If you read this before, you may notice Chapter 3 this time is the former Chapters 3 & 4 put together. It will be longer, but I like it this way...
Well, read on and enjoy, and leave me a REVIEW! Help me defeat writer's block! I watched ROTS recently and got a ton of ideas. I need YOUR help:(
I have this wonderful twist for Mustafar, one that I've been dying to write forever. Please, please, please, PLEASE! I need support!
Anyway, moving onward. You want Chapter 3? Here you go, folks.
Chapter 3
"I must see her and press her to my heart. I love her to the point of madness, and I cannot continue to be separated from her. If she no longer loved me, I would have nothing left to do on earth." Napoleon Bonaparte
Two eyes surveyed the cityscape of Coruscant, usually full of splendor, its magnificent structures shining in the light, and speeders and air taxis carrying its busy citizens to their destinations. Coruscant was a melting pot of thousands of races, humanoids and Bith, Twi'lek and many more.
Coruscant, as big and bustling as it was, had been quite oblivious to what had been raging throughout the galaxy for about three years now. The Senators and politicians reported about the war effort and proposed certain ways of peaceful ends to the conflict; and they knew that a resolution would be difficult to manage.
But they didn't really know.
They didn't know what it was like to be locked in lethal combat, constantly in danger of losing your life. They hadn't truly experienced the warfront, didn't recognize the smell of death, and the mist that seemed to hang over the war-ravaged fields. They didn't understand the terror of being invaded, and the true mind-blowing effects a war had on a person. They hadn't seen comrades fall down at their side, and been the ones helpless to save them.
Until now.
Now, Coruscant was saturated with the stench of fear, and the streets were flooded with panicked citizens. Many of the towering buildings were cloaked in smoke, and the air taxis were replaced by emergency flights out, attempts to flee the besieged world.
Coruscant knew now.
And the two eyes closed slowly, several tears trickling down ivory cheeks, and Padmé Amidala watched as the world she called home was ripped apart. The breeze that whipped through the Coruscanti atmosphere reeked with the stench of horror and shock, and with each fiery blast, a piece of Padmé's world shattered.
With each torrential pouring of smoke and lasers, Padmé heard the shock as well as seeing it. The Coruscanti citizens fled frantically, a last attempt at safety, at escape.
"How could this happen?"
"How could Coruscant be invaded?"
Padmé's mind reeled as she watched the running peoples shrink in the viewport of the small evacuee ship, seeing in each frightened face the events that had transpired on Naboo thirteen years ago, feeling as the innocent blood was spilled, and knowing that this could only mean the beginning of the end.
And secretly praying for the life of her husband, her reason for living.
When Padmé closed her eyes, in each Coruscanti child's face she saw dread and terror, childish fright and alarm. And yet, if she looked a little deeper, she saw hope.
Hope that only a child possessed. The hope and faith in the heroes.
"The Hero with No Fear"
He was idolized by many and adored by many more, for the children of the galaxy seemed to know that their heroes would pull through and save the day.
And the adults would steal their hope away, reminding them that heroes were only human, and that Kenobi and Skywalker were not perfection.
The children's eyes would convey a tiny shred of optimism as the danger lifted them up and carried them away.
And the children's voices were not heard.
Padmé's inner child; the youngest daughter of Jobal and Ruwee Naberrie, wanted to scream.
Wanted to throw something. Hard.
Wanted to rage and yell at the darkness that had descended upon her world.
Causing the hope only to remain in the child-like believers of peace.
But the Senator in Padmé kept her face glued to the glass, watching the Republic innocents attacked, and the capital pillaged.
The Senator in Padmé was diplomatic and serious. She wasn't Padmé, in truth, but she was Amidala. Her mind was focused and alert, and her politician's voice was steely and cold, grating as it would ring through the Senate Rotunda. And yet, it was the voice of Amidala that needed to be heard the most. In the shadows, lurked the darkness that was tainting Padmé's world, constricting around her vocal chords and leaving her speechless.
