Warning: This chapter contains torture and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 27

Darkness Falls

The woman is tied to a rough wooden stake. She looks weak, very weak, and all that keeps her in an upright position are the ropes which tie her to the stake. There are bruises on her wrists where the tight ropes have cut into her flesh. Her clothes are in rags and hang loosely around her slim body.

Her eyes hold a look of fear and desperation. And very much pain. She mutters something, the words are barely above a whisper when they leave her dried and chapped lips: "Ani..."

The exertion is enough to make her cough and choke. She cries and whimpers in pain when her injured and weak body shooks roughly.

"Ani..." she croaks again, this time louder and more desperately. "Please..." She fights for each rattling breath, every movement costing her a painful stress. Her once handsome but now haggard face contorts in anguish when she cries the next words: "Anakin, please help me, please..."

More and more she cries and her screams are becoming louder and louder. Crying and sobbing and pleading for help, for release from her sufferings. But no one comes to save her. Her dark eyes flash deliriously and she repeats the same things again and again: "Help me, Anakin, please help me!"

But finally her helpless struggles against the ropes weakens, her body slackens and her voice dies down. She croaks and chokes but no one hears her. Then the life leaves her eyes. But the pain and the despair never leave her eyes. She dies with her son's name on her lips.

…

The Jedi Council. A secret meeting. An off the record meeting. The atmosphere is relieved.

Master Windu says, "I'm glad this is finally over. I was worried about his loyalty."

"Yes, it's good that she is dead," Ki-Adi-Mundi agrees. "Now he doesn't have this dangerous attachment anymore."

"Now he can again give all his talents to the Jedi Order," Master Fisto says.

"A good idea it was to side with the Tusken Raiders. Very helpful and very subtle they were in removing her."

"But we wasted a lot of money to bribe them," Master Windu says darkly.

"It was worth it. We didn't have another choice," Master Unduli states. "We can't afford losing the Chosen One to his mother."

….

A few years later. Another Council meeting. Just as secret and off the record.

"Unlucky it is that we have lost the Chosen One. Who now will bring balance to the Force?"

"It was never really certain that he was the Chosen One," Master Ki-Adi-Mundi says matter-of-factly.

"I agree," Master Unduli says, unconcerned. "We'll just have to go looking for another strong Force user whom we can call that."

"Maybe we can produce a clone of Skywalker if we find his corpse," Master Windu suggests.

"I'm afraid he has been dead for too long," Master Fisto says, disgust clearly written on his face. "The material wouldn't make a very good clone."

"Clone me, we can. Many midi-chlorians I have too."

Master Windu nods slowly. "And I can donate some of my genes too."

"It's decided then," Ki-Adi-Mundi concludes. "Now we just need to nominate someone who replaces Skywalker to the Council. Any suggestions?"

…..

There is the woman again. The Tusken Raiders are dragging her brutally towards a tent. She is roughly shoved against the wooden stake and tied very tightly to it. One of the Tuskens takes his gaderffii weapon and raises it to hit her hard in her stomach, making her scream in pain. He makes a grunting noise which sounds remotely like a laugh. He raises his gaderffii again and the woman tries to avoid the blow but she cannot move -

"NOOO!" Anakin jerked up from the floor. Although he had had these dreams frequently during his imprisonment by Ventress, they were getting worse each night. His heart was hammering loudly and the despair he had felt at first was slowly turning into hot rage. It burned his stomach and made him want to vomit.

He jumped up and started pacing in his small cell. His hands clenched into fists, he tried to think of anything else but the dreams. His pace was getting faster and faster.

"They would never..." he muttered, his voice rasped and angry. "They would never do that..." His teeth were grinding and he tried to keep his breathing, which was speeding up, at least somewhat even. "They are Jedi, they wouldn't..."

He braced his palms against the cold stone wall of his cell. It did not have any windows, there was just one glow orb which shone a sickly shade of neon-yellow-grey. He could not endure it in here any longer. The low ceiling, the confining walls and his dark thoughts which threatened to overwhelm him. He preferred Ventress torturing him. The pain made him at least forget.

A rough tremor shook his body. "Why?" he whispered in a raw voice. "Why, why, why?!" He started his restless pacing again, muttering like a mentally deranged, "They wouldn't... They couldn't... They wouldn't... They wouldn't... They would never have..."

