Coruscant, Jedi Temple
"How long will the shield hold if they open fire?" Padmé asked, clutching her belly as she stared through the viewports of the Jedi High Council chambers. The Coruscant skyline was now glowing a slightly red hue, thanks to the shield barrier which now formed a protective dome covering the entire Temple Precinct.
"When they open fire," growled Polo Se'lab, half-answering. The Bothan Senator shook his head incredulously, turning to Anakin. "When will we be allowed to leave?"
Anakin did not hear the question. His eyes were locked on the army that was assembling in the distance. The columns of shiny armored troopers and hulking gray assault vehicles and artillery pieces, preparing to breach the shield and assault the temple on foot.
He couldn't get Fives off his mind. All of the things he had said about the Clones being manipulated. About the Chancellor. All of it had seemed so crazy at the time, but now he had been vindicated, months too late. Ahsoka had been snatched right out of the temple's infirmary, and now the Supreme Chancellor, a man Anakin had viewed like a father, seemed hellbent on destroying everything.
It took several chirps from his wrist-comm, and a rough tap on his shoulder from Shaak Ti to get his attention.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan's voice spoke, sounding worried.
The man's focus finally snapped back to those around him. "I'm here. When is the High Council coming back?"
"We're not convening at the moment. There's too much to do. No time for talk. The Temple Spires are no longer safe. Our observers report snipers assembling in the plaza. It would be wise to move everyone away from windows. Bring the Senators down to the Jedi Archives."
"The Archives?!" Anakin asked, unable to hide the rising surprise in his voice. The archives lacked windows, yes, but such an expansive place would hardly be appropriate to hide Senators.
"Yes, we're working out a plan… Well, plans actually. No time to explain. Master Tiin?"
"Yes?" asked the Iktochi, stepping up to Anakin and Shaak Ti's side.
"You're needed in the main hangar."
Saesee Tinn nodded, though it was impossible for Obi-Wan to see the gesture over a voice call. "Very well. I'll be there momentarily." As the Iktochi stepped away to the turbolift alone, the Senators looked expectantly to Shaak Ti and Anakin.
"Looks like you're getting a tour of the Archives," Anakin said with a smirk, then his eyes met Padmé's. A flare from his danger sense suddenly caused his smirk to vanish and he ignited his lightsaber.
Sensing something too, Shaak Ti ignited hers and spun to face the nearest viewport. She waved her lightsaber reflexively to block a shot, but the blast merely impacted with a thud on the window's exterior, leaving a blackened crack spreading out for a meter.
"Snipers!"
"Get back!" Anakin yelled, standing in front of Padmé.
The three Senators retreated as quickly as they could, running to the turbolift. Meanwhile Anakin and Shaak Ti walked backwards, never taking their eyes off the transparisteel, nor lowering their sabers.
Sniper shots continued rattling the windows, causing more and more ominous cracks to form. The shots were so distant and so muffled by the insulation of the Temple Spire that the sounds of blasterfire itself could not be heard, only the dull thuds of their impacts.
Anakin suspected that since the High Council Spire towered thousands of meters over the Temple Plaza, it would actually be impossible for any of the Clones (who had walked through the Temple's shield) to shoot anyone standing as far back from the windows as the turbolifts.
But he didn't want to wait for the windows to shatter to find out. The second the turbolift doors opened, he and Shaak Ti ushered the Senators inside and pressed the door close button.
"Do you think the Supreme Chancellor was actually attempting to assassinate us?" Polo asked, fur flattened in fear.
"I would never have thought so before today," Bail said solemnly.
There was a moment of silence while the three Senators contemplated this, broken when Shaak Ti spoke next. "I wouldn't put anything past a Sith."
o.o.o.o.o
When Anakin, Shaak Ti, and Senators Organa, Se'lab and Amidala arrived at the entrance of the Jedi Archives, they found a crowd standing in the marble hall. Jedi warriors, Padawans, non-combatants, and temple guards stood at the entrance, craning their necks to get a view inside.
"It seems we were not the only ones who thought it was a good day to visit the library," Shaak Ti said, causing Polo Se'lab's ears to flatten.
