit him from the usually calm Jedi.
"General Kenobi" Saesse coughed, clearing the soot from his lungs, "Padawan Skywalker is still on the Praetor!"
"What?"
Obi-Wan felt as though he had been punched in the solar plexus. His panic-stricken eyes turned to the dying Cruiser, spinning slowly in space, an inferno in the making.
"He's still on that thing?"
"I tried reasoning with him" Saesse said, gruffly, "but you know him. He practically ignored me!"
"What's he doing in there?" Cody asked, not bothering to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "Is he nuts or something?"
"No. He told me that there were crewmembers still alive and that he wouldn't leave the ship without them."
"Typical Anakin" Obi-Wan murmured, his features bathed in a crimson light, from The Praetor's flames. "We have to go back for him."
"No can do, General" Cody shook his head, sadly. "That thing's going to blow and pretty soon. If we don't jump out of the system in the next thirty minutes, not even The Invictus' shields will keep us from being turned into space dust."
With this grim statement hanging in the air between them, Obi-Wan and Cody returned their gazes to the doomed ship, as Master Tiin was carried to the Med center by two officers.
x x x
In his bacta tank, a lone clone commando floated gently, held in place by a few restraints across his chest. An oxygen mask had been placed over his face, allowing him to breathe. He could faintly hear, through the gel-like substance, the repeated explosions that rocked the ship back and forth, as well as the alarms blaring on.
But there wasn't a single thing that he could do. He had fought in some of the war's most gruesome battles, had survived through countless assaults and sieges, earning him quite a reputation among his brothers and the residents of the galaxy alike.
And yet he was destined to die in his bacta tank, recovering from wounds obtained during the earlier dogfights with the droid starfighters.
"Whatever the Maker wishes" the commando thought wryly, as another explosion sounded, almost toppling his tank over.
Not much time was left.
The trooper suddenly jerked slightly in his restraints. For a moment, he had thought that he had seen movement outside of the tank. Looking closely, he could barely distinguish a shadowy, blurred silhouette, through the dense bacta.
Someone else was still alive!
The commando moved a little bit, pulling at his restraints, as he felt the upper lid of the tank being slowly twisted open. When it finally came off, he closed his eyes, against the bright light, squirming farther from it.
"Stop struggling, trooper" he heard a muffled voice. "I'm here to help you!"
The commando felt two hands grope through the gel, tugging at the harness and pulling in open in a few rather clumsy attempts. Next, his arms were seized in an iron grip and he let himself be slowly pulled out of the tank.
When his face broke through the bacta, he quickly tore off his mask, breathing in huge gulps of air and shaking his head, to get rid of the gel in his hair.
"Stop that!" the other man ordered, annoyed. The commander immediately froze to the spot, opening his eyes to finally see his would-be-rescuer clearly.
In front of him stood a tall, somewhat lanky young man, with short cropped blonde hair, a distinctive Padawan braid and a pair of startlingly blue eyes. Upon closer inspection, the commando picked up the small, telltale signs that showed the other to be heavily wounded. His right hand, a golden prosthetic, was held firmly around his middle and his back was slightly curved.
A spinal injury, the clone's expert eye noted.
"Are you going to stand there all day, trooper" the young man spoke impatiently, "or are you going to get out of there?"
Without hesitation, trained from birth to obey a superior, the commando clambered out of the tank, gripping a nearby bed post to avoid collapsing.
The young Jedi began to hand the soldier parts of his armor and to help him put them on.
"The Praetor is doomed" the young man answered the other's unspoken question. "And we'll be space dust if we don't get out of here."
Shoving the trooper's helmet on, the young man took the other's arm, dragging him out of med lab.
"Just what happened?" the commando asked. "I was out when the attack occurred."
"The flagship walked right into a Separatist trap" the Jedi answered, flatly.
"How many are dead?" the clone inquired, keeping his tone neutral, but at the same time dreading the answer.
"Half of the crew" the Jedi spoke, in a low voice. "50.000 men and women."
The commando nearly cringed as he heard the number. So many friends and compatriots gone forever from the world. An entire Cruiser destroyed.
"The Commander must have been blind to walk directly into a trap" the clone said, keeping the more virulent words to himself.
"Blind, yes" the young man sighed, stumbling up a flight of stairs. "A fool with a head full of bantha dung."
Watching him intently, the clone observed a quick flash of pain in the Jedi's deep blue eyes, before it was hidden under a steel mask.
"Why haven't you left the vessel with the others?"
"I couldn't" the Jedi answered, supporting the commando, who, gripped by a sudden dizziness spell, could barely walk straight. "Not as long as there still was someone alive here."
Suddenly, the ship lurched to the left, sending both men crashing into a wall.
"Ahh" the commando gritted his teeth, as a wave of pain surged up his body. "Forgot about the damned broken ribs!"
The Jedi didn't say anything, merely bared the pain stoically, as he struggled to get back up, clawing at the wall with his prosthetic arm.
"Get up" he ordered harshly, once he was back on his feet.
"Sorry, Jedi" the commando shook his head. "I'll only slow you down. Get yourself out of here while you still can."
The Padawan said nothing, merely narrowed his eyes.
"You're coming with me, trooper."
Laughing hoarsely, the commando shook his head once more.
"You Jedi, always with your hero attitudes!" he snorted." There ain't any fire left in me, kid. Just leave me be!"
The Jedi's only response to this was to kneel next to the trooper, as a new blast rocked the floor underneath them. His features seemed much rougher and sharper in the crimson glow of the emergency lights, making the clone remember the kaminoan folk tales about tormented demons, in the fires beneath the Ocean.
"I am the Commander" he spoke quietly.
The man's head snapped around, as he stared directly into the other's stormy eyes. "What?"
"I am responsible for all of this" the young man went on, gesturing around him. To his horror, the clone saw that the entire corridor was littered with corpses.
The two gazed at each other for a few minutes. Then, with lightning-fast reflexes, honed by years of intensive training, the commando launched a punch toward the young Jedi, hitting him squarely in the face and making him fall against the wall.