He slammed a fist into the wall, not bothering that the force of it opened one of his many badly healed bruises up. He watched in an odd sort of fascination his own blood running down the wall.

Red.

Red like blood.

Red like love.

Red like boiling anger.

"No!" He rammed his fist into the wall again. "NOOO!" How could they?! How could they have abandoned him?! How could they have abandoned his mother?!

There she was again, the pain etched into her features. She looked at him, a desperate plea for help. Forever unanswered. Again he saw the light die in her warm brown eyes. But the pain... the pain was still in her eyes. Forever.

"NO, NO, NOOO!" He kept hitting his fists into the wall again and again, not bothering at all that the blood sprayed everywhere. "COME HERE, VENTRESS!" he roared. "COME HERE AND FINISH IT! COME ON, I'M WAITING! YOU WON! COME ON, FINISH WHAT YOU HAVE BEGUN!"

He could not keep the images from his mind, again he was forced to witness one session of the Jedi Council.

"Good it is that Jinn died," Yoda says in satisfaction.

"Absolutely," Master Windu agrees. "He was too dangerous. It was too dangerous to let him train and spoil the Chosen One."

"Yes," Master Unduli says thoughtfully. "He would have made the Chosen One just another rebellious nuisance."

Anakin growled, pounding the walls with a force he had not known he possessed. The images kept spinning in his mind. His mother, dying. The Council, plotting. Qui-Gon's body. His mother screaming in pain. She was dying. Again.

He growled again, like an enraged krayt dragon. "Ventress, you coward! Come! Stop it! I don't want it anymore! STOP IT!"

But Ventress did not come. No one came. No one came to deliver him from his sufferings.

You see? No one comes. They don't care.

He felt dizzy. Too many days of torture, malnutrition and life in this small cell took their toll on him.

Exhausted, he sank to the floor, muttering nonsense, talking to Ventress, the Jedi Council, his mother, Obi-Wan, the Chancellor... Then he saw Qui-Gon again. Floating in front of him like a ghost.

"Don't give up," the ghost said.

Anakin erupted into maniacal laughter. Oh yes, he had dreamed of Qui-Gon. And sometimes he even talked to him in his delirious states. This had kept him going on so far. This and the thoughts of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, who was the only one he could trust. Obi-Wan, whom he loved and would never be able to bear to lose like he lost Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan, who was the only Jedi he respected. If Anakin thought of the perfect Jedi, it was never Master Yoda, Master Windu or Master Ki-Adi-Mundi but Obi-Wan because although he was only a Padawan (and a very ill-tempered, stubborn and impatient Padawan at times), he had such a strong faith and such a stamina... something Anakin thoroughly lacked.

"You must be strong now," the Qui-Gon-ghost told Anakin.

"You're an illusion," he told the ghost, cackling madly. "An illusion! Ha ha ha! Maybe a Fata Morgana. Because I haven't gotten anything to drink for a while. Like in the desert. On Tatooine. You see Fata Morganas there, you know? Or she has poisoned me. Ha ha ha!" Laughing hoarsely, Anakin rolled on the floor.

But soon the laughter turned to sobs and he did not have the strength anymore to move. So he just stayed there on the cold floor, lying unmoving in a pathetic heap. The blurred images were racing through his mind again and there was a dull hammering in his head. He heard voices calling him again. Ah yes, he had to fight a war, he had to get up. His troops were waiting for him. Where was his starfighter? And then the cruel realisation stung him: His starfighter had broken in the crash he had had on Senali. A scream of despair escaped his mouth and he was crying, crying, crying for his starfighter and the voices were calling him unmercifully.

"General Skywalker? General Skywalker!"

He crawled towards the wall and leant against it. "Yes," he shouted gesturing wildly to a troop of clones which was behind the wall. "Prepare the ships to set off. We'll be leaving in half an hour. Commander Sulli is leading the attack against the Sabaoth Destroyer. Commander Cody and his troop are coming with me to attack the flagship. May the Force be with us all." And then he laughed again because this was really a big joke. May the Force be with us all?! Ha, the Force was not with him anymore. Ventress had taken it from him. "May the Force be with us all," he repeated. Then he stood up and slammed his fist on his chest right above his heart. "May the Force be with us all!" he exclaimed in a booming and pompous voice. The exertion was too much for his weakened body. He staggered and slammed into the wall. He whimpered in pain when he sank down. The pounding in his head did not stop and the voice was calling him again.

