Disclaimer: I wish I could take credit for creating Star Wars, but alas, I am not George Lucas, and I have no intention of getting sued. I do, however, own Healer Trave.
Summary: As Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Bant protect the Republic from Darth Sidious, another Sith Lord emerges – Qui-Gon's presumably dead, former apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. Can the Jedi save the Republic, or is it already too late? The third story in the Jedi Trials series.
Author's Notes: A big thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter, especially Tyanne for helping me out with that quote. In the end, I just gave in and bought a new SotJ book, along with some others that had yet to be added to my collection (yay new books!). This chapter contains quite a lot of Anakin, since we haven't really seen him much so far during this seemingly everlasting battle, so without further ado, the next exciting chapter...
Revenge and Regret
By Kekelina
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Chapter Nineteen: The Jedi Fight Back
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Without any warning, the bond was viciously ripped from her mind. An agonized moan escaped her lips as she stumbled and collapsed against a pillar, succumbing to the blinding, head-splitting shot of pain that streaked its way through her skull, a penetrating message of the worst kind.
Soara Antana's Padawan was dead.
She hadn't been quick enough, hadn't been able to protect –
Swarms of blaster fire screamed past her, missing their target by mere centimeters.
The clones weren't going to allow her any time to grieve.
She would allow them no time to celebrate.
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"Skywalker! Where in the name of the Force do you think you're going?" Bith Healer Trave screeched at Anakin as he slowly crossed the Med Center, stumbling as his body tried to recover from its mental battle only hours before. He may have felt more powerful, but his body certainly didn't agree.
"I'm going to fight." After slipping on his boots and outer tunic (both of which he assumed had been removed during his examination), his hand automatically reached down to remove the familiar weight of his lightsaber from his waist.
But it wasn't there.
Kriff. "Where's my lightsaber," he asked Master Trave as his eyes scanned the room for the familiar glint of his most prized possession.
Not on the bed…
Healer Trave, clucking like a mother fowl, grabbed his arm with strength he didn't know the elderly Jedi possessed and steered him back over to the bed.
…Not on the counter…
"Padawan Skywalker, you're in no condition to…"
She kept talking. Anakin kept searching.
…Nor was it next to any of the monitors, bacta containers, or extra clean linens.
"…A very good chance you may die."
Anakin nodded distractedly. "Where's my lightsaber?"
"Have you not heard a word I've said? You won't be able to defend yourself."
He forced himself to restrain a groan. He didn't have time to argue with her. "Master Trave, you've heard of the prophecy of the one who will bring balance, right?"
The Jedi Healer fixed him with a very stern look. He held her gaze. "Anakin, Chosen One or not, you are not leaving this room until it is safe enough for us to transport all the wounded to the ship."
Partially out of fatigue and partially out of growing annoyance, Anakin rubbed his hand across his face. "With all due respect, Master, if I don't go out there, it won't be safe."
"No," Trave replied. "And that's my final word on the matter."
Then Anakin would do what he had to. He called the Force around him, felt it lift him up and support his weakened limbs, and sprinted out of the Healer's Ward as fast as he could, Trave calling after him.
Weaponless, he decided to return to his living quarters. If his lightsaber hadn't been with him in the Med Center, then it was most likely that it remained in his room.
He sensed the invaders only moments before they appeared at the end of the corridor. Tucked out of sight behind a statue of one of the original High Council members, he was able to watch the soldiers without being seen.
There were five of them, all equipped with DC-15 rifles, concussion grenades, and EC detonators. The foremost trooper appeared to be of a higher rank than the others, as shown by the colorful markings on his otherwise pristine armor. He was the one Anakin needed to focus on. He would be the most skilled and therefore, the most deadly.
"There are no more Jedi up here, Nate," one of the other members of the party spoke. "Either they've left the Temple or they're engaged in combat."
"You heard what Jango Fett said," 'Nate' replied. Anakin did a double take. They sounded exactly the same.
What in the galaxy?
"These traitors are smarter than we give them credit. He's positive there are some waiting to take us by surprise."