"Padmé…" she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see the face of Mon Mothma.
Padmé, indeed. For the Amidala in Padmé was shattering ever quicker, and Padmé felt her true self beginning to shine through.
Padmé.
By day, Padmé was rarely seen, draped in voluminous Senatorial robes and hair wrapped in coifs. Concealed by Amidala.
But by night, her chestnut curls were let down falling upon her shoulders, and it was then that Padmé awakened, and allowed her thoughts to wander.
Padmé was ambitious and daring, a bold and beautiful woman. Her personality was described as mischievous and cunning, her wit strong and her heart stronger.
And it was Padmé's aching heart that screamed for Anakin.
She would always, inside, be Padmé Skywalker.
It was Padmé Skywalker that had fallen in love with him and married him in seclusion on her home world of Naboo.
It was Padmé Skywalker who constantly worried if one day, the Holonet's rumors would be true and she would lose her husband.
Padmé Skywalker, whom felt theat her entire galaxy revolved around Anakin; who was the beacon of light that kept her going.
And though Mothma didn't know it, the woman standing before her was Padmé Skywalker, the mother of Anakin Skywalker's unborn child.
Padmé brushed the tears away with the back of her hand as Mothma patted her shoulder.
"Padmé…you'll be all right. You're safe…you know that Bail and I care deeply about you and will always watch out for you."
Padmé knew that already. But she wasn't worried about herself.
She buried her face in Mon's shoulder.
Where is Anakin?
Mon Mothma, the dignified, stoic Senator of the Republic watched her friend break up in front of her and felt her Senator's mask slide off as a tear dropped from her horrified eyes.
And for a moment, the two women embraced, as they watched their worlds crumble around them, and Bail Organa steered clear of the sweltering hot surface engaged in the battle for the lives of many.
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Above the skies of Coruscant, laser bolts shot continuously through the thick air and cruisers of Separatist and Republic origin struggled to fight for the causes they so strongly defended.
Among them, "The Negotiator" watched as his partner's fighter corkscrewed expertly through the battle, defeating enemies with an agile speed unmatched by anyone.
And he marveled at the sight. His skills are legendary.
His own fighter whirled out of harm's way, determined and daunting, ready to fight to the end. His cannons contributed to the chaotic fiery world outside the cockpit of the red fighter, and his astromech squealed in alarm and excitement.
His world turned upside down, Obi-Wan had no choice. This shot was way too close to home.
Way too close.
And he was doing his best to bring it back, and return his beloved galaxy and its citizens back to the peace the deserved.
Jedi don't have attachments, he reminded himself. And yet, Obi-wan knew deep inside that he did.
The Republic, the galaxy that he and his comrades served.
There had been Siri, his first taste of love.
Qui-Gon, whom his attachment to was strong and obvious.
And then, Anakin.
His bond with his former student was exquisite and unique. Obi-Wan Kenobi was one of the Order's greatest. And yet, he was also Anakin Skywalker's best friend.
His best friendthat had a knack for getting himself into trouble and helping Obi-Wan out of it.
"Well…" Anakin's voice crackled through the static on his comlink. "You're a lucky man, Obi-Wan. What would you do without me?"
Obi-wan sighed as he realized that Anakin has stretched into his mind again. He answered truthfully, "I don't know, Anakin."
Anakin laughed; the sound of it filling Obi-Wan's ears and Obi-Wan smiled.
Anakin hadn't laughed since the battle on Tythe.
And Obi-Wan knew why. Looking down upon Coruscant was a depressing sight, the view obscured by clouds and mist.
And Anakin's secret wife was down there. Possibly in grave danger.
And the battle for survival raged on.
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Padmé, in the cockpit now, stared aimlessly out at the dozens of other evacuee ships, flying in panicked style and without form, just concentrating on escaping the ruined city world.
Her eyes were full of unshed tears as she was forced to wonder.
Wonder about fate.
Fate is a tangle, Padmé. You can only follow a thread.
