Disclaimer: Anything that looks like it belongs to GL & co probably does. I just have a bunch of DVDs and video games and soundtracks that make me feel like I belong in it.

Hi, Jedi of Gondor - thanks for reading, and great name, by the way! Welcome. I'm afraid I can only take credit for Dack Meridian as an OC thus far, though we will meet another one in the chapter following this. Just about everyone else makes appearances in either movies or games; they're just not heavily written about in profic or fanfic. One of these days I'll get some kind of little character sheet up so we can attach names to faces.

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6. Storm Warnings

Sabé Ralter awoke to a very impolite beeping by the side of her head.

She reached out clumsily, slapping aside her regular comlink and a likely message from Rabé or, worse yet, the new lieutenant asking for more guidance on mundane issues. Sabé had no intention of losing yet another hour of precious sleep to the girl's yammering, which had so far ranged from starfighter maintenance to problems with the cooking staff, and, guardians protect her, what to do if one of the soldiers looked at her improperly. Gods, are they incapable of giving me a halfway-decent staff? Sabé stuck her head under her pillow. Go away, go away…

The comlink kept on needling at her. Whoever it was certainly wasn't getting the hint. Probably is that idiot lieutenant…

Times are trying, Captain, the general's voice reminded her. Make do. You're not on Naboo anymore.

No, instead she was stuck on some gods-forsaken attack cruiser somewhere in the Core Worlds, waiting for proper orders. Sabé swatted at the desk again, this time successfully bashing her hand into her standard comlink and sending it skittering off the night-desk. The reactor better be going critical. If the ship's not about to explode, I'm going to send her back to that rock she came from.

The comlink bounced gently off the thin carpeting of her quarters, but the beeping continued.

Sabé peeked out from under the pillow and realized that it was not the irritating lieutenant after all.

Sleep vanished as she yanked open the drawer of her night-desk and dug the secondary comlink out. "Padmé, what is it?" she asked, mentally calculating the time difference on Coruscant. Padmé would not call this late unless…

Sabé heard soft breathing, but no actual words. She sat up properly, leaning back against the thin durasteel headboard that had been delivered after she reached the rank of captain. "Padmé?"

The breathing continued for so long that Sabé wondered if her friend had simply knocked into the comlink accidentally while cleaning. Or perhaps Binks had tried juggling machinery again and dropped it on the ground. It didn't necessarily mean anything was wrong….

Then, from the transmitter, came a small, frightened voice. "Sabé? Oh, Sabé…"

Her feet were already on the floor, and one arm reached for clothing as she held the comlink up. "Talk to me, Pad – what's the matter? Are you all right? Where are you?"

"Everything – everything's fine—" Padmé took a deep breath, and the shaking in her voice stopped. "It's just—things are going so badly here, and I don't know… I'm so tired of this…."

Sabé held still, looking around the darkened confines of her room. Padmé Amidala never complained about work; such things had a way of becoming very public in these turbulent times. The quake she heard beneath the Senator's unwavering determination was very real – and frightening. The wear and tear of Clone War politics was finally starting to manifest. Sabé, with her military commission and excellent connections, had managed to avoid a good deal of the messy galactic affairs that in which Padmé was often ensnared.

What's worse? Eirtaé's melodic chuckle passed through Sabé's mind. War politics or the politics of war?

In truth, Sabé was slightly surprised that Padmé hadn't flung up her hands at the current behavior of the Senate and gone back to Naboo already. "You ought to go home, Pad. Let Binks take care of things for awhile."

Padmé's laugh had a hint of a desperate tinge to it. "I can't do that. You saw what he did last time."

Sabé dropped her boots and stumbled over to the holovid, flicking it on to the local all-news channel. "Yes, and it saved your life on Geonosis, in case you'd forgotten."

The breaking story featured a building on fire. Sabé turned away to pull on her trousers and boots, figuring she might as well make her rounds now that she was awake. "I mean it. Take a few weeks. Go to the Lake Country… I'll join you!"

Padmé paused. "You're on active duty."

"I'll pull rank. No one will tell me no; they're all afraid of me anyway. Besides, it's boring as a shaak-race here, and I'm sure General Frei can handle things for awhile." She picked up her chrono and cringed at the time. "It'll be fun… maybe I can get Rabé to come along later, and we can swim every day and…" She babbled on, hoping her words would at least have a heartening effect.

Padmé didn't answer. Sabé sighed and tightened her belt a notch, mentally reminding herself to eat something at her earliest opportunity. She tried a different tactic, broaching a subject her friend was usually eager to discuss: "How's Anakin doing? He still owes Rabé a new speeder. She says she wants one of the new R-40s." Rabé's previous speeder, a B-47, was in pieces at the bottom of some gorge, thanks to one of Anakin's more impulsive rescue plans.

