It was obvious to Anakin that the Senate wanted to speak on the matter, probably willing to debate about this for all twelve hours that Grievous had given them, and they certainly wanted to hear what Amidala had to say. But it was equally obvious to the Jedi that Amidala could not bear much more. She stared blankly at the floor until he took her arm.

"Chancellor, come with me," he said, and she obeyed, allowing him to lead her away from the noises of the crowd. The dais moved back toward the wall, and Anakin took Amidala through the door.

"Chancellor—"

She looked up at him, lost. "What can I do?" she asked him in a helpless whisper. "I can't give in—but if the Jedi can do nothing—"

"Fight him," Anakin pressed. "Grievous won't get away with this. Let me fight him, the Jedi can fight him."

Amidala looked as though she were about to speak, but a noise from behind Anakin made him turn, to see the remaining seven Jedi Masters standing before him.

"Notify us, Ferus Olin did," said Master Yoda, speaking at the head of the group. "Only just in time, we were, to see Grievous."

Anakin let go of Amidala's elbow and turned to face them. "And?"

"He has committed two unforgivable sins," said Plo Koon, very seriously. "He has destroyed innocent life, and he has taken captive Jedi who came in peace. We will fight."

"He will destroy another planet," protested Amidala from behind. "Grievous is certain to retaliate if you attack him."

"But we have a pretty good idea of where he is," Anakin said, looking in turn at the faces turned toward him. "In fighters, we could get there before the twelve hours are up. Maybe by then we can stop him."

"We'll need as many fighters as we can get," said Saesee Tiin. "I will volunteer my services." Master Tiin was a marvelously skilled pilot, but it wasn't always well-known because, unlike Anakin, he didn't show off the fact.

"I'll go as well," Anakin said. "I would suggest that all of us go, but we can't leave the Temple completely without leadership, even for a few days."

Finding someone willing to stay behind turned out to be a tricky business. Plo Koon had to come, as he also was a proficient pilot, and Agen Kolar insisted on fighting. Grievous had captured another of his species, and Zabraks were fiercely loyal to their own. At last, Master Kcaj and Master Yoda agreed to remain, and then all eight returned to the Temple.

But six wasn't enough, and they squandered one hour of their precious twelve looking for reinforcements. It wasn't a matter of finding those who were willing—for the story of Grievous's second betrayal had spread quickly through the Temple, and outrage right behind it—but those who were actually skilled pilots and could hold their own in a space battle. There weren't enough of these as Anakin would have liked. Thirty might have been a number large enough to satisfy him, but, not including the Masters, they found only eleven Knights who fit the bill. (Ferus, though he wanted to come, was deemed unfit because of his arm.) One of the eleven, to Anakin's surprise, was Drin.

The Jedi Temple did not have an entire fleet of starfighters at its disposal, but it had enough for each pilot of the seventeen. Just before leaving, the little band was separated in two, one group to be led by Anakin and the other by Saesee Tiin. Drin, as it happened, was on Anakin's team.

"Why are you coming?" Anakin asked, just before they all boarded their respective fighters. "Why did you volunteer?"

Drin's face tightened into an expression of guarded calm. "Grievous kidnapped Master Brun," he said quietly. "This is personal."

Without another word he leapt into his fighter, and Anakin did likewise.

"Gold Team, move out," he ordered over the comm channel. Eight fighters rose simultaneously into the air, and Anakin quickly transferred the hyperspace path he was taking to their ships' computers. They drifted up to their hyperspace rings, entering coordinates and locations. Just before they shot into hyperspace he heard Saesee Tiin's deep voice over the comm echoing, "Blue Team, move out!" and Anakin knew, the steady hammering of his heart the only betrayal of his tense feelings, that this was possibly the most important mission he had ever undertaken.

Hours seemed to stretch on endlessly in that tight little space. It was difficult to communicate between ships in hyperspace, but it could be managed. Normally on a mission like this, Anakin would have passed the time by joking over the comm with his friends or playing sabacc in his head, but such frivolity, now, seemed almost blasphemous.

He stretched one arm over the other, and the resulting quiet sigh seemed enormous in that tiny space. How, Anakin wondered, could something of such fantastic importance be held up by something so trivial as distance? He had slept a bit, tried to eat but hadn't any appetite. How much time was left on their deadline? Had they already passed it? While they were stranded in hyperspace without news from the outside world, had Grievous already destroyed another innocent planet?

