CHAPTER IV Somewhere between the void of space and the substance of reality organics call time, the ultimate collision of adversaries was once again underway. With deft precision, the opponents chose and manipulated. Already, Darkness had the advantage of time and positioning. It had it's man.
Men, rather. With so many evil-hearted beings to choose from, Darkness divided it's attention, explored many possibilities. For the present.
The most valuable acquisition was the faltering Jedi; for so powerful a piece was not often won. Ambition had prepared the field. Fertilized by impatience, the seeds of corruption took root and throve. Ah, yes! the Jedi Vader had been willing prey. Neiamas Palpatine required no effort whatever.
In that shrewd, opportunistic politician, Darkness encountered as inherently evil a being as it had through the millennia. Almost as insatiable as Evil Incarnate; loyalty, compassion, morality and honor were alien concepts to Palpatine. Weaknesses. He welcomed Darkness with open arms; knowing that he would be the weapon with which it would conquer history itself. Nothing, no one would be it's equal! Light had yet to choose a champion and, by the time it did, Darkness would rule with absolute vengeance. Vader would serve to procure the Kaiburr; with it, Palpatine's transformation would be complete. He would cease to exist, as would the passage of knowledge regarding the Visetas. Darkness would enter history in this small galaxy, animate, unconquerable.
Here, in an insignificant corner of an endless universe, the last of the Amidaa would fail. It was their destiny. Truth as powerful as what they taught had no place among such inferior beings. Yes. Darkness expected to triumph again, to rule this galaxy. Perhaps for eternity.
**********
Obi-Wan feared that above all else. With every breath he took, the Jedi strove for some edge, a glimmer of light to guide him. And he saw.. but it was not enough, and the battle was not his alone. The only weapon available now was knowledge and Anakin Skywalker had to be armed with it if they were to be successful.
While Avernus was still a cold light in the distance, Obi-Wan told his pupil what his teacher had revealed to him long before. Not all, for the Jedi had learned through the years that the gift of knowledge was best bestowed only when, and if, necessary. What he told Anakin Skywalker was what he needed to know, nothing more. The founders of the Jedi brotherhood had come from the unimaginable reaches of the universe. Where and when was unimportant. Only the why mattered. Beings of energy, capable of assuming whatever physical form they wished, the ancient missionaries called themselves the Amidaa. Specifics had been lost through time and translation, but the original twelve had gone from galaxy to galaxy, teaching the understanding and use of the life-force called the Visetas. Because each galaxy, each race was different. The Amidaa employed a crystal.
It's origin was even more obscure than the Amidaa. Natural or mystic, it had existed as long as the Amidaa. The stone was said to be a filter of sorts, an amplifier, enabling the apprentices to explore the Visetas on their own level. Kenobi saw shadows of doubt and mistrust cross his pupil's face. Skywalker was studying him with suspicion and growing anger, but Obi-Wan continued.
The crystal, after the fledgling brotherhood in previous galaxies had been lost to the Dark, was suspected to be too dangerous to use. No race had been able to employ it without losing control of it-and themselves. Vader had little control to begin with; with the crystal, he could cause irreparable harm and another galaxy could fall prey to Darkness. Anakin Skywalker listened in rapt fascination as his mentor told of the last of the Amidaa arriving in his galaxy, hiding the crystal, and beginning anew to establish the principles and power they believed in; never once trusting the human disciples with so powerful and unpredictable a tool. The brotherhood of the Jedi seemed to be the Amidaa's greatest accomplishment. Now, with darkness upon the galaxy, the Jedi were being eliminated, slowly but surely, as the Amidaa had.
"It is unspeakably powerful," Obi Wan intoned gravely. "An unshielded channel to the Force. Too dangerous for anyone who has not fully mastered the Force...or himself." All this Kenobi explained to Anakin Skywalker and the young man believed and accepted guidance without question, but Kenobi doubted that he fully comprehended. Perhaps, he didn't need to. First Vader, their friend, must be saved. Keep the man in mind, Kenobi advised; the soul in jeopardy. Skywalker agreed. The larger view frightened him, and fear, he had been taught, was the great paralyzer.
