Star Wars: Arda Unleashed

by Lord Exar Kun

After the Arda Campaign ended in victory for the Republic and their local allies, the galaxy's eyes returned to the wider Clone Wars. However, the Dark Lord Sauron has yet to be vanquished. Now he has come to the wider galaxy free from the binds of Arda, and is ready to be unleashed upon the stars. As the Chosen One's fate, the Republic's and the Jedi Order's remains to be seen.

34. Aftermath – Part I

Chapter 34

Aftermath – Part I

The evacuations were continuing at a slow pace. Gunships or other transports were being ferried in, carrying off a few dozen politicians and their aids, then leaving. Outside, reports kept filtering inside to the various senators and security staff. Some even had handheld HoloNet access on datapads, or other assorted viewing devices. Watching news coverage from cam droids floating in the open, or the most adrenaline addicted reporters in airspeeders. All of which were more than likely not authorized to do so. Regardless, hordes of civilians were creating a vast swarm of bodies in the outer regions of the Government Sector. Along certain choke-points or in large plazas between the various government buildings and ministries, the cams would focus in on mass brawls. Bloody humans took up the majority...the vast majority of the pro Palpatine mob. Easily denoted from the opposite by their banners whirling about with the man's face on them. Along with which came obvious symbols of COMPOR, and other subtle or esoteric humanocentric signs, posters, and the most fascinatingly poorly thought out body tattoos.

Equally bloody and bruised humans among: twi'leks, duros, wookiees, togruta, bothan, zabrak, on and on they came in varying color, look, and species – marshaled under banners indicating pro-democracy vigor and sentiment! Long withheld and simmering contempt for what the Republic had become, and slipped into. The writhing masses pinned and corralled by silent implication and threat made by the rising militarism of the Republic under Palpatine. With Bail's call to action over the HoloNet, and the show of force in the Senate by what many considered the least among them – by the politicians, the people began to have teeth. No longer caring for the dictates of Homeworld Security, and the troopers out in force. Even if...in all reality they were making things more difficult for the security forces now that they were no longer under the control of Palpatine. Of course, no one could exactly tell the anti-Palpatine and pro-Democracy mob that now. Even as LAAT gunships and CSF patrol speeders kept zooming over their heads. Booming speakers demanding everyone disperse. Dropping loud exploding canisters of tear gas, and fumes to breakup the mobs. It helped...here and there, but the vast majority remained. Swarms of both opposing groups continuing to advance on the Senate Building as it became a fortress. The 501st moving and engaging those rioting forces with blasters. Gunfights taking place in the streets between militia and troopers. While the Coruscant Guard remained encircling the building to block off any entry. All prepared to fire on the mobs en masse.

"Quite the mess we're witnessing." Bail shook his head. A small huddled circle of he and his companions still awaiting their collective turns in the evacuation process. Small cliques of senators and government officials forming along dividing lines. It was almost pathetic, like a school cafeteria. Where Palpatine loyalists huddled and mumbled on what to do to rectify the situation, no doubt. While members of the Delegation of 2,000 kept to themselves. Contempt in their faces and eyes as both parties passed them back and forth. Utterly limp in any ability to bring the opposing side to heel.

"It is a mess," Padmé nodded, averting her gaze from the HoloNet News broadcast. "But, it is a mess that may prove necessary."

"Senator Amidala is correct." Mon agreed cordially. "The rioting of the masses is chaotic, it's a mess. However, we have broken the spell of submission. At least for now." She went on, her voice airy and hopeful. "If the people can see, even for a time that they can affect change through some kind of action, it may prove useful in the future. Dissuading any would be Palpatine of the future from attempting so brazen and bold an act. The people ready to refuse such a power grab." She offered, even as Senator Giddean Danu from Kuat began after her. His large white hat protruding from his head, a black strip run down its center towards his bald dark brow

"I agree with you, Senator Mothma. But, we cannot ignore the masses who rise in support of Palpatine." The man offered. Voice dipping low thoughtfully as his long white cloak fluttered about him. A worried pace to his step as he meandered like a weed caught in a turbulent wind. His brow contorted in deep thoughtful fashion. Crumpled together near the point of torsion.

"We can't allow ourselves to be threatened by the factions in league with Palpatine." Padmé spoke up. Moving in a pacing semicircle. Yet, her gait and manner was lordly. Her brow thoughtful, but serene. Her hands folded before herself and her dress. All eyes turned to her as she spoke. "They can only be as powerful as we allow them to be. The masses, and that is to say COMPOR and the elements of society that have fallen in with Palpatine, have done so because the opposition has cowered. The only reason why dictators run roughshod over 'good' men and women, and all those between or without, is because such virtuous folk choose to do nothing. To not 'stir the pot.' Well, as we can see," She paused, and turned to them. A slight smirk to her face, and a wave of her hand to the opening of the docking bay. Pointed towards the vast city beyond, towards Coruscant. As streaming light bound inward with streaks of radiant light.

"Once they have been woken up, once they are given reason to rise and make their voices known, the dictator's rabble have met their match. In the end," Padmé clicked her tongue and turned to pace once more. Whirling around to retrace her steps. "The good, the objectively overwhelming masses of civilians who stand against dictatorship and tyranny, require the same commitment from those with political power. When we sit down, and when we cower in fear, our enemies and those who ally with beings like Palpatine, find they have greater breathing room to act. We, all of us, saw the corruption and bureaucratic decay planted before our eyes. We became bound by tradition, the ideal of normalcy and the rule of law. We did little in truth to uphold it. The letter of the law became sacred while the heart of it became violated day in and out."

"Well said, my Lady." Bail agreed stepping forward. Many nodding in varying states of agreement. Among the group were included: Mon Mothma, the aforementioned Danu of Kuat, Fang Zar, Malé-Dee of the Security Council, Bana Breemu, and the ithorian, Tendau Bendon.

"I think what Padmé means to say is that – we cannot grow complacent." Bail continued. "We have a victory here. We cannot allow ourselves in the coming weeks to return to the 'normal' or the state of affairs as they were. That will only weaken us. Weaken the Republic further."

"We have to be vigilant." Mon interjected. "Whatever may happen today, Palpatine here tomorrow or not…" She didn't elaborate, and none of the other senators bothered to ask what she meant. "Whatever the case, we can't assume there are not a hundred would-be 'Palpatines' waiting in the wings."

"The Security Council will need to assume control of the military." Padmé carried the thought. Coming to a stop. Her eyes narrowing in distant rumination. Before she turned to the gathered members. Focusing her gaze, like steady scopes onto both Malé-Dee and Mon. "The Senate is not in session. Not until it can be called together again by Amedda. While that state of affairs remains in place the military must answer to the Security Council. The majority."

"You needn't worry about me, Senator." Malé-Dee offered, bowing his head of vibrant hair, cut into a mohawk. "I believe it will be simple for the rest of the Councilors who voted against Palpatine to come together."

"Agreed. Though…" Mon trailed off. Her expression turning thoughtful before she met Padmé's gaze again. "I would still be wary of Senator Snopps. Especially with the stunt we pulled. We would need his vote. If he falls back into Greyshade's camp-"

"He won't." Padmé firmly and with finality rebuked. Her expression becoming momentarily indiscernible even among the many gathered years of political acumen present. Until, the Naboo woman bore a renewed smirk and turned to her comrades. "He is isolated. He'll know that. No matter how he may feel about what we did today, Zafiel will understand the Palpatine loyalists will never work alongside him. To them, he is 'persona non grata.' We, that is the Delegation, will be his only refuge."

"I tend to agree." Bail affirmed. "Not only will we be his safe harbor in these...turbulent times, he has sway among many in the Senate. Those without to much concern one way or another. With his support...we may yet find a means by which to undermine the majority that is currently in place within the Senate." Bail smiled. A broad look that seemed to speak of hope even while they were all huddled in one of many shuttle bays among troopers looking to push them all onto shuttles and speeders.

"This all sounds promising." Senator Zar remarked. His thick beard being run through by his dark right hand. His voice trembling with age. "Though I caution that we're not out of the woods yet."

"Of course, Fang." Padmé agreed matter-of-factly. Her hands intertwined before her dress. Her right hand unconsciously rubbing her left as she spoke. "But, we cannot be held back by fear. We can't sit and simmer in place."

Padmé continued pacing. Her head tilting up, brown eyes dashing across the dull and clean paneling along the roof. Her brain abuzz with many anecdotes, metaphors, or analogies to best sum up how they should proceed. Her thoughts firing off, a million a moment. She felt her pulse continue to race. A sort of high she was fully aware of, and for a while had been aware of. Ever since the vote passed. Ever since they had undermined Palpatine and his little power grab. Her shoulders tensed and released. The small of her back kept wriggling with goosebumps that slithered up to the back of her neck. She stopped herself. Hearing the mumbled thoughts of her colleagues fall into another bout of conversation without her.

Then...something odd caught her attention. Padmé stopped. Her shoulders relaxed and her brow furrowed. A feeling, some strange sensation. Not unlike one she and everyone had a few times in their lives from time to time. An unspoken need to look in a specific direction without truly knowing why. She shifted to her right. Her dress flowing about her ankles. Her heart still beating just a little bit harder. The doorway leading out from the building into the shuttle bay, opened.

Padmé's lips parted gently. A low breath releasing. Her brown eyes widening as she felt a flush of immediate concern and shock ripple through her. Five figures appeared. Two of them in Jedi robes. One hobbling near, while the second had another being leaned across their shoulders. Under the other arm of the figure between, was Gandalf. The elder wizard clanking his staff in his right hand, while his left encircled the back of the being between he and the Jedi. That Jedi being Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Lady, Galadriel, walked behind the group. Watching them. Seeming ready to catch the being between Obi-Wan and Gandalf should they need it.

The being between them...was that man from before. Which only made the Senator of Naboo shudder a sudden and unclear breath of distress...she didn't know why it came like that. Yet, something inside her made her chest leap. Her heart rate rising even more than before. The being, clad in hulking black armor was barely limping. Their boot covered feet were weakly sliding along the durasteel, and they were clearly being carried by Obi-Wan and Gandalf. Perhaps, though Padmé could not know, the small Jedi with them, Master Yoda, was using the Force to help keep the being up? Whatever the case, Padmé could hear their breathing. It did not come as it had before. With the sucking intake and releasing hiss. It was a shrill and sharp hiccuping intake now, with a shuddering moan of a release through the mask. As sparks shot out from the central console at...his chest, and from his ruined helmet. Even from afar she could tell a gash had been cleaved into it.

"Padmé?" Bail called to her, but she ignored him. Only consciously aware in that moment that she had begun moving towards the group. Her feet carrying her swiftly...a slight run beginning to her pace as the nearby clones moved in. Cautiously...unsure what to do or how to handle the sight of the being once more. Or, perhaps they were concerned about the Jedi? Without Order 66 they were not to fire on them...but that didn't mean bygones were bygones. Regardless, Padmé ran! She did not know why but she did. Her mouth opening as she gasped.

"Obi-Wan!" The Master tilted his head head up to her. His hair worn and damp with sweat, robes tousled and singed.

"Padmé, Senator!" He called back with a grunt. Coming to a stop. Lowering the being from his shoulders as the dark one seemed to nod their head unbidden and unheard.

"Obi-Wan...is...is it…"

"Padmé…" She neared, and came to a stop as the being spoke. Her eyes widening and chest shivering. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and her breath caught once more. She fell to her knees. Coming before the dark figure. Aware numbly and without care that the troopers circled in around the newly arrived group.

The senators all around, both in line and against Palpatine gawking and gazing. Padmé didn't care. She was on her knees in an instant. The voice...she knew it. Wheezing, weak and rasping. In an instant she reached her hands out and grasped the sides of the black helm. She pulled the head that was bowed and swaying, up. The face of the mask came into sight. Where the emotionless visage remained upon the majority of it, save for a gouge that had been torn over the left eye. Where within...she saw a familiar blue pool surrounded by scarred, torn, burnt and ragged flesh.

"Ani?!" Her breath caught again! All prior thoughts, all political machinations and imaginations were struck from her! Her heart both soared and wept. A pain unlike anything she had experience before, at least born of her heart, snapped through her core! She felt such horror and fear in that instant. Yet, mingled within that blaze of sensations she felt relief, love, and happiness. A tear broke from her eye instantly, and her face contorted into a wide, but shaking smile. Her lips trembling as she locked gaze with him...with her husband. With Anakin Skywalker.

"Ani, is that you?! What...what has...who-"

"Padmé…" He wheezed, but it sounded almost like a 'shushing' repetition sung from the man. His right hand rose, and the black leather of his glove touched her cheek. It sent a bolt through her, and another gasp lurched from her body that made it all the clear. No doubts left within her. This was Anakin, her Ani.

"It's me...what's left of me."

"What's happened to you?! How did you...where is...what-"

"It's...a long story, my love." Anakin rumbled. His mask's voice seeming to cut back to life sporadically. Releasing the baritone that had shivered all within the room to their collective cores some time ago. It intermingled with Anakin's weakened voice beneath. Padmé, could only grip the helm tighter. Staring into an eye that winced, but kept itself open. Open enough to look upon her. Barely visible beneath the plasteel cowl that imprisoned him, she could see the edges of a smile. Making her soar, but her heart no less ached as she glanced across his body. Finding his left shoulder. Loosing another gasp as she saw the bored hole where a lightsaber had run through, all but severing arm from torso entirely.

"Obi-Wan!" Padmé snapped her head up to the man. He looked down at her sadly, and bowed his head.

"Padmé."