Winama, Padmé's beloved grandmother who had passed away about fourteen years ago, would always say this to her, and at the time, Padmé could only guess what it meant.
And now, more than ever, she knew she was beginning to understand.
Bail Organa's face was screwed up in frustration. He never preferred flying over his more common duties and this was suicidal. But as he dared a glance at the two women accompanying him, his resolve strengthened.
And a good long glance at the burning capital sent shivers down his spine and made him quake with anger.
He swerved in complicated turns through the tumultuous uproar. His voice sounded hard and cold when he spoke.
"There is an overwhelming amount of ships attempting to flee, but no doubt they will be met by worse in the atmosphere."
Padmé shuddered at the thought of what might be going on there, her tears threatening to fall. A pulse against her abdomen caused her hand to fly protectively to her midsection.
It's okay, little one. We must be strong. Your father needs us to be strong.
Her heart pounded, the sound of it filling her ears as Bail's piloting became even more compromised.
A loud blast sounded at the front of the ship.
"We're hit!" Bail's alarmed voice was hard to hear. Padmé felt as if her ears were stuffed with cotton.
Awash in light and sound, she witnessed Bail's brave attempt at keeping the ship steady.
That failing, the ship careened dangerously, rocking her body and throwing her about as Bail made an effort to control the crash.
Stricken with nausea and fear, Padmé's world spun as she plunged into blackness.
-----------------------
A humongous explosion sent a shockwave through the ships surrounding it. The ship began to tilt ominously as it fell.
A triumphant cheer of Commander Climber signified that it was over.
"The Separatists are in full retreat. Battle to the Republic!"
Obi-Wan was overcome with joy.
"Generals may follow the transport vectors to the correct landing pad on the surface. May the Force be with you, Sirs."
"Thank you, Commander." Obi-Wan said, satisfied and followed Anakin's yellow fighter as it turned and sped toward the planet.
Obi-Wan relayed a message to Anakin. "The path down there will be rough. They're pulling out, there will be fleeing droids and vulture fighters. They know we're coming."
Anakin's reply was short and choppy; because the static was worsening as they approached the soiled planet. "And so, we knock them out."
"I like the way you think." Obi-Wan responded, and the two ships plummeted.
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Padmé felt her eyes opening slowly, and into focus came the face of Bail Organa, a blood spatter of his cheek.
"Bail, you're hurt…" she croaked.
Bail touched his cheek absently. "I'm fine. Let's get you up….the Separatists are retreating, something big must be going on."
Mothma's voice sounded. "It must be Kenobi and Skywalker."
Padmé's heart thumped hard in her chest.
Bail shook his head. "I hope this war hasn't spent our Jedi Generals. Those two were our brightest hope."
And Padmé rose to her feet, her mind and heart echoing Bail's words.
And as the three Senators made their way through the world they called home, they wondered if anything would ever be the same again, and Padmé's optimism faded.
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Padmé pulled her rich cape around her closer as a breeze caught her. She shuddered, and climbed into her classic speeder.
"Mistress Padmé, if I may ask, where are we going?"
Padmé sighed, a deep sigh that was a futile effort to calm her raging emotions. Around her, Coruscant smoldered, and she felt a tugging at her heart that could only mean one thing. Anakin.
Something was going on, and she was determined to find out. In truth, she wasn't sure of her exact destination, but she knew that she had to get moving.
She was grateful to discover that her apartment was completely unscathed, along with, for the most part, the entire building of 500 Republica.
That had been the least of her fears to abolish. Now came the task of quelling the incessant drone in her heart, telling her that something dreadful was about to happen.
"Threepio," she pronounced stiffly, letting a bit of the politician's aura seep into her voice. "Take me to the Senate."
"As you wish, milady." Threepio replied dutifully, but Padmé caught the uneasiness behind the robotic voice that answered her call. Threepio was worried. Well, more accurately, Threepio was appropriately worried. More often than not, the droid that Anakin had built as a child was vexed about nothing worthwhile. She felt another small stirring below her navel, and smiled, though her insides knotted up.
