Part 34: Chiaroscuro.
"There's something you must know," Padmé said after the door closed behind him, giving them privacy in one of the Tantive's living quarters.
"If it's about Anakin, I know already," Obi-Wan replied, dropping his mask of Jedi serenity to show that the grief of loosing thousands of Jedi, among them many of his friends and including his former apprentice, still affected him. "I felt his death in the Force."
Padmé froze at that statement, before ushering him into the nearest chair. Obi-Wan watched her bewildered as she wandered about the room, methodically checking inside the sideboards made from Alderaanian Kiirn, their polished dark wine services a remarkable contrast to the stunning white walls of durasteel. He said nothing as her search soon appeared to prove fruitful, as she produced a bottle of fine Alderaanian brandy and two glasses, which she placed on the table before him, pouring a large snifter into each. Obi-Wan didn't ask her the obvious question, waiting for her to be the one who would break the silence.
She took a seat beside him, and slowly, in a quiet voice, told him everything that Mace told her, regarding the events in Palpatine's office. As denial gave way to acceptance, he found himself taking a sip from the glass, conveyed by hands which shook so much he feared for the stability of the cylindrical crystal structure.
Carefully, he lowered the glass back to the surface of the table, before letting his face fall into the comforting embrace of his arms. He barely felt her fingers reach for his, the shock numbing senses.
"I should have let them shoot me," he murmured, insensible of everything within his life but that of the failure which he had just learned. "No. That was already too late. It was already too late on Geonosis. The Zabrak on Naboo, I should have died there... before I ever brought him to Coruscant -"
"Obi-Wan, no," Padmé gently pried his hands away from his face, forcing his eyes to look into hers. "You did not make him fall. Not you, or Qui-Gon, or the Council, or the Order. Or me. This was his choice."
"Was it?" he asked her, his voice suddenly hoarse. "He had him from the moment he stepped off that ship. 'We shall watch your career with great interest.' He meant every word. And more besides."
"I can't deny Palpatine manipulated him," Padmé replied. "But it was Ani's choice. There were many occasions when he could have listened to your teachings, but he chose not to do so."
"How can you take this so calmly?" He asked her.
She smiled at him, slightly. "I've had several hours in hyperspace to get my head together." Her hand squeezed his. "If you had died on Naboo, he would have had Anakin much sooner, and the consequences would have been dire."
"They're dire now," Obi-Wan pointed out. "It is no comfort to know that I have only delayed his fall."
"Is it one to remind you that if you had died, we wouldn't here having this conversation? That we wouldn't have our daughter, who is playing with Breha and Bail right now? Or the twins growing inside me?" She paused to let him take that in before adding, "and if you listened to the Force, to what you showed me only days ago, you would realise that he hasn't turned completely. There is still good in him."
"What are you saying?" He asked her.
"You can turn him back."
The first thing which they noticed when the Tantive docked on Coruscant was the clone troopers which guarded certain Senatorial ships. Fang Zar's and Tundra Dowmeia's crafts bore all the regalia of impoundment, causing a moment of nerves as they waited for a pair of troopers to post themselves by their boarding ramp, and a sigh of relief when nothing occurred.
"How do you want to play this?" Bail asked as they prepared to disembark.
"We'll escort you to the Senate," Obi-Wan replied, for an emergency session had been declared, calling all Senators back to the Core. "After that we'll go to the Temple. Then our next move will be to take down the Sith. After that -" he broke off, for no one knew what would happen then.
Padmé was the only one disguised as the four of them stepped from the turbolift to the level for the Convocation entrance, which was also guarded, but that was the norm from the earliest days of the Senate's inception. Her hood was raised over her hair, her quickening hidden by additional layers of handmaiden garb, ones used to hide just such an expectation. She kept her eyes lowered as they came to a halt before the two guards, who seemed under the impression that they were in line for a promotion for capturing her husband and the Grand Master of the Order who stood behind her and Bail.
"Welcome back, Senator," one said. "May I see your clearance?"
Bail presented his identichip, which was given the usual cursory examination.
"Thank you, you may proceed," the guard returned the identichip, then turned to the beings behind the Senator. "We will take custody of the Jedi."
"May be it would be better if we remained with the Senator," Obi-Wan murmured, his hand in a pose which Padmé remembered seeing from their day in Mos Espa, when he brought her the purple necklace that lay beneath her gown.
"That seems reasonable," the guard agreed.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan uttered. "May the Force be with you, Bail. Milady."
Padmé entered the Convocation chamber without looking back, for she knew that Yoda and her husband were already gone.