At least the rescue worked, Sabé reminded herself as she pulled her hair into a simple plait.

"I… I don't know… I haven't seen him…" Padmé coughed, and then mumbled something indecipherable before clearing her throat. "I'd better go."

Sabé longed to say something – anything – just to keep the Senator on the line. Padmé had been far from home for too long, just like all of them had. Still, trying to further push her into going back to Naboo might just complicate things; taking a leave of absence in the middle of this war would only spur bitter gossip and ultimately more heartache.

They'd all had enough of that to last a lifetime.

So Sabé Ralter did her job and stayed strong. "Tell Threepio if he doesn't take care of you, I'm going to scrap him."

"Well, really," the droid snapped in the background. "Oh, mistress Padmé—" The droid sounded as if he were about to say more, but cut off abruptly.

"Thanks, Sabé…" Padmé's voice almost lightened… almost. "Take care."

The transmission ended, and Sabé was alone in the quiet.

She tossed the comlink on the bed and finished dressing, buckling her holster across her thigh and reaching for her battered black jacket. On a whim, she turned up the volume on the holovid.

…Jedi Temple has been ablaze for at least twenty minutes now…

Sabé froze as she identified the graceful towers and elegant architecture. Yes, that was the Jedi Temple, but at the same time, it couldn't be. Multiple fires raged across its base, and the changing views were courtesy of a bot-droid that zipped back and forth above it. Sabé had seen a great deal of nastiness during her time in the Clone War, but something about the Council tower -- swathed in smoke and flame -- shook her almost as badly as Eirtaé's death had months ago.

There was no discussion and no anchorman; only a scrolling bit of text at the bottom of the screen, informing anyone who cared to watch that no reporters were allowed to get near the temple.

Security forces say the fire is under control…

And Padmé able to see the flames from her windows…

By the gods, why didn't she say something?

The computerized voice droned on: We are not sure what has caused the current situation…

Sabé reached under her bed and tugged out the kit containing her vibroblades, clipping one to each side of her belt. I'll give them a situation

She flicked off the 'vid and left her room -- if it could indeed be called a room -- in disarray. Down the corridor, past an alert pair of guards – until she pounded on the flat-paneled silver door that separated the pilots from the ground forces. She kept on banging, her fist striking it with increasing frequency until--

The door slid open, and a bleary-eyed Ric Olié stifled a yawn. "What? Sabé, it's barely past the watch—"

"I need your ship."

"What?" The flight captain perked up slightly. "She's in hangar four, but—"

"Something's happened on Coruscant; the temple's on fire, I need to get Padmé—"

"The temple's on fire?" All traces of sleepiness vanished from Ric's face, and he adopted that shaak-on-the-firing-range look that always seemed to precede one of his more obvious remarks. "You need to get Padmé!"

She refrained from strangling him. "I need the codes, Ric."

"Two seven o'niner," he said immediately. "Why's the temple on fire? The temple shouldn't be on fire!"

"Tell Rabé I'm sorry and to watch things and—" she shoved her security key into his hand, "--hold the place down!"

"But Captain—"

"Not now, Ric!" Sabé was already halfway down the hall, and gods help anyone in her way. She reached the hangar in record time, punching in Ric's access codes hurling herself into the bridge of a sleek Nubian X-class transport. A handful of buttons and one terse instruction to the onboard computer later, the Spindrift lifted off her skids and blasted away into the cold reaches of space, leaving her mothership far behind.

Sabé bypassed questions with her military clearance, and Spindrift jumped to lightspeed.

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The Force choked under the blinding pressure of the Dark Side, and Cin Drallig was momentarily frozen as he watched his padawan rush to her death.

Serra and Skywalker clashed in the center of the sparring chamber, light sweeping from locked blades. Skywalker lifted a hand and Force-shoved her against one of the pillars. He advanced on the padawan as she struggled to get back to her feet.

The surreal moment ended, and Cin's lightsaber came to his hand. Not my apprentice, you sand-covered little scumbag. He soared across the room, bringing his blade into a downward arc. Skywalker didn't turn around, but deflected the blow over his shoulder.

Cin felt himself lifted up and back, and quickly locked down his own defenses. "Serra, get out of here!"

She didn't answer, and Cin's boots landed jarringly on the floor. He opened his mind to the will of the Force and twirled his green blade menacingly. He'd likely die tonight, but not without a fight that would make a Dark Lord look back in awe. "Welcome, Skywalker… to your destruction." Cin smiled challengingly. "Come on, you desert brat. Remember your lessons?"