The clone staggered to his feet, panting hard and watching the other man. The education received on Kamino by young clones taught them early on to not be dominated by their emotions while on duty. But the clones were humans as well, regardless of the way in which they had been born.
And in those moments, the trooper was much too angry for all those dead to care about the rules.
"No more fight left in you, eh?" the Padawan asked, raising himself from the floor and wiping the blood that flowed down his face. "Looks like all you needed was a little incentive."
Before he could decipher the meaning of those words, the commando felt himself being hauled up and dropped onto the Jedi's back, who grunted at the extra weight.
"You . . . "he stuttered, shocked, as he understood that his outburst had just been used against him.
"Stop struggling" the young man ordered, twisting the trooper's wrists painfully. "I'm trying to help you here!"
The commando calmed himself, allowing the Jedi to carry him through the corridors, as alarms continued to blare above them.
When the two managed to reach the hangar, the Jedi made a beeline for the only remaining shuttle. Bounding up the ramp, he tossed the nearly unconscious clone into one of the seats, firmly securing the restraints, before plopping down into the pilot seat himself.
"Core temperature has reached critical level" the droid-like voice announced through the speakers. "The main engines will disintegrate in 7 minutes 23 seconds."
"Kid" the clone moaned, as he shifted slightly in his seat, looking intently at the Jedi, who was frantically pushing buttons and pulling levers, "be honest. Do we have a chance?"
"A small one" he answered tightly, staring at the display screen. "Oh, kreth!"
The commando moved over to the right, looking at the screen. "What is it?"
"The aft stabilizers are fried. This thing will be harder to control than a wild eopie."
Closing his eyes, the soldier whispered a prayer to the Maker, as the shuttle shuddered and groaned. For a few, short seconds, there was absolute quiet. Then, with a mighty roar, the engines came to life. Gripping the steering rods, the Padawan slowly inched the craft out of the hangar. The two tensed, as the ship passed through the magnetic barrier, into the void of space.
"We're through" the Jedi sighed. "If only this thing would behave itself!"
True to his predictions, the ship was very hard to control, as it kept veering off course and tilting dangerously to the left.
"So, are you really the Commander?" the clone asked, breaking the dead silence between them.
"Yes" the Jedi whispered.
Such a simple answer, the trooper thought. Clear, concise, to the point. But behind it, lay something much deeper. He could hear it plainly in the other man's tone. The darkest of emotions coated his voice.
Anger.
Fury.
Hate.
Shame.
Self-loathing.
And something far stronger than all of these combined.
Despair.
Looking into the Jedi's eyes once more, the trooper saw his soul, for the briefest of moments, as the mask slipped off once more. He had witnessed that expression plenty of times, in the eyes of those who had seen massacres. That empty, broken, vacant expression.
Those haunted eyes.
"It's alright, kid" the commando spoke, softly, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes."
The Jedi violently slapped away the hand, glaring at the trooper, with a dark fire burning in his eyes.
"I don't need your pity!" he hissed, venomously. Turning back, he stared back to the dying Cruiser. "I could have saved them. All of them. But I wasn't strong enough. I'm never strong enough!"
The raw pain shining in the Padawan's eyes and the almost- fanaticism lining his voice made the clone shudder slightly. Something about this young man was different, he thought, as his instincts clearly saw the hidden danger. The black dragon lurking in the depths.
Just as his mind was trying to sort out through his strange rescuer's personality, The Praetor was engulfed in a halo of light. All stood still, for one terrible second, before, with a deafening boom, the Cruiser blew. The small shuttle was thrown around, like a boat in the storm, as the shockwave hit it.
"We're losing control!" the clone yelled over the din, as the craft spun wildly out of control.
"Tell me something that I don't know!" the Jedi yelled back, fighting to get back some semblance of control.
Through the front panel, The Invictus' huge bulk was approaching at an alarming speed.
Pulling back on the throttle, the Jedi grit his teeth.
"If we don't do something about this speed, we'll crash into the ship!" the clone called out, as his hands automatically flew toward the controls, aiding the other in his efforts. Both men looked ahead, at the hangar bay that was approaching much too fast.
x x x
"Sir" an agitated Ensign's voice spoke, "she's going to blow!"
Obi-Wan didn't wait even one second.
"Activate port shields!"
In the next moments, The Praetor exploded, in a blinding flash of light. The shockwave slammed into the Cruiser full-force, followed by a hurricane of fragments and debris. The mighty ship shook for a few seconds, before settling down.
"Status report" Obi-Wan asked, picking himself up from the chair in which he had fallen.
"Shields up at 46 percent, sir. All vital systems are undamaged."
The Jedi Master sighed, turning his gaze to the dark area, in which a mighty vessel had stood. So many dead . . .
Anakin!
His heart skipped a beat, as he extended his senses, to feel his Padawan's Force-signature.
"Anakin, please be alive!"
Surely enough, he was drawn to the boy's blazing aura, like a moth to the flame. With a dawning horror, he realized that the young man was aboard a small freight shuttle, which was heading toward the hangar bay at an insane speed.
"Cody, come with me!" Obi-Wan ordered sharply, turning on his heel and running toward the turbolifts.
"What the . . . ? the Commander asked, perplexed, but, when he saw the determination and urgency in the other's strides, swallowed his curiosity and followed.
The two men stepped in the turbolift and Obi-Wan pressed the control switch, sending it into a straight plummet, toward the hangar bay.
When it stopped, they quickly ran outside, into the cast expanse of the hangar bay.
"It's coming in too fast" Cody said, pointing toward the approaching shuttle. "If it passes through the magnetic shield at that speed, there's no telling what will happen. The passengers won't survive either."
"We will see" Obi-Wan answered, closing his eyes and concentrating on slowing down the craft with the Force. The two could only look on, as the shuttle drew closer and closer.
"Now more than ever, I hope that your Force mumbo-jumbo actually works" Cody joked, in an attempt to relax the tense atmosphere.