"One-hundred percent."
They – whoever and whatever they were – were coming closer to Anakin's hiding spot. Suddenly, it didn't feel like such a brilliant idea to have left the safety of the Medi-Corps Infirmary, which had several fully-trained Jedi Masters, all equipped with at least one charged, operational lightsaber.
Master Qui-Gon did always say that I rushed into decisions too much.
There was only one thing he could do.
Just before the reconnaissance group reached his hiding spot, Anakin gathered the Force and shoved the troops fiercely, sending them flying back down the hallway. He took off running as they struggled to recover, only delaying his escape long enough to send their weapons down the turbolift shaft, where they would be unable to harm any more members of his Jedi family.
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Children screamed as the corridor around them disintegrated into irreparable havoc, an array of weaponry and combat procedures pitted against one another in a desperate life and death struggle. There was no place for the younglings to hide from the threat, no side room for them to cower in as Knight Olin and Master Vant fought for their futures.
"Run, Younglings," Olana instructed in a breathless command, slicing her lightsaber through a blaster. She had always been one of the more pacifistic Jedi in the Temple, spending most of her time on diplomacy and Initiate training rather than on her own defensive and offensive skills. But pacifist or not, Olana was a Jedi, and she knew how to defend lives.
Beside her, Twi'lek Master Vant, with help from the Force, threw several pieces of debris at their attackers, hindering their assault. The two Jedi shared a brief glance.
It was very unlikely any of them would leave this hallway.
"Where go we?" a reptilian youngling cried, pressed up against the wall as much as possible. An Initiate across from him was hit by a blaster bolt and fell with an excruciating cry.
Another soul to add to the netherworld of the Force.
Vant leapt in front of the younglings and deflected three more bolts away from their young charges. "To the hangar. You must get off Coruscant."
"Wifout 'ou?" a female Crecheling barely two-and-a-half cycles old whimpered, clutching the arm of a slightly older Initiate. She screamed as the battle whipped around her.
Olana charged ahead of the group, leapt, and let her feet connect with the head of her target, knocking him to the ground. Now among their ranks, she let her lightsaber fly, destroying all in its path.
"Take them!" she yelled above the humming of her lightsaber and the echoes of war. "I'll hold them off!"
It was risky, and it was very unlikely that she would survive the brutal attack, but the lives of all the children meant more than her own.
Master Docent Vant wasted no time arguing with Olana, but instead scooped up the youngest Crecheling in her arms and began running to the Temple hangar, urging the young ones to keep up and stay together.
Not until Docent's single blue lekku disappeared did she allow herself to show the Sith's pawns the full extent of her Jedi training.
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Anakin gripped the smooth metal, turning the cool cylinder in his hand until his skin rested in the natural mold he had made through years of combat and training. A Jedi's lightsaber was his/her lifeline; without it, he or she would be at an extreme disadvantage if pitted against armed foes. There were, of course, ways in which Jedi could fight and survive with their lightsabers, but such actions were frowned upon unless one was in a most dire situation. In a way, even lightsaber combat was frowned upon. Jedi were, first and foremost, peacekeepers and diplomats. Lightsabers were to be used only in extreme cases, and even then, Jedi taught mostly defense and non-fatal disarming.
He didn't think that this was one of those maim-rather-than-kill moments.
"Die Jedi scum!"
Definitely not.
The Jedi's famed Chosen One, having regained a bit more strength during his quest for his lightsaber, flipped over the troops before they could even lock-on to their target and used his crystal blade to dissect them with the ease of cutting air.
Their death groans caught the attention of a squad of five more soldiers, fighting a losing battle against Master Yoda. The troops, sensing Anakin was an easier target than the aerodynamic Yoda, broke away from the ancient warrior's attack and aimed at the Senior Padawan. Anakin braced himself for the onslaught, but it was in vain, for Master Yoda's emerald lightsaber flew out of nowhere and cut down the squad.
There was no time for thanks. The two Jedi quickly went their separate ways.