"General Skywalker! General Skywalker! Are you okay?"

Somehow, the voice found a way through his fogged brain. It sounded remotely familiar.

"General Skywalker, this is Commander Cody! Are you alright?"

Oh yes, sure, Commander Cody. He was talking to dead people again. Now everything made perfect sense.

"General Skywalker!" the very alive voice repeated insistently. "Are you a prisoner of Ventress too? Are you alright? General Skywalker, can you hear me? Please say something or knock against the wall!"

Very slowly, Anakin raised his bloodstained hand and knocked against the wall. He heard more voices and then someone on the other side of the wall knocked too.

"General Skywalker, are you okay? Knock once for yes and twice for no!"

Finally, Anakin found his voice. "Commander Cody?" he croaked. "Is that you?"

"General Skywalker? Please repeat, I didn't catch that!"

"Commander Cody," Anakin repeated, forcing his voice louder. "Is that you? You are alive?"

"Yes, it is I," came the response. "And I am alive. Are you alright?"

"Well..." Anakin looked his sorry state up and down and gave his cell an examining glance.

"Excuse me?" he heard Cody's concerned voice again.

"Well, I guess I have been better..."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't think so. Unless you can somehow get us out of here."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. I've already tried everything. We're really sitting in a trap here."

Anakin nodded gloomily. Then he realised that Cody of course could not see it. "Yes," he said loudly. "What about you? Are you alright? Are there other people with you?"

"Yes, I share a cell with three other clones: Tom, Alba and Rad Four. Ventress tortured Tom and Rad Four yesterday and she tried to question us all but we didn't say a word."

Anakin sighed softly. As it looked, the clone troopers had much more stamina than he: a Jedi Master, General and presumable Chosen One. "That was very brave of you. The Republic is lucky to have such loyal fighters as you."

"Thank you very much, sir," Cody said, pleased, and Anakin could vividly imagine the commander's excitement. In spite of the whole horrible situation they found themselves in, Anakin had to smile a little bit. Whatever happened, the clones' excitement of having served the Republic well would never cease. I should take a leaf out of Cody's book, he thought ruefully. He has a faith I don't have anymore.

"I'm very glad to hear that you are alive," Anakin said sincerely. "I thought you were dead when I saw your starfighter explode."

"That's what I thought too. But then I woke up here. I'm afraid it's not much better than death."

"Yes... Death seems terribly welcome now, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure someone will come to free us, sir," Cody said confidently.

Anakin did not reply anything to that statement. He wished he had at least half as much conviction as Cody.

"They will come," Cody insisted. "No one will probably go looking for me but they will certainly go looking for you, won't they?"

"Maybe they think I'm dead too," Anakin said evasively.

"Oh." There was a moment of silence on the other side of the wall. "They wouldn't give up on you so quickly, would they?"

"I don't know..." Actually, Anakin had already given up on help from the Jedi. The only one he expected to not give up on him so quickly was Obi-Wan. He still remembered very well Obi-Wan's insistence that Master Dooku was still alive and he wanted to go looking for him. And sometimes Anakin had felt messages from Obi-Wan through the Force, like a comforting hug. It was what had kept him relatively sane.

"They wouldn't give up on you," Cody said again. "You're too important."

Suddenly, Anakin felt very much ashamed. No one had gone looking for Cody. He probably had endured the same torture Anakin had gone through. But no one had cared to save Cody. "I'm sorry I didn't send search troops to find you," he apologised.

"That's alright, sir," Cody assured him. "I'm not really important. The clones are needed elsewhere, they should not be wasted in a search party for me."

"You are important," Anakin said sincerely. "You are very important to me. You've always been a very skilled and loyal commander and if I didn't have you to talk to now, I would probably go insane."

"Thank you, sir," Cody said delightedly. "I'm glad to be of assistance."

ooooooo

"What does your heart tell you?"

He saw Anakin again, crouching on the floor. The blood trickled down his cheek. Then he looked up and Anakin and Obi-Wan locked eyes for a moment.

