Chapter 6
Night loomed over the vast cityscape of Coruscant, cloaking the endless horizon of gleaming spires in deep velvet layers. Lights blazed from windows, bright pinpricks against the black. As far as the eye could see, as far as a being could travel the city's buildings jutted from the planet's surface in needles of steel alloy and reflective glass. This had been the center of the galaxy, the heartbeat of the Republic's rule.
A rule that would no longer be in effect as long as the Sith had anything to say about it.
Darth Maul moved over to the figure in the shadow that stood high on a balcony overlooking Coruscant, his concealing black robes making him appear as if he was a creature produced by the night. He stood facing the city, his eyes direct at its lights, at the faint movement of its air traffic, and disinterest in his apprentice.
To many, his Master - Darth Sidious - would be another ambitious one who had the cravings of a madman, yet Sidious had the capability to lurk in the shadows even when talking to well-respected Jedi in the public. Maul knew the face he operated under, have watched him giving speeches, having that kind grandfatherly smile that made it hard to believe he was a Sith. Sidious have put him through tasks that would have left others to plead for their death, yet every painful wound to Maul's black soul made him stronger and more powerful.
His Master was far from merciful. Failing him resulted into consequences. Worse, he would not kill you. He would keep you alive and use you as a pleasure rod to pay for your failure. Death would be a mercy.
As a pitiful Dark Jedi would soon find out.
"My Lord! He's powerful! Please! Please I was the only survivor!" The Dark Jedi cried pathetically.
For his pleads, he received more lightning. The lightning increased as his screams vibrated.
Just as he was about to perish, his Master ceased his assault, glaring down. Lackeys came in.
The Sith demanded sharply, pointing his finger at the fallen Dark Jedi. "Nurse him back to health and take him to one of the cells."
If Maul was a lesser man, he would have shivered. "The cells" were places to ensure that failures remained without food and drinks for months. Every moment was painful, driven saints mad.
"Master! Master! No please!" The Dark Jedi sobbed as he was dragged off to face a fate worse than death.
The Sith had never been the type who made the death quicker and easier.
"Wasted filth. Slave trash." Came a murmur behind that hood.
Darth Maul walked up behind his Sith Master and bowed, waiting patiently for the man to speak. The pretender stood alongside him.
"Master, Maul," the pretender spat.
"Lord Sidious... Lord Tyranus," he did his best to hide his distaste for the second "Sith" who his Master corrupted. Worst, he outwardly played the public role of a Jedi and Council Member. But, adapting from the original role they had planned was necessary.
"Master, Dantooine would be the heart of the Dominion. Regardless of the challenges, I will find them quickly and without hindrance." The golden eyes glimmer with excitement and anticipation in the strange mosaic of Darth Maul's face as he waited patiently for a response.
Darth Sidious sneered.
"Still, you would require assistance for your assignment."
Maul would give his life for the Dark Side in general. When the time came to overthrow his own Master, he would be the one who took the figure of pawn. No one was deserving of his Master's attention, not like him, not the man who pulled him off that poisoned planet and taught him the true power that had hidden in him.
One day, when Sidious told him that they were altering the plans and starting a Dark Jedi or the Inquisitorius Program, Maul had been gleeful. Of course, they were couple of fascists who Maul had to dealt with personally, be that putting them down himself or reminding them of their place should their disobedience prevailed before their ambitions to overthrew both him and Sidious became an actual problem. Tyranus was unfortunately not one of them.
To his knowledge, Sidious wasn't attempting to remove him, his prized pupil, from the occasion. Sidious had been expanding even his own teachings, reminding his loyal pupil to quell his ambitions and making him think more about his choices before engaging in combat.
Oh, there have been so many who the Jedi casted out in their citadels, broken ones who were up for the taking. Maul had made sure to train readily, using the Holocrons given to him to sharpen his skills.
His Master nodded. "Tyranus... you know what you must do..."
Maul clenched his jaw. His position was everything to him. And the fact that he'd answered under this "Tyranus" was infuriating! He'd trained under Sidious for years!
"Follow me," Tyranus answered sharply. The animosity between the two was mutual.
"Yes, Tyranus," he put much ash on that tone as he followed.
"Calm yourself, boy, I will not tolerate your infuriating behavior."
He would kill this old fool someday.
Obi-Wan and Siri reluctantly donned the clothing provided to them by Vader, attire chosen to suit Dantooine's environment. The garments were markedly different from their usual Jedi robes. Obi-Wan's robe now bore deep, mixed white colors, contrasting sharply with the landscape. Siri wore a tunic and pants in shades of dark brown and charcoal. The fabric clung to her form.
Additionally, things had been awkward between them. Sleeping in the same bed hadn't been something they wished to do, but neither wanted to sleep on the floor. They undoubtedly attempted to do such a thing and learned the hard way that the bed was preferable.