How do you plan to tell Anakin? A voice within Padmé echoed her thoughts. She had known that Anakin had wanted to have children, and yes, she did too.
Padmé may have held her secret in the palm of her hand for three years, but now, she could feel the furtive truth threaten to slip from her fingers, only to hit the floor, and splinter, the sound resonating throughout the space, the pieces collapsing within.
She knew that the prospect of fatherhood delighted Anakin, just as the thought of motherhood captivated her. But the risk was great.
The most notable risk was: The galaxy was at war.
Padmé also realized that her pregnancy could tear them apart. If the public found out, no doubt her life would be chaos, the reporters and scandalmongers would relish in this juicy bit of news. Yet, was having such a clandestine relationship really living? How was confidential and concealed marriage really what she dreamed of? In reality, Padmé wished that somehow, the stress of her guarded romance could be lifted. She yearned to tell her family, to confide in her parents and her sister.
But she knew such a thing was not possible. For now.
And she fought back bitter tears, realizing that now matter how much Anakin wanted to be a father, he would always be seen as a public hero, and sacrifices would have to be made. If Queen Apailana was aware of her current condition, she would most likely prohibit Padmé from serving; just when the Republic she loved needed her the most.
Oh, the Force had a way with timing. Anakin was ensnared in the war, as was Padmé and the galaxy as a whole. It had been a little over five months since she herself had seen Anakin, and she felt her entire being swell with desire to see him again, and yearn to be lifted into an embrace, to melt into his strong arms and finally live again.
She felt like a part of herself was missing when Anakin was away. And she knew that no matter where Anakin ventured to, he felt the same longing for her boiling his heart.
Anakin's passion for her was limitless.
But she knew that he was also ardent about his life as a Jedi.
The scale that Anakin had balanced was in jeopardy of falling out of equilibrium, and she could feel the life she had lived with her secret husband seem to be unavoidably on the brink of destruction. Padmé could somehow feel that the darkness was something to blame.
She patted her abdomen absently as the engine of her classic-style craft revved and took off. The aerodynamic flares that accented the back directed the wind away from her face, and she leaned back into the comfortable seat, trying not to look at the flaming remnants of residences and the remainder of her grim surroundings.
Padmé couldn't disguise her smile as she once again observed how smoothly the speeder was running after Anakin had modified the engine. He had insisted upon it, and though she had wondered, she had complied, and she could remember watching him tinker with the underside of the speeder's façade, a look of honest fortitude on his face.
"Mistress, we have arrived…" Threepio interrupted her diverted thoughts.
She climbed charily from her speeder and marched purposefully toward the entrance to the building from the interior of the docking platform.
Upon entrance, the Senate was in an uproar.
Padmé saw the normally composed faces of her colleagues rutted with anxiety. The air was thick with pressure and the ramparts of the establishment around her were brimming over with fervent activity.
She stalked resolutely over to a grouping of Senators she not only knew well, but trusted. Bail Organa gave her a warm smile, and Padmé noticed the bacta patch affixed to his cheek. Nearby, Mon Mothma, Fang Zar, Malé-Dee, Giddean Danu, Terr Taneel, and Chi Eekway all stood communing about the current proceedings of the Republic after the attack.
"Senator Amidala." Senator Danu acknowledged with a bob of his head. Several of the other Senators nodded reverentially.
Bail extended a gracious hand to Padmé's shoulder, and smiled. "I trust you've recovered, Senator? I'm relieved that neither you nor Senator Mothma was wounded."
"I'm fine, thank you, Bail. And how many times must I ask you to call me Padmé?" was Padmé's blunt answer.
Bail beamed again. "Of course…Padmé."
Padmé addressed the group. "What are the existing measures decreed by the Chancellor?"
Mon Mothma shook her head slowly, her Hanna pendant swaying. "The Chancellor has yet to inform us of the status in the aerial assault."
