A/N: Hey there, hope you guys are well and good. I've already nearly completed this particular section of the novel (which I ambitiously aim this title to apply to this fanfiction). The subsequent scene after the following ones is indeed the true climax, the point of no return in the story, and I hope I do it well and you guys enjoy it. However, I'm also reorganising the chapter, to publish a scene immediately preceding the trial scene which you may have already read.

Two politicians were in a lush, posh Coruscanti apartment - on a skyscraper and on its highest floors. Outside it was now evening; and the atmosphere looked beautiful almost, despite the actual stuff going on in the galaxy that wasn't beautiful at all.

'Mon Mothma," Bail Organa said somberly, offering his hand, though they were intimate enough in a platonic way for a more tender embrace; but dark times did call for sobriety and stoicism.

"Bail, I've been a coward," the lady said. "I should have done more."

"No, Mon," he said. "It would have been a foolish endeavour of ours, to haul and scream like political and radical hooligans. We'd be silenced, and our efforts and politics at that time would have been of no use or substance. Now, however, there is a little more hope."

"Anakin Skywalker…" She said, "Only he assassinated the Emperor. Now, you are right, maybe we can do a little more…"

"Yes, there's a trial. Anakin's in custody. But politically… chances don't look good for any change or reversal of our late tyrannical leader. Tarkin and Mas Amedda will take change and honour his revolting legacy.

"But… we must try. Let us lobby these neutral senators… like Senator Room - allow for at least a discussion other than the trial - we're all alive, and there is hope."

"Rebellions are built on hope," she said gently and subtly.

Not so subtly, Organa said, "How about we go on an adventure - pick up some blasters. I know I said it's needlessly suicidal to act… I have just said it right now… but times have changed a little bit. Anakin murdered Palpatine - we won't commit murder ourselves. But we can cause some mayhem and mischief…

"The delegation of 2000. Palpatine arrested them. They were Padme's team for restoration of democracy she had formed. Let's go release them."

"Seriously?" she said tentatively, though she spoke not of any fear but merely caution.

"Yep," Organa said, a little more casually and less diplomatically.

Now, they were in the detention building. They arrived by Speeder. It was night. Tomorrow's Anakin's trial. Corsucanti police - not clones - guarded the prisoners. The latter were still chasing and murdering Jedi.

They crept around the landing platform. "Senator Organa." They were spotted. "And Senator Mothma," in a tone more befitting towards a lady - it's another matter whether differential levels of respect were fruitful for parity between the genders (of all species) and not just blatantly patronising. A human police officer and three police droids confronted them.

"What's behind your arms?"

"Rem," Organa said. "You know what is right. I know you. All this is wrong. We're doing what's necessary and fixing these evils. Your prisoners include bounty hunters and thieves; but they also include political activists and senators… who are wrongly detained by the tyrannical Chancellor who is now deceased."

"I don't care for your rhetoric, Senator. What you're doing now is illegal and criminal - if I may suspect your intentions and plan of action. Desist from this, I'm giving you a warning, and I won't arrest you as well."

Surprisingly, Mon Mothma raised her blaster which she had no fathomable idea how to operate. She positioned it awkwardly and inappropriately. "Lady Mothma…" Police officer Rem warned. Though he was also impressed by the bravery of this politician who was already known for her decency of speech and care for - not only her constituents of Chandrilla - but the species of the galaxy at large. "Let us pass, brother." She said.

"I can't…"

"Sir, we can't indulge this discussion. The Chancellor's order was straightforward," a cop droid now said. "We may use lethal force to combat illegal actions."

"No!" said Rem. "Don't shoot them!"

Organa grabbed Mothma's arm and ducked and ran aside; they crept behind a structure of cartons - maybe of ammunition - not a very safe to crouch, they might have admitted.

Immediately… two of the three droids began shooting. "No! I command you not to shoot. And not for kill definitely…"

"You're not in charge anymore, officer. We're handling this." They blasted the carton in front of the senators. Organa and Mothma sprinted behind a pillar on the right side of the platform - if the platform were compassed from the entry direction. More green blasts.

Rem was confused. He didn't know what to do. A blast finally almost hit Mothma. She had crouched improperly. Rem now knew that there was a new course of action to be taken; he'd be discipline severely; almost be court- martialed to a heavy sentence; but he was already having his own opinions and thoughts in his psychology about his duties, and simply what was right and what was wrong: what the Republic really stood for, and what this new Empire might no be. He with melee strength alone jumped behind the two of the droids attempting to stop them; but was brutally pushed down by the robotic combat of the robots. And they turned toward him.

"No," the third droid then said. "We cannot execute an officer superior to us. Obey his instructions." The droids didn't listen to him - it was their altered programming after all and together aimed for the man's chest.

'Ken' the third droid however, from his own geographical position fired at them both - distracting them - he fired accurately at one of them - but missed the other who blasted his metallic body into smithereens. "No! Ken!" Rem said. Organa shot as precisely as he could the murderous droid, and got the fortunate result. That droid collapsed down onto the ground, while Rem knelt behind his favourite officer he actually had much affection for - even if he was 'only a droid'.

"Okay," he told the battle heartened politicians. "I've changed my mind. I'll help you. Whom exactly do you wish to set free from this cage?"

"The delegation of 2000." Organa immediately said. "We'll give it our best," said the police-man. "I'll have to fight more of these droids. Hey," he said. "You're not too bad yourself as fighters: we may have a chance."