With a grating shriek, the shuttle tore through the magnetic field and skidded on the metal floor, spinning wildly, before coming at a stop, violently crashing into a wall.
"Now do you believe in the Force?" Obi-Wan asked, running toward the broken, contorted wreck.
"Nah" Cody shot back. "That was just a fluke. It'll take a lot more than some party tricks to convince this skeptic."
Obi-Wan smiled slightly, as he reached the ship. Probing through the Force, he felt, the waning auras of two people.
"They're alive" he told Cody, "but we need a way to get them out of there."
Without hesitation, the Commander pulled out a comlink from his belt.
"This is Commander Cody. We need two full med and engineering teams down in bay 23 , immediately."
"Yes, sir" was the quick answer.
x x x
Inside the shuttle, the Padawan and the clone lay hunched over the controls, pinned in place by various bits of the craft.
"Pretty rough landing, kid. What do you do for an encore?" the soldier asked, as a large metal shard dug deeper into his shoulder.
"Oh, shut up" came the Jedi's faint reply, who was being crushed in place by a fallen piece of scaffolding.
The two stood silent for a few moments, listening intently to the noises coming from outside, as their rescuers were struggling to cut an access way into the smashed craft.
"So, kid, I never got your name?" the clone asked, in an attempt to distract both of them from the pain. "Who are you?"
The Jedi smiled faintly, placing his blood-covered face on the broken control panel.
"Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker" he answered, "and Lieutenant of the Republic Fleet."
"Glad to meet you" the soldier spoke, shaking the other's hand. "I am C/704, of the Black Theta Commando Team."
Suddenly, a loud blast was heard, as the dark cockpit was flooded with light.
"The cavalry is here" C/704 laughed, as several troopers entered and started to pull him and Anakin from under the debris.
As he was being settled on a stretcher, the clone turned to the Padawan, who was refusing any kind of medical help.
"Jedi Skywalker" he called out, to get the other's attention, "do not punish yourself for what wasn't your fault."
Anakin's blue eyes turned toward him, as a trooper took advantage of the situation, forcing the young Jedi to lie down.
"You risked everything to rescue me" he continued raptly, as an oxygen mask was shoved over his face. "But you can't save everyone."
The last thing that he saw before the darkness of sleep came was Anakin's face, full of pain and remorse.
"Sir, are you alright?"
C/704 flinched slightly in his seat, as the soldier's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"I'm fine, trooper" he answered. "What is our ETA?"
"One hour and counting, sir" the gunship's pilot answered. "I'll announce you when the Jedi Temple will be in sight."
"You do that, trooper" answered C/704, the Commander of the task force in charge with the Jedi Temple's destruction, gripping his blaster rifle tighter. To the rest of the clones, he appeared as relaxed as one can be before a siege. But inside him, a terrible war was being waged, away from anyone's perceptions.
I will do what I have been ordered to, he thought, as his finger curled reflexively around the trigger, even if it means taking the life of my rescuer!
x x x
"I very much doubt that it will work this way" Anakin spoke, not bothering to hide his annoyance, as Jor violently kicked the malfunctioning hyperdrive a second time.
"This rusty thing isn't good for anything" the frustrated Padawan said, plopping down on the hangar floor.
"It is old" Anakin agreed, pulling a fourth power cable and coupling it in, "but it still has some kick left in it."
"I don't understand" Kazuya said, looking contritely at her grease-stained tunic. "Why don't we just dismantle one of the new ships and take a better one?"
"Too much power" Obi-Wan explained. "One small mishap and the resulting explosion would blow us all in the skies."
"Everyone, be quiet" a frustrated Anakin ordered, bending low upon a stack of blueprints. "I just don't understand why it isn't working. What am I doing wrong?"
"Are all of the power lines plugged in?" Obi-Wan inquired.
"Yes."
"And have you switched the polarity?"
For a brief second, an incredulous look appeared over Anakin's face, after which he slapped his forehead, hard.
"I'm such a nerf-herder" he groaned, twisting two switches. "How in the Force did you know what was the problem?"
At this, Obi-Wan could only smile.
"My young Padawan, I have lost track of the times I've watched you fiddle with hyperdrives. I picked up quite a lot from your technical babble."
"Nice" Anakin grumbled, seeing as Jor and Kazuya were doing their best not to burst out laughing.
"Let's see if it works" Obi-Wan said, pulling out an electronic compass. Surely enough, the needle was spinning madly, in all directions.
"The whole structure of the Temple has been magnetized" Anakin explained to the two bewildered Padawans. For emphasis, he picked up a metal bolt and threw it. The bolt attached itself to a wall and stayed there.
"Now all we have to worry about is evacuating the Younglings" Obi-Wan said. "And changing your clothes" he added, pointing toward Anakin's shredded and oil-stained robes.
"I don't have time to . . ." Anakin started to protest, but Obi-Wan swiftly gripped his elbow, hauling him out of the hangar.
"Those things can't even be called robes" Obi-Wan reprimanded him, as they entered their common living space.
"I'm not exactly a ten year-old anymore, Obi-Wan" Anakin murmured darkly, entered his bedroom. The bed and floor could barely be seen, as they were buried under a pile of prints, sheets, drawings, sketches, various tools and dismantled droid parts. Obi-Wan had often called Anakin's room an "environmental hazard zone" and had constantly pestered his former pupil to be tidier.
The young Jedi smiled slightly, imagining what a shocked expression would appear on his wife's face if she ever found out about the state of his quarters. The happiness, however, died very suddenly, as he remembered the apparent inescapable situation in which he currently found himself: Padme was being held prisoner by a demented, power-hungry tyrant, while he was stuck in the Jedi Temple, with the duty to guard it against the clone army. A quick glance at the wall chrono told him that four hours of the allotted time had already passed.
With an angry hiss, Anakin leaned against the wall. The war that had been silently waged inside his soul for the past hours was threatening to tear him apart. Ever fiber of his being was screaming at him to run off and rescue his beloved from the Emperor's clutches, but his conscience was keeping him grounded, constantly reminding him of his duty to help ensure the Jedi Order's survival.
