"Well, that was certainly unexpected." Mon Mothma suddenly found herself in need of wine. Lots of it. She wondered if there was any in the room. With her luck, the only wine in the building was probably Amidala's Vintage.

The occupants of the Senate conference room watched the holonet reports in shock. Above them, they could already hear the bombardments above as the 501st began its advance attack of the capital world's defensive satellite stations.

"The Clones," Bail moaned painfully. "We left that flank wide open! How did we leave Skywalker with an entire army?"

"Because they were clones," Mon yelled back. "The Kaminoans assured us of their complete obedience to orders."

"Skywalker's orders, apparently. Who knew the kid was such a good orator."

"We underestimated him completely," Mon muttered. "Force, all this could have been prevented with the inhibitor chips."

"They knew," Bail said quietly. "Even then, they were planning to wrest control of the Clones from us."

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said, standing quietly in the corner of the room. "I'm no advocate for Amidala. Nevertheless, I can't help but agree with her that those inhibitor chips are antithetical to the principles of the Alliance." He strode over to the holoprompter and rewound the footage. "He still had to convince them, to be sure. It was no done deal. The boy did a damned good job, else he'd be in binders right now, or dead."

"You did not anticipate this, Master Jedi?" There was a hint of blame in Bail's voice as Obi-Wan turned off the transmission.

"The fault is mine and mine alone," Obi-Wan admitted. He had failed, and there was no point in covering it up before probably the last two politicians he genuinely respected still. Deciding to come clean, he gave them a chagrined smile. "The possibility was not lost on me, but due to a certain blind spot of mine which I am only recognizing now, I dismissed its chances long enough to believe worth the gamble."

"Blind spot," Mon asked. "What blind spot?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "My master, Qui-Gon Jinn discovered the boy on Tatooine. He believed Anakin a child of prophecy, a Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force, and destroy the Dark Side. He died asking me to train Skywalker, to lead him to his destiny, and against all odds, the Council agreed. Yet in that last moment, Skywalker changed his mind, deciding to join Amidala on Naboo instead."

"She seduced him to the Sith," Bail said, realizing, "to prevent him from joining the Jedi."

"Skywalker developed a fixation on the girl very early on, likely within days of meeting each other while we were stranded on Tatooine. In hindsight, it's obvious that Amidala planned from the onset to use that innocent infatuation to her advantage, one which she still wields even today. I always had my suspicions about the boy's sudden change of heart, considering Qui-Gon told me he had dreamed of joining the Order before he practically even knew of its existence."

"Such a perversion in so many ways," Mon muttered. "I always thought the difference age between the two to be odd. Now I realize how truly...unnatural their entire relationship is. Force, she wed him at seventeen! If it were Chandrila she'd be in jail, not the Senate."

Obi-Wan ran one hand through his beard slowly, sadness evident in his every movement. "Amidala confronted me on Zygerria. She accused me of wanting to steal Anakin from her. She knew that Qui-Gon asked me to train Skywalker with his dying words, and accused me of trying to win him back to the Jedi for the sake of fulfilling Qui-Gon's legacy. She was half right."

He turned and sat next to Mon Mothma, looking both her and Bail in the eye. "My relationship with my late Master was complicated. We had many...ups and downs, many words left unsaid. But I venerated that man...which made our conflicts ever more painful to me, when they did occur. Though I had my doubts at first, after Qui-Gon's death I had come to believe his words wholeheartedly. Perhaps it was because I felt guilt for doubting him, and arguing with him on our last day as Master and Padawan. But I never believed that Qui-Gon's legacy was unfulfilled, because after so many years...I grew certain with faith that he was right...that he would eventually be proven right."

"You thought that once you pried him away from Amidala's influence...," Mon began thoughtfully.

"Her spell," Bail added, "that he would naturally become that figure of...prophecy."

Obi-Wan nodded, looking away towards the viewport. "I didn't have to win Anakin to the Jedi. It didn't even matter at this point that I was to be the one to train him, it was too late anyway, even before we all discovered Amidala was a Sith. He was too old at the time to be trained as it was. But all that mattered was that Qui-Gon was right. That, by some whim...no...by the will of the Force, Anakin would come around, dig his way out of the Dark Side's influence, and do the right thing. Do what he was destined to do, or so Qui-Gon believed. The more I doubted him then, so the more my guilt buffeted the certainty of his prediction after the Sith murdered him. And my mistake may very well have destroyed the Republic."