"What happened?! You didn't...nobody told me that…" She was shaking. Intermingled with fear came rage. Burning hot that struck her core. Her fingers shaking as they clamped onto the blackened helm.

"I'm sorry, Padmé." Obi-Wan offered, though even the Master knew how feeble it sounded. "Anakin was...captured some hours ago. I don't know al-"

"You didn't do anything about it?! None of you did?!" Padmé snapped! Her voice heaving with emotion and no small amount of contempt that was born of the shock. Those near, Obi-Wan, the bowed and grumbling Yoda, Gandalf and Galadriel all looked forlorn in their own way. "He came here in a shuttle! He...he…!"

"Padmé, please." Anakin pulled her back down. His right hand wrapping around her left wrist as it trembled. Tears unbidden and unwanted to be shown so freely run among a crowd, nonetheless slid down her face. Forming tracks upon her fair flesh. She met his gaze again, and Anakin's blue pool begged her to calm. "It...was my choice. I...I did what...what we had to do. They're not to blame."

"I-"

"Listen." Anakin bade, and silenced her with a rasp of his dual voice. "I'm...alive. We're all okay. I'm here, and…" His hand once more slid up to her face. His gloved thumb sliding through the flowing tear down her left cheek. Causing the usually composed Senator to shiver and utter an uncontrollable hiccup of raw terror, love and anxiety all mingled within her.

"Ani…"

"Don't blame them." Anakin continued softly. "What's done is done, Padmé. And...and Palpatine...Palpatine is-"

"He did this to you!" She cut him off. A sort of cruel and feral rage flashing through her eyes. Glinting in the dewy wetness of hate and fear. She leaned forward and shook. Trembling in horrific contempt of the man. "I'll gut him myself! I'll rip him apart!"

"Well…" Anakin gasped a single dull laugh. "I may have beat you to it."

Silence. Those senators near enough to hear him, all recoiling. Heads snapping to their companions beside them. The troopers confusedly glanced about. Anakin's friends all numbly nodding. Silently adding credence to his statement. While Padmé felt her mouth fall open slightly. Her friends all reeling! All of them totally lost at the sight...to varying degrees. While the news sent a shock of unapologetic happiness through many about, and scornful disbelief among the rest.

"You...you…?"

"He's dead, Padmé." It was Obi-Wan who spoke. Anakin sliding forward slightly as the lumbering weight of his armor taxed his already worn body. Padmé caught and held him, she would always catch him…

"We four battled Sidious, err, Palpatine. Though, were it not for Anakin, we may likely have failed."

"Hmm, true this is." Yoda acknowledged after Obi-Wan.

"The lad has accomplished another great feat." Gandalf turned and crouched with the barest hint of a sound like a whine from age. His eyes came level with Padmé's and he bore a smile. "As long as I have known your husband, he has striven to do better, and to do great deeds. Though, I think it has finally settled into his head, good deeds matter more so, hmm?"

"Your bad...influence, old man." Anakin coughed as he sputtered a laugh. Padmé managing to bare a thin smile, as Gandalf chuckled. Padmé, however opened her mouth to speak again. But, found her mind reeling. Her emotions jumbled. Until she finally managed to stutter.

"Ani… I'm...I don't know-"

"Say nothing." Anakin foresaw her apprehension. He looked up to her. His head swaying in wooziness. "You're okay...and the twins?"

"Safe." She smiled again. Running her right hand over the cleave in his helmet. Her love bounding in her as the twins came to mind, and as she looked within the black capsule upon the tortured body of her husband. No scar, nor blemish diluting her love. "I left them with a platoon of my guards, Merry, Pippin, and Tauriel. Along with Threepio."

"Ah, then they truly are...safe, with Threepio around!" Anakin managed, and made her chuckle. Her head dropping, and shoulders spasming. The laugh flowing into a hitched breath of weeping. She controlled herself even as she felt her face contort. Her right hand came up and slapped across her mouth as the tears began falling without relent. Silently, Anakin raised his right hand once again and slid it across her brow. She bowed her head and continued crying, his love, his touch, his presence enough. These tears were not an evil thing.

"Uh...sir?" One of the troopers began. Anakin tilted up right to look at the frowning mask of the clone.

"Trooper."

"Is it...are you... General Skywalker?"

"Can't recognize me, trooper?" Anakin feigned insult. The trooper didn't seem to get it, and shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Do you have a retinal scanner, trooper?"

"Uh…" The man turned to his partner.

"I do." The second trooper acknowledged. Unclasping a small security device from his belt and tossing it to the first clone. The soldier caught it and turned back to Anakin.

"Go ahead then." Anakin raised his head. Gandalf, still knelt, landed his soft and comforting hand upon Padmé's left shoulder. The woman releasing Anakin and wrapping her left hand upon the wizard's given wrist. Unnoticed, a small frown passed his face, but he said nothing. While Anakin tilted up, and the trooper used the retinal scanner. A small light buzzed to life and flashed over Anakin's exposed left eye. A chime sounded, and in the instant after the trooper snapped to attention! His body rigid. His blaster clasped to his plasteel laden chest. The trooper with him following suit on instinct.

"General Skywalker, sir!"

"Skywalker…?"

"The General?"

The murmurs rumbled through all present. Confusion and misgivings. Anger, and elation. The silent smile of Bail Organa near, alongside the other allies to Padmé. All swelling with hope and no small amount of pride. The vaunted Hero With No Fear had done it.

"Send out the word, trooper. Palpatine has been neutralized. I've killed him. Order 65 has been successfully carried out."

"Y...yes, sir!" The trooper nodded once and stiffly. The words all the same still shocking him to some degree.

"Furth-" Anakin's head fell from the strain of keeping it upraised.

"Ani!" Padmé caught him as he lumbered against her. His right hand catching Gandalf's arm near, and the wizard helped Padmé prop him back up.

"Medical attention, young Skywalker needs!" Yoda noted the obvious, but necessarily stated. "Take him to Republic Central Medcenter, we must!"

"Yes! Now, trooper!" Padmé rumbled over her shoulder. A cool stare glinting from her, before she turned back to Anakin.

"Wait!" Anakin bid. "Wait…" He gasped, and the respiring math sucked in a harsh sound that rattled Padmé's bones. "Send out word, by my command – all clones forces on Coruscant...are...are to follow the command of General Obi-Wan Kenobi. If he is no...no longer your General, I anoint him one under my...my personal command. Am...am I understood?!"

"Yes, sir!" The trooper snapped as Anakin managed to bark the command with the last bit of fiery conviction in him. Obi-Wan cocking his brows, but nodding and silently accepting the position. Unspoken trepidation spiking within the Jedi Master as he eyed the clones.

"Go...good, trooper. Now...I need a...a ship."

"Of course, sir! Right away!" The trooper turned and jut his head out. The trooper with him ran to the nearby shuttle. Still surrounded by distant watchful troops slowly getting senators and politicians aboard.

"Oh Anakin…" Padmé began breathless as she snatched tears from her face with the back of her dress's sleeves. "I'm so sorry...I'm...I wish I could have-"

"No promises."

"What?" Her brow furrowed.

"We couldn't promise...one another anything. I...I made my choices. And look! We're still here, Padmé. It...is enough." Silently she observed him. Once more a sense of love flowing through her. All prior encapsulations and sensation of what she felt towards the man, her husband, paling by comparison. Pride, honor, hope, anxiety, desire, pure and unmarred love bereft of possessiveness or greed – all flowed through her. The beating of her heart the truest show of how much she loved him. She could not imagine a world without him. Then she truly understood the fear that had racked him for days, and yet here he was...assuring her. In a word, she felt complete.

"It...it is." Padmé agreed with another pent up burst of wonderfully warm tears flowing down her face. No shame, and no darkness. The woman, the senator, Anakin Skywalker's wife and love, wrapped her arms around him gently as she could. Gandalf beside them smiling joyously, releasing them both and standing to full height. Anakin's gloved hand wrapping around her back and keeping her close. Their warmth, divided even by cloth and armor could not be abated. Their love, formless and eternal enriched the other. The truth that lay at the core's of their being commingling until they were as one, within the Force, and without it. They were both happy. Anakin Skywalker, and Padmé Amidala Naberrie Skywalker simply held the other. The universe for an instant fading. The true victory of it all, laying in this singular moment. Unspoken, unstated, and for many unknown even for the blackest of minds whom could never understand such infinitely small boons. Within which was treasure beyond their comprehension.

"Padmé." She was finally shaken from the silent embrace as Obi-Wan gently tapped her right shoulder. Coming up alongside them both. "Let's get him to the shuttle." She turned up to him. All prior anger having thankfully left her. Brown eyes puffed with the redness of weeping. She opened her mouth, but no words came, nor needed to. She nodded once, smiled up at their friend, and she pushed Anakin back gently.

Their eyes meeting. Their love evident among all who yet observed them and learned much about both the Jedi Knight and Senator of Naboo this hour. Padmé leaned forward, and love drove her. Her lips fell onto the respirator, and she planted a single kiss. Her right hand running along the helm. No matter his form, or his vesture, this was Anakin Skywalker, forever.

"Let's go." She whispered. He nodded, and with friends about them, allies and enemies watching. They limped the weary and worn visage of Darth Vader, containing the man, Anakin Skywalker, to the shuttle.

---

The news was disseminated, the fall and death of Palpatine. One crowd far beyond the Senate Building wailed and snarled. Another loosed a cheer that shook Coruscant itself! As the vision repeated across all the Republic, and even to the rest of the galaxy for varying means and reasons. To many who continued to show outright allegiance with the now fallen Emperor to be, the scenes were baffling. Many riotous mobs and screeching crowds toiled in vain. Sneering, scowling, spitting and gnashing teeth! Across worlds many ignored them, and they were the better for it. Where these mobs brought forth violence, they were met with justice. No more were their enemies, and those who clung to democracy, weakened or in fear of their enemies. Clashes erupted, and troopers or local security were called across the galaxy upon many countless worlds to put down rioting masses or mobs of hate and bile. Relent and reprieve became hard to find. Shots, bolts of fire, were tossed easily. Crowds of the most vile and burning that carried their torches in honor of the dead Palpatine were no longer protected by the clones they once venerated, as they also enslaved. Instead the rioters were fired upon, and the mask of the GAR became a symbol of inward, imagined tyranny, and their persecution, or the complex of it festered. While these angry elements continued about their days, unmarred, unmolested, and utterly forgotten. They were not heroes in this affair, nor were they at the center of the tale being woven. Instead, they were angry, hateful, contemptuous, and reflective of what they felt inside, manifested outward. Yet, defeated all the same.

On Coruscant, shortly after Anakin Skywalker, along with his wife and friends, were airlifted to Republic Central Medcenter, news spread. Along with the rumored death of Chancellor, or Emperor Palpatine depending on your HoloNet station, came word that Obi-Wan Kenobi was made Commander of all forces on Coruscant. A man that was, hours before, to be hunted down and defeated or destroyed, was suddenly in command of the sum of security forces on the Republic capitol.

General Kenobi issued a planet-wide order. All mobs and rioting civilians were to be arrested, and if necessary neutralized. Emergency Military Edict was issued, and with the Senate out of session and in total lockdown, there were none to counter his command. The edict proclaimed all persons allied with and displaying paraphernalia related to the COMPOR organization were to return to their homes immediately, or be temporarily restrained. Regardless, of the civil legality of the measure it had its intended effect.

From the fleet overhead came even further resources and reinforcements finally consolidated under the command of a single being, in Obi-Wan Kenobi. Troopers struck back against the mobs. Pro-Democracy rioters submitted as a whole to the troopers commands. Recoiling from the Government District. Sporadic parties began to erupt through the streets, fireworks bristling and booming in the skies while posters, banners, and effigies of Palpatine were burned.

The opposing side attempted to show their 'strength.' Cursing, and crying. Sniveling in their complaintive tones to all listening HoloNet broadcasters and reporters. While their fellows, mere hours before sought to murder their fellow citizens, senators, or Jedi. Now in this moment they imagined themselves consummate victims. It did not stop the clones and CSF from driving the mobs back. Firing on those who fired first, and dragging insurrectionists by shirts, necks and heads to barracks and jailhouse. The processing for which would consume the court system for days to come, perhaps weeks.

The day dragged into night, and the joyous atmosphere did not dampen for several more days to come. Allowed by civil authorities, as to not strike up more unnecessary violence. Allowing the mobs to slowly disperse once they partied, and return to states of normalcy. The Republic news and media apparatuses reeled with endless reports of the lead up, the aftermath, and whatever have you surrounding the whole affair. Many calling on the arrest or execution of Anakin Skywalker for a blatant murder. Other lawyers and legal experts declaring the man safe from any and all ramifications under the implementation and activation of the previously unheard of Order 65. Prompting long segments across the networks going into detail over what many of the other Contingency Orders were. Talking heads held their debates, while those who could affect government and society, did so.

Questions began to be raised on who exactly was in charge of the Galactic Republic? Obi-Wan Kenobi was in command on Coruscant while the war continued unabated across the galaxy with the Confederacy. Though word began to sprinkle in, rumors of a slowing in Separatist activity across the whole front as military intelligence learned of fleet movements and shadowy activities. The hunt for General Grievous came to a total halt in the ensuing chaos.

Regardless, many pointed to the Interim Chancellor, Mas Amedda as the head of Government. While others noted that was technically true, Interim Chancellor really only held power to call the Senate together to vote for a new Chancellor, and as was already a power held by the position of Vice Chancellor, bring votes to the floor. Outside of the chamber the interim leader was bogged down in bureaucracy. Amedda's office issued statements and decrees, as the senators were slowly released from bunkers and security locations. Watched and 'guarded' by the clones of the Coruscant Guard. Yet, very few listened to Amedda or his office. Leaving many to understand the chagrian had little power, and soon, he ceased issuing orders altogether. Instead, detailing a Special Session of Congress to be held a week out from his release.