Anakin cleared his throat; his voice was hoarse from long disuse. There was a break in the monotony the Force had been sending him. He flicked the comm on. "Gold Team, we are approaching our destination, coordinates 741k-398s. Watch out for debris when you're exiting hyperspace." He didn't have to say what the debris was from. Anakin paused, indecisive, then added, "Just remember—we don't know what this weapon looks like, what defenses it has, or what it's totally capable of. It might be able to just shoot us out of the air, or it might be completely helpless. I have to warn you to be prepared for anything."

"Copy that, Gold Leader," came a voice over the comm. Anakin couldn't be sure, but he thought it was Drin's voice.

"Prepare to exit hyperspace in fifteen standard minutes," Anakin ordered. "Stand by for further orders."

A chorus of "Copy that," issued from the comm unit, and then the channel relapsed into stressed silence. The hyperspace indicator was blinking on the dashboard, telling Anakin what he already knew.

…hear me?

Anakin straightened suddenly. He had felt something—it was like waking up but not knowing what had awoken you, the sensation that something intangible had touched him. Hesitantly Anakin sent a questioning, Master? I hear you.

The thoughts were being pushed to him at great effort, Anakin could tell. Windu was weakened and tired, and not all of his messages made it through in their entirety.

…are you? I can feel you…close by.

He made his answer as clear and precise as he could. The Jedi are coming for you. Grievous will be punished for this.

Blatant relief and worry blurred themselves together in Windu's wordless response. Anakin waited for an answer, but felt nothing, and wondered angrily what Grievous could have done to a Jedi Master to make him so helpless.

Bolstered by indignation, he flicked the comm unit on with as much resolve as one could fit into that small action. "Gold Team, we've reached our destination. Exiting hyperspace now."

He pulled a lever, and the stars shooting past him slurred into lines and then reverted to their original twinkling forms. No sooner had his hand left the lever than Anakin grabbed for the controls and pushed them hastily downward, only just avoiding colliding with a boulder-sized asteroid. There was debris everywhere—the space formerly occupied by Naboo had become a littered asteroid field, and it took Anakin a few moments to find a space between all of the rocks where he could hover for a moment.

Beside him, he could see other Jedi popping back into normal space, and winced as one of them hit an asteroid. "Whose ship was that?" he demanded.

"This is Gold Six," answered a voice Anakin didn't recognize. "Sorry about that, Gold Leader."

"Any serious damage?"

"None, sir. My wing was clipped, but it's nothing permanent."

"Good." Anakin peered through the field, trying to spot Grievous's station. "Gold Team, spread out to a distance of twenty yards on either wing and fly out of here. Notify me as soon as you find Grievous."

"Copy that, sir!" The fighters obediently spread themselves and flew in unison toward the edge of the asteroid field. Anakin still couldn't see anything through all the debris, but as they neared empty space, he could make out one of Naboo's moons. It looked like Ohma-D'un, though he couldn't be sure.

"Where are you?" he whispered to Grievous through clenched teeth. Out of the field, he made a slow circle in his fighter. Yes, that had to be Ohma-D'un, and there further on, was Rori, and on the other side of it was Tasia. So the one that sat apart from them was…

Anakin frowned in thought. The name of Naboo's fourth moon escaped his mind. Come to think of it, he could have sworn that Naboo only had three.

"Sir!" An excited voice came from the comm. "Three black fighters circling at three o'clock." He was indicating the unnamed satellite Anakin had just been considering. "The station must be behind that moon!"

Anakin got closer, Gold Team following close behind. Grievous's fighters didn't notice him, which was good, because at that exact moment Anakin had a shock so terrible that his grip on the controls slipped and he nearly drove his ship into the fighter closest to him. He couldn't speak, but it was said for him in a breathless tone over the comm. There was a crackle of static, and then someone choked out, "That's no moon."

Anakin swore, using the worst word he knew.

"Yes, sir," someone agreed grimly.

Do you see it? Are you ready? Anakin pathed to Saesee Tiin.

We are ready, Tiin replied. Give him no warning. When you are ready—

"Instructions, Gold Leader?"

"Hold positions," Anakin ordered absently, still listening to Tiin.

—signal, and we will attack. My team will take care of his fighters. You will destroy his weapon.

"Gold Team, Blue Team will cover us," Anakin relayed. "Find a weak spot and attack. Defend yourselves if you need to, but your focus is the weapon. Shields up!" He waited while the order was obeyed. "Account for yourselves."

"Gold One ready, sir."

"Gold Two ready."

"Gold Three ready, sir."

"Gold Four ready, sir."

"Gold Five ready.

"Gold Six ready."

"Gold Seven ready, Anakin." That was Drin's voice.