Rousing himself from his dark reflections, he made his choice. He would stay at the Temple long enough to successfully oversee the evacuation of the Younglings, after which he could leave in search for his wife. The Knights and Masters would be more than capable to face the clone task force, especially with the new magnetic shield which protected the Temple from missiles and aerial attacks.
Satisfied with his decision and knowing all too well that time was at the essence, Anakin pulled a few drawers open, throwing out various robes, that, to his growing annoyance, were almost in the same sorry state as his current attire.
Obi-Wan had been definitely right in nagging him about the importance of washing one's laundry.
Suddenly, his fingers touched a fine material, very different from the usual roughness of a Jedi robe. Tugging on the material, he pulled out a black, high collared tunic, with a simple and straight cut, resembling a military uniform. It appeared to be made of dark velvet, with a large bird, its wings outstretched, weaved on the front, with a silver thread.
By all appearances, the bird resembled a phoenix, bathed in a silvery sheen.
Anakin frowned, shifting through his mind, trying to remember just how the unusual garment had made its way in his closet. Hazy memories, almost five years old floated to the surface: the Middle Rim planet of Grizmalt: a mission assigned to him and Obi-Wan, regarding the Royal Family's protection from a violent group of revolutionaries. The whole thing had ended after Obi-Wan had managed to get himself captured, whilst trying to negotiate with the leader of the revolution, leaving the continuation of the negotiations on the shoulders of a very frustrated Padawan Anakin Skywalker.
Believing that negotiations would be futile, Anakin had, instead, opted to do a very foolish task: rescues his Master from the rebel citadel. Needless to say, he ended up almost being captured, but not after seeing the revolutionaries firsthand and talking to a few of them.
The Magistrate frowned, shifting in his seat, causing his ornate robes to crinkle loudly.
"You threaten to murder the entire Royal Family and now you wish to negotiate peace with the sovereign Government of Grizmalt? Never, sir! This is outrageous!"
The leader of the revolution remained as calm as ever, although on the inside, he feared for the worst.
"If you do not desire to continue the talks, High Magistrate Rom'alren" he spoke on a heavily accented voice, "I will be forced to harm the Jedi that is in my possession."
The entire room fell silent at those words, as the nobles of the Crown Council looked at one another. Even the Magistrate appeared to be struck speechless, because apart from a few inarticulate angry mumblings, no other sound left his lips.
Suddenly, the whole room flinched, as the sound of someone clearing his throat resonated off the walls. Many pairs of eyes turned to stare at Jedi Padawan Anakin Skywalker, who had followed the proceedings quietly, from his seat, with an expression that clearly stated the fact that he wished to find himself in any other part of the Galaxy than where he was.
"You cannot use Master Obi-Wan as a bargain chip" he spoke loudly, so that everyone would hear him.
"And why is that?" the leader asked, mildly surprised.
"Because you people are not killers" he stated confidently, rising from his chair.
"Padawan Skywalker" the Magistrate rebuked him harshly, "do you mind taking a seat and letting the experts handle these negotiations?"
"Yes, I do" the Padawan answered boldly, somewhat pleased to see the Magistrate's rotund face turn a shade of garish pink. Walking across the marble floor with quick, precise strides, he stopped when he found himself directly facing the rebel leader.
"As I've said before" he continued, "you people are not the murderers that the Magistrate's lies have made you to be. I know, because I have seen it with my own eyes."
"Skywalker" Rom'alren angrily ordered, "be silent or you will be thrown out!"
"No" Anakin spoke fiercely, his right thumb resting upon the hilt of his lightsaber, "you should be the one to shut the hell up! I've just about had it with your schemes and political games!"
Seeing the Padawan's hand so close to the weapon, or witnessing the blue flame of anger burning in his eyes seemed to make Rom'alren blanche stark white and lose his voice completely.
"Much better" Anakin agreed, releasing the grip on his weapon.
Turning around, so that he was facing the King's throne directly, he spoke:
"Your Majesty, I have never been the one to speak with fancy words. Diplomacy may suit a politician, but it is not my strong point. I was born on Tatooine, to a very humble existence, away from the bright centers of the Galaxy and, so, politics has never been my cut of tea. Allow me, however, to say this: to know a man's heart is far better than knowing his mind. I have seen the rebels with my own eyes and I can say, without a doubt, that they are not the terrorists that the High Magistrate has been leading you to believe."
Looking at the rebel leader, Anakin saw the growing amazement on the man's features. He had probably never expected that someone would have the audacity to speak in his defense.
"The rebels fight for a very just cause, Your Highness. They wish that their ancestral land, which had been stolen by the Warlords nearly a thousand years ago, be returned to them. They only wish for the freedom to live their lives, as they should have always done. Is that a reason to call them murderers and condemn them for high treason?"
Every being was now listening raptly at the Padawan's clear and concise words.
"My Master has entrusted me with the position of Negotiator" he went on, "and the last thing I wish to do is disappoint him."
Looking the King in the eye, Anakin swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat and took his chance.
"Your Majesty, if the revolutionaries and their families are allowed to settle on the plains between the Timur and Hoeh rivers, they will end the revolt once and for all. Do you find the conditions to be acceptable?"
The King turned his gaze on the rebel leader.
"Is this true, Fad'alir? Will you cease all of your attacks and revolts if the Government of Grizmalt will grant you the space that you need?"
"Yes, Your Majesty" the revolutionary answered.
"The so it shall be" the King intoned.
For a moment or two, no one said a thing. The, half of the room erupted in wild cheers, while the other half, mostly composed of the rich noblemen, with High Magistrate Rom'alren amongst them, stood silent and brooding, for they had lost the most from the victory of the revolutionaries: many of their estates were located between the Timur and the Hoeh rivers.