Suffice to say, the two Jedi didn't refuse to go on the training field the first time Vader offered, despite how adamant they were that they would resist his "taint". Colored Anakin pink when he was asked to join in the training sessions.
Anakin and Obi-Wan were dueling now with Vader and Siri watching as spectators.
Unlike Obi-Wan in his time who favored Soresu, this man had been far more aggressive. It was only after Qui-Gon's death, Obi-Wan realized the flaws of Form IV and instead became a practitioner of Form III, Soresu, which was the most defensive of the seven lightsaber forms. Obi-Wan was considered the master of Form III, to the point where his defense was practically impregnable. This was how he managed to hold both General Grievous and later on Anakin at bay - he would simply defend until his opponent made a mistake, never putting himself at risk.
Djem So was highly controversial among the Jedi Order due to it arguably being the most aggressive lightsaber combat form. It relied most heavily on brute strength and tended to be favored by lightsaber duelists that were fairly tall like Anakin and were incredibly strong. It focused on making your own opening by pressing the attack and following through perries with aggressive counter strikes to overwhelm your opponent. It was not as graceful as the highly precise strikes of Makashi, and it suffered from a lack of mobility - like Vader this Anakin compensated for this with some Ataru moves - but a skilled Djem So user like Anakin was a frightening opponent to go up against without so.
The two stood at a standstill as Obi-Wan's movements in Ataru were still good. Not as good as Soresu, but still average. Their lightsabers locked as they pressed at each other. He felt that they didn't have a good start mainly due to Obi-Wan's interpretations of Vader, but Anakin didn't allowed his personal feelings to get in the way. He'd worked it out through meditation and patience.
Still, Obi-Wan kept falling back. With Anakin being a Djem So tactician, it forced Obi-Wan to strategize and sent blows while Anakin continued coming down on him. Since it was a free for all, both were using the Force to contribute into the combat. Unsurprisingly, Obi-Wan started it first by throwing rocks at Anakin, forcing him to wave his hand around and sent them flying back at the Jedi Knight.
Their lightsabers continued coming at each other.
Soon, a familiar scene happened. Obi-Wan leapt away from Anakin and positioned his lightsaber in front of him. Anakin kept his lightsaber down, looking up. "It's over! I have the high ground!"
Anakin grinned, "Is that so?"
Vader genuinely was interested in what Anakin would do. Would he make an arrogant move like jump over the man and thus have pain in his arm and legs for a week at the very least? Indeed, he leapt, but unlike last time he wasn't entirely thinking with his lightsaber. Instead, he leveled his hand at the nearby dust and threw it at Obi-Wan. The Jedi, not seeing that this was coming, took several steps back, coughing, as Anakin landed behind him, twirling his lightsaber, until it made contact to his chest, leaving him to gasp in pain and astonishment.
Thankfully for the Jedi, the lightsaber was on a low-powered setting, leaving only a small hole in the place of where a fatal wound would have been if he was fighting someone with the intent to kill, and a pain in his chest for a good week.
"How's that high ground working out for ya?" Anakin quipped.
Vader laughed.
When Obi-Wan wiped the last dust off, he sneered at Anakin.
"Oh, come on, Jedi, don't be a sore loser. Technically, you cheated first. I just let you off the hook. My father taught me a long time ago that war ain't fair." Anakin said in a sing song voice, grinning as he jumped back onto the field and looked at Siri who seemed amused herself. "You want a shot?"
Siri rolled her eyes but walked forward and ignited her lightsaber. The two leveled their lightsabers at each other and began clashing. Even Bruck Chun could not match her, based off what Obi-Wan told him.
While Obi-Wan and Siri were rough averaging Jedi, she had had time to detect anything that could be used against Anakin. Siri's Ataru didn't have as many weaknesses as Obi-Wan's Ataru had. And she didn't even try to cheat. They remained on level ground, their lightsabers slamming against one another, keeping the battle honorable.
Mostly honorable.
Whenever she could, Siri sent a few punches and kicks against Anakin. Being a natural aggressive duelist, Anakin compensated, allowing himself to fall back on the defensive. Their lightsabers swung around one another, attempting to land strikes on each other's backs.
Siri was ultimately the one who slipped up first. Twisting on his heel, Anakin slammed roughly into her gut and knocked her back. He positioned his lightsaber at her throat, and she yielded. Gripping her hand with humility that Vader taught him himself, he helped her up.
The four Force adepts assembled.
"If you wish for my recommendations, I have a question. What do you take of dreams?"
"When I was Qui-Gon's Padawan, he told me that living in the moment is the best that can be done," Obi-Wan declared, recalling the advice his Master given him. "Sometimes the best we can do is let such dreams pass in time."
Vader frowned and murmured. "So, it wasn't your fault, you learned it from him."