Skywalker launched toward him, leaping up and pulling his blue blade toward Cin's chest. Cin struck it aside, taking small, careful steps and jabbing sharply at the boy's ribs. Skywalker squirmed back and forth to evade the blows, and eventually dropped into a crouch to sweep his lightsaber at the master's feet. Cin moved a touch too slowly, and heat singed at his ankles.

Skywalker lifted his left hand in a mocking salute. "You're making this too easy, old man."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Cin swung under Skywalker's arm and jerked his blade upward, hoping the boy might spring back out of reflex and wind up with one less arm.

Instead, Cin felt his airway close off and instinctively dropped his weapon to grab at his throat. His eyes widened at Skywalker's calm countenance, the way the fingers of his left hand gently drifted shut, blocking more and more air. "You'll look better when you're dead, Drallig," the boy said almost lazily. Cin saw spots appearing in front of him, and tried to grasp for the non-responsive Force. Where is it? How has he blocked it so completely?

The invisible hand around his neck abruptly released him, and Cin Drallig landed hard on his backside as Skywalker wheeled around to face a swirl of green plasma, barely deflecting a punishing series of blows. Serra had recovered, and instead of running for her life, she'd opted to fight.

Just like Joclad, Cin thought, calling his lightsaber back and stalking toward them. Just as eager to go running in and get killed. Maybe it's me. "Serra, no!"

She came at Skywalker in a series of whirls and struck at him from all angles. Anger gave her greater strength, pushing the Chosen One into a defensive mode that Cin hadn't seen him willingly take up for quite some time.

"You call yourself Skywalker?" Serra jumped wide over a swing and tried to strike at his head with the hilt. Skywalker ducked, holding out his hand and catching the padawan in a Force-vice, immobilizing her in midair. She twisted frantically, sabers slashing back and forth as he flicked a finger and dragged her closer.

Cin flung out his wrist and hurled his power at Skywalker, knocking the boy off-kilter and halting Serra's inexorable slide to certain doom.

She landed on her feet and came right back, hurling her right blade at the boy's head.

Skywalker knocked it aside with shocking ease. Serra's anger looked ready to boil over as she called it back.

Cin gave Skywalker another Force-shove, and Serra closed in. She lunged upward and sent both blades down in a move that on any other Jedi, in any other lifetime, would both disarm and decapitate.

Skywalker slid his blade between hers, and orange light momentarily blinded them all as he cut off her swing at just the right second.

Cin held his breath as he sensed his apprentice's shock. No one should have deflected that blow...

Skywalker smiled malevolently. "And you call yourself a Jedi?"

Serra jerked her left saber free and swung one-handed at his neck. Skywalker leaped backward and jabbed at her torso. She slid a little to the right, but hissed in pain as the glowing blue light opened up a weal on her side. "You should talk," she said through gritted teeth as Cin masked his presence and approached from behind, lightsaber clenched in his hand. "You're the worst Jedi I've ever seen!"

Skywalker's response was succinct: "I'm more than a Jedi now!"

Cin grasped the boy's shoulder and sank tendrils of the Force into him before Skywalker could even react, nailing him across the face with the hilt. "We'll see about that."

Serra did not miss her chance, and dove at the apparently dazed Skywalker. She lifted her right arm high over her head, flicking the hilt down to run it straight through his ribcage--

--too late, Cin saw Skywalker's blade swing around to punch through Serra's unprotected right side and re-appear on her left.

NO!Serra, no!

Cin stood immobilized, too horrified to even breathe. Skywalker could not have done that. Serra was too strong, too fast. Serra...

Serra's mouth hung slackly in shock, and she seemed to be pleading with him as Skywalker bided his time. Master, help me!

Skywalker twitched his lightsaber, and Serra's entire body jerked. "Oh, you don't like that?" He smiled at Cin, seemingly relishing the effect he had. "Not much of an apprentice to fall so fast, is she, Drallig?"

Cin felt his blood starting to roar in his ears. This bucket of slime has killed my padawan.

Serra remained absolutely still, though her life-force appeared to be draining out through her feet. "You've gone to a bad place, Skywalker," she whispered, "and you're going to rot there for a very long time."

He jerked the saber free, and Serra Keto dropped bonelessly to the floor. Skywalker turned to Cin, and the smile on his face was at once chillingly familiar and entirely inhuman. "We'll see about that..."

The old swordsman drew himself up and looked to the Force as his ally, but knew these next few moments would be his last. "Let's see your best then, brat. Come get it."

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A/N: If anyone here has played Revenge of the Sith - The Video Game, you'll probably recognize a couple of Serra/Cin lines: "Welcome... to your destruction!" and "You're the worst Jedi I've ever seen!"