Anakin, for his part, stood silent, in the middle of the chaos, very aware that everyone was talking about him and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
The whole ordeal had ended quite nicely, as Obi-Wan was released from captivity and the King threw a large banquet, insisting that the "Jedi Heroes" would be the guests of honor, in spite of the two men's vehement protests.
At the banquet, as a sign of gratitude the King presented the two Jedi with gifts, despite the fact that they had told him numerous times that members of the Order rarely indulged in luxury. Obi-Wan had been given a signet ring, with the Royal House of Grizmalt's glyph, and Anakin received what appeared to be folded set of black robes.
"They are quite old and have a special history" the King had told him, with a strange, almost knowing look in his eyes. "I believe that they would fit you very well, Padawan Skywalker. After all, a great leader has worn them, long ago."
As much as he had tried to make sense of the Kings strange words, their meaning had constantly eluded him. When he and his Master had finally returned to the Temple, Anakin had tossed the folded package at the bottom of a drawer, forgetting almost instantly about it.
Now, the Jedi Knight ran his fingers over the beautifully embroidered phoenix, wondering what it symbolized. Rummaging deeper, he found matching pair of pants, a belt, knee-high soft leather boots and a black cape. With slow gestures, fearing that the delicate material could tear, Anakin donned the full suit. After he clipped the mantle on his shoulders and he encased his robotic arms in their gloves, he turned his sights on the oil-splattered mirror that hung on a wall.
The transformation appeared almost total. The black, military style garb seemed to fit and drape perfectly, as if it had been tailored exactly for him. With grim amusement, Anakin observed that the whole ensemble, combined with the black-gloved hands, made him look as if he were encased in a dark armor.
"What is taking you so long?" Obi-Wan's aggravated voice called out. The Master entered the room, treading carefully, as to not trip on the junk littering the floor. "We haven't got all . . . "
But the words seemed to die in his throat, as he stared at Anakin, dumbstruck.
"Where . . . where did you get those?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the embroidered phoenix.
"The mess on Grizmalt, remember?" Anakin asked, casually.
"Ah, yes" Obi-Wan relaxed somewhat. "The King's gift."
"Received for a job well-done" Anakin teased, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. "While you were sitting around, doing nothing, I single-handedlytook care of a political disaster!"
"Without aggressive negotiations?" Obi-Wan asked, feigning shock, as he decided to play his pupil's game. "That is indeed a first!"
As an answer, Anakin playfully swatted at his former Master.
"We had better get going" Obi-Wan spoke, regaining his serious demeanor once more. "Master Ti has just informed me that the clone army has arrived."
The two men left the apartment together, walking at a brisk pace. Anakin liked the feeling of the tunic: the material appeared to be very soft but strong at the same time, as if the costume had been specifically tailored for use in battle. And, even though the latter was being careful about it, Anakin caught Obi-Wan several times looking warily at the phoenix.
As they passed a group of Padawans, who were busily erecting several barricades made up of furniture and other various items (Obi-Wan struggled to stifle a laugh as he recognized Yoda's Council seat among them) Anakin couldn't help but notice the stares that were directed at him. Very few Jedi had dared to transgress so far from the classical attire of the Order.
"Always the one to stand out from the crowd" Obi-Wan had jokingly said, when, several years earlier, Anakin had first started wearing robes that were much darker than those of his peers. He had definitely been right, Anakin thought to himself, in more ways than one.
Ever since he first set foot into the Temple he had been different. In an orderly, tightly organized world, he had always stood out, like a Gungan attending the Galactic Opera House. The other Padawans had always viewed him as a stranger, an outsider, a pariah. While they had been schooled almost from birth in the art of controlling their emotions, he had come from a far different background, with already formed attachments.
Of course, the Chosen One prophecy didn't make matters any easier, either. For thirteen years, it had loomed over him, like a sword poised to drop. "The Order's Hope" they called him, some in jest, and some in earnest. Some idolized him, while others wanted to prove their superiority over him with all costs.
And then there was the Jedi Council, whose members, Anakin thought scornfully, in spite of all the repeated dark warnings, had willingly blinded and tied themselves up and, in so doing, had ultimately ended up giving the Galaxy on a silver platter to a despotic Sith Lord. He had as well, played a very important part in the whole affair, Anakin realized, as the monster of shame and self-revulsion writhed in his chest. After all, he was the one who had blindly followed Palpatine and who had believed all of his contorted truths. Many of the events now unfolding were direct consequences of his own foolishness.
"Why do all those around me end up dying, when all I want is to be able to protect them?" he asked himself for probably the thousandth time. Unbidden, horrific memories of The Praetor, exploding in an incandescent halo of light flooded his mind. He could still see the dark corridors, littered with charred, twisted and frozen corpses, their faces locked in expressions of pure agony. He could still hear the faint moans of those who found themselves at death's door. He had tried to save some, only to have them die in his arms, as he watched, helpless.
50.000 men and women had vanished, in that single disaster, because of his own damned pride. He had wanted to prove to the others (and himself) that he was just as good a Commander as Obi-Wan. Even though he had been warned several times that he was heading right into a trap, he chose to ignore the signs, believing solely in his power to shape Destiny.
How wrong he had been. And tens of thousands had paid with their lives for his mistake.
"A good Commander cares about those under his command" Obi-Wan had told him once, as he lay recovering in the medcenter. "A good Commander will always put the lives of the crew above his own. For him, not victory will be the supreme achievement, but the ability to bring his men back home safe."
If only he had known that earlier . . .
"How many will die now, because of my stupidity?" he asked himself bitterly, as he passed large groups of Knights, patrolling the corridors. He knew, all too well that the Order was in the current situation because he had believed all of Palpatine's machinations, never bothering to look beyond the beautiful surface.
"M-master Skywalker?"
Anakin flinched, as the high-pitched, trembling voice of a child pulled him out of his dark thoughts. Looking down, he saw a Youngling not older than three standard years old, who was staring at him with a pair of large, frightened blue eyes. The sight of the child's fear brought up another painful and shameful memory, but Anakin crushed it back down ruthlessly. Now was not the time for wallowing in self pity, not with a battle looming closer and closer.