Senator Greyshade, Sheila Paige-Tarkin and the loudest of Palpatine's prior supporters could not stop themselves from showing their faces. At small rallies authorized by the emergency government on Coruscant. Small in nature, but no less saber rattling. Or, they popped up on the HoloNet news networks. Snarling, and apoplectic of the whole affair. Melodramatic statements of coup and military takeover by the very same beings who had loved the notion days before – now seemed horrified at the thought in their feigned distress. Many senators issued statements if they did not show themselves. Members of the esteemed body like Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and the shamed Senator from Corellia, Garm Bel Iblis, let his face be seen even from far off Corellia. The rough-around-the-edges man making a general statement in agreement with the actions taken by the majority of the Security Council, and his friends Organa, Mothma and Amidala. The woman now whispered among many masses as holding the surname Amidala-Skywalker. Though her office was loath to answer any 'personal' questions regarding the Senator. Questions that were being asked on Naboo at that.

Shortly after Anakin Skywalker was sent to his medical facility, a general command was given to cease the search for the intruders in the Senate building. Where shortly after they were, alongside an astromech droid whisked away by members of Senator Organa's staff. The whole of the Arda Delegation shortly thereafter reunited at Republic Central Medcenter. Their part in the salvation of the Republic quietly unspoken, but among those with whom it mattered, their addition to the intricate weave was praised...or reviled. All of them knew on which side they stood, and not a one held any regrets for it.

Across the galaxy, Jedi who yet lived were given command to rendezvous at coordinates sent via way of the Jedi who had already escaped the capitol. All who heard the call made arrangements and plans to escape. None of them trusting the clones by which they had once counted as allies. Mistrust baring ill fruits whose seeds were yet to be sown. All the same, Jedi abandoned their posts, abandoned the worlds they hid upon. No clones, no military made to stop them. Those that were seen were left be.

Some clones tried to acknowledge their one time commanders. Calling out to them by their names. To be ignored, or to have lightsabers drawn. Panting and wide-eyed Jedi retreating from the clones. Making away from the unbelievably confused troopers who watched, but did nothing.

For all Jedi, the journey would vary in difficulty or trial. The masses that abandoned the Temple fled firstly to the world known as Arda. The younglings and children that had been led from the Temple by Master Baas and his retinue, followed shortly after. Ferried, as it were, by the ships of the wookiee delegation from Kashyyyk. Even as their forested world remained in a state of war, brutal at that, with the Separatist droid armies. The only Jedi that remained on Coruscant were: Commander of all Forces on Coruscant and Acting-General, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker, Grand Master Master, Yoda, Jedi Master, A'Sharad Hett, and one other.

---

The Temple was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet at that. The vast halls were lined with dead Jedi, temple security troops, and many...many clones. For whom, Master Hett only narrowed his eyelids. A sensation writhing within him that he sought to release into the Force. It kept cropping up. Nipping at him upon the edges of his senses and conscious thought. Like one of those damnable swarming hawk-bats outside chewing on the electric lines and cables that ran between spires or under the vast plates of Coruscant, upon which cities rose up from.

Everyone else had left. A'Sharad had found his way back to the Temple shortly after Order 65 had been enacted. Watching from the shadows as the clones broke from their stations around the Temple District. The whole of the 501st broke, while the Coruscant Guard and the troopers brought in from overhead remained. Flushing out, or hunting down the militia that roamed around. CSF aiding them in those efforts. A'Sharad sure didn't. He watched them from up high. Watched them kill one another. Blow one another away. Feeling...an odd sense of dreadful apathy within his core. It made him uncomfortable even now thinking back on it. Musings rummaging around in his head on whether it was better to be angry or disgusted at the sights? Or, if apathy was indeed the better option? He didn't have an answer nor did he come to any conclusion by way of further thinking.

The tattooed Jedi Master knelt with a sigh. A heavy bundle that was strapped over his left shoulder clamored onto the floor. His eyes softened, and he forgot the clones or militia for a moment. His lips pursed as he knelt above a fallen Jedi. A human woman perhaps a decade older than he? Though with the Force, one could never be too sure. Some Jedi were well into their forties and fifties and looked as though they were finally in their late twenties as humans counted.

He shook himself of the thought. A'Sharad reached down and planted his right hand onto her brow. Closing his eyes for a moment, he bid her silent relief and release into the Force. No less calling on its embrace to envelope and aid him with the tumult of mixed emotions he had been battling with these past few days. But, he opened his eyes and reached down next to her. Fallen at her right lay her lightsaber.

Wordless, he grabbed the pommel, and idly flicked the weapon on. A green beam hissed to life in the common fashion of the elegant instrument. Much the same color as his own twin sabers.

"A fine weapon." He bid her silently. Deactivating the beam and twisting where he knelt. Opening the satchel he had with him after. Where within lay dozens of other Jedi lightsabers. Gathered from many halls and chambers, from rooms and balconies all over the Temple...from all over his home. This was not the only satchel either. Two more incredibly heavy cases were already set near the main gate of the Temple. Waiting for his return to take them with him once he finally made to join the others on this Arda world. A dull sensation of fascination ran through him. From how it was described, though briefly, he was interested to see what had...in no small part played a role in all of this. Where Master Kenobi and Skywalker had been for a year.

A'Sharad placed the lightsaber within his current satchel. Grabbing a scanner off of his belt after. Taken off the body of a clone trooper. For them he did nothing. Would do nothing. Again his eyes narrowed, and he felt the edges of his lips begin to curl cruelly...angrily. He shut his eyes, and felt the lids flutter as he begged the Force to take the anger from him. It did, and he felt momentary relief. His right hand tensed around the device after. The light scratching of his new ring upon the device catching his momentary gaze.

Nonetheless, he leaned over the fallen Jedi, opening her eyes. Staring down into orbs that had become milky, distant and deathly. His lips tilted up sadly. Yet, A'Sharad scanned her eyes all the same. These devices could usually tell who a person was, even once they had begun to decay. He could've gotten a datapad with DNA samples and ran tests on those who had hair, or on scales...on feathers. But...this seemed the easiest route to take account and to...to remember all those as fell.

"Okay…" He sighed and let the device chime. A moment passing before a name appeared. Not a Jedi he knew. He doubted one many knew. Sella Foyle. Perhaps she had not done great things, like himself or Anakin. But, she was no less Jedi.

A'Sharad sadly noted her. Taking sight of the fourteen...as he could tell, blaster bolts that riddled her chest, neck and arms. She had clearly been sprayed after death. A trigger happy sithspawn of a clone riddling her with bolts to make sure she was dead. Though, that gave A'Sharad a dim hope she had given the clone and his squad trouble enough to warrant such an act.

She lay strewn upon one of the upper walkways overseeing the Great Hall. Ahead of her were crumpled remains of three troopers, while behind her, where she had fallen were several security troopers from the Temple, and what looked to be a gran Jedi padawan. No older than a padawan just released from the initiate stage of training. A'Sharad would get his lightsaber too.

"Sella Foyle." He repeated aloud. Snapping the scanner back onto his belt and snatching her lightsaber. "May the Force be with you, Sella Foyle." He murmured, and reached into the satchel. There he found a roll of fabric. He ripped a piece of it free, and with a simple marker, he wrote her name in Basic and in Aurebesh along the torn piece. Wrapping it around her lightsaber hilt tightly, and placing it with the others in the satchel. All of which were similarly wrapped in fabric their own.

A'Sharad took another moment to remain numbly...knelt. His head and gaze averting from the fallen Jedi. Passing his stare over the far wall ahead. Several pillars that ran from the Great Hall's floor to the ceiling were cracked and scorched. Two had, in the fighting, fallen over. Only the Force knew from what? Below and along the vast floor were fallen bodies of Jedi and the troopers on both sides. The stink...not all the Temple, of course, but parts of it had begun to carry the stale aroma of death. Settling in the air. Like many battlefields A'Sharad had been party to in the war. It was clear that the air scrubbers were either damaged or turned off, as dust began to be seen flowing through the wide spaces of the hall. Streaming daylight showing the vast sum of the particulates. Plenty of dead flesh and skin now about to add to the floating tide of residue.

A'Sharad's brow furrowed. A slight headache rummaged through his cranium, and his right hand came up. His thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. Stray musings, idle ruminations followed. He wanted to check the library, the reliquaries and storage areas for any forgotten or missed holocrons. All of which, light or dark mattered to the history of the Jedi. The Order's history, the Temple's history, his history! His hand receded from his nose. Brown eyes catching the shimmering reflection of his visage upon a silver band as he turned to the outstretched appendage. One of the blackened intricately detailed cracks that ran through the surface of the ring snaked just over and through his mirrored face. A'Sharad tilted his hand and beheld the white gem. A smile thinly tracing his lips...before his brow dipped again, and the Force rippled through him.

With a slight start, he pulled himself back up to a stand. A'Sharad followed the sensation and recognized the source, the presence. He turned around himself. A simple brown cloak he had adorned whirled about him. Before he saw the visage of a Jedi. Dark hair that was swept back, both naturally so and through personal design or upkeep. The Jedi's blistering blue eyes met A'Sharad's, and bore no discernible emotion or thought. A Jedi's robe hung down his lean figure, but immediately A'Sharad felt his face twist confusedly. As, swung over the Jedi's right shoulder was a swaddle, where, at his chest moved a small bundle. Even from afar, the Jedi Master could denote the presence of a human child. A baby.

"Kolvori?"

"I had not expected to see you, of all people here, Master." The younger Knight greeted. The shadow of a smile tracing his lips, as he neared with confident strides. "When I had heard of Order 66 and the attack on the Temple...I assumed much the worst. But, much has happened since those early dark hours and notifications."

"Much indeed." A'Sharad agreed. His eyes not yet leaving the worming bundle before Kolvori's chest. "Where have you been, Kolvori?"

"I was on the mission, Master." He matter-of-factly responded. "I had traced the location of my charges. I found them, and-"

"Did I not explicitly tell you not to engage?!" A'Sharad began sharply. Finally averting his gaze from the child as concern and ruminations etched themselves into his mind. "I made it clear, Kolvori, clear as I could that you were to investigate the disappearances of Kento Marek and Mallie! Investigate, that's all! Who's this?!" A'Sharad seethed. Displaced emotion from the day, and days prior managing to find its way into his manner here and now. A'Sharad closed his eyes and fought to control himself while Kolvori remained wholly unfazed. Though, his blue eyes did observe A'Sharad for a quiet long moment.

"My mission was successful, Master. Though there were complications. This child is but one of them." Kolvori mutely offered. His tone and manner exceedingly calm. "As I said," Kolvori continued with a dismissive shrug of his head. The man beginning to pace at A'Sharad's left. "I tracked both Kento Marek and Mallie. Though I suspect her name to be Mallie Marek." Kolvori added with a dull scoff before continuing.

"In truth the information from the Corellian System was easily followed. I was led to the wookiee homeworld, Kashyyyk. As you can imagine, Master, things there became...hectic."

"You were on Kashyyyk during Order 66?"

"Indeed." Kolvori nodded. The child at his chest made a low blubbering sound. The Jedi Knight turned down to him. A glint in his blue eyes, distant and narrowing, but Kolvori merely ran his right hand atop the babe's brow. Quieting and soothing him. "I was on a mission, our mission. The Covenant's." Kolvori finished.

"What led you to Kashyyyk? Why had you not contacted me before you arrive on world? Let alone in system?"

"I did not wish to send reports or updates that may have proven moot or wrong. I learned from research all my own that, from Talus our two errant siblings had moved about as refugees. They eventually found their way to Kashyyyk and ingratiated themselves with one of the many tribes. Of course, when the war came one would assume they would have fought alongside the wookiees in common defense of the planet."

"And?"

"They did not." Kolvori tsked with his tongue. Shaking his head gently. The air of disdain evident in him. A'Sharad chose to say nothing, yet. "I found them in an abode they had made...bought from the locals? I truly don't know. I confronted them, and I apologize for moving too quickly, Master. I, however, did not wish to lose them. I had them in my sights, and with the campaign fully unleashed on the planet, I feared they could have ran."

"'Confronted.'" A'Sharad repeated the word questioningly. "What does that mean?" To that pointed question, the Master's eyes glanced down to the child. Kolvori matched the glance. Then an almost sad sounding sigh elicited from the man. Again he shook his head, dejected.

"It is a sad thing, Master. They were Jedi no longer. I came to them in good faith, and issued them notice of the Order's knowledge. That we knew of their secrecy and deception."

"So, you attacked them?!"

"No, Master!" Kolvori rebuffed, hotly and...with an earnestly horrified curling of his brow. One that disarmed A'Sharad to an extent. "I would never be the one to raise my hands or weapon against another first! Such is the Code! A Code I abide by, and by which any and all proper Jedi must abide by! Without it, well look!" Kolvori swept his arms out and turned from side to side. A'Sharad glancing about the carnage and decay. "When we allow ourselves to fall away from what is the truth of our Order, and the heart of the Jedi this is what comes to us! This is the cost of our Order's rot of belief, and the halfhearted lethargic adherence to our ancient tenants, edicts and commandments! I did no such thing! I am a Jedi! As Jedi as one can hope for, and I…" Kolvori paused. Perhaps aware of the rising ire in his voice? Or of the unhappy murmurs of the baby swaddled against him? Yet, even with the 'passion;' for A'Sharad could not find a better word for it, in Kolvori's voice he did not sense darkness. It was...an odd thing. There was anger, but impartial. No emotion – peace. Curious.