Obi-Wan frowned, eyes narrowing as he sensed a surprising amount of venom in his voice.
The dark moment passed. "What about you, Tachi?"
"My Master taught me that I should live in the moment," Siri replied, "but deciphering visions could be helpful."
"Ah," Vader nodded. "Visions can serve the Jedi, but you shouldn't rely on them too much. You can dream of those you care about dying, and they always will, either because you don't react in time to save them, or because you do too much to begin with."
"Now, what "kind criticism" do you have about our forms?" Obi-Wan asked flatly.
"Obi-Wan, you could be the master of defense. I have knowledge that would benefit you in the near future. If you continue to use Ataru solely, you may tire yourself out to your enemies, regardless of your youthful age. It has many advantages, but Soresu would do you wonders."
Vader turned to look at Siri. "And you, I believe you should become suited with Form VII, Juyo, with a bit of appliance by Soresu. Every Jedi should learn defense in combat to prevent from over reliance on offensive, as well as a bit on the other way around."
"But I have been using Ataru for-" Obi-Wan began to protest.
"Ataru has great speed and flourishes, but the user typically lacks physical power behind the blows. Defense was about medium level, but the user is just as likely to dodge as they are to block as it is a very acrobatic Form. The main drawback is that unless the user had loads of force reserves, they can tire quickly in long drawn-out duels, as constantly flipping and twirling in the air would drain stamina quickly. The other critical need is space. If a user is in a tight confined space, they quickly lose the mobility they need to keep moving and stay on the offensive, meaning that the Form would be all but useless."
What Vader did not mention was based on what Obi-Wan told him when training him, this was how Maul managed to kill Qui-Gon in the other timeline.
"I suppose you'll teach us," Siri offered dryly. Vader's silence was an indicator of respecting that. "Fine but make no mistake we will not swear ourselves to darkness."
This time, he grinned. "Very well. Now come, both of you fight Anakin."
The boy's eyes glistened with pleasure. "Oh, you spoil me."
"Hush, you," Vader said with a smirk. "Before I punish you myself."
When their lightsabers locked, the room was quickly consumed by two blurs of purple and one of blue.
Empress Shmi Skywalker was figuratively the most powerful woman in the galaxy. Ever since she was declared the Empress unceremoniously, it came with little certainty. Padmé watched the recording several times actually since she got here. It was easy to find despite happening over a decade ago. The weaken woman was just wearing normal Tatooine's clothes at the time.
The woman in front of her was different. She wore black clothes, likely with some armor underneath. Contrary to her meek appearance, there were many other recordings where she marched onto the surface of planets with her head held high.
In those recordings which the Dominion didn't even tried to hide, Shmi Skywalker spoke down harshly to the slavers, bounty hunters, and all of the others without a single care in the galaxy. Without sympathy, she told them that they would rot in prison and that they would never see the light of day again. No opportunity for redemption. Just death.
She had fair number of wrinkles on her face, showing that she was catching up in age. Gray strands threatened her appearance, no doubt the stress that came with keeping the Dominion apart politically speaking. She was doing paperwork just now. While the Supreme Leader controlled the army and Cliegg Lars was Emperor by default, Shmi Skywalker was the one who called all the shots politically speaking.
The woman was well-guarded, surrounded by the imposing figures of Shmi's personal protectors, known as the Eternal Guard. Clad in shadowy beskar armor that seemed to absorb the very light around them, these eight formidable figures exuded an aura of silent menace. Each guardian wielded a mighty beskar greatsword with deadly precision, their movements as fluid as the dance of shadows. With the precision of a well-oiled machine and the agility of predators on the hunt, they stood ready to defend their liege with a ferocity matched only by their undying loyalty. Towering at an intimidating height of 7 feet, each member possessed cybernetic and biological enhancements akin to the Death Troopers, yet far surpassing them in capability. Their force sensitivity allowed for heightened reaction times and a keen sense of danger, honed through rigorous training under Vader himself. Trained to combat multiple adversaries simultaneously, each member of the Eternal Guard surpassed the skill of even the most seasoned Jedi masters in combat prowess, making them an unparalleled force in the Empress's protection.
To the rest of the galaxy, the Eternal Guard remained shrouded in mystery and whispered tales of fear. Their presence elicited hushed conversations and uneasy glances, their dark beskar armor and imposing stature leaving an indelible mark on the imaginations of those who caught even a fleeting glimpse. Sightings were rare, and images were scarce, often blurred or obscured by shadows, further fueling the myths and legends that surrounded them. To many in the non-Dominion worlds, they were nothing short of monsters, non-human beings whose very presence sent shivers down the spine and left an unsettling chill in the air. Their enigmatic nature only added to their mystique, ensuring that they would forever be viewed with a mixture of awe and trepidation by those who dared to speak of them.