Even now, the Temple was still guarded, as every clone began the laborious task of identifying the dead and checking their names against Temple records. More were posted to every entrance to keep a helmet visor out for any Jedi who dared to respond to that recall code.
However, none of them knew about the entrance and exit reserved for those of the Cantham House Committee.
Obi-Wan and Yoda stepped inside cautiously, lightsabers unignited but at the ready, just in case something emerged from the shadows.
And one voice did just that.
"You broke your promise."
Obi-Wan turned and faced the source of the words, still within darkness. "I never made one to you. I only made one to him."
"You said that you would not leave his side at the end."
"I promised to obey his last wishes," Obi-Wan replied. "Which I have."
Mace Windu stepped out of the shadows, his face grim as he stared at his fellow colleague, the once padawan of his old friend. He sighed, a small breath of grief escaping his mouth. "I did not want him to go like that."
"Neither did I," Obi-Wan confessed, lowering his head to study the well trod floor. "But it was his choice, and I respected it." He raised his blue grey eyes once more, the relative darkness around them hiding the glassy quality which unshed tears added. "He is one with the Force, as many others are today."
"And the victim of Sidious' new apprentice," Mace remarked, bringing another grim expression, this time to all of the Master's present.
"I know," Obi-Wan remarked, quietly. "Padmé told me. We need to change the recall code, and then I need to see the internal surveillance records."
"Seeing will only cause you pain," Master Yoda reminded him.
"Then it is pain I have earned," Obi-Wan replied, remembering his rather less composed reaction onboard the Tantive in hyperspace. "I am not afraid of it."
He stepped away, leading them towards the communications room, but he did not miss the last words Yoda spoke.
"You should be."
Bail and Padmé slipped into the rear of Naboo's delegation Senate Pod, taking the seats beside where Dormé, in all the trappings of Senator Amidala, sat, listening to the speech coming from the seat of the Supreme Chancellor.
"These Jedi murderers left me scarred, left me deformed, but they could not damage my integrity! They could not deform my resolve! The remaining traitors will be hunted down, rooted out wherever they may hide and brought to justice, dead or alive! All collaborators will suffer the same fate. Those who protect the enemy are the enemy! Now is the time! Now we will strike back. Now we will destroy the destroyers! Death to the enemies of democracy!"
Padmé leaned forward. "What's happened?" she asked her decoy in a low whisper, though no one could have heard her over the noise that reigned over the arena, waiting for the Chancellor to continue.
"He's been presenting evidence all afternoon," Dormé replied, her lips cautiously moving to prevent their conversation from being noticed by others who would have cause to query the nature of it. "Not just the assassination attempt. Apparently the Jedi were involved in a conspiracy to overthrow the Republic."
Below them the frenzied noise of the arena quietened down as the Chancellor spoke again. Palpatine's features looked as though they had been caught in the middle of a lightning storm, which in a sense, was exactly what happened. "This has been the most trying of times, but we have passed the test. The war is over!"
Senators erupted into cheers of triumph.
"The Separatists have been utterly defeated and the Republic will stand! United! United and free!"
Another explosion of cheers.
Inside the pod belonging to the delegation from Naboo, all occupants were quiet. As were several others in other pods, if one cared to look.
"The Jedi Rebellion was our final test- it was the last gasp of the forces of darkness! Now we have left that darkness behind us forever, and a new day has begun! It is morning in the Republic!"
More cheering.
Padmé stared at the Chancellor, the Sith lord in all his glory, finally free to do what he wanted with his Republic, and murmured three words. "Here it comes."
Bail frowned. "Here what comes?"
"You'll see."
"Never again will we be divided! Never again will sector turn against sector, planet turn against planet, sibling turn again sibling! We are one nation, indivisible!"
Yet more cheering.
"To ensure that we will always stand together, that we will always speak with a single voice, and act with a single hand, the Republic must change. We must evolve. We must grow. We have become an empire in fact, let us become an Empire in name as well! We are the first Galactic Empire!"
Senators broke into an ecstasy of applauds, verbal and physical.
Bail turned to the women beside him in shock. "What are they doing? Do they understand what they're cheering for?"
Padmé and Dormé shook their heads.
"We are an Empire that will be continued to rule by this august body! We are an Empire that will never return to the political manoeuvring and corruption that have wounded us so deeply; we are an Empire that will be directed by a single sovereign, chosen for life! We are an Empire ruled by the majority! An Empire ruled by a new Constitution! An Empire of laws, not of politicians! An Empire devoted to the preservation of a just society! Of a safe and secure society! We are an Empire that will stand ten thousand years!"
No one could stop the cheers now, they were a continuous rumble of noise below the volcano which was the Chancellor's powerful rhetoric, a contrast to his seemingly frail appearance.