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Another trooper fell with an anguished moan.
"Just wait until you meet me in the air," Garen spat at the lifeless body, reflexively bringing his lightsaber up to deflect a bolt of energy back to its original master. The soldier fell against one of the large stone pillars, clutching his injured leg.
"A little off," a familiar voice grunted as another lightsaber joined the fray of energy beams, singing sweetly as clone after clone fell to the magnificent power of Form I.
Garen slashed as a foe attacked from the right with a vibroblade. The weapon fell to the ground, useless, leaving a stunned warrior brandishing a fairly non-dangerous handle. "I was distracted."
The Nautolan smiled. A clone met the sole of his standard Jedi boot. "Bragging will do that."
Clones continued to press in on them from all sides, temporarily halting the banter between the two friends as they focused on unfriendly fire and hand-to-hand combat. Kit Fisto swirled and jabbed, prospering under the fluid movements of his preferred form while Garen focused his attention on the defensive side of combat.
Sweat began to dimple Knight Muln's forehead as he fought off the barrage of attacks. He gave himself to the Force and let it loosen his tense, tired muscles and give him the strength to stall the advancement of Obi-Wan's army.
Why, Obi-Wan?
Didn't he see what he was doing?
Six of their attackers broke from formation to join another group harassing an apprentice protecting an Initiate and a wounded Knight. Garen moved without thought, leaping over the barricade of soldiers and charging at the clones, stabbing one, two, then three in rapid succession.
But not quick enough; the Padawan and Initiate (who had been wielding a low-power training lightsaber) both fell under the strain of blaster fire.
"Watch your flank!"
Garen became just a flurry of motion, destroying every trooper with powerful speed and precision, barely restraining the monster inside him that fought to slay the murderers with pent-up hatred. However, he was a Jedi, and he forced himself to attack without emotion, to not let his feelings dictate his behavior.
Otherwise…he'd be no different from Obi-Wan.
A Calamarian Jedi leapt in to help him dispose of the Sith minions, wielding her lightsaber with graceful savagery, her entire attention focused on ridding the Temple of its assassins.
"Bant?"
Her lightsaber pierced through the last soldier's armor. "Thought you could use a hand." Her large, silver eyes glowed with determination and hope as she scooped up the Initiate Garen had been trying to save. The youngling was the only one still alive.
"I had everything under control," the Knight panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Piece of sweetcake…"
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"Sorry about that," the bounty hunter cackled as Knight Fy-Tor-Ana fell to the floor, clutching the wound site where he had used a piece of alloy shrapnel to split the Jedi's side.
Anakin watched from the shadows, tense with righteous anger, as the fierce Knight slowly faded into the Force as a pool of crimson gathered next to her.
Patience, Ani, Qui-Gon's voice spoke in his mind. Wait for the opportune moment.
He lightly fingered the activation button on his lightsaber hilt, simply itching to engage the twisted man who had caused so many deaths and so much destruction. Without a doubt, he was the same bounty hunter who had been the bane of his and Qui-Gon's existences as they had protected the then-Senator Padme Amidala…back when the enemy of the Republic had been the CIS…
…Before Kenobi had turned to the Dark Side.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
The bounty hunter began to move away. The Force nudged Anakin.
Now.
Anakin leapt, pummeling the assassin to the permacrete floor, hands, heads, shoulders, and knees all slamming into their less-than-soft makeshift landing pad. Pain shot through Anakin's left arm, and his lightsaber bounced out of sight. The bounty hunter seemed to be faring not much better as he cursed Anakin, struggling to his feet.
His blaster found Anakin's exposed frame.
But Anakin was already moving by the time he pulled the trigger. Rolling out of harm's way, the prophesized Chosen One called his lightsaber to his hand and sprang into attack position.
The Mandalorian-armored man chuckled. "You really think you're going to stop me, Jedi?"
"No," he replied calmly. "I know I am."
There was a ripple in the Force. Anakin dodged to the right, barely avoiding being blasted into oblivion. Under the cover of smoke, he slinked back to the left, finding the element of surprise in his foe's blind spot.