As Padmé's gaze swept over the figures of the Eternal Guard standing vigilantly around Shmi, a shiver ran down her spine. Their imposing presence and the air of silent menace they exuded sent a ripple of unease through her. Though she tried to maintain her composure, Padmé couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized by eyes hidden behind beskar visors, eyes that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of her being. She couldn't deny the sense of apprehension that crept over her, tinged with a hint of fear at the unknown. Despite her best efforts to remain composed. Inwardly, she couldn't shake the feeling that the Eternal Guard could see right through her politician's facade.
"Why didn't you ever address your grievances using the correct channels to the Republic?" Padmé asked bluntly.
"Politics is a dirty, corrupted business, and it is dirtier on Coruscant," Shmi replied honestly. "I know what you think of me, your Majesty, a dictator, a woman with delusions of grandeur. Your Republic is currently facing an age of prosperity, but what if I told you that your institution was the same one throughout this Golden Age that drained most of those who joined this Dominion dry of their resources to fuel themselves."
"That's impossible!" She snapped. "I... The Republic wouldn't do that." Her mentors taught her that personally.
Shmi smiled, and it wasn't a nice one. "Do you really believe so? Do you honestly believe that your planet matters to them? With the Dominion, if any of our worlds were invaded, there would be no meetings. We would rush forward and tear those bastards a new one." Her eyes became more intense. "The Republic didn't interfere with the slavery problems. They signed a blasted treaty with the Hutts. Every man and woman of my personal guard had either been slaves or faced the non-existent mercy."
"But that doesn't make sense..." Padmé replied.
Shmi wrinkled her brows and responded with bit of anger but also understanding. "The Republic doesn't exist out here. It's up to us to depend on each other."
"But a Dominion is not the resolution to your problems," Padmé angrily protested, keeping her tone as cordial as possible like her parents taught her. She had been taught her whole life that the Republic were the good guys and would resolve any issue no matter how major or minor.
Shmi shrugged slightly. "We have never seen a Chancellor from your Republic coming out to resolve the issue. It was time that someone took matters into their own hands. Vader was a miracle to many of us."
"Then why haven't you tried to contact the Republic-"
"Don't you see, Padmé, we couldn't? They thought us a threat the moment the Dominion came to power. Even if a peace treaty occurred, it would be temporary. The Republic nor Dominion alone is good. It's the people inside them that make the system as it is." Shmi pointed out. "Can you say you have been treated unfairly?"
She had no argument for that. So far, the Dominion kept them well-fed, gave them a change of clothes that were more appropriate out here, and haven't held any of them against their will.
She had heard stories more and more that this Dominion was evil, that they would crush the Republic, or make them look bad in one fashion or another - that every planet should fear the day they become conquerors.
She could acknowledge they could have tortured them all, and if working with the Viceroy, could have taken over Naboo with one swift stroke since there would be no cause in prolonging this invasion.
That would definitely make the Dominion stronger. While they had an obvious distaste for the Republic, they treated each of them nicely. The other night, she found Rabé laughing with some of the soldiers, teasing them about how to "properly shoot a blaster". They reacted with humor like normal people would. Could she be wrong?
"What do you think is happening for them keeping quiet as they have?" Padmé queried, pursing her lips up in concern.
Why would the Dominion lie about attempting to contact the Republic?
"Perhaps the Senate is having another debate about another pointless bill. I don't even know." Shmi said, allowing a slight sigh. She continued, "Each system we helped has been mistreated or in poor living conditions. Naboo is part of the Republic, and it's a sovereign member than most other worlds. We don't have to end up in a war that the Republic would attempt to use against us if we are weakened in some way or caught unaware. We both know that things are not that easy."
Yes, she did, but that didn't mean she had to or would admit it.
"Padmé, I read up on Naboo before. Why do you believe in pacifism? Why not just arm your people and have a formidable force that could stand against any who attempts to invade your planet?"
"Because aggressors could be reasoned with. War just institutes corruption."
"And pacifism can wipe out an entire nation if used unconditionally. If there is evil being done around you and you have the strength to deter even a small part of it but refuse to do so, you've made the choice to let it continue unchallenged. A mixture of both applies here." Shmi shot back smartly.
Padmé winced. She had no response to that. Damn it all! She should have never came here! "I... but... that doesn't..."
"The reason we have a powerful army is because Vader gathered up those who had been suffering and used them against their tormentors. I'm the figurehead who cleans up the man's messes, but without each other, this Dominion would fall into disarray. Any transition would be a smooth one, but we have to work hard to keep our allies in check and make sure they don't intend to use this Dominion just to get away with prospering off of their people. Can you say that your Republic is willing to bloody their hands if necessary?"
Padmé looked down, defeated. She was just a young girl who had nothing to base her claims on whereas Shmi spoke from personal experience, and her words made sense...
More than she liked to admit.