"We will celebrate the anniversary of this day as Empire Day! For the sake of our children! For our children's children! For the next ten thousand years! Safety! Security! Justice and Peace! Say it with me! Safety, Security, Justice and Peace!"
The voices of the Senate took up the cry, turning the words into one continuous chant of noise, while those within the pods whose members answered to the Cantham House Committee, sat or stood stunned at the chaos surrounding them.
"So this is how liberty dies," Padmé murmured, so quietly Bail and Dormé could barely hear her. "With thunderous applause."
"We can't let this happen!" Bail cried, rising to his feet. "I have to get to my pod - we could still enter a motion -"
"No." Padmé seized his arm, sheer force of will, or perhaps it was sheer will of the Force holding him down. "No, Bail, you can't enter a motion, you can't! Remember what we saw on the docking bay. Fang Zar has already been arrested, along with Tundra Dowmeia. It won't be long until he hauls every Senatorial member of the Cantham House Committee into the Courts. If you, or any of the others voice your objections now, their lives will not be worth the flimsi it is printed on. That motion will be their death warrant."
"But I can't just stand by and watch-"
"You're right. You can't just watch. You have to vote for him."
"What?"
"Bail, it is the only way. It is the only hope you have of remaining in a position to do anyone any good. Vote for Palpatine. Vote for the Empire. Make Mon Mothma, Finis Valorum, and Garm Bel Iblis vote for him too. Be good little Senators. Mind your manners and keep your heads down. And keep doing all those things we never talked about here. The time for them will come."
"Padmé," Bail bowed his head in a drawn out sigh. "You have my word, and I'll make the others see reason. But what about you? Are you under suspicion?"
Dormé answered his question. "Palpatine's Representative came to see me last night. According to him, the only reason that the wife of Obi-Wan Kenobi is not under suspicion, is his assurance of her unswerving loyalty to her former Senator."
Bail frowned at the unspoken implications. "If he forces you to do anything, I'll -"
Don't worry about me, Bail," Padmé whispered, her eyes turning towards the podium of their new Emperor, whose yellow sithly eyes seemed to bore into every particle of her soul. "I don't know I'll live that long."
Mace brought him forewarning, indeed he had his own memories regarding another past apprentice to recollect all too well what occurred when one fell, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality. When Xanatos turned, his sithly induced revenge was directed solely at him, Obi-Wan was only caught in the crossfire by virtue of being his successor to the role of Padawan learner. Never before had he occasion to witness a pupil directing their revenge regarding their failures at the entirety of the Order. And hopefully, he would never have to ever again. Hope could be pushed aside, for his illness virtually guaranteed that such a sight would be his last.
Like Xanatos' successor, he could not deny feeling some guilt and responsibility for the fall of his latest and last pupil, for the misery and devastation which was about to be visited on the Jedi in this, their twilight years. Nor could he deny himself a chance to prevent what was about to come, or perhaps just partake in the event, even if the cost was likely to be his own life. Obi-Wan had understood that when he chose to keep his peace as opposed to any objection he might make after he aired such a plan to him before he left for Utapau. However, he was well aware that others, such as his oldest friend, might be more vocal with their opinions and wishes regarding his end. All he could do was hope, as he protested obedience to such directions, secretly planning his mutiny, that in the end, they would also understand.
So he waited until Master Windu was gone from the medical wing, along with the rest of the staff and patients posted there, Kamino clones filing in from the secret Cantham House Committee entrance, where the ship had docked some time ago, unseen by those who would gain a malicious advantage from witnessing such an arrival. His friend was in haste, too conscious of the little time they had with which to spring this last final Sabacc hand into play, to notice that one clone was missing from those assigned to the med bay. He had cancelled the order for his replica during the war, doubting that he would live to see the end this worst case scenario engineered them for. And, like everyone else within the Order, he was about to be proved wrong.
Clones, surveillance, transparisteel panes and he were the only witnesses then to the end of the Jedi Order. He watched through the third of that quartet he chose to become a member of, as the armoured troops bore down the central avenue in a slow, deadly march towards the grand entrance. Their leader at the forefront, darkly cloaked in his usual Jedi apparel, though now those muted shades seemed in hindsight a warning of what was to come. The face was hooded and grim, like a storm on the outskirts, threatening now to burst upon the sunshine and let a hail of judgement rain down.
When he could no longer see the armoured soldiers or their leader, he returned to the medical wing, to wait, like the others there, for his possible end. A part of him was already certain of that outcome, he had seen the reality in his former pupil's face, he knew that there was no escape. Yet the other part, that side of his character which had always rendered him a maverick in the eyes of the Council and the Order, still hoped to achieve the impossible. To bring forth redemption and conquer the Krayt dragon from within.