"They raised arms against me, Master. I defended myself." The man lowly uttered. His nose crinkling in some unhappy memory. Conviction in his voice. "Their fall to darkness and passion led them to the state they were in when I found them. I did nothing but show myself. Present the truth of who and what they were. For placing the mirror of truth before their eyes, I was deemed worthy of death. I chose to remain among the living. Where...in the aftermath I found the misbegotten fruits of their betrayal to the Code."

"The child is at no fault." A'Sharad cautioned. To which, Kolvori again observed the Master. Seemed to think on the notion and then tilt his head.

"Perhaps, Master. Though it is mere truth. Both Mareks made their choices. They caved to...urge and base desires." The scorn in him was clear, though still with dispassion within the Force. "This boy is testimony to what happens when Jedi stray from the path. His parents, once Jedi, chose violence over surrendering to judgment. A simple thing it would have been. To be exiled by the Order, but shame?! That is a bridge too far, and they are proven the lesser for it. In life or in death."

"Philosophical debates aside," A'Sharad dismissed with a flick of his right hand. "I will...I expect a more detailed account of what happened on Kashyyyk. Lest you forget again our positions. For one who espouses the Order and our commitments and positions, you are easy to find ways to undermine my authority." Again Kolvori seemed silenced by the proposition. His eyes narrowed and some thought clearly crossed his eyes, before he dipped his head.

"I understand, Master. This trial has...given me perspective. I place myself before you and the Council for judgment of my actions. Wherever the Council may be…"

"You can thank Anakin Skywalker for us having a Council or Order to cling to."

"I heard as much, Master." Kolvori nodded. A heavy and uncomfortable silence following. Awkwardly A'Sharad turned from Kolvori. Shaking his head. Adding all of...all of this to the long and many dark thoughts of late onto his mind was...unwelcome. But, here they were.

Again, A'Sharad planted his right hand atop his brow, caressing fingers down upon the bridge of his nose. Kolvori silently submissive behind him. Gently running a hand upon the boy's brow to calm him through the Force. The Force, from which both men could feel the quiet ebbs of it within the child. Radiating, and burgeoning. Untapped and untrained of course, but present. Palpable.

Slowly, A'Sharad removed the hand from his brow. His brown eyes focusing on the silver band once again. Along the silver, above and below the wonderfully crafted blackened etchings and cracks, A'Sharad saw the warped mirror of the Great Hall. He saw his own face even more prominently. For a long moment he stood there, staring at his ring. A low beating of his heart pulsating in his ears. His nostrils flaring absently as he finally lowered his hand.

Observing around him the devastation of the Temple once more. Kolvori's words struck A'Sharad in silence. The dead Jedi, and their murderers spread around them. The chief architect of their doom the very Chancellor of the Republic they had sworn allegiance to. Had the Order truly lost so much of its way, its senses and potency as to be so utterly fooled? The question was a foregone conclusion. The answer was clear. The sour frown upon A'Sharad's tattooed face, a testament to the silent...the silent agreement he held within his heart. Agreement with Kolvori's assessment. The Jedi had lost...something. Something that would have...A'Sharad wasn't sure. Some foresight, some cognition, or skill. Something! Anything that would have...could have and should have saved the hundreds, and the thousands of dead Jedi that lay not only within the Jedi Temple, but across the galaxy. There was...something wrong, something rotten within the Jedi Order. A'Sharad perhaps had not...given his role much thought or consideration for its usage? But, Kolvori had a point. His grandiosity notwithstanding, the man was steeped in the essence of the Order. Peace, harmony, something akin to operative passivity in his steps and motions.

A'Sharad sucked in another breath through his nostrils. His eyes shut, and when they opened he stared down at his right hand for just a moment longer. Curling his fingers into a balled fist, and allowing a resolve shudder through him. A feeling similar to when he set the militia against the clones outside the Temple. Akin to how he had felt since moving through the dead halls of the Order. Perhaps...perhaps in the Covenant and its first and...currently only WatchCircle, he could affect change enough. So that this, never happened again. No...he would make sure it never happened again.

"What is the child's name?" A'Sharad finally asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"I heard the name Galen. I would assume Galen Marek, Master."

"Hmm." A'Sharad nodded. Turning to face Kolvori, the Master bore a stony expression. Resolute and resolved. The hint of an ever present frown at the edges of his lips. "The child will be brought with us to Arda. It's where the Jedi have been summoned to meet. All Jedi."

"I saw the message, but thought to check here first." Kolvori nodded. His eyes narrowing. "I wanted to see it for myself."

"You've seen it." A'Sharad simply intoned. "You and I will discuss the full breadth of what occurred on Kashyyyk. We will formulate and present your report to the Council once affairs are more properly in order." Silence passed between the two once more. Pregnant and discordant without word. Before Kolvori took a step near and cleared his throat.

"It may be difficult for the Council to understand what is necessary in the pursuit of harmony, Master. Not just with me. Not just with you. Our Covenant and our mission statement. Our goals." The man intoned. "The Council is wounded, but they will reform, and with time they will question what we do."

"Into the future, you see?" A'Sharad wondered, aware how Yoda-like he sounded.

"I merely understand that what we see here is the price the Jedi Order has paid for servility. We have suffered for bending our knees to the Republic, and for ignoring our Code. Every dead Jedi here and beyond is because we sacrificed who and what we are." Kolvori nearly growled. As ever, the dark side nowhere to be sensed. Just the concordance of passionless resolve...truth.

Again, another silence passed between them. A'Sharad said nothing as he observed the child that gurgled half in and out of sleep. Sputtering and wagging his right arm without purpose and meaning. The future of the Order...a boy born out of a union of Jedi who would have been stripped of title and ordered into exile...whether the Order can actually do as much was a question for another time and place. But, one child among thousands. One Jedi, or Jedi to be, among as many numbered.

The man born and raised about the burning sands of Tatooine passed a final glance about the room. He found the cold and stiff body of Sella Foyle. His eyes narrowed to slits. Lines like deep cracks in the dune sea formed across brow and beside his lips. Before he turned to Kolvori.

"We shall ensure the Council understand the importance of our task. However they may wish the information passed to them. Whatever language necessary. But," He jabbed his right index finger towards Kolvori. "You will learn to follow my commands, Kolvori. Lest you prove you are not part of our solution, but just another of our failures. Am I absolutely clear?" A'Sharad almost sneered. Feeling another pulse like adrenaline worm through his system like he had when he had cut down those clones outside the Temple District.

Kolvori tipped his head. "I understand, Master." The Jedi smiled.

---

The doctor, a male togruta male named Koldis, exited from a conference room. In his hand was a datapad he was eyeing. While behind him moved several colleagues garbed in medical cloth along with their assistant droids. All of them shuffled out of the room, but Koldis tipped his gaze upwards and found a familiar face waiting for him. The togruta drew in breath through his nose and approached her.

"Senator Amidala." He greeted with a faint bow.

"Any updates, Doctor?" She wondered nervously, and expectantly so.

"Yes, a couple." Koldis immediately snapped back to his datapad. Understanding her concern...well understanding her concern more than the millions – and he meant that literally, of calls the hospital had received. The Senator from Naboo had openly detailed to the hospital staff the nature of her relationship with Anakin Skywalker. Their top priority patient, even if such terminology wasn't exactly openly spoken in the open where all were expected to be treated with the same cause and concern. As her husband, Miss Amidala...Skywalker? He wasn't sure, regardless, the Senator's cause for concern, the weary circles under her eyes, the pacing fits she was prone to, and her refusal to leave the hospital were all expected of a worried spouse. Especially for a being in the state, Republic Central Medcenter, had received Anakin Skywalker.

What was less welcome were the thousands of calls from dignitaries, politicians, governors, world leaders from thousands of worlds. Then the common folk wishing him well. Asking for him or about him, the press doing the same from across the galaxy. Everyone wanting to know if their 'Hero With No Fear' would survive. Rumors spreading of his ill state, and what he had done to save the Republic from the tyrannical Palpatine. Koldis himself held no love of the former Chancellor, and a part of him worried about leaving Skywalker in the charge of any Palpatine idealouge among the facility's staff. A concern he had never before imagined he would have to think of, but...here he was. Nonetheless, his patient was top priority, and the varying reasons why were clear and obvious. Though, Koldis chose to focus on the man. Not the title, the position, or the great accomplishments. Skywalker had a wife worried about him, and Koldis had a job to do.

"My colleagues and myself believe we can repair much of the damage your husband has received." Koldis began softly. Watching with a flick of his glance upward, as Padmé seemed to shudder in relief.

"Wha...what will need to be done? As best as you can explain, Doctor." She prompted.

"Well…" Koldis sighed lightly. "His time in the bacta tank is not done. His skin...and I'm sorry to be so graphic, Miss-"

"No, no it's okay." She assured. Her brown eyes incapable of deceiving him. Glimmering with restrained unshed tears, and the frenzied confusion of someone lacking any power to help those they cared for, and loved most. A torturous sight seen by Koldis many times.

"Very well." The doctor nodded. "Your husband's flesh has, as we've previously discussed, undergone extreme trauma for a human body. Virtually a hundred percent of his living outer tissue has been scarred and burned by severe electrical shock. Now the bacta tank has already jump-started the body's natural healing processes, and we have applied several salves to promote cellular regrowth. We have...had to sedate him, of course. The pain is...incredible." Koldis paused. Watching Padmé numbly nod. Her eyes averting and turning to a nearby wall. Gazing at nothing in particular as her right hand rose to her mouth. She looked as though about to chew her fingernails, but stopped herself. Wiping her lips instead.

"Um…" Koldis shook himself. His lekku wriggling down his chest lightly as he did. "We've scrubbed much of the dead or dying tissue from his body. His skin is raw, and we have accounted for potential or probable nerve damage. The bacta can handle most of that, and seeing as your husband is a Jedi, we have previous experience with Force wielders. Indicating, such damage for them is likely to be reversed with time."

"Good." Padmé breathed. "That's...good."

"It is, Miss." Koldis affirmed with a thin smile before he continued. "Now, I don't know who previously aided your husband. The implants and mechanical attachments along his body are crude, but admittedly effective."

"What about his legs?" Padmé interjected. "I...saw that one of them had been replaced."

"The left, yes ma'am." Koldis nodded. "Again, my team and I are unsure about the calculus behind the modifications. Though, with what we have to work with...we believe we can replace the limb."

"Really?"

"Yes." Koldis nodded further. "Cloning technology has seen a boom of late. Ever since...well I'm sure you can guess. Kaminoan cloning methods are a field in and of itself. However, new spaarti clone cylinder technology has allowed this facility and several prestigious universities across the galaxy to test targeted cloning procedures of necessary limbs. It is not a perfect procedure. Ethical questions have arisen in the event a cloning should...inadvertently produce a whole clone, but…" Koldis realized he had trailed off and waved his hand. Dismissing himself. "Regardless, Senator, my team and I have been in Holo Conference with cloning experts from across the galaxy. They have all offered their services in pursuit of healing your husband."

"I…" Padmé began. Her eyes still averted and glazed over. Her weariness showing through as her hair, previously kept up in an intricate hairpiece, showed strands pulling free and falling about her face. Her skin had lost a few shades of natural color for a human, and there was a noticeable slouch to her posture. Koldis, at several points wished to tell her to go home and rest. Though he already knew such recommendations would fall on deaf ears.

"Sorry." Padmé began after a moment of silence. Shaking her head. Running her right hand across her brow.

"No need, Miss." He assured her. But, Padmé, though appreciative, drew in breath and gulped harshly down her drying throat.

"I assume the costs for all these treatments will be enormous." A statement, not a question.

"You needn't concern yourself with that presently, ma'am." Koldis assured. "This facility has a moratorium on all fees or costs concerning your husband."

"Needn't you worry regardless, Senator Amidala." A new voice called both Koldis and Padmé's attention. The alien glanced over Padmé's shoulder while Padmé turned and saw Senator Bail Organa nearing.

"Any and all costs should be sent my way, Doctor. The Royal House of Alderaan will cover everything."

"Bail you don't-"

"Padmé, please." Bail raised his palm out. "It is the least I can do. The least the galaxy can do."

"We're...I'm not lacking for money, Bail."

"No." Bail agreed. "But, you are not exactly as wealthy as myself. Allow me the chance to use some of the accrued monies me and my House have to do some good." He chortled in feigned gloat. While Padmé cocked a brow. Before, after another moment, a smile traced her lips and she bowed her head.

"Alright, Bail. Alright."

"Good!" Bail beamed and turned to Koldis. "Have your facility contact the Alderaanian Delegation Offices here on Coruscant. Together, your facility and my people can work out the details. Spare no expense. I will hear nothing of costs, nor do I wish for my friend or her husband to be bothered with such matters. Ever." Bail accentuated. "Understood?"

"Yes, Senator Organa." Koldis smiled. Turning to Padmé, the togruta bid her a kindly farewell. Assuring her they can discuss more matters later. Before he walked off to commit his duties. Leaving Padmé to hobble tiredly toward a long plain metal bench pressed against the commonly durasteel and cream colored walls of the medical facility. She sat down with a withering long sigh, and dropped her head into her hands. Rubbing up and down feverishly, as Bail came and took a seat beside her with a more gentle demeanor.

"How are you holding up, my Lady?"

"About as well as you could imagine." Padmé curtly intoned from beneath her hands. Dropping them into her lap and leaning her head back to stare up at the ceiling. Eyes focusing on a light panel humming lowly in the hallway. Droids, nurses and doctors moving about and paying them little mind.

