Chapter 5
Thoughts of the Masters
Mace Windu massaged his shiny, bald head, furrowing his brow and grunting as he moved his hand over his head to the slow rhythm of his heart. He'd been meditating for the past hour, alone in the Council Chamber, but a dark cloud had descended on the Force yet again, and his head ached from meditating in the darkness. Ahead, the Coruscant skyline succeeded in being both beautiful and ugly, awe inspiring yet starkly normal when compared to the rest of the large city-planet. The sun was rising, sending streaks and flecks of gold and crimson into the cloudy skies. A faint drizzle of rain drummed against the Council Chamber's large viewports, slightly blurring the view into the skyline yonder.
Mace Windu sensed the approach of the Kel Dor Jedi Master Plo Koon minutes before the Council Chamber's doors emitted an almost inaudible hiss and slid open. Mace turned and slowly nodded at the tall, silent and brooding Jedi Master as he walked gracefully over to stand next to Mace without saying so much as a word in his gravely, baritone Kel Dor voice.
Plo Koon clasped his hands behind his back, and then his posture, usually upright and rigid, seemed to sag. He released his hands, and they swung slowly by his side, their wrinkled beige skin darkening, indicating the Kel Dor's grief and despair.
Mace observed Plo carefully. The Kel Dor's lower face and mouth was, as usual, covered by a large black mask designed to keep oxygen away from the Jedi Master's oxygen intolerant heart and nitrogen absorbers. But the rest of the Kel Dor's face, shaped like a human's with the exception of no nose and two large circles where ears should've been, was clearly visible. Its skin was bumpy; a sign of Plo's healthy and thick hide.
"I felt it too," Plo said in his deep voice, which sounded like a gong being sounded over a scratchy intercom.
Mace nodded gravely, and saw his grim, foreboding reflection. For a split second, he wondered how many years it'd been since he'd last smiled. Probably more than a decade. But then that thought was gone, and he focused again on the disturbance in the Force.
"Yes. Our clone search parties in the Works still haven't found Lord Sidious. We have traced him to Five-Hundred Republica, though," Mace frowned; a mechno-chair found by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker during the subjugation of Cato Neimodia had set Mace, several clones, and Shaak Ti on a search through the abandoned industrial area of the Works, looking for Sidious. They hadn't found the ever elusive Sith Lord, but they did find a secret passage leading into the basement of 500 Republica, the exclusive building where Senators, government officials, and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself held residence, heightening the three year old suspicion that Darth Sidious controlled the Galactic Senate, and manipulated the war to that very day. Mace had been forced to keep the search a secret from Palpatine, in case the Chancellor unknowingly passed on the knowledge to Sidious, who probably already knew about his pursuit, anyway, but no risks could be taken.
"I do not think that we'll ever find Sidious," Master Koon said sadly, bowing his head.
"I don't think we should despair," Mace replied icily. "Provided that we keep looking, and maintain constant vigilance, we will find Sidious; it's just a case of narrowing the net around him until we've trapped him."
There was a long, uneasy silence. "And then what, Mace? We cannot execute Sidious, it is against our ways," Plo, despite being very aggressive, deplored the thought of murder, but shuddered uneasily when Mace's eyes flashed angrily. "If he truly does control the Senate, then he'll be in charge of the courts and the bureaucrats; he'll never be taken into custody," Plo paused and sighed, the sound coming out very scratchy. "What then, Mace?" he repeated.
Mace straightened up. "We'll think about that when the time comes, Plo."
Plo nodded slowly. "I imagine you've had the same thought of me… Could Sidious be in control of the Separatist armies? Could he have ordered the attack on Coruscant to keep the Jedi from discovering him?"
Mace shook his head, although Plo's analysis was correct. "I don't think so. The Separatist cause looks dire already, and their flotillas are already being decimated. Such a loss of their man- and droidpower, wouldn't be necessary to distract us."
"And do we even know if Sidious exists?" Plo asked slowly. Mace gasped, but for an instant only; he regained his calm, if intense, exterior again. What Plo had just voiced was the fear of every Jedi who knew of Sidious. Could he be nothing more than a ploy to distract the Jedi whilst someone else, someone with devastating schemes, plotted to destroy the order? Could the dark cloud that enveloped the Force be coming from something else entirely than the Sith? That would probably explain why, even with Dooku's death, the Balance of the Force hadn't shifted back towards the Light Side, had only shrunk deeper into the shadows of the Dark Side.
Mace spoke evenly and without visible emotion, but Plo could sense the turmoil brewing inside the human. "If that is true, then all of our efforts have been for nothing."
"And the Jedi Order will surely topple into the abyss…"
There was yet another long silence, punctuated only by the distant whine of an airspeeder flying past. Mace's heavy, laboured breath, induced by his sudden fear of losing the Jedi order that he loved, was drowned out by the sound.
"We should consult Master Yoda on this. The whole Council," Plo said, straightening back up into his borderline-military pose.
Mace nodded evenly, and wrapped his fingers together. He then squeezed so hard that all of his knuckles popped in unison, and the sound echoed in the near-empty chamber. "I agree. We shall call a Council Meeting in the morning. As soon as Ki-Adi-Mundi, Master Yoda, and Obi-Wan Kenobi are available. When are you returning to Deco Neimodia?" Mace asked.
Plo shrugged; he'd been given leave of approximately four days from mopping up Trade federation resistance in the Neimodia system. "I can't say. Possibly tomorrow, possibly next week… Whenever I'm needed."
"Good," Mace said softly. "Get in contact with Ki-Adi Mundi—" Mace was cut off, as if on cue, by the sound of the Council, Chamber's door opening.
Mace and Plo turned in unison to see the green, fish-like head of Kit Fisto, whose brain tails fell in a messy tangle behind him. The Jedi Master's huge orb-like obsidian eyes were narrow in a Nautolan expression of worry.
"Master Windu!" he said, his oddly distorted voice sounding as if it was coming from under water, rather fitting for a Nautolan, a species who lived on water worlds.
"Yes, Kit?"
"It's Master Mundi, sir! He's been captured on Mygeeto. The Separatists are holding him for ransom!"
Mace and Plo both froze for a split second, before leaping to their feet, hearts pounding. They moved off at a jog towards the main communication's room, their stomachs somersaulting…