Padmé felt her heart jolt nervously, but her face remained calm. "Surely he knows. The battle is finished…the invasion is done."
Fang Zar spoke up, his voice striking the Senators sagely. "I'm afraid it is not over yet. Senator Taneel and I saw many Separatists warships skimming very close to the surface."
"Are you suggesting that they took hostages?" Padmé asked, her voice betraying a little sliver of fright.
"I'm not suggesting anything, Senator. But the official retreat was called approximately three hours ago, and we have yet to hear from airborne flight Commanders; hence the Chancellor had no updated intelligence."
Padmé felt a shiver slide down her spine. She was about to speak again, but an outburst from the other side of the hall seemed to catch everyone's attention. Senators began swarming toward a dais outside the entrance tone of the platforms in the senate Rotunda.
"The Chancellor..." Senator Eekway murmured, and the other Senators in the assemblage hurried over to join the throng. Padmé squeezed in between Malé-Dee and Senator Danu.
Mothma turned, the baubles on her ancient Chandrilan headpiece chiming softly. "An informal address…perhaps we will finally get some news."
Padmé felt her breath quicken in pace as the Supreme Chancellor opened his mouth to speak.
"Honorable Senators, I come to you straight out of a private comm call from Commander Climber, the head of operations above the capital. The noble Commander has shared some simplified reports with me and my head executives. Although the Separatists have employed a full retreat, the skies above our world are clouded with the ashes of those we have lost and still echo with the sounds of battle. Our very own Jedi Master Shaak Ti, is believed to have been captured, perhaps killed by the fiendish General Grievous." The Chancellor paused meaningfully, fully capturing his audience. "The galaxy is war-torn and weary, my friends, but the Republic cannot hope for peace without the end of Grievous' wrath! His devious killings and strategic attacks must be prevented! The Republic will come out victorious, Senators, and we shall finally achieve the tranquility our diplomacy requires."
A Senator in the front called out. "Then you'll surrender your executive powers?"
The Chancellor smiled tenderly and replied. "You must trust that I will do the right thing, my friend."
And with that, he stepped down from the dais, whispered something to his aides, and retreated away from the gathered crowd.
Bail frowned. "I worry if I really do trust Chancellor Palpatine to act wisely."
Padmé's face was solemn. "We all do, Bail. But for now, we must let our worries sink beneath. To make a motion in the Senate would be disastrous, with all the Chancellor's staunch supporters. It would be an outrage! Right now, we must concentrate on finding a resolution, and then we can present it to the Chancellor."
The Chancellor seemed to insist upon continuing the war, turning a blind eye to any attempts at a diplomatic elucidation.
Bail nodded. "Agreed. Until the time is right, we shall await the day when the confrontation of Palpatine will inevitably arise, in which I trust I have all of your support?"
Everyone nodded the affirmative. Padmé bid her friends farewell, her thoughts on the Jedi Master Shaak Ti. That could've been Anakin, she thought with a shudder.
She clambered into her speeder beside Threepio once more, reaching out to her husband with her heat and mind, letting her soul call out for him through their everlasting bond.
I need you, Anakin. Come back to me. Always come back to me.
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Anakin's fighter swerved to the side, narrowly missing a set of missiles launched from a fleeing vulture fighter.
"That was a close one. But they overshot you." Obi-Wan commented, and he was not surprised at all when the missiles turned their course, heading back toward Anakin.
"They're coming around." Anakin said, his voice tight with concentration. There was a pause, in which Obi-Wan assumed Anakin was relaying instructions to Artoo.
Then, Anakin's starfighter began to spin.
It rotated faster and faster, soon twirling around at a velocity that made Obi-Wan dizzy watching it. Then, the confused torpedoes exploded in a fiery blast as they collided with each other.
"Yeah! We've got 'em Artoo!" Anakin exclaimed. Obi-Wan shook his head. He was puzzled by Anakin's affection toward the little astromech, and even more mystified by Artoo's apparent attachment to Anakin.