"How are things in the Senate?" She wondered as Bail respected her drawn out silences.

"No meetings have happened yet. Not formal ones, anyways. Amedda has called on Congress to hold session. That will happen in four days time." Bail explained, leaning forward and interlocking his fingers. Placing his chin atop them as he mulled over thoughts brewing in his mind. "Mon and I have held holocomm sessions with many in the Delegation. Several centrist senators have also reached out. I believe these to have noted an axial shift in power. Whether we can live up to the notion...is another matter."

"We can, and we will, Bail." Padmé assured. The man turning to her at his left. Noting a fire in her eyes, even so tired and somewhat sunken as they now appeared. The passion that blazed within her brown pools was infectious. Causing Bail to smile and nod.

"If you believe it possible, my Lady, then I have no doubts. I only doubt the others and their resolve."

"How so?"

"Already old bad habits are beginning to show." The darker man sighed and once more reclined himself. "Certain friends of ours want things to return to 'how they were before Palpatine.' In spite of my best efforts to inform them such would not be healthy for the Senate nor the Republic. Things were not better before that man, nor were they effective. Something you can attest to I'm sure, Padmé."

"Attest and resent, yes." Padmé grumbled. "If anyone thinks the 'do nothing' bureaucracy that existed before is more worthy than Palpatine then we do have an uphill battle on our hands."

"They only need direction." Bail offered wisely. "They're worried about too much change, too quickly. They may be politicians, but they're sentient like the rest of us. Deathly afraid of change be it for good or ill. Yet, the slow roll of tyranny is almost a welcome act. It absolves them of any criminality, shame, or worse, responsibility." Bail continued with an air of some small contempt to his voice. Though it remained restrained.

"Well, we'll show them a better path then." Padmé concluded. "Instead of watching the Republic crumble from the sidelines we'll show them how we can strengthen it! Make use of political power once it is thrust into your lap. Having that power, and being foolishly afraid of utilizing it when your enemies share no such reservation is suicidal."

"You're right, my Lady." Bail agreed. "We just need to show them the path."

Padmé nodded to herself. Thinking momentarily about politics was a welcome distraction from the aching in her spirit, her whole body. No matter how much the medial staff, living and droid, both told her Anakin would be okay...nothing stopped her from worrying. A dull throb in her head from lack of sleep – though she imagined she found micro-sleep here and there. Sometimes she'd forget what she was doing, or see a droid standing nearby...turn her head and then it'd be gone. She had to have been sleeping.

Nonetheless, even with their victory over Palpatine she felt herself rattled. Shaking and shivering. Desperate to see Anakin. Knowing full well it was best to leave him in the intensive ward he found himself. Totally sterilized, accessible by doctors and droids who went through stages of decontamination. Floating about in a bacta tank-

"Force!" Padmé lowly snapped. Smacking her forehead with her right hand's lower palm. Loosing a dull sound of flesh connecting to flesh and bone.

"Padmé?"

"It's...it's nothing." Padmé sighed. Closing her eyes and shaking her head lightly from side to side. Feeling muscles strain and bones lightly pop from retained agitation. "I'm just thinking about…about a lot of things."

"I shouldn't have bothered you with all of this." Bail hurriedly offered. "I'm sorry."

"No...you're fine, Bail." Padmé offered. A thin sad smile sent his way as she ran hand over weary eyes.

"You should get some sleep, Padmé. Seeing you in such a state as this...it's worrisome."

"You sound like the doctors."

"Well, they have a point." Bail gently chastised, and she knew he was right. She grumbled unhappily, but said nothing. Prompting Bail to chuckle at her disapproval. Silence passing for a second longer before Bail spoke again.

"Where have Master Yoda and the Arda delegates gone?"

"They were here for a few days. I shooed them all off. Well, me and the doctors. Gimli, Merry and Pippin were driving them crazy I think. Plus all of them could have used some rest from...everything. As for Yoda he stayed and meditated for a bit. I think...I have no proof but I think he felt...a bit guilty over everything."

"Guilty?"

"I don't know." Padmé shrugged. "With all that's happened to the Order, I think a part of him wonders if he could have done more? More for the Order, and more for Anakin. I think he stayed to meditate because he was using the Force to help stabilize Anakin. Again, I have no proof. Just a feeling."

"I don't doubt it. Your intuition is a formidable force, my Lady."

"Thanks." Padmé airily replied. The hint of a laugh on her voice.

"Though, perhaps you should take some of your own advice, and go get some rest. Anakin is under the best care, and this facility is guarded quite well."

"Is it?" Padmé cocked a brow and glanced at him. Seeing a moment of genuine surprise pass over the Senator before he spoke up.

"I...I forget you haven't gone too far, Padmé. Yes. General Kenobi has ordered the facility to be placed under lock and guard by the Coruscant Guard and CSF. With the sectarian violence still cropping up here and there across Coruscant...and beyond, it's a smart move. We wouldn't want fools angry over Palpatine showing up here for your husband."

"I'd like to see them kriffing try!" Padmé sneered, and though her tone was snarling and burning, Bail admired her reaction. Protective and doting.

"I'm sure the troopers would be the last thing they'd have to worry about."

"You haven't any clue, Bail." She grumbled further. Her eyes no less fiery, but a hint of a twinkle – of humor in her eyes. Both of them sharing another dull set of closed-mouth chuckles and chortles. Both sighing after.

"Is it that bad out there?" Padmé finally questioned. Sounding more cut off than she'd like to be. Bail, in turn gave a dim smile.

"Don't get me wrong, Anakin is considered a hero across the HoloNet. Trillions are all singing his praises. Many who were previously too scared or indifferent to make their opinions known are quite loud these days. Forums, sharing platforms of all kinds, sites dedicated to the war and following heroes and villains on either side are all abuzz with Skywalker love!"

"Oh I'm sure he'd love that." Padmé scoffed a laugh. Feeling elation immediately hollow into a pang of concern that dropped her mood. Sensing it, Bail pressed on.

"There are those who are angry of course. We can't discount the amount of thrall and supporters Palpatine had, and still has even in death. There are some militia skirmishes in the lower city levels. Most of the rioters from days before have been pacified. Obi-Wan is directing everyone quite well."

"Good." Padmé flatly offered. "We'll need to find a way to exert control over the senators, and those governors that may find opportunity in this chaos."

"That we will, my Lady!" A new voice, once more butted in. Both Bail and Padmé jolted at the approaching voice. Both rising on instinct and glancing right, down the same hall Bail had appeared from. Where, walking towards them in a fanciful suit, tightly pressed, gray and lined in black, to equally gray leggings, finely buffed and shining shoes on his feet, and aged eyes, approached one Zafiel Snopps.

"Zafiel, this is most unexpected." Bail began. Maintaining his calm politician's demeanor. Though, Padmé caught her friend's gaze fix and narrow. A stern manner overcoming him as he followed up. "This is not the place, nor the time for whatever grievances you may wish to air." The man from Corulag, however, bore a confused expression. Brow furrowing into deep ravines, whilst a smile graced his lips. He paused a few feet away, making sure to step nearer the wall. Giving the medical staff room to maneuver around him.

"Please, forgive my intrusion. I would have normally given you time to deal with personal matters, my Lady, but time has disallowed for such decencies."

"And what would 'that' be?" Padmé spoke up. Which prompted Zafiel to tip his head before he spoke further.

"Firstly, allow me to offer my congratulations, my Lady. Both in regards to your marriage, overdue though may it be. More presently, however, for your excellent maneuver within the Senate." Zafiel shook his head. An almost sarcastic laugh eliciting past his lips. "Using me to both strip Palpatine of his power, and then again as a lightning rod for his ardent supporters? Quite the stroke of brilliance."

"I won't apologize for doing what was necessary." Padmé shot back curtly. Folding her hands together over her dress. Appearing as political as possible whilst at once knowing she was disheveled and worn. But, she kept her voice even and stern. "Neither me, nor Bail, nor...anyone else that acted then need apologize for any of it, Snopps. Without what we did we'd be living in a wholly different government. A different galaxy. So, if you're here expecting to gloat over my own personal family trials or revelations then you are in the most sorely of ill thought out positions."

"Oh, my Lady, you misunderstand." Snopps raised both hands to disarm her. Bail watching and listening between them. "Your tactic shocked me. Very well could have ended me even. But, before Greyshade dashed Palpatine and Amedda's vote on my position, the final tally showed the truth of the move. It may have taken some time, but I see the wisdom. Indeed, the brilliance. More than anything," Zafiel waved his right hand out and shrugged. "I congratulate you on the stroke of genius. I respect the tactic and the implementation. In all honesty, in the past I woefully underestimated you. I had not thought you to have it in you to play the game as ruthlessly as you did, my Lady. For that, I suffered the consequences." Snopps concluded, seemingly at least. His face making nor showing any signs of deception. A clear show of genuine appreciation formed.

Both Bail and Padmé shared a glance. Silent thoughts or silent similar remarks and ideas passed from one pair of eyes to the next. Until, at last, Bail nodded and Padmé stepped forward. Nearer to the Corulag native.

"You didn't come here merely to laud praises upon me though, Zafiel."

"No, in that you are quite right, my Lady." Snopps smiled and motioned his left hand to the same bench she and Bail had sat upon. She acquiesced and backed herself up until she sat upon the far edge from Snopps. Bail stood behind her watching and listening as had been their seeming silent agreement. Zafiel made a sigh and sat at the opposing edge, slightly turning to her to continue.

"As I mentioned, I would have normally given you time to tend to more personal familial matters. However, with the upcoming session of Congress it's clear a new battle is about to take place in the political sphere. One that will shape things to come, and already there are two fronts. Two positions one can take in the new dynamic."

"Being?" Padmé questioned, though she knew the answer.

"Those who, even now, cling to our former Chancellor. Or, those who seek stability through familiar trends. Familiarity sates the fears of many friends of mine. Many friends who wish to also extend congratulations and best wishes towards both of you." Snopps waved his hand from Padmé to Bail.

"These friends," Bail began. "Why couldn't they be so kind to send well wishes themselves?"

"You must understand, Senator, these men, women, and whatsoever else in our fair galaxy, are inclined to silently observe. The winds of fate of power, whatever you may want to call it, they flow with it. They're the weeds. They don't get to choose where the wind blows, but they are inclined to turn and tilt with the gusts."

"Naturally." Padmé intoned. "Though, I hazard to guess many of them were more than mere weeds caught in the storm of Palpatine. More likely, they conformed where bribe or threat best fit."

"Well…" Snopps gave a curt laugh. Almost derisively, though it wasn't pointed at either Bail or Padmé. "One can be sure some of them are more active participants than others. Though, what I think is of chief importance is that...they wish to make new friendships where they perhaps had not imagined them before?"

"Speak a bit more plainly, Senator." Bail requested, and Padmé nodded. Zafiel looked between them. Before he tipped his head and neared a little further. Voice dropping to a whisper, as though he were some agent in a seedy cantina.

"The Delegation of 2,000 is strong. But, there is not enough votes even among your allies to secure anything of real meaning or worth in the coming session. Furthermore, without a Chancellor the military is operating by...more or less benign neglect of the Security Council. You haven't any idea how many calls from Senator Greyshade, Paige-Tarkin and the rest I've received these past few days." He scoffed a laugh. Though Padmé sensed the subtle implication. Not yet a threat, though. Her eyes narrowed, and she replied.

"You haven't taken the opportunity to make a new alliance with them?"

"Well...I've certainly thought about it." Zafiel smirked. "But, my friends and I have considered the implications of what may come from a Senate, and military dominated by a reactionary and vengeful cabal within the Senate. As I mentioned before, stability and familiarity puts at ease weary and frightened minds. Among my friends, fear is quite prominent."

"I see." Bail spoke for himself. "Tell me, Zafiel, by what familiarity can the Security Council be kept from falling into such an ill thought out cabal?" Bail wondered, prompting Padmé to nod. Showing she wished to know as well.

"When Congress next meets, the Security Council will dictate the military's actions by fiat until a new Chancellor is elected. I am more than willing to continue our newfound alliance. So long as Senator Mothma and the others on the Council are in agreement on direction. Furthermore," Snopps cleared his throat. "My friends and I would be willing to add our pool of votes with the appropriate amount of deliberation and negotiation, for show's sake...of course, should the next Chancellor be agreeable to certain needs."

"Of course." Padmé began. Sucking in a breath through her nostrils she reclined her head and made a show of flicking her eyes towards the ceiling. Thoughtfully weighing something unspoken. "I should think, for such cooperation the next Chancellor should, by way of Senate approval, of course, maintain present members seated on the Security Council. Where, with time, certain problematic and...suspect persons may be rotated off. If not removed completely."

"A reasonable assertion." Zafiel remarked after a slight bobbing of his head in thought.

"And," Padmé continued. "Certain friends, new and old, could be induced to Chair certain Committees of importance. I would think the Finance Committee, Allocations Committee, and the Dispensation Committee would suffice to ease minds?"

"Padmé?" Bail chimed in. Lowering down to her left ear. "I think we should talk about this." He intoned worriedly while Padmé regarded the raised brow of Snopps. The man clearly quite surprised at her offer. Clearly in line with what he and his friends were after. A lot of credits and contracts in those committees, after all.

"Trust me, Bail." Padmé assured loud enough for Snopps to obviously hear. "We need support."

"But, this...this is-"

"Bail," Padmé softly cut him off. She allowed a moment of heavy silence to pass between them. Her eyes twisting to his a silent plea with him to follow her lead beckoned. He searched her gaze for a hard moment before she spoke. "Please?" She requested, and, with another moment of unease, Bail relented and bowed his head. Reclining back to a full stand.