"Hold on, Anakin. I'm coming. I'm coming to get you out of there."

Obi-Wan woke up lying in the middle of a great clearing. Mere moments ago, he had spoken to Qui-Gon and now he found himself... in front of the Great Door again. He sat up and took a look around. The place was not nearly as crowded as last night. A dozen of other people lay there sleeping too. Two women and a young boy were tidying up. Only the ashes of the fire were left. Empty goblets and plates stood everywhere. Petals were stomped into the ground. A few birds were bickering over the leftovers.

All in all, it looked much like a party had taken place last night and the sleeping people had been to drunk to go home. Obi-Wan did not consider for a moment the possibility that everything that had happened last night had been nothing but a drug or alcohol influenced delirious state. He could not explain what had happened but he knew one thing for sure: He must go to Vjun.

And that he did, without wasting any more time. He hurried back to the camp and wrote a message to Kit Fisto, who had said he would come to Senali and fight the war. Then he chose one small spaceship from the fleet. He already dreaded the day when the Masters found out about that but now was not the time to worry about such things as disciplinary punishment.

He set the coordinates to Vjun and prepared the jump to hyperspace.

Well, all I have to do now is comb through one planet, he told his astromech droid.

ooooooo

Mace Windu was deeply impressed. He had seen intimidating great numbers of clones in an army but he had never seen how they grew up before. No, 'grew up' was the wrong word. It should be 'how they were produced'. Lama Su, prime minister of Kamino, was showing him around and explaining proudly the cloning factory's many achievements. Seeing all these completely identical looking young men eat in a completely identical way sent strange shivers down Mace's spine. Somehow, the sight filled him with great unease. Again he had to ask himself, What has become of the Jedi? What has made us do such things like producing humans to fight in the wars for us?

He knew he would not get answers to such questions. There were other answers he needed to know.

"Do you only clone Fett or have you already cloned other subjects too?" Mace asked politely.

"We have cloned several other subjects too," Lama Su replied. "Our cloning facilities are not limited to only one individual."

"Hm. So it would be possible to clone anyone here?"

"Yes, of course."

"Amazing," Mace complimented him. They walked a few steps in silence. Mace looked down to another maybe two hundred clones who were currently in a sleep induced state. They wore earphones, and electrodes were attached to their foreheads. They were being loaded with information. Mace tore his eyes away from the peculiar sight and asked without further pretence, "Did you clone anyone else recently?"

Lama Su gave him a piercing look. "No, why would we do that? We are busy with cloning the Army for the Republic. Why should we produce other clones?"

He sounded almost defensive. Curious... "I understand, of course."

"Why are you asking?" Lama Su said in an almost accusing tone.

"A friend of mine died. He was human but his corpse rotted much too quickly. My only explanation for that was that he had been a clone."

"I am sorry for your loss," Lama Su said in his usual polite tone. "But I am afraid I cannot help you solve the puzzle of his death. Maybe he had a rare illness? Or another cloning factory produced him?"

"I see. I'm going to check on such illnesses. That seems a likely solution. May I have another look in the training area? I'd like to see how their battle training works."

"Yes, of course. You're welcome to visit this factory. I'm going to send someone to guide you."

"Thank you very much for your offer but, please, I don't want to be any disturbance. I am sure your employees are needed elsewhere."

"Don't worry, General Windu. You as one of the greatest generals certainly should see the whole factory. Please, wait here a moment."

Thoughtfully, Mace watched Lama Su rather quickly leaving the room. The Kaminoan was very obviously hiding something from him. Carefully, Mace checked the room. There were three doors, so he had escape routes. His lightsaber was ready to hand at his belt.

"General Windu."

The Force had not sent him any warning. Slowly and casually, Mace turned around. His hand, however, still hovered over his lightsaber. Another Kaminoan stood in the doorway. She (Mace was sure the Kaminoan was female judging by the bald head) did not radiate immediate danger. Relaxing somewhat, Mace examined the Kaminoan more closely. She was relatively small-built (she could still look easily down at him, though) and seemed somewhat anxious.

"Hello," Mace greeted her politely. "How can I help you?" He hoped she was not the guide Lama Su had promised (or should he rather say: threatened) to send.

"Are you looking for Dooku?" she asked directly.