"Right." There was a moment, in which all of eternity seemed to hang in the air. Anakin couldn't seem to summon the breath for his next, necessary word. "Go!"

Without hesitation Gold Team swooped forward, diving toward the gigantic weapon. Anakin could feel his adrenaline level rising as he flew; no matter how serious the situation, he could never fail to receive a physical thrill from such a battle.

The three enemy fighters were making long, uninspired circles around each other. They had obviously been ordered to keep watch, but it was anyone's guess how long they had been waiting there with no disturbances. Before they knew it, Blue Team had swooped down upon them, and two miniature explosions burst into life before quickly dying. The third fighter raced frantically away, two Blue fighters chasing after it.

Knowing that already a distress signal had been sent, Anakin flicked on the comm, still flying at high speed. "Look quickly for any weak spot," he said. "We probably don't have much time. Any hangar that's open, some part of it that's not finished, anything!"

The weapon was enormous, but they were still far enough away that they could see most of it. There was one spot that looked vaguely promising to Anakin, a circular indention that was darker than the metal surrounding it. He shot toward it.

"Incoming from six o'clock!" shouted someone suddenly over the comm. "Gold Leader, look—" The rest of the message was cut off with a burst of static, and Anakin swerved, the Force pounding in his ears, just in time to see three blasts of green light go flying past him harmlessly into space.

"They've got reinforcements!" came Drin's cracking voice. "Ten—twelve TIE's."

Anakin turned and there they were, little black ships with their curious flat wings, so easy to destroy but so deadly, coming toward them at top speed. Anakin swerved again, the Force pounding in his ears, and raced again toward the weapon, but he felt three of them break off to follow him. Behind him he could sense the battle raging, felt torn, but pressed on. The weapon was most important, destroy the weapon—

A horrible noise that sounded like something being ripped in half came from the receiver. "I'm hit!" someone shouted. Their voice was young. "Help me! This is Blue Two, I'm hit, please—!"

Anakin stopped in midair. Saesee Tiin saw it.

Get to the weapon, he commanded, his Force-thought the only clear thing in Anakin's mind. The rest was blurred black and red, adrenaline clouding his vision and his brain. From somewhere very distant he heard someone's ragged breathing, frantic and heated, and realized dimly that it was his own.

The sheer slope of the weapon rose up before him, massive and silver-gray. The size of it took Anakin's breath away, even as he sought for a way to destroy it. He looked for the indention again, but it was harder to find now that he was so close.

There—there!—

He dove, his fingers somehow steady as they clutched the joystick. Straight to its center he went, to the spot darkest of all, and sent jets of red light flying toward it, hoping, praying that the small resulting explosion he saw was crippling…

"Pull up! Pull up!" No name was given in this frantic command, so its instructions were followed instantly by almost half the Jedi, no one knowing at whom it was directed. Anakin, luckily, was among that half, for it was Drin shouting at him, and the three TIE fighters had just caught up to him.

There was no more time to go for the weapon—Anakin had to concentrate entirely on getting out of there unscathed. They had seen what he'd done, and they were not happy about it. Holding his breath without meaning to, Anakin pulled the controls back as far as they'd go and flew, upside-down, over the heads of the TIE's, firing as he went. He only just clipped one, but with no shields, it was enough, and the fighter was gone.

Get to the weapon, destroy the weapon—

He couldn't see the indention anymore, but now it no longer mattered to him. The Force stretched out before him like an extended arm, searching for anything that might conceivably be a weak spot. There was a hangar below him, and Anakin dove again, firing at any part of the weapon he could reach. His mind had crystallized into one pulsing thought that involved the obliteration of both Grievous and his horrific death machine.

…nakin…Anakin…are you here?

The shock was so great that Anakin stopped, just stopped, in midair. His thoughts scattered once again, and when they returned, they came in this order:

Windu's not on the moon.

He's not on a nearby ship.

He's on the weapon.

All the hostages are on the weapon.

If we destroy the weapon—

If we destroy Grievous—

We destroy them.

"Fall back!" he ordered. "Fall back! The hostages are on Grievous's weapon! We can't destroy it! Fall—"

And that was when, taking full advantage of Anakin's distraction, the two remaining TIE fighters emptied their power cells into his ship.

Anakin's fighter gave a great shudder, its lights flashing red and yellow and occasionally just turning off in order to alarm him that something was very wrong. His shields had kept him from actually exploding, but they were exhausted, and without them Anakin was a sitting duck. His comm was gone.

Get out of here! Drin yelled in his mind's ear. You're dead if they hit you again!