Bail looked at him sympathetically. "It's not all on you, Obi-Wan. The blame lies with all of us, Mon and I included for letting her string us like puppets for so long..."

"YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT YOU ALL FUCKED UP," Fafi bellowed angrily from the doorway, Force knows having stood there eavesdropping for how long, but Obi-Wan stood unaffected by his curses.

"Calm down and have a drink, Chancellor," Obi-Wan remarked sardonically. He looked around. "Do we have anything to drink around here?"

"I think what we need more is a course of action," Bail said. "Do we have a course of action?"

"Yeah, do we? Jedi?" Fafi pressed forward, thinking to intimidate Obi-Wan before rapidly realizing how bad of an idea that was.

"We fight back, obviously." Obi-Wan rose to leave. "I'm sure Master Windu is coordinating the droid response as we speak. Call out for reinforcements from all our allies," he looked towards Fafi, "however unappealing they may appear to be. I will return to the Temple to secure our prisoner. It is vital that she remains where she is."

"What about us," Mon asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't know. Give a speech or something? Amidala has evidently taught her husband the art of propaganda, and the Sith are winning that front as well. You are what she pretends to be. Convince the people."

Bail rose, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. "Be honest with me, Master Jedi. Do we stand any chance?"

"Honestly?" Obi-Wan closed his eyes in contemplation. "Honestly, everything else we attempt is merely a sideshow. Everything comes down to Skywalker. He will fight to the death for his wife. Either he dies, or the Republic and the Jedi Order alongside it."

"So...," Fafi asked, confused as to the Jedi's cryptic answer. "Who's going to die then?"

"Many will die," Obi-Wan answered stoically. "But Skywalker will have to fight his way through the entire Temple to get what he wants."

"You will come to regret your betrayal of Padmé. Where she was silk, I am steel. This is your only chance to surrender, Consulars. Defy me, and you will be annihilated." Clad comfortably in a black hooded robe, he was nevertheless happy to reveal his face. There was no need to hide it as per Sith traditions since Bane, considering not only was his appearance widely known, it still was the most popular covers for tabloids across the galaxy several years running. Besides, after years of pretense, he still felt a certain glee in acting out in the open.

"You stole an army, Skywalker, for your coup. Good for you, I didn't think you had it in you. But you are still outnumbered. This battle will prove beneficial for neither one of us, and I cannot guarantee the safety of your wife once hostilities commence."

The hologram of Bail Organa suddenly grasped at his neck in pain, frothing at his mouth for several seconds before he bent over, gasping for breath once the invisible assault ceased.

Darth Vader smiled evilly. "Had I anything to gain from it, you'd be dead by now. But take it as a lesson. Do not dare threaten my wife. No one threatens Padmé. Ever." He paced the bridge slowly, never taking his eyes away from the two Alliance Consulars. "Technically, this is a counter coup, in reaction to yours, when you sold out the Alliance to the corrupt and rotting corpse of the Republic."

"Congratulations, Skywalker," Mon began.

"It's Lord Vader to you," Anakin growled threateningly.

"...you accomplished a bit of clever splicing. The truth will be revealed..."

"Yes, I 'paraphrased', but was that not your intent? To let the likes of Fafi and Amedda retain power, knowing their corruption and vileness?"

"Compromise, yes," Bail insisted, "to avoid just this very battle you are about to wage."

Anakin laughed mockingly. "Well, good job then. Your integrity matches your competence."

"Skywalker, think this through," Mon Mothma scolded as a schoolteacher would a youngling, "every action you take further condemns your wife. If Padmé were innocent, then she will prevail in court. If..."

"I see," Anakin said, still smiling. "You are stalling. You are awaiting reinforcements. You fail, Consulars. Take care for your appearance, for I will greet you in person shortly."

Abruptly cutting the transmission, he looked over towards Rex. "What is their numerical advantage?"

"Considering the all the droid crafts and fighters on planet, they outnumber us roughly three to one."

Anakin nodded. "After Dooku arrives with the 309th?"