"Yes, young one. What is it?" he asked softly, kneeling next to the child. The child continued to stare at him silently, before he finally dared to ask:
"Will . . . we be attacked?"
Anakin placed his large, gloved hand on the boy's smaller one, wondering what to tell him.
"The Temple will be attacked, yes" he answered. "But you mustn't fear, little one. I will not allow harm to befall any of the children!"
Reaching out, Anakin scooped the child up, cradling him in his arms.
"Let's get you somewhere safe."
Holding the boy tightly against his chest, Anakin took off in a sprint toward the hangar, hoping that the other Masters had listened to his indications and had boarded all of the Younglings in transport ships, for immediate evacuation.
"Knight Skywalker!"
Anakin stopped instantly, as Master Shaak Ti raced to catch up with him.
"The Younglings . . . can't be evacuated" she spoke, breathlessly.
"What?" Anakin asked sharply, as the cold feeling of dread lurched inside him.
"The entire Coruscant system has been blockaded!" she said, sounding as close to panic as a Jedi can be.
"Are you sure of this?" he asked.
"Yes. Palpatine has ordered that every hyperspace route heading out from the system be heavily guarded with Victory-class Destroyers and Interdictors. We are trapped."
It took a few seconds for this devastating information to register in Anakin's mind, but when it did, the effect was immediate. The young man tightened his hold on the child, as the fire of anger blazed white-hot inside him. The boy whimpered against the steel fingers which were tightening painfully, instantly making Anakin loosen his hold.
"I'm sorry, Young One" he whispered, stroking the child's blond curls. The boy raised his luminous eyes up to the other's face and smiled.
Anakin's heart leapt in his chest, as he saw that small sign. A brilliant, little smile, that seemed to illuminate the child's entire face. The boy trusted him, Anakin realized, with growing amazement. Had he once been like this boy, innocent, unaware of world's cruelty, of the Darkness that now loomed at the edge of his soul, waiting and begging to be used?
"What should we do, Anakin?" Shaak Ti asked, intruding on his ruminations.
She believed in him as well, the young Knight understood. They all did. He was their Chosen One. But, at the moment, he felt as lost as ever, floating on a dark, stormy sea, with no guiding light in sight. Who was he supposed to guide them, when he couldn't guide himself?
"Take the children from the hangar" he said, the analytical part of his mind taking over once more. "We need to put them in the securest part of the Temple, if they are to have any chance of survival at all."
"But where?" the Togruta Jedi Master asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, after which realization hit. "The command center!"
"Yes, Anakin agreed. "It is deep below the Temple and it should buy the children some time."
"But what if the defenses will fall?"
"Then" Anakin said, a strange, almost inhuman grin twisting his handsome features, "we will all die."
There was no trace of fear in his voice, only the steely determination of a man that had nothing more to lose.
Shaak Ti felt a shuddering sensation, as she saw the other's determination. Perhaps it was uncertainty (fear), but she did not let it show on the outside.
Take him along with the others" Anakin said, handing Ti the child. But the boy seemed to have other ideas, for it started kicking and screaming loudly. Anakin swiftly took him in his arms once more, feeling him shiver uncontrollably.
"What is it, little one?" he asked, in a whisper, doing his best to soothe the child.
"I . . . don't want to leave . . ." the boy sobbed, his head buried in the folds of Anakin's black tunic. "I want . . . to stay with you . . ."
Anakin rocked him gently, back and forth, in an effort to calm him down. Though, outwardly, he seemed composed, the young Jedi was feeling a maelstrom of emotion on the inside. Was this how a parent held his offspring? Was this how a father protected his child? There these the emotions that a parent felt? Holding a defenseless being in his arms, while fearing that he might not be able to protect him from harm.
Only once did he feel the same swell of protectiveness and fatherly joy: in Palpatine's office, where the nexus of the Force had showed him a brief glimpse of his child. His unborn daughter. She had called him 'Papa', she had said that she loved him! That image alone had given him the strength to fight against Palpatine's torture.
And the child now huddled in his arms would give him the necessary strength to save his wife and baby girl from the tyrant's claws!
Gently pulling the boy from the spot where he had curled himself, Anakin handed him over to Shaak Ti, trying to ignore the desperate yells and pleas.
"Take him to safety" the young Knight ordered gruffly, as he left to reach up with his Master. Behind him, the child's screams became fainter and fainter, small echoes, amplified by the large rooms.
"Don't worry, little one" he whispered, "I will make sure that you will live!"
With this fierce oath now hanging as another weight to be carrier on his shoulders, the Knight trudged onward, through the deserted corridors.
x x x
At the same time as the Jedi Order's fate hung in the balance, a lone Nubian N-1 Starfighter streaked through Hyperspace, en route to the galactic capital. It was not a common N-1, for it was painted a dark blue shade, instead of the classic bright yellow and the wings were decorated with the insignias of the Naboo Monarchy and the Old Republic (which had not been removed, even though the new Imperial symbol had been drawn next to it).
"R-7" the fighter's only occupant, a young woman asked, "how much more to Coruscant?"
"Imperial Center, Ma'am" the droid corrected her, as the translation of his binary response appeared on the display monitor.
"Whatever" the woman replied, frowning. "I prefer Coruscant, though. Is Palpatine going to insist on changing the names of the public toilets too?"
Even if it could understand humor, the droid didn't appear to have much appreciation for it, because it listed only a curt reply. "Our ETA is ten minutes, Mistress Yané."
"So soon?" Yané asked, puzzled. "Must have been one short hyperspace route . . ."
But, before she could finish her sentence, an alarm went off on the console and the whole craft shook for a few seconds, before exiting Hyperspace.
"What in Queen Tassia's name is going on here?" Yané hissed angrily, as she held her hand to her forehead, which had impacted hard with the glass canopy.
