Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc.

I know, this story has been a bit of a political thriller so far, but never fear! This chapter is a prelude to… Well, I better not give away any spoilers.

Thanks again for the encouraging reviews & stay tuned (right?)…

Chapter Four

Conspiracy

A full hour had come and gone since the start of the briefing. Obi–Wan silently stood in the far corner of the room while he intently listened to the assembled commandants; observing their mixed exchanges and heated debates, but refraining from voicing his own thoughts and opinions. Sitting at the head of the table, Padmé had thus far remained relatively quiet and reserved. Over her shoulder, a large screen displayed the images of Chancellor Bail Organa and the woman that the Jedi Master recognized as not only a current sitting senator in the Galactic Senate, but the clandestine Supreme Leader of the underground Rebel Alliance, Mon Mothma. The two politicians had been participating via telecommunications from the high offices of Coruscant.

Nothing too pressing had been discussed, or even broached by the gathered committee just yet. Obi–Wan knew, however, that something significant was bound to arise sooner or later; otherwise, Padmé would not have asked him to attend. Even without the aid of the Force, it was easy enough to discern that something of grave importance was preying on the former senators' mind.

"Reports have come in from our team on Endor," the current speaker said in a loud, clear voice. "Its processing camp has been evacuated and decommissioned, as ordered by Vader himself. Apparently, he is acting as the new Emperor despite the fact that he has not yet been sworn in to legally assume the position."

"Lord Vader shut it down?" Mon Mothma's image chimed in. "Why would he do such a thing? Is this intelligence reliable?"

"Yes, milady," the speaker replied with a respectful nod. "Once the base was abandoned, our team infiltrated the compound and accessed their still active data logs. Their records were encoded, but our on–site analysts were able to decipher them promptly and without incident. Vader's motives are unclear, but we can at least be thankful that there is one less camp operating in the galaxy. As for our team, they should be returning any moment now."

"Very well," Mon Mothma said before shifting her focus to Padmé's seat. "Padmé, I believe the floor is yours…"

Obi–Wan turned to Padmé as she rose from her chair and cleared her throat. Nodding to a man sitting to her left, haggard and dressed in a wrinkled jumpsuit, she waited for him to activate a holopad on the surface of the table before proceeding.

"Today will be a day like no other," Padmé began as a holographic display of what appeared to be a list of numbered files sprang to life before their eyes. "Today we must make a momentous decision…a decision that could change our lives, and the lives of everyone in this galaxy, forever. This is an extensive index of every directive and command ever put into place for the Empires' clone army."

"What?!" Chancellor Organa exclaimed, unable to mask his surprise. "That's impossible! How did you acquire this index?"

"Forgive me, Chancellor, but the 'how' is not important," Padmé said without pause. "What is important is what we choose to do with it now that we have it."

"And what exactly would you propose we do, Commander Amidala?" one of the seated speakers questioned.

"If you will direct your attention to Order 323," Padmé continued, motioning to the glowing holopad. "In layman terms, it was set up as a fail–safe initiative designed to protect the Emperor from a coup. It's similar to the order that was used…" Trailing off, Padmé cast Obi–Wan a rueful glance before sadly resuming her explanation, "…that was used to betray the Jedi and seize control of the Senate."

A somber moment of silence fell over the room as the surrounding commandants and politicians alike mourned their fallen guardians and paid their respects; each of them careful not to look in Obi–Wan's direction. Whether their timid behavior was due to feelings of discomfort, or feelings of shame, he wasn't sure.

"Unlike that particular order, this one is not specific to the Jedi," Padmé proceeded, offering Obi–Wan a sympathetic smile as he nodded his understanding. "It states simply that in the event of any power staging a coup and attempting to overthrow the Imperial government, the army is given full authority to deal with the situation by any means necessary."

"You still haven't told us what you plan to do with this information," the same speaker from before persisted.

Scanning the faces that expectantly studied her and awaited a response, Padmé took a moment to compose herself before replying. "I propose we kill Lord Vader."

Obi–Wan's brow raised in subdued astonishment as the room erupted. Some protested, others championed the notion…all shouted.

"You're mad!"

"Why not kill him? He has already murdered countless victims!"

"It's suicide!"

"Too many have already died!"

"We are seekers of freedom and justice, not vengeance!"

"He must be stopped! If we don't stop him, who will?!"

Anticipating such a reaction, Padmé merely stood and patiently waited for the chaos to die down. Eventually, it did; to a degree. Enough, in any case, for a somewhat civil conversation to recommence.

"You understand what you are suggesting, Padmé?" Mon Mothma voiced her concerns once the commotion had abated. "You know what that would mean…"

"I do, yes," Padmé replied, not fazed in the least bit by several of her colleagues' blatant protests. "It is the only way. As we all know, the Senate still convenes to keep up appearances, but it wields no real power. If Vader is assassinated, control is immediately returned to you, Chancellor Organa…and if you initiate Order 323, you can blame the assassination on the highest ranking Imperial officers and have them arrested for treason and removed from power."