Anakin attacked, bringing his lightsaber down diagonally, tipping the bounty hunter's armor as he sprang out of the way, avoiding the Padawan's otherwise fatal blow.
Frustrated, Anakin let out a string of curses in both Huttese and Basic as he dodged the fire from Jango's twin blasters.
"Had enough, Jedi?"
"I'm just getting started."
The two continued their odd ballet, each ducking and attacking in turn, using anything they could as a weapon, both trying to gain the upper hand.
Luminous crystal lightsaber and Force powers battled an array of hot energy bolts and dangerous weapons. Their clashes, pops, and sizzles echoed throughout their battle arena, another layer of battle music to cover the many other unique tracks of wartime sounds.
He channeled all his power and strength into his attacks, becoming one with his lightsaber as it burned the air with its energy beam, humming romantically. But it wasn't enough. Whatever move he made, the bounty hunter countered it in record speed. No slash, thrust, or jab went unchallenged; no Force-push not evaded. Frustration grew in the young Jedi, and that was the last thing he needed.
Frustration could very well spell the end of Anakin Skywalker if he let it take hold. Frustration, as members of the Council had oft preached, led to rash behavior, which led to dangerous mistakes, which, ultimately, led to death.
Chosen or not, Anakin didn't think the Force would somehow help him evade that particular road should he ignore ten years of training.
"You must be proud of yourself," Anakin said, recovering from another dangerously close encounter with a thermal detonator.
The bounty hunter remained silent and still. If his body was tense, he couldn't tell.
"After all," he continued, catching his breath. "Not only do you get hired to kill one of the most beloved Senators – now the Chancellor – but you also get to personally destroy the Jedi Order on the behalf of Sith scum Obi-Wan Kenobi." His lightsaber reactivated with the familiar snap-hiss. "Not many people get to say that."
The bounty hunter's head tilted a fraction of a centimeter to the right. "What's it to you?"
Anakin smirked. "My Master always taught me to be courteous to those I'm about to kill."
They resumed combat, stronger and deadlier than before. Only one would walk away…
Anakin wrenched away one of Fett's blasters with his grapnel line and swung it around again to bind the warrior. At that moment, however, he ignited his rocket pack and flew out of the reach of the grapnel line. The Jedi, unfortunately, was directly in the path of his own makeshift weapon and was forced to leap out of the way. Instead of jumping to the side, Anakin gathered the Force and leapt forward, directly towards the bounty hunter.
Upon collision, both flew straight through one of the many giant transparisteel windows in the Temple and plummeted to the ground several hundred stories below.
At least he didn't have a fear of flying…
The two continued to fight in close combat, rolling and spinning out of control. The young Jedi, eager to handicap his opponent, quickly removed the cover of the rocket pack's control panel and loosened the wires so the machinery stalled and died.
In hindsight, that hadn't been a very smart idea.
"Oh, kriff."
A hard right hook sent Anakin flying off the bounty hunter and racing towards his doom as he narrowly avoided rushing speeders and air taxis. But Anakin recovered quickly and Force-pulled his opponent to him…
…And straight down on his ignited lightsaber.
He slowed his own descent as the corpse slipped through the air silently, a poetic end for the formidable foe. Anakin landed feet-first on a passing speeder and used the momentum to Force-leap towards the Temple, crashing through another window quite a few stories below his original location.
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Darth Dementor's comlink chirped.
"What? How?"
A voice on the other end nervously stuttered an explanation.
"I'll be right there." He growled savagely and headed towards an exit. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."
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The Other Author's Note: Ding-dong Jango's dead...and poor Darra. Who saw that coming? It gives me great pleasure to inform everyone that I have finished the last chapter of Revenge, bringing this installment to a total of 21 chapters. Yay! These next two chapters will be the most intense, action- and otherwise, as they include the imminent duels between Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin. So keep a look out for Chapter Twenty: Darkness Descended.
Author's Edit: 8-21-2007