Unlike his former Padawan, he could not watch how the other clones stationed about the Temple would meet their end. The med bay was stationed away from rest of the Temple, sheltered from the security room and Council chamber, positioned out of the way from the impulsive impetuous curiosity of the young. Instead he could only imagine each shot fired from one of the white armoured clad soldier's blasters, each cut or thrust of the blue lightsaber which should have been red, to properly reflect where the owner's true loyalties now lay. He would not live to see the horror displayed within the surveillance holos, the violence visited on every part of the Order that was currently Temple bound, from the eldest and least able to defend themselves, to the small younglings, too innocent to even comprehend the wealth of revenge their murderer showed them. But his and the clones imaginings were probably the equal when compared with the reality, or perhaps the inferior, a comfort to those whose end would inevitably follow.
Eventually the massacre reached the medical wing, a legion of white armoured clad soldiers firing blasters unknowingly upon their own kind. Order Sixty-six was too broad in its outline to allow for independence in thought; if it looked like a Jedi and fought like a Jedi, then it was to be struck down like the rest of the Jedi, indistinguishable from those they were designed to protect. There was to be no wonder at the lack of Force, for the soldiers were incapable of detecting such sensitivity. One by one, from the staff to the patients, each victim was put to the judgement of their deadly accuracy, the end assured by their engineered desire to be thorough when carrying out their duty.
Their leader arrived while he was still alive, fighting with the best of the staff, defending themselves and those too incapacitated attempt such mutiny to the Empire's judgement. A hood still cloaked his face, concealing none of the anger splayed across it, instead only intensifying the white hot rage of revenge. Yellow eyes glowed within the darkness like the twin suns from his homeworld, casting their deadly heat upon the frail figure of his former Master. For a moment he frowned, as he perhaps sensed the deception being played on him and his battalion, realising the distinction between a clone and the real thing who stood within the midst of them. It was what his teacher had counted on to sway him from his massacre, stop him from falling into the darkness that was the way of the Sith. Until now, it had not occurred to his teacher that it would turn out to be the one thing which would aid that descent.
Anakin Skywalker dove through the mass of slaughtered victims, meeting the fighting form of his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. His last sight of him had been a stark contrast to the seemingly vigorous man before him now; pale and sickly in his bed, the debilitating disease within the lastly deathly throes of its mortal torture. Perhaps if that vision of him was repeated, it would have prevented what would happen next, but neither of them would be granted the opportunity to find out. The Force had rewarded them instead with a ending that was bittersweet; one last mortal joust.
"It is fitting that I should find you," Anakin said, his lightsaber at the ready, waiting for the green coloured one belonging to his opponent to make the first strike. "For in our last combat I was the pupil. But now I am the Master."
Qui-Gon would not be provoked. "There is still time, Ani. You can still walk away from this darkness your new Master has swept before you. All you need to do is give me your lightsaber."
"And what?" Anakin scoffed. "Humble myself before Master Yoda like a misbehaved youngling? I have listened to his judgements for the last time. I will not allow myself to be enslaved to you and your kind again."
"Enslaved?" Qui-Gon echoed. "Anakin, it is Palpatine who is the enslaver, not us! He would bind you to the darkness, force you to commit atrocities darker than any revenge you have ever visited before. You cannot allow your past to cloud your memories of being a Jedi, or it will doom you forever."
"How dare you accuse him!" Anakin thundered back. "He is the only one who has ever listened, the only one who truly showed me support. All you and your kind could do was to deny me the full power I held over any member of the Order."
"Power is not what a Jedi craves," Qui-Gon countered. "We seek only a deeper understanding of the Force. Do not cast a judgement on us that should be directed at the Sith, the kind to which your new Master belongs, and calls you to join."
"I knew it would be a mistake speaking to you," Anakin uttered in deadly finality. "I will not stand and hear more of your lies."
What followed next was a flurry of saber clashes, prophesied Chosen One verses the Maverick, a duel to the death. Around them desert shaded clones littered the battlefield, the white armour clad ones moving on to other parts of the Temple, leaving Jedi and Sith to defend and battle against their deeper philosophies. The outcome was inevitable, for the righteous was never assured of victory when illness threatened to conquer him. Blue laid waste to green, gaining first the advantage then the victory.
Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon meet his end bravely, as he had always desired to from the moment he learned of his mortal diagnosis, then reached forward to turn the surveillance holo off, too sickened by grief and guilt to be able to watch any more.
