As soon as his feet touched Coruscant's surface Anakin was running for the Council Chamber. It was the middle of the night, but he felt certain that the Council would still be there.

To his surprise, Anakin found the room entirely deserted. Bewildered, he searched for his Master's Force-signature and found Windu in the domestic section of the Temple. He ran to him, feeling sheepishly like a child looking for its parent.

Windu was speaking to Aelir Thren in low, urgent tones. Aelir was nodding, looking grim. Anakin waited for them to finish, and then finally Windu turned to him.

"What's going on?" Anakin asked. "Has anything happened?"

Windu let out a sigh. "I'm glad you're here," he said, not answering. "Did you get a chance to talk to the Chancellor?"

"Yes," Anakin replied impatiently, "she's fine." Or close enough, anyway, he thought.

"The Senate couldn't wait," Windu continued, "so as soon as she'd explained things to them, we requested a meeting with him."

"And?"

"He has agreed. He has a space station very close to Naboo—for obvious reasons. We are to meet him there, leaving now."

"Master—" Anakin broke off, hesitant. "I don't mean to question you, but is that wise? Going anywhere near that thing, much less Grievous himself…"

Windu's face was grim. "I would consider it our only course of action," he said. "We have so much to lose if this turns violent."

"Turns violent?" Anakin repeated incredulously. "He's already killed millions of people by pressing a button! How could you possible get more violent than that?"

"By killing billions," answered Windu simply.

Anakin's reply, had it been voiced, would have been a dumbfounded, "Ah." There was a pause, and then Anakin said, "So you're really going, then?"

Windu nodded.

"Then—be careful." That sounded silly, but Anakin meant it. "We've made the mistake of trusting him so many times in the past. Don't let him…get to you."

Windu faintly smiled. "I know that you're right," he said, but Anakin still looked at him expectantly. "I will be careful."

Now Anakin seemed satisfied. "What do you need me to do," he asked, "after you've left?" He was still new to his "Master" capacity, still craved guidance.

Windu looked around him thoughtfully. "Keep the peace," he said after a moment. "Make sure that anyone who has questions is answered, and let no one—no one—panic. All crowds, even those made up entirely of Jedi, have that tendency."

"Yes, Master," Anakin answered automatically.

"And—" Windu seemed to be deliberating whether or not he wanted to say this. Finally he made up his mind and said, in a lower tone of voice, "And be prepared to fight."

Anakin, breathless, could only nod. Then Windu motioned to Aelir, and together they disappeared around the corner.

At no specific time could Anakin be said to have gone to bed that night. He wandered the corridors, doing as Windu had instructed, and only occasionally did he sit down and allow himself a few moments' rest. Oddly enough, his mere presence seemed enough to calm the fearful whispers that wafted around the Temple like smoke, at least in part.

Three hours after midnight, Anakin found himself in the med ward. He was tired, his body yearned for sleep, but his mind was, if not sharp, at least alert enough to know that if he tried to sleep now he would find nothing but haunting, restless thoughts.

Vaguely as he passed he registered a woman in dark robes sitting alone with her head in her hands, a healer kneeling to comfort a child who had just been sick. When he heard his name being called, he looked up to see Ferus moving quickly toward him.

They hadn't seen each other in months, but Ferus looked exactly the same as he always did, except for the thick cast around his right arm. The sight of it was enough to jerk Anakin out of his dismal reverie.

"What happened to you?" he asked when his friend finally reached him. Ferus appeared surprised at the question.

"A fight," he answered shortly. "Anakin, what's going on? I've been knocked out on pain meds for the last two days, and nobody's telling me anything!"

Anakin grimaced. It wasn't an easy question to answer, no matter that he'd been doing it all night. As briefly as he could he outlined their situation, reiterating as needed that, yes, Grievous had indeed been lying for all these years, and no, he really didn't know what would happen now.

Ferus's face, when he finished, was white and grimly set. Interestingly enough, his first words had nothing to do with Grievous, his death machine, or the state of the universe in general.

"You should sit down," he said. "You look terrible."

Anakin wanted to retort, but found upon reflection that he really did feel terrible, and maybe it wouldn't kill him to sit down while the universe was collapsing around him. Five minutes later, he and Ferus had found chairs outside the med ward. Anakin thought ruefully that Ferus must be getting some sort of power rush, ordering around a Jedi Master.

"I can't believe we trusted him," Ferus was saying, "all this time."

Anakin didn't answer. Many things were starting to make sense to him. That absurd number of computer chips, all those years ago…those must have been for Grievous's machine. The blocked off space near Morav, the dissolution of Grievous's army—for who needed soldiers with weaponry like this?

"This must be the reason they killed Master Allie," Anakin said, rather thickly, his mind on a completely different track from his friend's. "She must have found out—they had to kill her, or they could never be certain that she wouldn't tell us what was going to happen."

"How long has he been planning this?"

"Must have been years. Ever since he offered peace."

"We should have known—"

"We did know!" Anakin snapped. "We knew, and the Senate told us we were wrong and to be quiet, and this is the result!"

His tone was accusing and angry, as though this were all Ferus's fault. Ferus looked as though he wanted to respond in kind, but resisted, knowing Anakin better than that.