"Chairman?" Padmé turned back to Snopps. The man shaking from his own thoughts. Once more clearing his throat.

"Ye...yes, of course! Forgive me, I was lost in thought."

"No apologies necessary." Padmé thinly smiled.

"Your offer is...generous. Though, I wonder what else may be expected of me and my friends for such a kind offering?"

"We already understand that Amedda needs be removed from position and power. The Chancellorship is a given."

"Of course."

"Furthermore," Padmé continued unabated. "Remunerations, course correction, security, civil matters concerning those who were in allegiance with Palpatine regarding his coup must be brought to the fore. Anything less will be an invitation for aforementioned problematic forces to take another shot, or gamble with our government." Padmé intoned, and Snopps mulled the thought over. Again his head bobbed as he came to some conclusion, though Padmé sensed the man already knew his position on the matter.

"It would be advantageous for our Republic to clean house."

"Legally."

"Legally." He agreed. "Name your price."

"Control of the Internal Activities, Judiciary, Ethics and Investigative Committees."

"A tall order, my Lady." Snopps gave a breath nearing a whistle. "It may prove difficult to sell such a trade."

"Consider what is to be gained, Senator What's more, consider what will be lost, and stripped should the opposing team secure power." Padmé pressed. Her figure poised and controlled, her voice even and flat. Her eyes burning with an intensity that cut through Snopps, whether he'd admit it or not.

"Should Greyshade, Amedda, Orn Free Taa, and the rest of them have their way you and your friends won't be caught in wind gusts. No simple fair winds on a meadow. You will be caught by a tornado, a hurricane that will rip weed and blade of grass freely, openly, and flippantly. No familiarity, no adherence to law and order. Chaos, and retribution for what was seen, and will be forever seen as betrayal of Palpatine." Padmé bore a smile. Though it was dark, knowing, and foreboding. Making Zafiel avert his gaze as he absorbed the truth of her words.

"Now if that is a welcome option, then by all means, Snopps, you and your friends are free to do as you wish."

"Your point is well made." Zafiel raised a quieting hand. All prior pomp and pleasantry momentarily stripped. The veneer fallen and the politician laid bare. "Look," Snopps began again. "I can sell the offer, but my friends will want one last Committee."

"Budgetary." Padmé easily and plainly surmised. Both Bail and Zafiel were momentarily stunned. Though, Snopps stammered back to life shortly thereafter.

"I...I...well yes. Yes, my Lady. That would be an easier sell."

"Joint venture." Padmé flatly continued. "We, myself, Bail and those from the Delegation will receive majorities on our committees, you and your friends on your committees. While the Budgetary shall be half and half. With deference given as and when applicable. Final offer." Padmé intoned with a contented sigh.

Another long moment passed. Zafiel mulling the deal over in his mind. Likely having Padmé's summation of what would happen should he not take the deal rummage through his head. Greyshade and company would surely...make a mess of things. Especially as the Republic reeled politically across all sectors and across all worlds.

Finally, the man turned back to Padmé, and looked to Bail who bore no expression on his face. The Senator from Alderaan deferring himself to his colleague's wisdom, as it seemed. Looking back to Padmé, the man extended his right hand forward, leaving it open to be clasped and shaken.

"I will make the deal."

"Can you guarantee it?" Padmé wondered before taking his hand.

"I underestimated you, Padmé. Do me the honor of not underestimating me." Zafiel bore a thin smirk, and after but a moment longer, Padmé raised her right hand. Planting it in his. The two humans clasped, shook once, twice, a third, and then released.

In short order, Snopps bid his farewell. Rising, and playing the kindly pleasantries. The games of faux civility and empathy. Making his way back down the hall he had come from and leaving Padmé, who had risen back to a stand, to watch him leave. Bail behind her shaking his head.

"I must say, very shrewd, my friend."

"Shrewd?" Padmé repeated after Bail. Turning to him. "Whatever do you mean?" She carried that same burning glint in her eye as she feigned confusion. Bail continued to shake his head with a measure of incredulity.

"I didn't understand at first, but I think you pushed him into a wonderful little corner. He and his lot gain control over the finances, where they always want to be, and we gain control over the dispensation of justice."

"We will need to clean house, of course." Padmé affirmed without directly saying as much. "Let Snopps and the rest of the 'do nothing commission' have fun with their contracts and delegating the credits of the Republic. It will be business as usual." She scoffed. A sour expression on her face, the lines around her mouth deepening in disgust barely contained as she glanced back down the hall.

"I must say, you played him well." Bail intoned thoughtfully. "He gave us plenty and you gave him...well nothing more than what they already have. In practice, at least."

"They want assurances they will remain in the current states of 'business as usual.' If we can barter for their loyalty on matters involving the rebirth of the Republic by making them believe they've been given something, then all the better. While they count the Republic's credits in the treasury we will sweep through the investigative and judiciary committees." Padmé turned to Bail again. A frantic, or perhaps excited gleam in her eyes. All prior weariness and fear, at least for a moment, swept away. "All we have to do is wait. Given enough time, once we have flushed out all the corrupt elements Palpatine has left us with, we can refocus our efforts." She beamed and Bail laughed softly.

"Right onto the corruption in the Senate. Born in no small part by Senator Snopps and his ilk."

"Exactly!" Padmé grinned. Controlling herself after and sighing with self satisfaction.

"I suppose that just leaves the question of Chancellor." Bail prompted. "With Snopps support and those senators he brings with him it may well be possible we overcome the hardliners within the Senate. Palpatine had control of the majority, but Snopps was right. At least in inference. Most were allied with Palpatine by virtue of his charisma, and control over the masses, and the most vocal firebrands in the Senate."

"Without him, the hardliners are relegated to the corners of the chamber where they belong." Padmé delivered. Almost darkly, but Bail surmised her feelings were...intermingled with other grievances held within her. Especially as Anakin came to the Alderaanian man's mind.

"Regardless," Bail continued with a slight clearing of his throat. Padmé turned back to him fully. Her blazing eyes seeming to cool ever so slightly. Suddenly appearing as worn and weary as before. Or, at least heading back towards it as her brow furrowed and her eyes shut. The lids trembling as she fought against the need to collapse and sleep.

"Regardless, I will think of a few names for us to put-"

"Bail." Padmé cut him off. An incredulous scoff to her voice as her eyes opened back up. Wearily. "Next session there's only one choice. I will be nominating one and only one person for the Chancellorship. You." She said with...such conviction even while so tired, it momentarily gave Bail pause. He had...well...he had dared to imagine. But...after everything…

His mouth opened, and he meant to speak. Though nothing quite came out, but a slight grumble of air. He closed his lips and smiled. A bashful look coming upon the humble man as he bowed his head.

"My Lady, I am a mere servant of the Republic. If ever there was a man or woman between all within the Delegation who were deserving of the position I would think it to be you! Between us all, I think Mon, myself, the others, even Garm would all nominate you." To that she smiled, thinly.

"You honor me, Bail. But…" She turned towards the conference room Doctor Koldis had come from. Bail watched her face contort as painful thoughts and fears once more filtered through her mind. A sudden shameful pang writhing through him as he realized he had prompted the feelings through her.

"Once everything is set," Padmé uttered. "I think me, Anakin and the twins will take time off. Away from...everything. If this damn war, and politics lets us."

"Ah, I see. So," Bail chortled. "I'm allowed to officially recognize your...children, you said?" Padmé sighed and shook her head.

"The rumor mills of the Senate still work well I see."

"It was no hard thing to guess. Though, you're right. The rumors were a bit rampant. Nobody dared question you yourself since you made no effort to speak on it. But, twins?! Congratulations, Padmé." Padmé beamed a thin but meaningful smile. Though weary, another glint, a more subdued and heartfelt thing, entered her brown orbs.

"Thank you, Bail. And, yes. You can 'acknowledge them.'" Both chuckled. "Sooner or later you'll have to meet them. You and Mon."

"I'd be delighted, Breha too."

"A trip to Alderaan doesn't sound so bad." Padmé smiled. Before her expression returned to a state of seriousness. "But, yes, Bail. I will be nominating you for the Chancellorship. You did just as much in bringing Palpatine down. Your speech rallied everyone in the Senate. Even if they were prepared to denounce him, to vote him down, it was your words that galvanized our friends and allies. I did nothing but play a small part."

"Oh, don't be needlessly humble, Padmé! You did plenty." Bail admonished.

"Regardless," She shrugged. "I will call Mon, Zar, Papanoida, all of them! And believe me when I say I will convince them all to support my plans to nominate the best candidate we have! The man I know will, with conviction and tenacity work to heal this Republic."

"Alright, alright." Bail presented both hands in surrender. His face betraying no emotion other than a continued bashful humility. "When it comes, I won't say no...but...it will be quite the mess."

"Well," Padmé smiled a bit more broadly and triumphantly. "It's a good thing you'll have the likes of me, and Mon around you. Together, we'll have lots of work to do, Bail. And, together we'll undo what Palpatine did, and more."

"Agreed, my Lady." Bail bowed his head. Doubtless myriad of thoughts crossing his mind as he imagined himself ascending to the role Padmé had in mind. The strange sensation of buzzing anticipation racking him. The...even odder foregone realization that...his election was nearly assured. The wheels and cogs of power in the Senate and on Coruscant working in conjunction towards...something. Stability? Possibly. An end to Palpatine's legacy? To be seen.

Nonetheless, the two senators spoke for a time longer. Until, finally, with much cajoling, Bail got Padmé to go get some rest. While Anakin Skywalker healed under the watchful eyes about him.

---

G - "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

S - "So you have come here for information. I have some for you… Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die."

- Gandalf and Saruman

---

The world of Mustafar rumbled endlessly. Lakes of molten rock and deposits flowed as hateful streams across blasted blackened fields of shattered rocks. The skies were utterly consumed by thick clouds of condensed sediment sent into the atmosphere. Where, at times and with cooling, the planet would rain rock. Pelting anything that would foolishly choose to live on the surface of the world, were it not for the shields in place over the facilities found on the planet.

Volcanic maws were scattered across the planet. Churning and vomiting up more rock and ore that joined the great rapids of magma. The burning heat that consumed everything on the planet would make any creature with sweat glands work in overtime to cool their slowly roasting edifices of flesh and blood. While droids, kept out too long among the rocks and the rivers of heated death, would eventually find their feet melting. Their joints and bodies beginning to scald while wires within began to rupture within chassis and across their mechanical facsimiles of the living.

The black sands of Mustafar, where the magma did not flow would tear at bare flesh. Turned to shards so sharp as to cleanly tear like laser cutters. Even cloth and armor would be slowly chipped away by the rushing winds of burning air cast by belching volcanoes. If the fog of embers born of the magma flow didn't tear and burn away you first.

As Grievous tilted his head up to bare witness to the dim light breaking through the thick cloud cover of the world, the General could not believe nor understand how the natives of this world survived? It didn't truly matter. They went about their duties mining ore from the lava rivers, but the General, native to Kalee and its own humidity and sweltering heat, could feel the pulses of this world's burning reality. Sent to his mind by way of sensors built into the chassis spread all across his body. A little known fact about him, that he always found amusing. Jedi did not think he could feel, or perceive them by way of motion, or action. The subtle shifting of the air.

But, he did feel them. And when he did, he killed them.

Nevertheless, the General stood still as a statue. His posture slightly hunched over while a new but identical cloak lay upon his body. The gray outer cloth whirled in the heated winds as they tumbled across the platform he stood upon. Two magnaguards stood at his back. Their electrostaffs quiet and deactivated. As he and they both watched a ship's landing ramp, descend.

From within the ship, at the top of the descending stairway stood a lone figure. Themselves garbed in a blackened cloak that made them more a shadow than a discernible sentient. Then, they moved and shuffled down the stairway. Their features becoming more obvious and clear as they drew nearer, and came closer. Until the face of the woman, Grievous had known and seen for far too long upon a world he cared little for, came into clear sight. Her blonde human hair changed, swept to one side, and buzzed upon the temples. Eyes glimmering brown in some mischievous silent thought. Her lips curling into a smile as she neared and stood directly before him. Even as he loomed taller than her, she held a commanding presence. Respectable, even if he did not show it outright.

"General!" She began. Her voice melodic and blissful. She took an eccentric and loud bow. Thrusting her left arm out at her side, and cupping her right along her waist. "It has been far too long! Last time I saw you...oh you abandoned me on Arda."

"Your personal game on that planet meant nothing to me!" Grievous barked immediately. Reclining and reigning himself in quickly thereafter. Ever since learning of the modifications made to his...to his brain he had fought to control his anger. Only now that he understood it did he find it even more difficult to control. If it was ever easy in the first place.

"Count Dooku called me away, all the same. Arda, meant nothing to me. Means little now."

"Ah well." She waved him off. "It's hardly the most important thing we have to discuss now anyways." She swatted his chest with an indifferent pat of her open right palm. Grievous had a mind to grab it and twist, but she was too quick, and began walking by him. Moving towards a long elevated walkway that ended at a doorway that led into the main facility. Recently turned into the base of operations for Grievous and what remained of the Separatist Council.

Grievous did not bother to protest. Instead he followed after her. The two of them entering the main facility with his guards in tow. Grievous motioned her to a random room set off to the side of a dim hallway within the base. Within which was to be found a simple table, a few monitoring systems along the far wall, and a couple of B1 droid sentries that stood silent. Three horizontal openings allowed the endless red thrum of the magma sea to filter into the room, while wall lamps cast a dim orange, even tan glow.