He was waiting for her, in the shadow of the cockpit of their skiff, his arms folded against his chest, his features grief stricken. Without a word she motioned to her decoy to aid Captain Typho in preparing the skiff for departure, then joined her husband in the darkness.
Opening his arms, he drew her into an embrace, similar to one they had shared years ago, when she was carrying their firstborn. Cordé was still with Breha aboard the Tantive, which would leave for Alderaan soon, via Naboo. It was too dangerous for her to travel with her parents, who would not be arriving on Naboo for some time.
During the journey to the Core they had planned to leave Coruscant for good, knowing the Sith would not allow them to survive, even at the request of Anakin, that's if it even occurred to him to ask. They would clear out the Senatorial penthouse residence and leave for Naboo, then hide themselves at the Jedi Sanctuary until the plans were in place to overthrow Palpatine's schemes.
But first they would talk to Anakin.
"How was it?" she asked him, looking up from her place of rest against his comforting warm brown cloak.
"Harder than I thought it would be," he replied, referring to the plan the Council decided on when they learned of Order Sixty-six. It was two fold; involving the secret construction of a sanctuary Temple on a previously deserted planet in the Outer Rim, and, in the event of an attack upon the Coruscant Temple, evacuation of the Jedi stationed there, who would be replaced by clones, engineered only for death.
A hard decision for the Council to reach agreement on, and one even harder for Obi-Wan to see through to conclusion, as he and Yoda inspected the bodies to confirm what Mace already knew; cause of death by lightsaber. The Clones were good, the best that Kamino could supply, with a only a residual sense of the Force ability which their originals possessed. No one wanted copies of themselves able to defeat storm troopers or even a Sith, but the resemblance was hard to accept, almost as hard as the knowledge that one of their own had put them to death.
Anakin had fallen to the dark side. Just as he had murdered those Tusken Raiders in revenge for the death of his mother, so had he murdered those at the Temple, for what motive Obi-Wan could only guess at. It was not all his fault, there were many who felt a sense of guilt for this, and in light of what was concealed from him, there was a chance that he could be redeemed, though Obi-Wan would have never believed it of any one before. The new Emperor had manipulated him into doing this, and the Jedi were clones.
Save one. And that one troubled Obi-Wan.
When he agreed to witness Qui-Gon's request that he die with the all the dignity of a Jedi Master, in defence of the Force, he had hoped that his former Master would survive an attack on the Temple. He had hoped Anakin would not stoop to kill someone he regarded as a mentor and a father. And that hope remained in his heart, until he heard Mace's voice after he entered the Temple. Until he saw Qui-Gon's body, in the smoking remains of the Healer's Ward, positioned as though he fell defending with the clones of the Healers. Did Anakin even give him a chance to speak and reason? No one, not even the holo he forced himself to watch could answer that, for such words held the ability to linger within the mind long after they had been spoken, perhaps serving to provoke reflection and change, save for the young fallen Knight himself, another motive for confronting him.
"Anakin," he remarked, before breaking off to correct himself, even though it hurt to utter the new title Palpatine had bestowed on him, "Vader, is on Mustafar. Ordered to take care of the Separatist leaders." He paused to look at his wife steadily, preparing himself for what he was about to voice. "Padmé, I don't think you should come with me."
"Why not?" she asked, looking back at him with a slight frown, as if to remind him that they had been through this during the journey here, Senator verses the Negotiator, the former winning the debate, as she reasoned and cajoled him into taking her with him, despite his reservations in light of her condition and what Anakin might do when confronted with something else another of the Order had denied him.
"Mustafar is hardly the best planet for you to be seeing in your condition," he replied, knowing what she would say, but needing to voice his concern all the same.
"We've been through this, Obi-Wan," Padmé reminded him. "I am pregnant, not an invalid." She saw him flinch at that word, and immediately, she understood why he was so reluctant. "Oh. Qui-Gon."
"Yes," he confirmed. "Why did I think Ani would never commit such a deed? I should have refused his request, have Mace take him out of there, kicking and screaming."
"Mace doesn't blame you, does he?" Padmé asked, relieved to see him shake his head in a resounding negative.
"No, but he was angry that I agreed and left him no explanation." Obi-Wan sighed, releasing part of the emotions he felt into the Force as he did. Not all, he wasn't ready for that, nor had he truly begun to deal with them either. That would come later, after he talked to Anakin. He turned back to his wife. "If I can't stop you from coming, will you at least promise me to step back if you feel yourself in danger? And if you feel he is in danger."
"I promise," Padmé replied, quietly and seriously, without a hint of a silent plan to interpret his request in a certain way.
Obi-Wan said nothing, but bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, a brief vow taken before they clasped hands and ascended the boarding ramp.