"I don't see how this possibly helps our situation," he growled, following the Togruta through the parting crowd. "We have to reach the Senate—"
Anakin stepped inside behind the Bothan and snorted with laughter. He didn't think there would be anything that could make him laugh on a day when he had been so thoroughly betrayed and so many had died, but what seemed to be a noisy conference in the middle of a usually quiet library was one such thing. Then his snort of laughter erupted in uncontrollable guffaws when, for reasons he could not fathom, he saw what appeared to be a game of dress-up in the middle of the Archives. The Shistavanen Jedi, Voolvif Monn, stood in front of the help desk dressed from head to toe in a badly-fitting Alderaanian Guard uniform. Behind the desk, Mace Windu was wearing the distinctive leather uniform of the Naboo Royal Security Forces. Notably, his hands were bandaged.
"How do I look, Senator Amidala?" Windu asked with one eyebrow raised.
Padmé merely gasped.
"This is a really bad time for a costume party," Anakin finally managed, getting his laughter under control.
"You're dressing up next," Obi-Wan said, "And this is not a party—Voolvif, Anakin's here. There's no need for you to wear an Alderaanian Guard outfit," he added, turning back to the Shistavanen. "No one would ever believe your costume anyways."
"I don't want to dress as a Bothan Marshal," Voolvif protested, practically pouting.
"A Bothan Marshal," Polo snarled, jabbing a finger into Obi-Wan's chest, "You want to dress this Shistavanen as a Bothan Marshal?! Have you gone mad?"
"We don't have time for this," said a familiar voice, obscured by a respirator. Anakin turned around and saw a holoprojection of Plo Koon's head and torso. Judging from the control column positioned in front of his chest, the Kel Dor master seemed to be seated in a starfighter.
"Greetings Master Skywalker. Please, get dressed in Voolvif's costume. Voolvif, put on that blue outfit."
"This plan will never work!" Voolvif howled.
"Masters Jedi," Bail said, raising his voice, "A madman has taken over the Senate and is about to start a civil war. From the updates I've been receiving on my datapad, children are dying. Now what…" He took a deep breath, seeming to collect himself, "What are you doing here?"
"A few things," Obi-Wan started. He gestured over to the other side of the Archives, which none of them had been paying attention to. Up along the wall were several vidscreens, each showing different news outlets. "When the battle started, Master Jocasta Nu reached out to the media and began sending quick blurbs describing our side of the story."
Jocasta Nu, wearing an earpiece, briefly turned away from the terminal she was occupying, gave Obi-Wan a quick nod, then got back to work.
"Blurbs?" Anakin asked.
"Our side?" Shaak Ti shook her head. "I don't remember being asked for my opinion on this."
"She took her own initiative," Obi-Wan explained. "For now, the media seems to be the only faction on our side, and she's helping make sure it stays that way. Master Nu hasn't given any interviews yet. Instead, she's been… typing."
Bail Organa stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, that's something. Where is Master Yoda?"
"Busy in the undercity," Windu grunted. He took a deep breath, as if what he had to say next was a particularly difficult topic. "Tera Sinube was taking a group of Younglings into the undercity when the Clones turned on us."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bail gasped.
"If Yoda is on it, I am sure they'll be fine," Anakin said confidently. He looked distractedly over to the vidscreens behind Jocasta Nu, one of which was showing a picture of Tera Sinube's face and proclaiming his death at the hands of "mad clones" in big Aurebesh letters.
Obi-Wan drew Anakin's attention with a slight nudge from the Force. "We are dressing you up, Anakin, along with… Well it's Master Windu's plan."
"It's simple. The three of us are going to accompany the Senators, posing as their bodyguards," Windu explained. "Once we reach the Senate building, we will protect them while they motion for either Order 65 or a vote of no confidence."
"Fine," Polo growled, shaking his head as if he had been talked into participating. "Fine, Master Shistavanen—"
"Monn."
Polo rubbed his eyes as he continued. "Master Monn, you may dress as one of our Marshals… The plan sounds good I suppose, but why… why in Golm's Fire are we discussing this in a library?" The Bothan spun around, glaring at the crowd of Jedi spectators with deep suspicion.
Windu and Obi-Wan exchanged glances. Finally, Obi-Wan answered. "Better here than in the Temple Spire. Besides, the public will know about this one regardless once you reach the Senate building."
"If we reach the Senate building," Polo cautioned.
"What about Dooku?" Anakin asked.
Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "What about him?"
Anakin had a thought on the tip of his tongue and knew it connected the threads of Sidious, Ahsoka, and Fives somehow, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. "He told us about Sidious," he finally managed slowly, waiting for his brain to work. It didn't. Out of frustration, he asked another question. "Has Dooku given us any of Palpatine's secret hideouts?"
"Anakin, Sidious isn't hiding himself at all," Obi-Wan said, losing a bit of his patience with the young Jedi Master. "But that doesn't matter right now. Focus on the task at hand. We can't go after Sidious yet."