Mace could barely conceal his shock and surprise at that. Deciding to act ignorant, he said, "Why should I look for Dooku? He's dead."

The Kaminoan eyed him out of her cold, grey eyes. "He is not dead. Only his clone is dead."

"So it really was a clone," Mace said softly, letting go of all pretence. "Was the clone produced here?"

"Lama Su was forced to create the clone. He was forced to create that…defective, poor excuse of a clone. It's the worst our cloning facilities have ever seen. Dooku threatened to kill Lama Su if he ever told anyone about it."

"Do you mean to say…" Mace gave the Kaminoan a piercing glance. "Did Dooku ask you to clone him?"

"Yes," the Kaminoan answered simply.

"Why would he do that?" Mace asked in confusion. Why would he want us to think he is dead? What reason was there to fake his own death? Or did he want to use the clone for something else but the clone was killed accidentally? His jaw set, Mace slightly shook his head. It had looked anything but an accident. The clone's body had been placed there strategically. Someone had indeed wanted to fake Dooku's death.

"You better ask him," the Kaminoan said curtly. "He is here."

"Indeed," Mace muttered. "Can you lead me there?"

"No," she replied. "He stays is the prime minister's chambers." She pulled an angry face and muttered something about 'typical presumptuous outlanders'. "But I suppose he is currently in the laboratory."

"I see. Thank you very much for your help."

"You don't know my name, do you?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course I don't know your name," Mace reassured her. "No one ever told me about this. I found out by sheer coincidence."

She nodded grimly and then quickly left. Mace stood there, dumbstruck, and for the first time in his life completely clueless.

No, not completely clueless. Mace might have several faults – his pessimism or his eagerness for fighting – but he was completely and brutally honest with himself. He was not clueless now. Instead, a nagging thought spread through his body like poison. Dooku threatened to kill Lama Su if he ever told anyone about it. A Jedi did not need to keep things secret. A Jedi did not threaten to kill people. Something horrible must have happened to Mace's friend, and he really hoped there was a good justification for such actions.

There was no time to lose now. If Mace wanted to find out the truth, he had to act now. Without spending more time on brooding over the ominous circumstances, he went straight to the laboratory. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door quietly.

Naturally, Dooku noticed his presence in an instant. He looked up from whatever he had been poring over. There was a look of surprise and also something like anxiety on his face but he quickly mustered his expression into a mask of perfect Jedi serenity. Quickly striding forwards (Was he trying to hide something behind him on the desk?), he opened his arms wide in a greeting gesture.

"Master Windu. What a pleasant surprise to see you again."

"It is indeed a surprise to see you alive," Mace answered a little more guardedly and a little less amiably. But then again, was Dooku really being amiable? Didn't he act just as guardedly by hiding behind that mask of politeness?

Dooku's lips curved into a tight smile. He did not reply anything, however. (Was he at a loss for words?)

"I found a dead clone of you," Mace said bluntly. There was no need for further hiding games. "Why was there a clone of you? Why are you here? Did you give orders to create that clone of you? What are you planning to do now?"

Dooku raised his hands in defence. "Why, my old friend, that sounds almost like an accusation. Of what are you accusing me? I'm not aware of any guilt."

"Then answer my questions," Mace commanded in a strained voice.

Finally, Dooku let fall the mask of pretence too. The half-smile vanished from his face and was replaced by an almost dangerous glance. "I think you already know the answers."

In a quick movement, Mace moved two steps to the left. Dooku's hand darted to the lightsaber at his belt (a third lightsaber?) as if he expected an attack. Mace, however, did not want to attack. He only wanted to catch a glimpse at the desk which had been obscured from view behind Dooku's back. What he saw made his blood run cold: There were four test tubes on the desk.

They were labelled with 'Anakin Skywalker'.

They were filled with blood.

"What is that?" Mace demanded to know.

"That? Oh." Dooku shrugged as if it was nothing of importance. "If it bothers you…" With a swish of his arm, he sent the test tubes flying to the floor, where they shattered. Horrified, Mace watched the dark red blood slowly flow over the white tiles.

"I was never really interested in him either," Dooku said nonchalantly. "Unlike others, I have never seen the importance in the Wonder Boy." His expression hardened. "An impudent little boy who has never really mastered the Jedi way. Ridiculous to place all the Jedi's hopes in someone just because he has a high midi-chlorian count."