"You should get some rest," he said finally, knowing part of the reason for his friend's quick temper. Anakin groaned.

"Oh, what are you, my mother?" he asked, and as he spoke his head fell into his hands because he was so very tired and the weight of all that had happened was pressing down upon him. Anakin felt another weight on his shoulder, and it was a moment before he realized that it was Ferus's hand.

"Rest," he heard his friend repeat. "I'll stay with you. I can make sure no nightmares touch you."

Anakin wanted to protest. It didn't feel right, sitting, resting, not after such devastation and death. But there was always such a time after tragedy, in which one could do nothing but feel helpless—and, Anakin thought wistfully, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept a dreamless sleep.

He decided to give Ferus his consent, then thought that he barely even had the strength to open his mouth, and realized that his friend had already begun, with the Force, to send him to sleep. Anakin was vaguely outraged, but it was hardly even a minute before all thoughts vanished from his mind, and healing sleep crept over him.

What awoke Anakin was not Ferus, nor a nightmare, but something far more frightening.

Without warning, through his deep and empty sleep came a flash of dread, so sharp and surprising that Anakin jumped. Sickening emotions that had been furthest from his mind now came rushing at him at terrifying speed—bewilderment, wrath, horror, and above it all he heard Windu's voice shouting in his ear, "Treachery! Get out—!"

Then came the most awful feeling of them all, the sensation that someone had taken his soul and wounded it, stabbed it, hiding it far away out of his reach and then laughing again. Anakin cried out, and Ferus must have heard him, for he felt a hand on him once again, holding him tightly.

Only then did Anakin open his eyes The instant that light cracked between his eyelids, lightning pain split across his temples, but he jumped to his feet, careless. Ferus looked alarmed, drawing his arm back.

"Anakin, I'm so sorry—what's—are you all right?"

Anakin was having a hard time drawing breath; the physical effects of powerful Force-visions were all of them unpleasant.

"Not—your fault," he gasped, holding his head. It was impossible to continue until he'd gotten his breath. When at last he was breathing with relative normality, Anakin looked up at his friend.

"Get as many fighters and pilots ready as you can, as fast as you can," he ordered. "Find the other Council members and tell them to come to the Senate."

Without another word he raced past Ferus, sparing only the vaguest thought how strange it was to be the one of the pair giving orders and having them obeyed.

The thought "Kriffing visions!" burst into his head as he jumped into a speeder and took off.

Her guards tried to stop him. Anakin ran past them, and when, bewildered, they ran after him, Anakin sent a wave of the Force sweeping low to the ground behind them, knocking them to their knees. By the time they'd managed to stand, Anakin was already through the door.

"Master Skywalker!" said Amidala, looking relieved to see him. "I was just going to send for you. Grievous has—"

"Grievous has betrayed us," Anakin panted, "again."

Her forehead wrinkled in an anxious frown. "What do you mean?" she asked him in a panicked voice.

"Once again we expected too great a level of decency from him," Anakin said bitterly. "The group of Jedi sent to negotiate with him have been ambushed. He's captured them."

"What?" Amidala gasped, grasping at the back of her chair. "No—the Jedi cannot—"

"Treachery and violence are the only languages Grievous understands, Excellency," Anakin said bluntly. "We cannot speak to him in any other way. The Jedi are not infallible."

Amidala looked as though another blow might finish her off. Anakin could see that she had banked greatly on the Jedi's influence over Grievous.

"Are you…certain?" she asked him in a low voice.

"Yes." Anakin was growing impatient. "If you don't believe me, wait until he contacts you. I'm certain he'll mention it."

"But that's what I wanted you here for!" Amidala looked up suddenly, her eyes frantic. "He has told me he plans to address the Senate at—" she checked the time "—in five minutes. And now…"

"Now it is all the more important that I am here," Anakin said firmly. "Tell me where I should go so I can hear what he has to say."

"Yes…yes, come with me."

She led him, with swift-moving and silent feet, through the carpet-muffled hallways, to what Anakin soon saw was her own dais. It hadn't yet left its little dock, hidden from the eyes of the Senate. There were no guards in this room, nor anyone but the two of them. Amidala stepped into the dais and motioned for Anakin to follow her. Almost as soon as he did so, the dais started moving, so perfectly designed that neither of its occupants felt even slightly off-balance as it did so.

The great doors opened into the enormous Senate chamber, where all the rest of the universe was waiting. Anakin took a step back to allow Amidala to speak, but there was no need, for they had hardly reached their place in the puzzle of daises when the hologram projector in the center of the room flickered once again to life, and there, in all his simple wickedness, stood Grievous.

Amidala's hands were white as snow, clenched as they were at her sides. Anakin, thinking quickly, sent a vague calming thought through the Force toward her. He saw her gaze shift sideways for a moment, almost turning to look at him. She knew what he had done, and was grateful for it.

"Esteemed Chancellor," Grievous said. As he had done before, he bowed to Amidala, but it was a mocking gesture. "I trust you know quite well already of the sad fate of Naboo."

She was calmer now, but still she trembled with anger as she faced him.