He would accompany his Master to where Vader had gone; there, they would use the love they felt for him to draw him back from the brink of damnation. It was the only lifeline they could offer. If it held, they would save Vader, perhaps buy time. But, if the bonds of friendship, the brotherhood of the Jedi did not prove strong enough, that lifeline would break. Vader would be lost, forever. Kenobi and Skywalker prayed it would be enough. They knew what Vader would take with him if it were not. Landing their battered pocket cruiser on the volcanic surface of Avernus, the two Jedi took a few moments to prepare themselves mentally.
In the distance, perhaps a kilometer away, was Vader's ship-a converted freighter. Steam and sparks curled from the cracks in Avernus' surface, giving the eerie terrain all the appeal of an inferno. Vader was nowhere in sight.
Anakin waited beneath the freighter as Kenobi checked inside. The open hatch, the disheveled interior over which a fine layer of ash had settled, told of an abrupt departure. Vader had been gone for some time.
"We must hurry." Kenobi announced as he joined Skywalker. both men gazed out across the erupting landscape. "Anakin?" Kenobi's face was lined with thoughts unspoken. "Do you believe what I have told you? I am depending on you to be unwavering, centered. Only together can we hope to turn Vader away from the Dark Side."
Skywalker nodded; but the image of Darth murdering a bound prisoner, then turning on Obi-Wan, persisted. It was a vision of rapid degeneration. Anakin found it hard to believe such malevolence would leave even a shadow of the flawed, but decent, man his friend had been. That Kenobi had not despaired of his redemption was all that buoyed his confidence. "General," He ventured finally, " How can you be so certain he has not made the final turn, either on Isua or in this terrible place?"
"There must be a conscious choice between the Dark and Light path," the grim faced Jedi replied. Obi-Wan knew that much to be true, at least. He had trained Vader. He would now have to confront him, force the choice. Whether or not Darkness had influenced Darth, the Jedi he still was would have to choose.
"Had he been lost he would not have returned to the camp, he would have slain me. No, Anakin, there is a small spark of Light left in Darth yet; but he is close, very close."
Skywalker saw him first, stalking across the tortured landscape. His cloak ignited as it trailed in a rivulet of molten lava and Vader flung the garment from his shoulders as he quickened his pace. He had found what he wanted; now he was returning to his ship, and heading directly toward the two Jedi.
A far off volcano belched soot, coloring the sky with a weird incandescence; the ground shook with an ominous rumble. Kenobi and Skywalker had to gather their robes about them as they strode purposefully across ever-widening fissures.
"Darth!" Obi-Wan called out.
Anakin wiped perspiration from his face and peered through the acrid haze. He saw Vader look up and hardly recognized the man he had called friend for years. Reluctance began to cloud Skywalker's resolve; flashes of disaster ripped through his brain and out again. Evil itself stomped resolutely toward them, it's very presence more overpowering than the heat of the inferno they had landed on.
Good thoughts...pleasant images, Kenobi had instructed. Anakin let them come. His wife, so beautiful; he could hear her laugh, feel her small hands on his face. Love...so much love. The two Jedi blocked Vader's path. Kenobi was breathing hard. He slowly extended his hand. "Give it to me, son."
The Kaiburr crystal Vader held protectively against his chest glowed the color of blood and fire; smaller than he'd expected it to be, Anakin's eyes were drawn to it nonetheless. Skywalker marveled at Kenobi's calm control. he could feel the Force flowing from him. But, this time, it wasn't enough. If the man they had known was within the corrupt being who glowered at them, he was unrecognizable. Vader stepped drunkenly to the right, avoiding Kenobi's penetrating gaze. Anakin stood rock steady before him.