"Unidentified fighter, specify your identity and the purpose of your visit to Imperial Center" a clipped, male voice sounded over the comm. Yané's eyes looked in all possible directions, until her astonished gaze fell on two very large ships, that made her one-man snub fighter look like a midget: a Victory-class Star Destroyer and an Interdictor-Class Cruiser.
"The system is being blockaded!" Yané's trained mind picked up immediately. Even though she was stunned, none of this showed in her tone of voice, which was as firm as ever.
"Yané Ravenok" she told her name, "Lieutenant-Commander of the Naboo Security Forces, and liaison to the Nubian Diplomatic Council on Coruscant."
"What is your reason for visiting Imperial Center, Lieutenant Ravenok?" the man asked, before adding: "Only those authorized by his Majesty can enter the system."
"My business lies directly with His Majesty" Yané explained. "I am to personally give His Highness a report of the Naboo system's transition and integration into the new Imperial structures. My clearance serial is J/40/339/736."
There was a short pause, as the code was checked, but then the Officer spoke again:
"Thank you, Ma'am. Enjoy your stay on Imperial Center."
"Oh, I will, most definitely!" Yané thought coyly, as she directed her fighter toward the planet. Even though her official assignment was to report to the Emperor, her unofficial task was to gather vital intelligence for the Royal Council.
In other words, espionage.
Even though Naboo had been one of the first planets to submit its approval of the new regime (seeing as it had no substantial army, other than the Security Forces, opposing the Imperial war machine had hardly counted as a choice), the fact still remained that the Nubian population in general, had very little trust in the Empire and its ruler. Staunch supporters of democracy, the Nubians had never considered a dictatorship to be a viable solution for the Republic.
And then there was the Royal Council, whose members were, in secret, very wary of the Emperor's intentions. As a means to discern Palpatine's plans for the Galaxy, the Council members, along with the current monarch of the planet, Queen Aphailana, had decided to send one of the best young security officers that Naboo had to offer, as a spy, in the midst of Palpatine's inner circle.
Yané Ravenok had been a very inspired choice for the task. Her childhood of service as one of Queen Amidala's handmaidens had taught her all that she needed to know about protocol, etiquette and how to deal with the upper echelon of society.
"Let's hope I can pull this off" she murmured to herself, as the clouds of the stratosphere parted to allow a magnificent view of the planet-wide metropolis. Yané nimbly guided her craft through the seemingly endless streams of traffic, before settling it down in one of the Senate Dome's many hangar bays.
"You stay here, R-7" she ordered, pulling off the dark jumpsuit that she had been wearing, to reveal a dress-uniform beneath. Tying her unruly, shoulder-length black hair into a severe bun, she opened the canopy, and jumped out of the fighter. Her boots made a clicking sound, against the metal floor, drawing the attention of three beings that had just entered the hangar.
"Creepy welcoming committee" Yané thought to herself, as a tall bald-pale skinned woman walked regally toward her, flanked by two imposing guards, dressed in bright red robes, with their faces obscured by red helmets.
"Good day, Madam Ravenok" the woman spoke, on an icy tone. "I am Sly Moore, Personal Secretary to His Majesty the Emperor. If you will be so kind as to follow me, I will lead you to your suite. All the proper accommodations have been made for your stay on Imperial Center."
"If I may be so bold as to ask" Yané said, interrupting Moore, "I would like a meeting with his Excellency, to discuss the issues of the Naboo system."
"All in due time" the taller woman waved a hand slightly. "The Emperor is currently unavailable and he will probably be so for the next days as well. I suggest that you find means to occupy your time until the, Madam."
"I will do so" Yané agreed, as she followed closely behind the woman and the two guards, closely examining Moore's words in her own mind. The secretary had addressed her as Madam and had not used her military rank. That clearly meant that her position of Lieutenant-Commander had absolutely no value at all in the Imperial Court, and that she would not benefit from a high-level security clearance.
"Blast it!" she thought, annoyed, as Sly Moore left, after showing her the way to her apartment. This would make her job much harder, but, Yané told herself with determination, it would not stop her. Not by a long shot.
x x x
"What kept you?" Obi-Wan asked, turning around to see Anakin ascend the stairs that lead to the wide balcony.
"Nothing" the Knight replied, trying to sound casual, as he examined the area around the Temple. Whereas it had been deserted a few hours ago, now it was teeming with activity, as a vast number of clones, grouped into tightly knit battalions arranged themselves around the structure.
"They are preparing for the siege" Obi-Wan said, examining a long line of missile launchers. "Let's hope that the magnetic shield will be effective against those."
"Don't worry" Anakin answered. "It will be."
Yoda studied the young Knight from head to toe, frowning slightly.
"Those robes suit you, young Skywalker" he said, on his mellow but deep tone. "Hope I do, that your life will be different than their original wearer."
Anakin frowned slightly, but, as no other explanation was forthcoming from the diminutive Master, he returned his eyes toward the clone army. He had a peculiar feeling that, somewhere in that compact mass of enemies, laid an ally, who would be vital in the Order's struggle for survival. His eyes scouted over the amassing clones, trying to find the object of his apprehension. Stretching out with his perceptions, he searched among the hundreds of Force-signatures, until a very familiar presence blazed bright against his senses.
"No" he whispered, his eyes widening in shock. "C/704 . . . it cannot be!"
Obi-Wan looked at his former pupil, feeling his amazement slamming hard against their bond.
"What is it?"
"I . . . just felt someone that I knew" he answered, with an unfocused look in his eyes. "And, maybe there is a way out of this after all."
'What do you mean by that?" Jor couldn't help but ask.
"Wait here!" the Knight ordered, bolting down the stairs, as everyone stared after him.
"Take after Knight Ankalagon, will he?" Yoda asked, concern lacing his voice.
"I hope not" Obi-Wan answered, softly.
"Who's Ankalagon?" Kazuya wondered, looking between the two Masters.