His own astromech, R4-P17 had been ripped open by a buzz droid earlier in their turbulent descent, causing a pang of sadness from Obi-Wan. He had adored the droid, but Anakin's fondness toward Artoo was so much stronger.
Anakin's voice jogged across his thoughts. "Incoming comm call from Commander Climber. Switch to frequency 1606."
"Copy, Red Leader." Several clone trooper-guided ARC-170s responded.
Obi-Wan quickly flipped his comlink.
"Red Group, this is Commander Climber, checking in. It appears that a Separatist frigate ahead has taken several Jedi hostages. Move into attack positions."
The frequency chirped off.
"Grievous is on that ship." Anakin said decidedly.
Obi-Wan shook his head again. "What do you suggest?"
"You're actually asking me?"
"Yes, Anakin. You are the best person to ask of all of us out here."
Anakin's voice took on a teasing tone. "I'm sorry, what was that, Master? I didn't copy. What did you just say? You need to speak louder, I can't hear you over the static."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan pretended to by annoyed. "Cut to the chase already, I think the entire squad has fallen asleep."
Anakin laughed. "Okay, here's what we do: a quick fly-by, you and I skim across the underbelly of the ship and locate the hangar bay. The rest of the squad will form up behind us and break off on my mark, using distraction tactics near the fascia of the craft, to buy us time."
"Sounds good to me."
"Alright, Red Group. Let's move."
"Roger, Red Leader." The voices chimed, and Anakin was off.
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Padmé instructed Threepio to wait at her starship's landing bay, and she began to amble along the carpeted walkway outside the Senate. Any passerby would've mistaken her for a mere shadow among the pillars, gliding noiselessly through the dimly lit causeway.
She didn't do this often, but today seemed right. Something told her that this was where she belonged. She strolled casually along, allowing the cushioned inserts in her delicate shoes to soothe her sore ankles.
Leaning against a pillar, Padmé could see all the way out into the skyline, her view unobstructed. Medical frigates and emergency fireships hovered ominously over some of the edifices, but for the most part, the damage was few and far between.
Her eyes brushed over the cityscape, absorbing the new clean air that was beginning to fill her lungs.
The skies above were just beginning to clear, and she was overjoyed to see portions of the usual air taxi and speeder bus system running.
Her world was slowly piecing itself back together.
And the beauty of it all made her stop and stare. For just a moment, everything seemed more or less perfect. She felt a euphorically charged jolt shoot through her, starting at the tips of her toes and rising up, filling her with a sense of peace.
But then, a section of her calmed heart began to quake mutely, as if mourning a loss.
Yes, everything was almost perfect. But there was one thing missing…
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Trade Federation battle droids spilled into the hangar, their blaster pistols raised and loaded, spitting out laser bolts at the two Jedi Knights as they sifted their way through the mess of parts, making their way over to the small elevator.
Anakin leapt; landing atop the head of a very confused droid, sweeping his saber about his sides and eliminated most of the droids within his two meter radius. He then began walking aimlessly along, using the teardrop-shaped heads of the battling droids as stepping stones, destroying each one as he leapt to another.
Obi-Wan sighed at his former apprentice's antics. Always on the move…
When the last of the bunch were reduced to a smoking heap of scrap metal, Obi-Wan jogged over to Anakin as Anakin opened the door to the elevator.
"That was quite a trick, Anakin." Obi-Wan teased.
"Oh, that little thing?" Anakin replied, his eyes twinkling. "That's nothing. It's all about willpower, Master."
"Really?" Obi-Wan asked in mock surprise. Then he laughed. "Are you sure it's willpower? That seemed like more of a method of entertainment than a battle strategy."
"Well, if it works…"
"I knew you were going to say that. You also said that when you suggested I used my lightsaber to shave my beard off."
"Did you honestly think I was serious?" Anakin asked.
Obi-wan shook his head as the elevator climbed levels. "But you are missing the point, Anakin, You are much too keen to take risks. If there is one thing you have a lot of, it's recklessness."