"In the Force's name, man," he pleaded with his friend," think of what you're doing. It's dangerous. Give him the crystal!"
Vader's dark eyes narrowed, raking contemptuously over Skywalker then fixing on the infinitely calm General. " Now the Jedi want it! Take it!" He sneered,
"If you dare!" "I dare!" Skywalker took an impulsive step forward, but Kenobi restrained him. This time he spoke words Anakin did not understand, then looked down before taking a step toward Vader. "It knows we cannot take it from him. Darth must give it. He must choose!" Anakin stared in horrified fascination at the complex exchange. Whatever was happening, it was clear that Obi-Wan was relying too much on spiritual tactics. What was he planning to do if Vader chose the Dark? Skywalker was becoming confused now. Vader could not be reasoned with, couldn't Kenobi see that? Was it so difficult for his master to admit defeat? Neither of them could compel Darth to turn from Darkness; this was a confrontation that could only end in death.
The ground beneath their feet began to shudder, and tiny sinuous cracks began to widen. For a split second, some shadow of the Jedi Vader had been flashed across his chiseled face.
"This is true power!" He growled. "I want it! "Don't try to stop me, either of you! You're nothing!" The entire planet was in upheaval now. Obi-Wan erect posture went slack. Vader had chosen; Skywalker sensed it and the knowledge hit Kenobi with a terrible finality.
"You can't choose, can you Darth? "Anakin took another approach. "I know you. It's not too late."
Kenobi, too, thought he sensed a weakening. "Come with us!" He urged.
"No, Kenobi," Vader grinned maniacally," I willfully consign my soul to the Dark, knowing I take yours with me...as I shall now take your life!" In a reflective, defensive, gesture Kenobi's hand flashed to his lightsaber. The Jedi weapon, had Kenobi been able to ignite it, would have been no match for the Kaiburr. Lethal bolts of energy erupted from Vader's right hand, forcing Obi-Wan to the ground.
Instantly, Skywalker's saber was arcing through the air, coming down in a blur on Vader's wrist. An inhuman howl rent the air as the mutilated Jedi shoved the stone into his tunic and drew his own lightsaber.
Before he could get to his feet, Kenobi watched in horror as the ground heaved violently and the two combatants disappeared into a fiery crevice. "Anakin!" He screamed, staggering to the edge of the still widening fissure.
It was over...and he was to blame. Both Jedi were dead. Anakin, their greatest hope, gone when he was most needed. Anakin-in whom the Force shone so brightly that Kenobi had been blinded to his own faults by it. Lost...wasted. And Darth...a soul damned forever.
Avernus' crust was fracturing, the air thickening with ash, poisonous gas and black soot that billowed from the distant volcano. Obi-Wan plucked Skywalker's lightsaber from the rocks, looked at it numbly. "ANAKIN!" He screamed, over and over, wanting more than anything to hear or see some sign of life in the rising steam. there was none-just a crushing sense of evil.
* * * *
On Radiaa, an ornate state funeral was held for Tajerh Mothma; attended by dignitaries from across the galaxy, all shocked and horrified by his brutal murder. The 'murderers' had been dealt with swiftly and justly, to be sure. The Security Agency had seen to that.
Aerolone and Rienstra had arrived at the scene in time to see the warehouse burning out of control. Inside were fifteen 'dissidents' who, the official story would be, fired on the Security agents after a search of the premises revealed the Senator's landcruiser hidden in a storage area; his body inexpertly concealed in a smaller compartment of the vehicle.
In terror and panic, realizing they had been framed, the dissidents fought for their lives. The firefight left four of the eight agents dead. Orders were then given to set fire to the building. That would force the terrorists out! What Palpatine had ordered, and what the fire had destroyed all evidence of, was the securely locked doors.
Drowning in grief, Aerolone Mothma watched as the officials, alien diplomats and Senators filed past the lifeless body of her husband as he lay in state.