"Ankalagon" Obi-Wan answered, "was a renowned Jedi Knight during the Sith War, almost four thousand years ago. Even though he was not very gifted in the Force, he was a genius when it came to military tactics and strategy. Under his command, the joined armada of the Republic won victory over victory against the Sith Empire. The entire Galaxy was in love with him. They saw him as their hero, their savior, their Knight in shining armor. They idolized him to such an extent, that most actually whished to see him on the seat of Chancellorship! Of course, a Jedi cannot hold a public function, except a military rank, the Code forbids it. But Ankalagon, arrogant and stubborn, wouldn't listen to reason at all and, in one of the shortest elections in galactic history, ascended as the ruler of the Republic. The Jedi banished him from the Order, but he did not seem to care at all.
"Was he a good ruler?" Jor inquired.
"It depends on your point of view. True, under his ten year rule, commerce and trade flourished like it had not in any other age. And the Sith Empire steered clear of the Republic, with the joined armada dutifully guarding the borders. But, those were very dark times as well. Ankalagon became paranoid, to such an extent that he saw murder and betrayal everywhere. He ordered that all of his political rivals be assassinated in secret, until there was no one to candidate against him. He succeeded to turn, albeit for a short time, the democratic republic into a totalitarian regime."
"What happened to him?"
"He was killed, by the hired mercenaries of another, power-hungry Senator. Ironically, his worst fear became reality."
"And what does Master Anakin have to do with him?" Kazuya asked, perplexed.
"That uniform belonged to Ankalagon. He wore it in his campaigns as General and in his first days of office, before the obsession and madness took over. The silver phoenix, with its wings outstretched, as if preparing for flight, was his symbol."
"Do you fear the same for Master Skywalker?" Jor whispered, shuddering. "That he might fall into madness?"
"No, that is not what I fear. Anakin has far too strong a psyche. Instead, I am worried that he will succumb to the seductive pull of power. I am worried that his desire for power might increase, compelling him to pursue it, with no regard for anything else."
"A man who loses the power with which he has become accustomed can be very dangerous" the previously silent Wookie Chewbacca intoned, in a low growl.
All of the balcony's occupants fell silent, each pondering both the possible outcome of the siege and the Chosen One's future.
Anakin's frantic footsteps finally carried him to the central entrance. Ignoring a group of stunned Padawans, he leaped over several barricades, exiting the Temple.
Immediately as they saw movement near the front doors, the troopers on the first line raised their rifles, getting ready to fire. C/704 raised his hand, so that every soldier would see him.
"Hold your fire, men. Let's see what it is first."
The troopers obeyed, lowering their weapons and watching the tall, black clad figure's long strides. C/704's eyes were glued on the Jedi, as he silently prayed:
"Please, not him. Please, Maker, don't let it be him!"
But his hopes were dashed, when he saw the man's handsome face and sharp blue eyes. The Jedi was still advancing steadily, with a black hand raised, palm forward, to show the soldiers that he had peaceful intentions.
"Well, well" he said, when he found himself only five meters away from the trooper. "Long time no see, eh Commando?"
"I could say the same, Jedi." C/704 answered, in similar fashion. "You're still as stubborn, though."
"Nothing will change that" Anakin answered, with a small smile. "Or did you actually think that I would turn tail and flee like a coward?"
"You could have saved your life" the clone hissed, angrily.
"I prefer to fight alongside the other Knights than run away to save my own skin" the young man replied coldly, his eyes flashing steel.
"You were always a fool" C/704 sighed, shaking his head. "And for this foolishness, you will end up paying with your life."
"Then just do it and be done with it" Anakin retorted, sharply. "Kill me, if you think that you can."
Then, to the amazement of the clones and the Jedi watching the exchange, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt, letting it fall. The weapon hit the ground with a dull clank, which reverberated off the Temple's walls, in the frozen silence.
"I am defenseless" he went on, raising both if his hands to make his point. "Kill me, if you so badly wish to be rid of me."
For a few moments, all seemed to stand still, as the Jedi watched, with expressions of horror etched on their faces and the clones tightened the grips on their weapons, awaiting an order from their Commander.
Anakin, for his part, stood as motionless as a statue, his gloved hands outstretched, as if conveying a mute blessing upon the army, his black mantle billowing in the gentle breeze and the silver phoenix on his chest shining almost blindingly in the glare of the sun.
Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity to most, C/704 spoke:
"Do not shoot him, men."
Even if they were not satisfied with the order that they had just been given, the troopers gave no outwardly sign of it and obeyed as usual.
"Skywalker" the Commander said, on a resigned tone, "you know all too well that I cannot kill you, especially when I owe my life to you."
"Indeed" Anakin smiled slightly.
"What is it that you want from me?"
"I want you to order your troops to cease their preparations for the siege. I want you to leave the Temple alone."
Perhaps if the situation were different, C/704 would have laughed at the young Jedi's outlandish request. Now, however, his shoulders slumped.
"I cannot do that, Anakin. I and my men have been given a direct order by his Majesty the Emperor, whom we are sworn to serve with our lives."
"But can't you see that it is wrong? Palpatine is only using you, as he did everyone else! You are only tools to him, nothing more. How can you be loyal to such a man?"
"We have been specifically created to serve the head of the Galaxy, at all times" the clone answered, softly. "And there is nothing that we can do about it. I am sorry, Anakin."
Anakin nodded curtly.
"I understand. Then, we have no choice to defend ourselves, at all costs."
The way his eyes flashed again when he said 'all costs' made C/704 understand that both the and the rest of the Jedi were ready to give their lives in this fight.
"I will see you on the battlefield" Anakin said, before he picked up his saber, turned around and entered the Temple once more, the black mantle flowing gracefully behind him.
C/704 closed his eyes for a few seconds, praying:
"Maker, give me strength!"
Sighing deeply, he steeled himself. He had a duty to perform. He had been created for this and we would not allow emotion to get in his way.
"Men" he ordered, prepare the ground-air missiles for launch!"
The troopers hastily obeyed his command, swiftly loading the projectiles into the launchers.
"On my mark" he called out, raising his hand. "Now!"
And, with an almighty screech, five missiles were launched in rapid succession, hurtling toward the Temple.