Rex entered in the calculations. "Roughly a seven to five advantage still for the Republic."

"I like those odds," Anakin said pensively, studying the computers. "Contact Shu Mai, Wat Tambor, and San Hill."

Rex looked over towards his commander in confusion. "From the Guilds and Banking Clans? They are likely on their way here to attack us."

"Yes," Anakin said quietly. "I'll borrow a thought from Organa...this may be a time for compromise."

Seconds later, he was staring at three of the richest oligarchs of the Republic.

"What is the meaning of this," Wat Tambor asked in his deep voice.

"You are a fugitive, Skywalker," San Hill of the Banking Clan droned arrogantly. "Why do you waste my time?"

"I have reason to believe that you are recalling your droid armies to relieve Coruscant."

Shu Mai of the Commerce Guilds dismissed him. "What we do does not concern you, traitor."

"You will be routed, boy," Tambor threatened gleefully.

Suddenly, like Bail Organa minutes before, San Hill and Shu Mai were suspended in the air, grasping at their throats, while the head of the Techno Union stared at the scene in shock.

"I would advise you to not underestimate the powers of a Sith Master. Defy me, and I will destroy your persons here and now, before I destroy your armies, and all the credits in the galaxy will do nothing to save you."

He let go, and watched with amusement as the two victims of his Force choke struggled to recover their bearings.

"Stand by this battle, however, and my wife will reward you for your allegiance." He alternated his voice from a milky, persuasive tone to the firmness he had observed from Padmé, the tone she reserved for her most critical speeches. "The Republic is doomed, as is the Trade Federation. Once Padmé and I win this little skirmish, we will have full access to the treasury accounts of the Federation. I understand that there has been some discontent in how Gunray has been allocating the spoils of your little war. I mean to correct that...in the name of justice, of course."

"Our loyalties are not for sale," Wat Tambor, the only still physically unscathed thus far, started to say. "Not at a discount, at least."

"The Sith believe in fairness, Foreman Tambor, when it comes to sharing our fares of passage. And you will find in us as partners much more stability, consistency, and durability."

"Such monumental decisions take time," San Hill said thoughtfully. "And we will take our time in making one."

"That is all I can ask of you, Chairman. Decisions made it haste benefit no one."

Ending yet another transmission, he looked over towards Rex, who seemed as doubtful as ever.

"I guess deals must be made, huh?"

Anakin laughed. Rex doubted him, and that was good. Not only could the man think independently, but he also had the right instincts. "Don't worry, Rex. Their fear and their greed are both predictable and useful. Once Padmé and I take power, we will personally lead the campaigns against these vermin. We will crush them, and I will take personal pleasure in prolonging their deaths...unless you wish to take part."

Rex laughed, an outburst of relief. "I like it. I'm not much into the whole torture thing, but I'll gladly take the killshot when you're done with them."

"Good," Anakin said, happy there was no misunderstanding between himself and his lieutenant. He turned to the battle projectors. "Now, form a tight defensive perimeter until Dooku's reinforcements arrive, and we'll deliver the Republic the killshot it deserves." Walking to the viewport, he pointed ahead at the gleaming, durasteel planet gleaming in a panorama before them. "The jewel of the galaxy, some say."

"Just an oversized hunk of metal, if you ask me," Appo remarked before he could help it. "General, my apologies for speaking out of turn."

"But you're right, Commander." Anakin walked over to his staff, gathered and readying for the upcoming battle. "There's not much to it. A lot of sentients. A lot of buildings for the rich, slums for the poor, trillions in between, a bunch of politicians and Jedi who believe themselves more important than they are." He pointed at Rex. "You, General. You stand now as one of the most powerful military officers, nay, sentients, in the Galaxy. Yet you've never set foot on Coruscant, never seen it in person until this moment. Does that bother you?"

"No sir," Rex said, unsure of where the Sith Lord was going with his train of thought as be paced about the bridge.

"We had a capital world as well. Hosnian Prime. We set up offices there, a Senate, commons, bureaucracies, barracks, parks for the families...what did you think of Hosnian Prime, General?"

"It was a pleasant enough place," Rex answered. "Good for some r'n'r in between battles. The politicians were nice enough. Locals treated you well. Decent food."