"What happened to him, Dooku?" Mace asked in a tense voice. "Is he still alive?"

Dooku's hard expression turned into a sneer. It was so unlike the Jedi Mace had known, that he involuntarily backed away a little bit.

"Still alive? Oh yes, he is still alive yet. If it was my decision, he wouldn't be for very much longer. But, as I said, people seem to be interested in him. People want to have him to increase their power. Yes, isn't it ironic? The Jedi striving for power? But I think there are far more worthy candidates. There are abilities which are much more important than midi-chlorians."

"Candidates for what?" Mace asked in a low voice. "What did you do to him, Dooku?"

"Oh, still so worried for your Jedi prodigy, aren't we?" Dooku sneered. "Rest assured, he will not be tortured much longer. His life will soon be cut short by the hands of my loyal servant."

So Mace's worst fears had come true. He could not believe it. Dooku, the epitome of a Jedi Master, had fallen to the dark side. Dooku, his friend, forced him to turn against him.

"Don't you remember that he was your Padawan's Padawan?" Mace said sharply. He desperately hoped mentioning Qui-Gon would somehow miraculously help. After all, it seemed Qui-Gon had been the only one Dooku had ever been close to. "What would Qui-Gon say if you tortured his apprentice?"

A shadow of grief passed over Dooku's face. "I wish he were still alive. I could use his help now."

"Help in what?" Mace said incredulously.

"He would understand," Dooku said firmly. "He was never one to simply accept the Council's wishes. He would have seen what has happened to the Jedi Order. The Jedi have lost their focus. They have grown power-hungry. They refuse to see the truth."

"The truth?"

"The truth. The truth that the Senate is currently under the direct influence of a Sith Lord."

The clarity with which Dooku stated this frightened Mace. Concerning what Dooku was saying… well, Mace simply did not believe in even the remotest possibility of that.

"That's impossible," he declared with conviction.

"Is it? Tell me, didn't the Jedi Council grow suspicious when Chancellor Palpatine gained more and more power? Oh, I remember the pathetic discussions about whether to ask the Senate to ask Palpatine to return emergency powers back to them. The time of discussing and asking is over now. We're at war. But the Jedi didn't realise it. They're too complacent to even consider that someone could be undermining democracy right under their noses."

It was worse than anything Mace could have ever imagined. It felt like the ground was being pulled away from under his feet. The ground which had been his beliefs, his reasons to fight, his life. And things got only worse when Dooku continued.

"You think you have control over things, you think you are so mighty and one of you can single-handedly win a battle. The truth is, you have no control at all. You don't even know why you're fighting, do you? Well, I can tell you why you're fighting: Because it was our plan all along. Because we wanted this war to start. We are the ones in control."

"You?" Mace whispered. "Who are you speaking of?"

Dooku gave him a derisive look. "Well, the Jedi may not realise many things but I always expected you to be more intelligent than this. Certainly you know what I'm talking about."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mace asked weakly.

"Because you already knew too much when you entered this room." With that, Dooku's lightsaber sizzled to life. It was a red lightsaber. And it cut straight through Mace Windu's chest.

Mace had not seen it coming at all. Yes, he had understood Dooku had fallen. He had understood Dooku was capable of many things. But somehow he had never thought this could ever happen. Dooku had been his friend, after all. They had fought training duels so many times. Dooku had never attacked without the traditional salute at first. That had been the Dooku Mace had known.

Now, as he lay hunched against the white, cold, sterile wall of the laboratory, he could not recognise the man any longer who stood towering over him.

"I'm sorry, my old friend," Dooku said with just a hint of regret in his cold voice.

Mace's raspy breathing grew more and more erratic. He knew it would be over soon. There was a pounding in his ears. His vision was gradually blurring. So were his thoughts.

I need to tell someone. I need to warn them. No one knows of this but me. I have to get up, fly back to Coruscant and warn them. Anakin – he's being tortured – they want to turn him – or kill him. The Chosen One – we've lost the Chosen One. We've lost. Everything's over now. We're only puppets in a staged war. The Jedi Order will break. The Sith will rule… the Galaxy will break apart… democracy will be destroyed… The Sith… Dooku… Palpatine… Darkness will fall…