His gaze skeptical and defiant, one of the gathered commandants spoke next. "I can't help but think that this plan of yours has less to do with the demise of the Empire, and more to do with your own personal ties to Lord Vader, Commander Amidala."

"Such an accusation is out of line and will not be tolerated," Mon Mothma firmly interjected, her tone putting the culpable speaker in his place and silencing him without argument. "Tell me, Padmé, even if we were to vote on your proposal and come to some sort of an agreement on the subject, assassinating Lord Vader will be no easy task. How would you even go about carrying this plan out?"

"I have no delusions, milady…I know it will be difficult," Padmé retorted. "And I can assure you all that this is much more than a personal vendetta. Our very survival depends on the destruction of the Empire – I would never jeopardize the resistance for my own benefit. As for Vader, he is unpredictable at best. However, he does have a fatal flaw: his hatred for the Jedi. One thing you can count on is his determination to hunt down every last survivor himself. It just so happens a signal was intercepted by a fleet of Imperial cruisers, reporting a recent, albeit fabricated, Jedi sighting on Kashyyyk. We have arranged everything. We've already provided the bait and coordinated a perfect location to set the trap."

Obi–Wan thoughtfully stroked his chin as he digested Padmé's plot to eliminate Vader, and bring down his treacherous Empire. It was a logical and sound one. The Jedi Order had never condoned violence or death as a rule, but exceptions had always been made. Sometimes they had to be. And if ever brute force needed to be applied, it was now; in the face of overwhelming evil and senseless suffering. Vader could not reign over the galaxy, he knew that much. His continued rule was not an option if ever Obi–Wan wanted to see peace and balance again in his lifetime.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may," Obi–Wan finally stepped forward, letting his presence be known not only as an observer, but as a contributor to the open deliberation, as well. "Commander Amidala has a valid point. Darth Vader will lay waste to everything you hold dear unless somebody does something to stop him. He cannot be convinced to change, he cannot be reasoned with…he is nothing more than a slave to the dark side of the Force. It controls him as you would control your droid. There is no other option. If you stand idly by and hope for a diplomatic solution, the Rebellion will fail and all will be lost."

"Your words carry a great weight in this council, Master Kenobi," Chancellor Organa humbly replied. "You do understand, Padmé, that as the head of what is left of the Senate, I cannot take part in any act against Vader directly…"

"I would not ask you to incriminate yourself," Padmé retorted, turning back to the large screen broadcasting from Coruscant just behind her. "This entire operation hinges on you taking the reins once Vader is gone. Without your political support, we will never succeed."

"Very well, then," Mon Mothma added as she, too, regarded Obi–Wan and Padmé with a deep, sincere reverence. "I trust we have all heard and said enough? Let us put it to a vote…"

Lazily stretching her arms above her head to ease the aching muscles in her back, Astrid wearily sauntered down the landing platform of her transport; each step sapping her strength that much more. The journey back had been long and tedious. The rest of her squadron already leading the way out of the hangar bay, she had remained behind to make sure everything was sorted and in order before departing herself. It wasn't long, however, before she discovered that she was not quite as alone as she had previously thought.

"Some afternoon, eh, love?" she heard a familiar voice chuckle nearby.

"Please, Pavel, I'm tired…I don't have enough energy to put up with the usual verbal sparring you seem to enjoy so much," she moaned, knowing that it would do no good. Getting rid of him, she mused, would be like getting rid of a starving animal after you had fed it your table scraps. "I just want to go to my room, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed for a week or two. Maybe three, if they'll let me."

"Sounds nice. Would you like some company?" Pavel said with a smug grin. Laughing, he rushed forward and stepped in front of Astrid to cut off her escape route as she rolled her eyes and attempted to brush past him. "Okay–okay, all joking aside…it was a good day. After all, nobody died."

"It's a sad state of affairs when that's what your life has come to," Astrid retorted, frowning as she released an exasperated sigh. "When nobody dying constitutes a good day."

"Has anyone ever told you how inspirational these little pep talks of yours are?" Pavel quipped, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. "Listen, what do you say we have a celebratory drink before you go and slip into your coma? Come on, I'll buy. No unnecessary conversation required."

As much as Astrid hated to admit it, a drink actually didn't sound like a terrible idea at the moment. But to give in to her pursuers advances and agree to his terms would only encourage his deplorable conduct, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Luckily, her savior appeared a moment later, and it came in the form of an old computers specialist named Red.

"Hey, welcome back!" Red greeted them with a wide, amused smile. "Home sweet home, huh?"

"I guess you could say that," Pavel sulked, clearly unhappy that his invitation had been interrupted.

Still smiling, Red resumed his previous course. "Well, it's just a shame you won't be stayin' long."

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked as the specialist nonchalantly continued on his way through the spacious hangar.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" he replied. "We're moving back out right away. The votes are in – we're gonna take out the big, bad honcho man."

Like Pavel, Astrid furrowed a puzzled brow. "Red, what in blazes are you talking about?"

Next came the words that neither of them could have prepared for:

"You better hold onto your hats, boys and girls…we're going after Vader."