"Yes, very ordinary." Anakin turned his attention back to the viewport. "Coruscant isn't ordinary. As much of shell as the Republic is, Coruscant still stands, and people still believe. Some will always believe in the Republic, not because they believe in the individual Senators, or the laws, or the Jedi...but because they believe in Coruscant. It is a symbol. It is power. It is history, tradition...it is the center, the vital, beating heart of not just the Republic, but the entire galaxy...precisely because it has been all that beyond the reach of memory."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Rex tried to discern where the Sith was trying to lead him. It was a lesson, he was sure of it now. Anakin Skywalker, nay Vader, was giving him the keys to the castle. "To win a war, to capture power, you must capture the capital," he said, thinking as he spoke, "take the symbol and hold it. We had core worlds like Alderaan and Chandrila but...even if we took Corellia or Kuat or hells, more than half the Core...as long as Coruscant stands against us, the Republic lives."

The young Sith seemed to almost beam applause at the student, nodding in approval. "All very true." Then, his smile transformed into a thoughtful frown. "Yet, I myself grew up in the Outer Rim. I had barely heard of Coruscant, much less cared any about it. I was a slave. Power was immediate. Power lay in who controlled me, who controlled my city, my planet. My master. The Hutts. Their enforcers. The power of a symbol only goes so far."

"Sir," Rex asked, scattered to uncertainty again. "I...so, Coruscant isn't important?"

The Sith stood deathly still before the viewport, studying the incoming formations of the Droid army as it raced from the planet surface towards their fleet at a blazing speed.

"History is littered with the bones of warlords chasing shiny objects, Rex. If a wise commander can discern that fixation from an opponent, they can bait them endlessly on a wild bantha chase, until their armies are worn and weary, prime for the taking. Obsess over a symbol, and you forget what constitutes actual power. Force. Armies. Weapons. Credits. Technology. Manpower." He gestured at the space before them, already in the first throes of the battle. "You can chip away all you want, here and there. You can take however many worlds. You can take the enemy's capital, control and even define the symbols which represent them as a society...but unless you give battle, until you destroy the enemy's capability to wage war, they will always live to fight you another day."

Furiously releasing further orders and directing his squadrons and fighters against the Republic droids engaged in combat, Rex nevertheless took the time to look up at Skywalker. "That I can agree with easily, General." Taking a break from his duties, he looked inquisitively at Anakin, wondering if he was going to wrap up this lesson before the battle got truly heated. "So what is it then? Capture the shiny symbol? Or destroy the enemy's tangible means of power?"

Taking in Rex's question, Anakin mused for a moment that, as eager as he was to educate Rex in the ways of war, the two shared the exact same amount of battle experience. Though he had studied for years ancient and obscure battles and strategems, neither him nor Rex had carried any of them out in practice until the first battle of the Clone Wars on Sern Prime. He recalled those years fondly, matching neatly the eight year term of Padmé's reign on Naboo; rather than wasting time studying the most arcane and rather inane theories of the Dark Side from long dead Sith lords, none of whom had accomplished a Shiraya damned thing besides inflating their own grandiosity, both he and his wife had devoted much of their study to the histories of the galaxy, Anakin to the military arts, every battle and campaign ever recorded and documented, and Padmé into the depths politics and diplomacy.

A feral smile grew on Lord Vader's lips. The knowledge was his, and he would teach his disciples. Holding one finger in the air, he allowed it to guide his vision as he finished his lecture. "You're correct, Rex. The immediate battle constitutes merely one of thousands of fronts within a war, each with millions of invisible flanks. Afford to neglect nothing. Take what you can, find the easy targets, that which can be won with minimal loss, to maximize your advantage, but don't delude yourself that easy wins can win you a war, for true victory eludes you until you've taken everything from your enemy."

"How the fuck was that footage released," Fafi asked Obi-Wan angrily as they paced side by side through the Senate hallways. "I was under the impression that the Jedi had the holocron secured!"

"We thought so," Obi-Wan said, embarrassed. "It turns out, the Jedi Master we entrusted the holocron to turned out to be an avid supporter of Amidala."

"Kriff," Fafi swore disrespectfully, though at this point, Obi-Wan was not sure whether he or the Order as a whole deserved much respect. "How could that happen? And this was kept from the Republic?"