The very fact that he was on view at all had caused an uproar in the Senate; especially among Tajerh's friends, who considered it inhumane. Here Aerolone stepped in and, much to the surprise of those who thought to shield her, insisted that Tajerh be seen. She would not allow herself the comfort of denial and she wanted everyone-especially Neiamas Palpatine- to see what had been done to her husband. And she never wanted to forget. As if in a trance, Aerolone sat to the right of her husband's casket; her mother sat beside her, weeping. Behind them sat Celis Organa and the two young women Aerolone had met on Alderaan. Little Dack slept peacefully on Marcea's lap, oblivious to the fact that he was now fatherless.
When the politicians and visiting emissaries finished filing past and murmuring their formal regrets it would be time for the common citizens to pay their final respects to the late Senator.
Tajerh's reputation had been an enviable one. No elected official had ever been so widely respected and admired, even by those who had not agreed with his analytical approach to politics. Some were weeping openly for the loss of a fair and honorable Senator; others for the loss of a friend. The last dignitary had whispered words of comfort to Aerolone, and the guards stood ready to allow the waiting masses to enter, when a flurry of activity at another entrance distracted everyone. The doors flung wide; a cadre of guards entered, followed by two Senators, their blue and white robes bright amid the grey and brown uniforms. The sight of them made Aerolone Mothma tremble with rage.
These were the bootlickers, the 'yes' men. Behind them, draped in black and making his first, official grand entrance, was the Senate's new President, Neiamas Palpatine.
Mothma watched the procession, unmoving, stonefaced. The usurper had come to flaunt his power. The executioner, Aerolone thought venomously, come to console his victim's widow. he would not dare... But Aerolone knew that he would. She rose deliberately, walked to the casket. If Palpatine intended to play the sympathetic colleague, if he could be perverse and hypocritical enough to posture before a man he had murdered, then he would face her. She would look into the eyes of her enemy, and he into the eyes of his. The two Senators kept a safe distance from her glare; but Palpatine approached. the beneficent president, gracious and effusively pretentious. Rather than attempt to embrace Aerolone sympathetically-the look on her face dissuaded him- Palpatine turned to face the assembled mourners.
"My fellow citizens of the galaxy!" He emoted, spreading his arms wide. "We join together in our sadness to honor and bid farewell to a great man. Senator Tajerh Mothma will be forever remembered for his personal courage and unflinching sense of justice. He was a noble being." Revulsion washed over Aerolone; she turned away, steadying herself by gripping the coffin's edge. As she stared at the face of her dead husband, Palpatine droned on. "I, more than any, other than his family, feel a deep sense of loss at the untimely death of Senator Mothma. Had he not been taken so suddenly from us, he was to have been my Archon. Only he could have filled such a sensitive, vital position. Only he will ever be granted that badge of office." Palpatine turned with a flourish, reached beneath the folds of his elegant robes and withdrew an ornate medallion attached to a shimmering ribbon. He made a great spectacle of placing the decoration on Mothma's lifeless body. It was a masterful move, just the touch of pathos and drama needed to portray Palpatine as a statesman. The hall echoed with sobs. Aerolone could feel the wave of approval for this most reprehensible of acts. Fury welled and exploded within her. He eyes were welded to her husband's body and the mockery Palpatine had inflicted upon it.
The President eyes glittered with darkly veiled satisfaction as he completed his official charade. "You have my heartfelt sympathies, Senator." He announced. "Please do not hesitate to approach your President if you or your little family requires any assistance." He paused a moment longer, for appearances, beside the deceased, then turned toward the crowd of dignitaries and media.
Only Marcea fully realized what the display had done to her daughter; but she had no idea of what to say to her. She felt inadequate, overwhelmed by the enormity of all, as she cradled her grandson. The baby was beginning to stir. "Please, Lady Organa," She turned to the solemn woman behind her." go to her, before there is a confrontation."