The dark woman, the old ally of Grievous lowered the hood from atop her head. Allowing her pale fair flesh to show free. Her eyes glinting a mixture of dull yellow and dark brown. She swept around, causing her robes to whirl. Before she took a seat in a chair that arched itself higher than the top of her head, and over her to cast a shadow.

Grievous rounded the table as his guards took position on either side of the door they entered through. His movement forced her to swivel and watch him. Instead of taking any seat the cyborg remained standing. Clasping his hands behind his back. Rising more to his full height and continuing to loom. Their previous conversations over the holocomm while the General had still been stationed on Utapau flashing before his mind. While the human woman leaned into her chair. Sprawling somewhat and sighing.

"I must say, this is not the best world I've ever been to. Though," She chuckled. "Considering where we crashed on Arda, this seems almost familiar."

"Perhaps." Grievous began, tilting his head with the dull sound of a whir. "Considering everything I and the Council have seen happening on Coruscant, I can assume your...partner has something to do with all of this?"

"You let the Council read reports? Or, are you all huddled around a screen watching the HoloNet news?" Vica wondered with a hint of affable mockery.

"They see what I have allowed them to see. Baring witness to the downfall of...of that man did them some good! It certainly did me." Grievous growled. Vica nodding as she too shared the sentiment in regards to seemingly, dearly departed, Chancellor Palpatine.

Vica sighed. Ostensibly agitated by...something. Grievous watched her as she closed her eyes. Sat up straight and planted her hands atop her knees. Quickly after, her eyelids reopened and her eyes were...in a familiar if distantly seen shape.

Grievous was taken aback. He had...not seen them change in the prior conversation with 'Vica.' Even if the woman made mention of her...and her partner's strange new state of affairs. Grievous had been informed by the woman that she, through some magic of the Force or otherwise, shared her body with that being from Arda. Sauron.

Grievous had not quite understood in what form or fashion. In fact, the General had imagined that, with all her talk of 'conquering' Arda, and 'making alliance' with Sauron when they had been trapped on that backwater, she had simply taken on some kind of power. Explaining her new situation with as clear a manner as she could fathom. Before this moment, the General had not given it much thought. Having been privy to Dooku's machinations through the Force from time to time, Grievous usually found himself shrugging off the strange powers of the Force.

Now though, the General could see...there was something more here. Her expression turned from the familiar darkly jovial set of creases and lines to a dull, cool and observant stare. Not gawking or wide, but certainly contemplative and thoughtful. Grievous realized...or rather he remembered in this moment, that for all that time he had been on Arda...he had never spoken with Sauron. Well, he had since...apparently, and according to Vica through her mouth and that of another 'emissary' that was seemingly of no further use. Yet, here now upon Mustafar, Grievous stood looking upon a human that seemed to be...something more.

"Lord Sauron, I presume?"

"Greetings, General Grievous." The voice spoke. That of Vica's, but be it from his audioreceptors or merely an imagined sensation, Grievous thought he heard some other low undulation in the voice. Deep and baritone just below the surface. "It is a great shame our paths had not directly crossed while you were on my 'meaningless' homeworld. Though, your exploits and the fear you imposed spread through the ranks of my captains, and orcs alike. From afar I witnessed your ferocity and swordsmanship. I was impressed then, and I am most delighted to speak with you now." The being, Sauron, planted Vica's right hand to her chest and bowed their head.

Grievous took a step to his right. Reorienting himself before he spoke.

"You share the body with her? It is a willing thing?" Grievous asked, and the expression on the human face became a slow long crawled smile. Before their eyes shut, and the fiery fury with blackened pillars at the center faded. Returning to the familiar brown and yellow mix of the dark sider when they reopened.

"Trust me, General!" Very evidently, Vica spoke. "I didn't want to have to share my body with him...at first. We worked things out as time went on. Though, it's so sweet you thought of me, my wants and needs! I feel so thought of."

"Clearly," Grievous began with a dismissive thrash of his right arm up. "You share that body willingly! Nobody could be as incessant as you by mere act!"

"So, you're saying I'm unique? One of me in all the universe?" Vica pouted in feigned abashment. Her eyes fluttering, before she bore a renewed wicked grin and chuckled. Grievous shook his head.

"You haven't changed since the last we spoke on Arda."

"No...and yes." In an...unusually calm voice she offered. Before she sighed. "Alright, Sauron grows impatient. You boys have fun. I'll be here. In spirit. And, I do mean that literally." Without waiting for Grievous, she closed her eyes. Opening to show the telltale signs of her partner's presence. Fiery orbs of unnatural means, with the pits of blackness down the center of either. Much like his own eyes...minus the fire.

"I know this arrangement may be strange at first, General." Sauron, in the voice of Vica continued. Even toned and calm. "However, once we move beyond the current state of who inhabits this body, you will find there are two beings who are of one mind. I should let it be known, I would not have been able to contact you were it not for Vica. Her prior knowledge of your holocomm channels. Her belief you are of skill and worth. Especially where prior benefactors have clearly come to the...erroneous opposing conclusion. For which, Count Dooku, and Sidious...Palpatine now suffer for their errors. At least in part."

"I am grateful." Grievous relented after the long winded diatribe. Admitting as much, and truthfully so. "Without your push I would not have...investigated the Council. What they and Dooku had done to me."

"It was but wise counsel." Sauron assured with a thin smile. "You did all the work yourself to discover the truth. As we've discussed. I defer to your wisdom on how you deal with the Councilors."

"Except here and now." Grievous countered. Finally allowing them to move into more pressing and present matters.

"As when last we spoke of the matter, General, I am not here to tell you how to deal with the Councilors. Rather, I believe we can make use of them, and if given the chance, I would enjoy the opportunity to make them see things our way. Especially now that we are all freed from the machinations of Darth Sidious, and the seeming puppet that was Dooku." Sauron raised his right hand and aimed the palm upwards in a dismissive fashion. "If, however, by the end of this conversation, or any other in the future you still seek to murder and butcher the Council, far be it from me to stop you. As I indicated before I wish for us to be allies. Partners. If, we cannot come to some manner of accord, or agreement, then we need not be partners, and we need not be enemies. Though, I would recommend we work together. The galaxy has for both of us, myself especially, become bigger and stranger. But, all the more free." Grievous remained quiet for a time. His reptilian eyes narrowing in contemplation.

"I am...inclined to trust you. For now." Grievous grumbled. The hint of a warning in his robotically rattling voice. Accentuated as he raised his right hand, an extended a pointed digit towards Sauron. "Just understand – I am not anyone's ack dog! I will not be turned into your puppet!"

"I do not wish you to be. Our partnership can be, and I firmly believe will be beneficial for the both of us. As long as we are willing to listen to one another. And, as far as the Council is concerned, they are merely a means to an end. A new...age is upon us. Soon, even if they are useful, they need only be useful for a time. And, when irrelevance finally discovers them, as it nearly has already – by all means do with them as you will."

"Agreed." Grievous coolly reciprocated. So far enjoying the forwardness of their talk. Even if, like Dooku and to an extent Sidious, this Sauron spoke with a certain level of pontification that, in Grievous' opinion, dragged the conversation.

"What has happened on Coruscant," Grievous continued unprompted. "You had something to do with it." A statement, and not a question. One the General was eager to hear the response to. Sauron, wearing the face and body of the Dark Jedi, only cocked their head to the side. A moment passed where indiscernible thoughts seemed to glint through those unnaturally burning eyes before it…he spoke.

"A part." Was the dull and monotone initial response. Though Grievous suspected there was more, far more, to be said. "I could not have predicted things would happen as they did. I do not claim to prophesy the future outright. Though, as you know, Sidious, Palpatine, one and the same, they finally bit off more than they…he could chew. He has paid the price for his arrogance."

"How we could have been lied to so easily!" Grievous snarled in outburst. "Led by Sidious, by the Chancellor himself! It is…it is…!" The General could not find the words he was looking for. However, Sauron again tilted the head he wore thoughtfully and responded evenly.

"'We?' Or, do you mean, you?"

"I-" Grievous began with a snap! But, then stopped himself. His eyes narrowed. The shiver of anger that rattled his servos and mechanisms paused as his mind flashed to Dooku. To all the preening liars, sycophants and toads on the Council. Once again, Sauron had landed on a point Grievous had yet to consider. Even after everything that had occurred thus far, and after all he had extracted from them in their fear, though brief their conversations may have been…had they known?! Had the Council, or at least some of them along with Dooku known who Sidious truly was? It was a sudden realization or thought that…that once more made Grievous release a grumbling and long rattle of a snarl. His body hunched over forward and he twisted where he stood. Beginning a primal, and beastly pace. Two steps to his right, three back to his left.

"Be careful of any and all assumptions made in the coming hours and days, General." Sauron cautioned, wisely. "What we have previously discussed merely scratches the surface into the depths of your own betrayal, General. Together, in partnership, we can unravel the full tapestry woven there. Once done, we will be all the better for it. Though, we have far more pressing matters in need of attending."

"What of the Council?" Grievous managed to wonder, circling them back onto the subject one last time. His pace unrelenting as he fought to release the mounting rage within him. Wishing he had his legs of flesh and blood, and not for the first time. In desperation to release bottled energy into and out through muscular activity.

"Once we have concluded our conversation, and once we have come to an understanding that suits us both, I will speak with them. You are, of course, welcome to be there. As is your right. We shall cow them into submission together, or they will die by your hands. A simple state of affairs, I should think. Agreed?"

"Fine." Grievous rasped. Pausing at last. Turning his more slinking head to his right to look upon Sauron, upon Vica. "What other 'pressing' matters do you want to discuss?"

"The state of affairs in the galaxy is rapidly shifting." Sauron began, once more even spoken and thoughtful. "The Republic, as you can tell, will be entering an era of discord and confusion. Leadership will be in disarray. Their politicians will vie for domination and position. Creating a very strong orientation for both you, and the Confederacy to find itself."

"Which is why the time is now!" Grievous proclaimed! Turning rapidly with a whip of his cloak about him. His heavy metal fists crashing into the table and shaking it. Causing specks of dust to puff, but Sauron did not jump. "We strike out at the Republic! We crush them on all fronts simultaneously! Unleash the full might and numbers we have at our disposal! Without Palpatine, and without Sidious! Both for them or for us, we can decimate the Republic!"

"Admirable in thought, but no." Sauron rebuffed, causing Grievous to tilt his head and recline it some. "We have discussed this in some detail already, General. But, believe me when I say patience will be the better course of action. It is true," He continued as the voice he bore dripped low. Feminine and matter-of-fact. "You may, and will be easily able to break the Republic at first. However, that is merely because of the current situation. They are stunned and stunted by an impending battle for dominance born from within. However, a tribe given common foe, will unite. Even if only temporarily in order to crush the attackers from outside the camp. Before thought is once more turned towards what lay within."

"What are you saying?" Grievous wanted him to clarify. Even as a kernel of what the being spoke…made some sense in the General's mind.

"If you were to unleash your armies and navy upon the Republic, the forces therein will be totally united in concert to defeat you. Sure, it may take time." The being conceded with a slight shrug. "There may even be elements from within that would see the whole 'tribe' burn out of spite. But, you will have united your foe against you, and what would you have then?" Sauron bid in wonder. Grievous understanding it was a genuine question as the being did not immediately clarify. Instead, he was waiting for the General to come to the conclusion on his own. Prompting Grievous to dart his eyes from side to side unconsciously in thought. Until, after a time bout of time that Grievous knew took him longer than he would have liked – he found the answer.

"We would be right back to where we were."

"Exactly, General." Sauron smiled thinly. A thing Grievous quietly noted seemed…strange upon the body he wore. Not like the natural inhabitant's grin. Not Vica's impish expressions at all.

"Allowing the Republic to find a common foe in you and to focus all the pent up aggression, and societal unease will do nothing but provide an outlet for all the emotion. Yet, you would have slipped right back into the state of affairs Sidious had wanted in the first place. There would be initial push. Perhaps initial victory and carnage, and then stalemate without end. Realize it or not, General, the galaxy and this war have withered with time. It has reached the culmination point. Neither side, due to being run at both ends by the same man, has the capacity to upend the other. Not without significant change from within. Both politically, and militarily."

"Then what are you suggesting?" Grievous prompted again. Already wondering if…wondering if Sauron would speak a thought that had crawled unwanted into Grievous' own mind. Something that seemed…wholly impossible. Wholly impractical. Wholly beyond consideration or reason! Yet…

"I suggest you make peace with the Republic." There it was…he had said it. And…and Grievous was left stunned. His eyes, the sum of what remained of his expressiveness remained unblinking. Both yellow orbs opened wide. For one of the few times in his life, and especially in his tenure as the Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies, General Grievous was left speechless. At least, for a moment.

The General reeled and whirled his head back. As though trying to shake the very words his audioreceptors had received off of himself. His hands recoiled from atop the table. They rose into the air above him as fists. Shaking before him. Before they unclenched, his arms widened out towards his sides. An almost embracing stance. But, it spoke of total confusion. Perhaps even, of horror.

"What?!" Was all Grievous could manage. Was all he could imagine himself to say. While Sauron, in Vica's visage bowed her head. Barring an unconcerned, even serene expression.

"Listen to me before you outright ignore my counsel. For, it has not steered you wrong yet." Sauron offered almost as a plea. Lowering the feminine voice the being bore. Dipping their head, and presenting themselves with an air of restraint and calm.

"I...I cann...I would…" Grievous fumbled over his words. Trying to find some combination of the Basic language to weave together a passionate rebuttal. Yet, his mind failed him.