"Well, I don't need to remind you that thanks to your chosen candidate, Chancellor Fafi, the Jedi Order and the Republic have not been on great terms of late."

"The Jedi Order should have finished Gunray and the Trade Federation ten years ago after the Naboo fiasco," Fafi grumbled.

"With all due respect, Chancellor, the Jedi Order does not 'finish' living beings. Besides, we entrusted them to the justice of the Senate." They reached Fafi's office, and Obi-Wan looked away uncomfortably. "Look, Chancellor, there's no point to playing the blame game right now. I have a job to do. As do you."

Ignoring the Jedi, Fafi paced into his office. Meandering around absentmindedly in slow circles for a several minutes, trying to burrow his brain towards every opportunity to still somehow outflank both Skywalker and the Jedi, he went to peer outside the hallway. It was quiet, save one footstep disappearing into a corner, which he assumed was the Jedi's.

"Oh Fafi, thank the Gods you prepare for this shit," he muttered to himself. Activating his hidden drawer, he entered one set of codes, summoning his personal yacht, which arrived at the landing pad outside his office within seconds. He wafted over, before running back to his desk.

"Can't forget the override control," he said gleefully, grabbing the small mechanism, the key to his escape from the droid blockade. No point in reaching the atmosphere only to be shot down by his own droids.

He turned back towards the yacht again, when he felt a new and yet familiar set of eyes upon him.

"For Sith's sake," he swore, then stopped, seeing the silhouette of a small, feminine figure standing at his doorway.

"A whore," he asked, confused. "When the kriff did I order myself a whore in the middle of a damned battle..."

"What? What is wrong with this place? Why does everyone assume I'm a prostitute around here?" The figure emerged into the light of his office, revealing a young Togruta girl, a bit bruised and beaten but not much worse for wear.

"Tano," Fafi asked in shock. "What the...you're supposed to be detained!"

The girl scoffed. "Your cells weren't made to hold a Jedi." Her eyes darkened as , with their close proximity, memories of his betrayal returned vividly to her. "I trusted you, Fafi. Force knows I didn't trust you, yet somehow I still did."

Fafi laughed. He needed to get rid of this little annoyance, before his window for escape closed for good. "Look, girl, no hard feelings. Tis politics, that's all."

"Is it? I'm the only one that wanted to do the right thing. And what happens? You throw me in jail. I wanted to fix the Republic, help you even, and you slap me a kriffing death penalty. I wanted to help the Jedi, and they abandon me." She felt the anger building inside her. If Master Kit Fisto were here, he would have harsh words for her. But Kit Fisto wasn't here, he had been absent for much of the war. He, like Masters Yoda and so many of the Jedi, had abandoned Coruscant and the Republic. Had abandoned her, every one of them, having given her up to Fafi.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Fafi said uneasily, realizing that there was something off with this Padawan, fear pinging his senses within her presence where he had only dismissed her before. "You see, there's this holocron the Jedi had, and it threatened the integrity of the Senate..."

"Shut up," Ahsoka whispered, and to her shock, the Interim Chancellor of the Republic did as he was told. That felt good. That felt really good. "Shut up," she yelled in a louder voice. "Shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

"Calm, girl..."

But she was no longer listening. Right now, all she wanted was her lightsabers, so she could cut this fat slob of a politician wide open. The Senate guard had confiscated them during her arrest, but as she scanned the office, she saw an old dull knife hanging off one of the shelves, very much resembling the one Gunray had used to murder the girl from Naboo. As she brought her fingers in the air, lifting the knife through the Force off its perch, she realized that is was very likely the very same weapon.

"Look, set that down, and we can discuss reasonably..."

Without warning, she flung the knife with the Force across the office with laser speed, and watched as it burrowed itself into Fafi's neck before she could blink. Politician and Padawan stared at each other in shock, then Fafi began coughing violently. Grabbing at his neck, he tried taking hold of the handle several times before collapsing dead onto the carpet where, unbeknownst to the both of them, his frame fell upon the droid override control, activating it briefly before shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

"No hard feelings, Chancellor," Ahsoka found herself taunting the dead man before frowning. What had just happened? Did she just do that? As her surroundings returned to focus, she could hardly believe the grisly scene before her...the scene she was wholly responsible for.