Anakin chuckled as he retorted. "If there is one thing you have a lot of, it's amusing attempts at sage-like responses. I feel like I'm talking to Master Yoda sometimes with you."
Obi-Wan grinned. "We're two of a kind, Yoda and I."
Anakin laughed again. "I could definitely see you two pairing up when you get sick of me."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Sick of you?"
Anakin chuckled in amusement.
"I'm not sure I could get sick of you, Anakin."
"I suppose you're right. At least I don't talk backward."
Obi-Wan would've scolded Anakin for that remark, but he was too tired to try.
Anakin continued slowly. "But then again, I doubt that Yoda would put forth the idea of giving your fuzz a nice trim with a lightsaber."
"My fuzz?" Obi-wan asked incredulously.
But before he could retort, Anakin had left the elevator chuckling triumphantly.
Obi-Wan laughed in spite of himself and followed…
To find Anakin surrounded by droidekas.
Anakin brought his saber up to parry an oncoming bullet. "Why does Grievous always ruin my fun?"
His face was so full of honest disappointment that Obi-Wan found himself grinning.
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Later, Anakin and Obi-Wan had disposed of the droidekas and they now moved down a deserted corridor and turned the corner.
The Force screamed in alarm, as they both pronounced simultaneously, "Grievous."
Grevious, surrounded by droids unlike any the Jedi had seen stood behind a seated and captive Shaak Ti.
"How nice of you to join us, Kenobi. I'm anxious to see you negotiate your way out of this one." He pronounced coldly and coughed.
"And…Anakin Skywalker." He wheezed. "I expected someone with your reputation to be a bit…older."
Anakin eyed the General callously and replied, "General Grievous…you're shorter than I expected."
Grievous looked for a second like he might explode with anger, but he just glared emotionlessly at Anakin. "Jedi scum."
Shaak Ti looked up, her eyes full of regret and shame. "I'm sorry, Master Kenobi. I failed."
Lines of ignominy crinkled across her distinctively marked face.
General Grievous stared frigidly at the Jedi and then continued. "You have fortunately arrived just in time…" he paused then called out, "Stinking Jedi!"
A green blade forced its way through the back of Shaak Ti, appearing just below her throat, and she fell to the ground eyes wide.
The Jedi had instinctively ignited their lightsabers.
Anakin looked down at Shaak Ti, his face displaying shock and resentment. "That was a bad…"
"Mistake." Obi-Wan finished, brandishing his saber at Grievous. Grevious laughed scornfully as the droid guards surrounding him jumped into action and he slipped easily into one of the ship's escape pods.
Anakin and Obi-Wan fought the droids hard, employing special tactics. These were engineered specifically to kill Jedi, so their defeat was not an easy come by.
Obi-Wan was astonished that after relieving the MagnaGuard of his head, he still pressing on, his onslaught rough and daunting, the electro-stick spraying sparks around the corridor.
When the last life had been plummeled from the MagnaGuards' robotic skeletons, Anakin and Obi-Wan raced to the cockpit, breathing hard.
"This thing's a wreck." Anakin observed. "It must've been hit hard."
"Can you fly a cruiser like this, Anakin?"
"You mean do I know how to land what's left of this thing?"
"Well?"
"Given the circumstances, I'd say the ability to pilot this cruiser is irrelavent. Strap yourself in."
Anakin pulled out his comlink. "Artoo, where are you? Get up here."
And Anakin's hands slid over the unfamiliar controls, designed for alien fingers, as he wrestled with the craft's dying mechanisms, determined to get home safe.
He had to. He refused to let Obi-Wan down.
How was my description of the split Padmé ? How did you guys like my adapted version of the deleted scene with Shaak Ti? Overall, was it good? Am I killing you with questions? Sorry. (embarrassed smile) I asked them last time too!
Please please please PLEASE REVIEW! Reviews will be accepted with extreme and unmeasured gratitude. Thank you.
Oh and let me know if this should be updated soon.