"Listen to me." Sauron prompted cool and collected. Dripping with an assurance that almost made Grievous want to believe what the being spoke was the right course. Even as his natural instinct was to rebuff such a wild and ridiculous course of action. "We, together, allied and without the selective restraint imposed by Sidious, can achieve wonders. But, we cannot commit to reshaping the galaxy while we fight another man's war. A being who is now...no longer of concern. Not a concern to you and the Confederacy and not a threat to even the Republic. Both sides freed of him. Do not forget, dear General, even your temporarily imprisoned Council is fashioned in the image that Sidious desired. Much in the same way as the Jedi Order, the Republic and Confederate cause have been, and continue to be. All of these things are shaped by Darth Sidious. We must clean the reek and the rot before we can recommit."

"But, the hour is now!" Grievous snarled, though not at Sauron. Thrusting himself right and jutting his arm out towards the wall. Towards what lay beyond the room and its walls with aggressive physical accentuation. "The Republic is-"

"Give them a common foe, and you will unite them. Even the Jedi will not ignore the threat you now pose." Sauron cut him off without stooping to thunderous roaring and sneering. "What we have that even the Republic does not, is a chance to restructure. To rebuild and reshape without the mire of cumbersome politics. Indeed we can start anew, and though I know politics does not concern you, General, you must understand if you are to lead a system, an army, or a nation into war, you must have a stable foundation. Without it, and as it stands, you are lacking support. You have the Council caged. Questions will be asked by their underlings. Systems will see weakness in the Republic as a chance to free themselves from the yoke of the Republic and from yourself. They will see the war as having reached a breaking point. With neither side able to overcome the other. What I suggest is a means by which we give ourselves time to form something new. Something even Sidious could not have imagined. Wholly ours. Wholly new. Wholly prosperous."

Grievous did not retort. Not yet at least. The General reeled in the unnecessary anger he felt shaking and shivering through his system. Instead closing his eyes and imagining his old body of flesh and blood. Gritting teeth and working through the emotions of rage welled within him. He needed to think. To assess what this being had said. And...even from his position, his focus on destroying the Republic and the Jedi...he had to admit there was wisdom in the words.

He had, after all, been shaped by San Hill to be at Dooku and Sidious' beck and call. He had been shaped to hate the Jedi. To blame them and the Republic for his bombing and...grievous injuries. But, they hadn't been the ones to actually do this to him. That did not mean he did not still resent both institutions of course. The Republic and the Jedi had not come to Kalee's aid when the Huk came. Indeed they made alliance with the wretched Huk. As well, Grievous had killed too many Jedi to ever turn his back on...the thrill each death brought to him. Every time he struck one of the pompous, arrogant, so called pacifists down he proved his own superiority.

But, Sauron was right. Grievous felt his mechanical shoulders relax. He turned from the body with two inhabitants, and to his right. Staring at the far wall as he ruminated. Sauron was correct that he and the Separatist cause had been formulated and shaped by Sidious and Dooku. Both men who had sought to use him and then discard him. At least, that much was now clear. By way of gentle prodding and direction from Sauron, of course. The being clearly had an agenda. But, his agenda seemed to align with empowering the state Grievous now found himself at the head of. A state he...could lead to war, but one he had to admit, even if silently and to himself alone, he did not know how to control politically. Questions would be asked. Rebellions were likely. Even with the Republic weakened. Even as they fought among themselves, they would unite against him. There was wisdom in this Sauron. It was clear, and Grievous...rather liked that.

"You may have a point." Grievous relented, to the unnerving smile of Sauron. Their burning eyes seemed to almost flare in appreciation of the warlord's assent.

"I'm pleased you see it that way, General. Though, we are not yet finished with this war. Not yet, at the anointed end." Sauron noted and Grievous nodded subtly. His own eyes narrowing with recollection.

"The campaign we formulated while I was on Utapau." Grievous remembered. The General tilted his head, however. "You say if I attack the Republic they will be united against me. Yet, you want me to launch this blitz campaign to seize the Harrin Trade Corridor?! Is this not counter to what you just said? Why had we discussed military strategy before if this was your design?"

"Ah, but remember my advice, General. This attack is a coordinated assault that will require all focus, and the full strength of your fleet and armies. The bulk of what we previously discussed revolved around securing important sectors or systems. What you call the Allied Tion Sector, the world of Sluis Van, and so on." Sauron explained simply. "Even then I already had this plan in mind. As I understand it, and correct me if I am wrong, General, but the Confederacy is broken into several major zones of control. What I implore you to commit to is a consolidation. Consolidate, strengthen and create a defense system the Republic has no hope of penetrating, especially while politically vulnerable. It will push them towards armistice, and peace."

"But, what of the Republic rallying?!" Grievous pushed and reiterated.

"There is a difference, Grievous. What you proposed was an all out assault. A strike upon the entire Confederacy's front against the Republic. What I recommend, and advise is a concerted strike. Break the Republic along one front. Link up the disparate portions of the Confederacy to make management and control all that much easier. Deny the Republic access to commonly used trade and access routes through the galaxy. Weaken them further and allow dissent from within to tend to the rest." Sauron elaborated with an uncomfortably certain manner to him. One that both impressed, but agitated Grievous.

"Allow the Republic to consolidate on their side of their front. Take from them, while they are weak, a wonderful prize. Then, offer them peace. In such a scenario you will be offering them peace from a position of superior strength. You will be able to dictate terms for the coming peace. The Confederacy will gain legitimacy...well the recognition of the fledgling Republic. And you, General, will be heralded as the being who defeated the Galactic Republic."

As Sauron finished, Grievous had to admit that the plan sounded…well sound. He averted his gaze again. Turning back to his pacing. Though it was less rushed and angry. His metal feet stomped back and forth as he thought the idea over. Wondering…wondering what would be done in the intervening time? Peace. It was a strange concept. The war with the Republic was four years old. Yet, taking into account the extreme changes he had undergone since then, Grievous found he could not remember what time before the war had been like.

There was a kind of allure in the idea of peace. A long lull in the fighting. Not because Grievous had grown tired of the fight or the conflict. Rather, it was that Grievous now appreciated what Sauron said. He had not thought of peace as a means to reel in the patches and portions of the Confederacy that may seek opportunity in the collapse of leadership on both sides of the conflict. Surely there would be opportunists too. Sauron spoke with an air of wisdom and cunning. Much like Dooku or Sidious had. However, there was a simplicity found, and a forwardness in their manner that kept bringing Grievous around to their…his line of thinking. There was always the possibility he was being played again. Grievous kept that thought at the front of his mind even now as he silently paced and considered the proposition.

The General turned again and narrowed his gaze accordingly. "I will not be played for a fool once again, Sauron!" Grievous warned. "I have been a puppet enough times in my life. Especially lately."

"Dear General," Sauron began, raising his hands, flexing and extending the fingers and spreading the arms of the woman he was wearing. "I seek partners. You shall not be the last in my search. There is greatness on the horizon. But, I cannot achieve it alone. Unlike your former compatriots I am not too proud to admit the frailty of my position." He asserted with humility and a bow of the woman's head. "With time, you may see the wisdom in what I plan. With time, you may even respect me. For now, however, we are more strangers than would be best suited for such a partnership. Yet, stronger together, we would be. And, if in the end, you find you cannot trust in my wisdom, or that you cannot tolerate my ideas, then so be it." Sauron dismissed himself.

"What do you mean?" Grievous wondered.

"Should we be unable to form an alliance, then, with ill will towards none, I should take my leave. You shall then do as you will and wish without interference or advice from myself. I shall leave in peace, and not hamper your actions. With the understanding that I shall go and be left in peace without harry by you or your underlings."

"I have not disregarded your proposition. Yet." Grievous added. Though found himself perhaps a little too quick to rebuff the notion of parting ways.

"Then I am glad." Sauron assured with another dip of the woman's head.

Silence once more took hold of the room. The dull hum of electronics, the beeping of nearby consoles. Added to by the constant rumble of volcanic eruptions beyond and the bubbling sizzle of the great magma rivers and flows. Both, or at least Grievous, deep in thought. Allowing himself to calm whenever his anger rippled through him. Assuring himself he would consider the proposition with a clear mind. Not the snarling anger that had been the norm of his life of late. Both because he knew it was the best thing to do, but also in silent repudiation of what had been done to him.

The wisdom in Sauron's plan was undeniable. At least as far as Grievous could think. There was a part of him, the warlord in him that hated the idea of peace. Especially peace with an enemy that was so clearly injured. But, as Sauron pointed out, the Separatist cause was also injured. Just not as loudly and up front as the Republic was. Quietly and behind the scenes, with Dooku's loss, Sidious' defeat, the long running and standing weakening of the Confederacy's position by Sidious' machinations – the collapse of the Council's ability to conduct business and functions on behalf of the war effort by Grievous' own hand and imprisonment of said Council… Yes, the Confederacy was in a similar, if slightly better situation then the Republic. Should Grievous ignore these bleeds in the CIS's body, they could, with time, prove to be the end of him. The Republic, though in shock, could retract and then rebound all the stronger for it. Both the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems were, without a doubt, left in a sort of limbo. The long arm and reach of Sidious even now plaguing both governments, both systems.

Did Grievous really want to risk victory with impulsive bold action? Or, could he humiliate the Republic? Even further degrade their standing in the galaxy. Further bring about internal chaos and conflict. Even, with some silent pride, accept a formal peace with them. Knowing full well even if others would not admit it, that he had humbled them. Defeated them. Brought them to their knees and made them sign away swaths of the galaxy in order to survive. There was a sweet and sadistic pleasure Grievous imagined in such a thing.

Besides…Grievous paused and came to a total stop. His head tilted up and his eyes observed, without particular purpose, the ceiling panels of the room. Did Grievous want to watch the Council relentlessly? He could kill them and be done with it. But, as Sauron made a point of inferring, without these money men, these business barons, and would be petty tyrants…there would be questions asked. Within the apparatuses of what government there was in the Confederacy, within the disparate militaries of the allied systems not composed of the droid armies. Questions asked by those beings that ran the droid foundries…even that thought made Grievous realize he had…perhaps killed Poggle in haste. Though, he felt nothing for neither the geonosian nor the muun, in Hill. Their deaths though…may hamper him. Even if he were to eliminate the Council, he may well be fighting multiple fronts within and without. Just as the Republic may well find itself. No. Grievous nodded in the silence allowed him by the observing Sauron. Sauron was right.

The realization alone seemed to…almost put Grievous at ease. As though a great weight had been lifted off of him. An oppression caused by his own indecisiveness or perhaps better said to be his simplistic mindset. This offer, this scheme…made more sense. And, what was better, it was done in partnership. Not in fealty or subservience. So, Grievous turned fully back towards Sauron. His hands moving behind his back, folding over his cloak and pulling it back some.

"I accept your offer, Lord Sauron." General Grievous bowed his head. Out of respect. The Dark Lord, in the guise and body of Vica, bore another serene smile. Their flaming eyes once again glinting with a thunderous and passionate roar of greater flame.

"We have much, much more to discuss, and discover together, General. But," The being rose, quickly circled around the table and stood before Grievous, who turned to make the approach more comfortable. The being brought their hand up, and Grievous; taking a moment to observe the gesture rarely afforded him due to the fear he inspired, he nonetheless planted his right six fingered hand into the soft human hand. Both beings shaking the other's hand. Once, twice, and three times.

"We will achieve greatness together."

The pact was made.

---

"The Elder Days are gone. The Middle Days are passing. The Younger Days are beginning. The time of the Elves is over, but our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see. And listen, Gandalf, my old friend and helper! I said we, for we it may be, if you will join with me. A new Power is rising. Against it the old allies and policies will not avail us at all. There is no hope left in Elves or dying Númenor. This then is one choice before you, before us. We may join with that Power. It would be wise, Gandalf. There is hope that way. Its victory is at hand; and there will be rich reward for those that aided it. As the Power grows, its proved friends will also grow; and the Wise, such as you and I, may with patience come at last to direct its courses, to control it. We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring maybe evils done by the way, but approving the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things that we have so far striven in vain to accomplish, hindered rather than helped by our weak or idle friends. There need not be, there would not be, any real change in our designs, only in our means."

- Saruman of Many Colors

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L's Note: Hello once again everyone! So happy to finally be back! :D

If you find any obvious grammatical errors, or egregious ones, let me know! I will endeavor to fix them. Special thanks is sent out to the following reviewers, but remember you are ALL awesome! :D

Thanks to: Huan of Valinor, Wandering Scion, Thomas Drovin, and Archon65! But, especially to EVERYONE ELSE, a heartfelt thank you from this lone and unimportant editor. :')

To Bobblehead: Lord Kun has read your questions. Chiefly, the question concerning the 'mental duel' between Gandalf, Galadriel and Palpatine. That was never meant to be something we necessarily saw during the fight. Lord Kun, however, upon rereading the chapter understands that was likely confusing. He apologizes for the mix up, and promises a future explanation for what occurred at that time. Though, he thanks you for airing your confusion, and promises to try and be more clear on such things in the future.

As for you Bobblehead, and you Huan, no spoilers fpr what's to come! ;) But, Lord Kun has understood some were also confused by the portion explaining what happened to the Shadow Ring in the last chapter. It has been edited to make it clear. Thank you as always for all questions and especially all reviews! Obviously there's a lot to go over in the aftermath of Palpatine's fall, so this chapter is only part of that. Rest assured there's much more to be shown and said. As for anyone who immediately asks why we didn't see what happened with Kolvori and the Mareks...wait patience, young padawans. Patience. :)

Until the next!

-L

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 05/05/2023