Alas, Ahsoka did not have time for regret. Hearing the clanking of battle droids approaching, she saw the Chancellor's yacht and ran into the cockpit.

The squadron of battle droids entering the office seconds after she had flown away observed the scene before them in confusion.

"Does not compute," one droid blurted out. "Looks like Supreme Chancellor is dead. Who do we report to now?"

The computers in the squad captain's processor whirled furiously. "Override code was initiated. When in doubt, failsafe is Supreme Commander, always."

"Where is Supreme Commander," another droid questioned.

Accessing the Senate building schematics, the captain barked out a beep of confusion. "Supreme Commander Gunray is being held in the detention cells. We must seek him out and request new orders."

"Roger that," the droids saluted as they followed the captain out of the Chancellor's office.

"Is this heaven? Is this hell?"

Nute Gunray lay immobilized in the darkened room, his hands and legs bound to a small cot. Craning his neck to gauge his surroundings having just come to hours earlier, he recalled his last memory being chopped down and sliced into hundreds of pieces by a gigantic and monstrous Jedi Master, as if it were Masters Yoda and Mace Windu combined, then multiplied a hundred times larger. Yet here he was, and as his consciousness drifted to and from his personal limbo, he wondered whether he was in one of the twenty Neimoidian hells. That would be impossible. He was a Viceroy and a Supreme Chancellor. That meant he should have passed directly into the one and only Neimoidian heaven, reserved only for the richest and most powerful of his kind. But this was not heaven, not his heaven at least. There clearly weren't enough whores.

"This must be mistake," he muttered to himself over and over again. "Or Jedi trickery."

As boredom overtook him and the former, also possibly current, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic fell back into a comatose state, drooling as his head lopped sideways, the ever familiar and sweet sound of droids clanging their meet against the hard marble floor reanimated him.

"My subjects...they must come to take me heaven!"

Sure enough, he was greeted by the most welcome sight of several dozen battle droids breaking open the door to his cell. Using a slicer, the captain swiftly undid his binders, and Nute Gunray, his body still numb and woozy from days of inactivity, clumsily sat upwards.

"Which way to heaven my serfs? The orgy's I demand they surpassing Coruscant..."

"Heaven," the droid captain stuttered nervously. "You're alive, sir. This is still Coruscant, in the Senate building..."

"How is that possible?"

"The Jedi betrayed you sir. Fafi led them against you, then Fafi negotiated with the Alliance and captured Amidala and gave her to the Jedi, then we found Fafi dead, but Skywalker..."

"Betrayal," Gunray yelled furiously, waving both his arms lamely and limply around. "Amidala! I knew they betray me, Fafi shit me but he punished because I am King God!"

He stood, legs wobbling and knees buckling as several droids maneuvered themselves beside him to support the weight of his body. "I am resurrected. They kill me, but I survive," he proclaimed, his voice increasingly loud and grandiose whilst his ego recovered alongside his muscles. "I emerged in God, all my enemies are crushed into bitty dust! They will all die, and God Gunray will reign over all!"

Pivoting angrily over to the droid commander, his vision dizzy from the sudden bloodrush, he thundered angrily, "where is Amidala?!"

"Held underneath the Jedi Temple, sir."

"Good," Gunray echoed evilly. "All traitors retreat to they last cave of death! Crush them. Crush the Temple! Kill them all!"

"But sir..."

"DO IT," he screamed, raising his arms in the air furiously. Losing his support and his balance, his legs creaked and buckled and the Neimoidian found himself plummeting downwards again, hitting the ground with a giant thud.

"I think he fainted again," one of the droids commented.

"No matter," the captain buzzed dismissively. "You heard our orders." He spoke into his comm to broadcast to the entire droid army. "Attack the Jedi Temple. Kill all the Jedi, kill Amidala, no survivors."

Paul Lenzen: That may happen, though it seems like others might beat the Sith to the race.

Nightshade's sydneylover150: Alas, Obi-Wan's ultimate fate was determined long ago. But that could be good news for you as well!

1saaa: He definitely had to solidify his speech, but while the inhibitor chips were taken out, the Clones are still bred to lean heavily towards obeying the chain of command, which here goes through the Consulars rather than Anakin.