Anakin's mind had gone blank, not with fear but with absolute bewilderment. He knew that Drin was right, but he couldn't think of what he could conceivably do to ensure getting out of here alive. The TIE fighters were circling back, and Anakin could do nothing but wait for them—he could barely even fly.

They swooped toward him, and Anakin, driven by desperation, did the only thing he could think of that would get him away fast enough. Without any sort of coordinates or path, he forced his limping little ship into hyperspace. The stars seemed to blur, and then there was that familiar sucking noise and he was hurling through space at unthinkable speeds.

The quiet seemed overwhelming after the constant noise and shouts of the battle he had just left. It rang in his ears, providing—helped along by the numerous lights around him which, whatever their functions had been before, seemed to exist now only to flash brightly—a magnificent headache.

Anakin knew he should go back, had to go back, but common sense told him that if he went anywhere near a battle now his ship would not survive. Even now he could feel it weakening beneath him, failing, alarmingly close to simply falling out of the sky. Worse, he could feel himself growing faint, and the idea occurred to him, very vaguely, that he might have sustained a concussion when his ship had been hit. His ship had no coordinates; if he passed out, he could no longer keep the poor thing on track, and he would inevitably smash into a planet and get himself killed.

For the second time that day he pulled the lever, and his ship, with an awful noise, thudded out of hyperspace. Below him, through eyes that wanted very badly to close, Anakin could see the rounded surface of some planet.

He began his descent. Anakin had no idea where he was, or how far he was from the battle, but one conviction remained to him: He needed to land. He needed to land.

Then, when he had only just gotten through the atmosphere, the lights in his cockpit—which had been acting in a manner very distressing thus far—gave up. This was followed shortly, as Anakin knew it would be, by a complete failure of all the systems of his ship, including the one that kept him airborne.

He fell, sharply, knowing that he was probably about to die. Somewhere on the way down his ship had flipped over, so that Anakin was gazing thickly at the sky that seemed to be moving away from him. He'd always seen space as something hard and cold, decorated with sharp pinpricks of light against the darkness. Now, somehow, it all looked so soft to him, like a blanket that waited to wrap him up and warm him.

Anakin's only thought when he hit the ground was of incredible pain, but it only lasted for a split second, because then he did black out. Somewhere in the distance, or perhaps somewhere very close, he heard a voice say his name, but so deep was he in unconsciousness that he could not even tell whether it was a man's voice or a woman's or simply the thoughts in his head.

"Anakin."

There it was again. He tried to sit up instinctively when he heard the voice, but every muscle of his body rebelled forcefully against the idea, and Anakin fell back against the pillows, his eyes still shut, sucking in his breath with the pain.

"Ani, wake up."

Ani? Who was there in the universe who called him Ani? He opened his eyes, but even before they had focused on the dark face before him, he recognized the calloused, loving hand on his arm.

"Mom," he breathed.

She smiled at him. "You had a bad fall," Shmi told him. "Lie still—you'll be all right."

Anakin's vision was still blurry, as were his thoughts. He thought he must be dead, for there was Shmi—but he hurt too badly to not be alive. Surely the dead couldn't feel pain like this. Then she took his hand in his, and he stopped thinking.

"Don't leave me," Anakin begged Shmi. "I want you to stay."

"Oh, love," she said softly, "I'm sorry." She touched his brow, and Anakin felt himself falling back into darkness.

He awoke again to see a small white face grinning into his own.

"Papa said I could take care of you. You look terrible."

Something thick and painful rose up in Anakin's throat. The Force was cruel to let him see this.

Her little voice faltered. "Aren't you glad to see me? You said you wouldn't forget me. You're still wearing my necklace."

"Aiin," he choked out, "I need you to go."

She looked distraught, but Anakin—though he never would have hurt her—knew even in his weak and vague state of mind that Shmi had been dead for years now and would not come back, that Aiin had been murdered by Karan Toi and her bones were probably dust on Ryloth now. Why the Force tortured him so, Anakin didn't know—but he was certain of what would come next, and he trembled when he thought of it.

"No," he whispered to the wall. "I'm not strong enough. Don't make me do that."

His vision snapped, and suddenly lights and colors seemed to be exploding in his head, while at the same time a vicious pain in his leg made him cry out. The wall watched him impassively, and Anakin knew he couldn't keep his eyes on it forever. The lights faded to a bearable state; the pain did the same.

A voice he had not heard in seven years said gently in his ear, "Don't move. The pain will lessen. Just breathe…"

There was a pause, and then he heard Obi-Wan say, in a very different tone, one that seemed to hurt him as he spoke, "Oh, Anakin."