Celis nodded. She, too, feared that Aerolone would accuse Palpatine openly. Even her grief and understandable mental condition would not excuse such a scene. "Aerolone ?" Celis whispered as he joined her at the casket. She put an arm around the younger woman. "Come,sit awhile. The baby is awake. Come...do not torture yourself." Aerolone wasn't listening. Her face was a mask of hatred as her fingers shredded the gaudy ribbon the President had left. Only Celis could see as she destroyed the obscenity just as, she vowed to herself, she would one day destroy the monster it represented.
Celis tried to block the other mourner's view, lest anyone see what Aerolone was doing. Long fingers tore the flimsy ribbon, wadding the remnants and concealing them in one hand while she crushed the delicate medal it had been attached to with the other. A long line of people had begun filing in and Aerolone moved away from the coffin with her head held high. There was no hint of collapse, no wavering in her stride as she rejoined her mother. She sat down quietly, dropping the ruined medal to the floor, grinding it hard beneath her heel.
Palpatine and his retinue entered the reception area as Celis Organa watched with interest. In all of her years on the throne of Alderaan, she had seen many men consumed with ambition; individuals who curried favor and attention only to betray those who had promoted them once their goals were reached. She knew the shrewd look, the slick ruthless facade; but Palpatine was unique-and disturbing.
Ambition should not have taken a barely capable junior Senator to the Senate Presidency. There was something else, something chillingly alien about him. Opinion still mattered, appearances still mattered.
Palpatine wasn't finished with his plan.
For Linaire and Besantilier, the State funeral was a matter of etiquette. It also meant-to Linaire at least-a chance to overhear the political views of the movers and shakers of the galaxy. Both women also felt Aerolone Mothma's pain and devastation. Each saw herself in Aerolone's position; raising children without their husbands, spending life alone with memories.
Before the last of the mourners had filed past, Aerolone took her baby to the reception area, accompanied by Einar Antilles. After a few, unavoidable, words with fellow Senators and their families, Aerolone saw an opportunity to corner Palpatine. He had entered a small ante-room, accompanied by a single aide. Shifting Dack to her hip, Aerolone swiftly pushed her way through the milling dignitaries to stop in the doorway facing the two men.
"I wish to speak to the President alone." She announced. The aide looked to Palpatine. "Leave us." Palpatine smiled. "I am honored to have you come to me in your time of grief, my dear."
"You dare say that to my face!" Aerolone shot back. "You surprise me, Neiamas. Even here, with no witnesses, you carry on the charade!"
"I shall dare more than you can imagine!" He smiled icily. "I excuse you now, because you are distraught, Senator; but I am the elected President! You would be wise to keep that in mind. Even a member of the High Council cannot be allowed to undermine my authority."
"You pompous little wretch!" Aerolone sneered. "You have gained your empty title by murder!"
"Now you speak treason!" Neiamas warned.
"Is truth treason?" Aerolone riposted." Then treason shall be my life. You shall never make a move that I do not oppose; but you will never entrap me as you did my trusting husband! By your own decree you have assured my safety!" Palpatine whirled, his face twisted with evil. "Your pathetic husband died protecting you, didn't he?!" His eyes were mere slits in his pale face; his thin lips compressed in fury. Some small revenge, Aerolone thought. The first blow, only the first.
She put the baby to her shoulder and fixed Palpatine with a gaze as cold and calculating as his own.
"Squirm, Neiamas," She declared ominously." Worry and wonder, and know this-even now, your enemies are plotting your downfall! This is personal. This is war." Palpatine seethed as he watched Aerolone leave the room and disappear into the reception area. He left moments later, trailed by his bodyguards, for the safety of his residence.
*******
Linaire and Besantilier were jostled aside as the crowd parted for the President's entourage; both tried unsuccessfully for a better look. Palpatine had reached the exit when a jolt of pure terror struck to his very soul. Something....some one ...was here. Danger he could not place. Power.
Where? The Darkness in him could not tell; but it knew, for the first time, the fear of death.