"Monster!" Amidala spat, making no effort to hide the disgust and hatred in her voice. "How do you dare show your face in this place, this bastion of justice? This foul crime you have committed, against myself and the Republic and—Naboo—" her voice shook on the beloved word "—will not go unpunished, and it will certainly never happen again."

"Of course not," Grievous said, the tone of his voice supremely smooth, if not the actual timbre. "But sadly, it is not in my power to stop such horrible deeds. That authority lies entirely in your hands."

Amidala hesitated; Anakin could see that it pained her to ask Grievous a question, putting her, even momentarily, in a position of subordination. She settled on making her tone so icy it could have frozen fire when she asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"It is very simple, Chancellor," Grievous growled. "There are certain things that I require. If my needs are met, an incident like the destruction of Naboo will never take place again."

"Needs?"

Grievous's eyes glinted, and Anakin thought that, behind his mask, the General must be smiling. "There are a few. They may seen extravagant at first, I will grant you, but I think when you consider the circumstances, you will find them quite reasonable."

"I suggest you speak quickly," Amidala said, her voice sharp. "My patience cannot last forever."

"Certainly. Where shall I begin?" Grievous mused, as if to himself. "Perhaps with those who have tried my own patience the greatest. Control of the Jedi Order must be granted to an associate of mine. I think you will remember him. You know him as the Count Dooku."

Anakin stiffened angrily.

"Ridiculous," Amidala said. "The Jedi have their own leaders."

"Ah, but I have my plans for them as well," Grievous told her. "The Jedi Order itself is, of course, immeasurably useful to its ruling body, but its leaders—that is, the Council—they have their own untoward ways. They must turn themselves in to me, to be dealt with at my discretion."

"To you?" questioned Amidala, biting back fury. "The Order reports to me."

"But that is my third requirement, Chancellor. I must ask you to step down from your position as Supreme Chancellor."

An unmistakable wave of fury swept across the room like an electric shock. Anakin heard a clear shout of protest from somewhere down below, though Amidala herself did not respond. Grievous ignored all of this.

"You may, of course, serve the good you do now in a lesser capacity. But your current position, I am afraid, must be mine."

"Never," Amidala declared, through clenched teeth. "I will not allow you control over the Republic that I have given my life and my homeplanet to sustain. And the Senate would never follow you!"

"Of course not. They, too, will be forced to find other areas of employment other than politics. There are many things I admire about the Republic, but the Senate is not one of them. I intend to do away with it entirely."

"A dictatorship!" Amidala cried. "That is what you propose to turn the Republic into. You will destroy—"

"Far from it, Chancellor," Grievous interrupted, correcting her. "I intend to save it." He gave what might have almost been a smug little chuckle. Anakin felt sickened. "You know the damage that I could, unwillingly, do to the Republic—and have already done." Grievous's eyes met Amidala's with a cruel sympathy that mocked her sorrow. "Naboo was a lovely planet."

Anakin felt Amidala start forward, driven by anger. Without thinking he reached out swiftly and touched her arm, cautioned her back. Grievous saw the movement, slight as it was—and laughed.

"How touching. But do not think I have forgotten you, Master Jedi." Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed. "Perish the thought, Chancellor, that the Jedi can 'ride to your rescue.' Allow me to show you…"

He waved a hand, apparently giving a signal to someone. The holographic image flickered out of sight. Seconds later, something rose in its place that nearly caused Anakin to stop breathing.

It was Windu's face and Windu's form, but it took a moment for Anakin to recognize him, because he had never seen his Master in such a position, prone awkwardly on the floor and obviously unconscious, his limbs bound with absurd, cruel tightness.

"How…?" he heard Amidala breathe, almost whimpering, but Anakin had no answer for her. The breath had gone from his own lungs, and all he could do was stare. How was it possible—?

The image was replaced, in swift succession, by the unconscious bodies of those who had also gone to do the impossible and attempt to reason with a monster like Grievous: Siri Tachi, Adi Gallia, Aelir Thren, Ka'ela Brun, Eeth Koth, Shaak Ti. Each, like Windu, was bound mercilessly hand and foot. You couldn't, Anakin thought numbly, take chances with Jedi.

Grievous was back, confident that he had shaken the security of every person in the room. "They are, as you can see, quite helpless," he said, with an affected casualness. "Rather symbolic of your own status, is it not, Chancellor Amidala?"

Anakin looked at Amidala, who seemed shocked beyond words. "Wh—why have you done this?" she asked faintly.

"I have already told you that. All twelve members of the Jedi Council belong to me. Should the rest turn themselves in to me and the rest of my demands be met, the others will be released."

Amidala was speechless. Grievous, anticipating this, finished the discussion quickly.

"I will contact you again, in twelve standard hours time, to hear your answer," he told them. "If you decide to decline my generous offer…so be it. Just remember that there will be consequences."

The hologram disappeared.

Author's Note: Okay, here's the deal, guys. I worked hard on this chapter, and the next one will be even better. There are 109 people reading this story, according to my Alert Stats, so I think I'm being reasonable when I ask for a minimum of eight reviews on this chapter before I post the next one.

Regards,
Your loving and benevolent Dictat—I mean Author.