"Why not?!" Anakin snorted, anger beginning to rise. For all he knew, Ahsoka was being tortured or worse. Jedi were openly being murdered in the streets. Palpatine's betrayal was so absolute and so close to home that Anakin wanted nothing more than to skewer the Sith Lord.
"I'm with Anakin on this one," Mace Windu said. "We should end the threat, now…"
Bail Organa shook his head. "We need to do things by the book. If you make the Chancellor into a martyr, this could devolve into a civil war."
"It already is a civil war!" Polo snarled. "We were shot at, and—" his voice trailed off as he pointed aggressively to the news reports on the vidscreens.
Obi-Wan lowered his voice, looking with some suspicion to the crowd of Jedi Knights, Temple Guards, and Padawans standing at the entrance to the Archives. "Dooku is still unconscious. Our best chance of luring Sidious into the open is to challenge him in the Senate."
"Master Kenobi," Jocasta Nu said from across the room, "We could also expose him for what he is."
The Senators and Jedi all turned to face her. Obi-Wan looked very flustered at having been overheard from that great a distance.
"The Temple Archives has the greatest historical database on Force users in the entire Galaxy. If we were to tell the media Palpatine is a Sith Lord…"
"I like it," Anakin said firmly. "Great suggestion, Master Nu."
Mace Windu let out a whistle. "Talk about a media frenzy. Alright, do it."
"We still have to make it to the Senate," Padmé insisted. Looks of concern had crossed all of the Senators' faces—the Jedi preoccupation with the Sith being a mystery to them.
"And you will," Obi-Wan promised then turned to Skywalker. "Anakin, get dressed."
o.o.o.o.o
GUNGI
Level 1392, Coruscant
Gungi bit back a whimper and lifted his knee. In the dim light, some glass shards twinkled, embedded in his fur. He tried brushing them off with his leathery hand, but only experienced more pain as the shards cut into his palm.
"Gungi, keep quiet," whispered Zatt, a green-skinned Nautolan.
Still crouching, the Wookiee took three steps back, sitting on a glass-free spot on the ground next to his Rodian friend, Ganodi.
Eleven surviving Younglings of nine species now found themselves in a recycling yard, concealing themselves as patrols of Clones flew overhead. Their night vision would be briefly ruined whenever an LAAT flew overhead, shining bright spotlights down. Then, over a few seconds, their sight would slowly return.
Against the dark smog of the underworld, the points of light overhead would look almost like stars. This was especially true for Wookiees, who could not see as full a range of colors as other species. For Gungi, the green light from the billboards hundreds of levels overhead looked indistinct from the red light.
"Gungi, why do you keep squirming so much?" asked Petro, a black-haired human. He was lying prone a few meters away.
["Glass,"] Gungi moaned in despair, holding up his hand.
"Well, you should have worn clothes today," scoffed a Devaronian female youngling named Bhila.
Gungi roared in outrage. ["I didn't know I would need any! No one could—"]
"SHHHH!" hissed Petro, Zatt, and Ganodi in unison.
"Hey! What was that?" asked a voice, muffled by a respirator, in the unmistakable Wild Space-influenced Mandalorian accent of a Clone Trooper.
"It was over there somewhere… Sounded like a Wookiee."
A bright glowrod beam shone brightly overhead, passing over the junkheap the Younglings were hiding behind. Footsteps drew nearer and nearer.
The Younglings collectively drew their lightsabers, a few muttering about Gungi under their breaths.
["I'm sorry,"] Gungi moaned, holding his lightsaber in his left hand. This wasn't ideal, as Gungi was right handed, but his left hand wasn't cut by glass.
"SHHHH!"
As the footsteps drew nearer, Gungi thought he could sense five, maybe six presences. He thought of telling this information to the other Younglings, but thought better of it.
Still out of sight, one of the Clones cried out in surprise. "What the—" Blasterfire rang out, but with the distinctive pulse of a stun shot. Three distinct crunches could be heard, the sound of unconscious bodies landing on scrap heaps.
A wave of confusion poured over the Younglings as they stood there, waiting. Two pairs of footsteps slowly approached and collectively, the Younglings slowly stepped backward. They were all simultaneously too afraid to hope that the footsteps belonged to rescuers, while at the same time not afraid enough to immediately flee.
Gungi didn't know what they should do. If the stun shots were from an ally, then they should wait. Equally likely however, was that the approaching footsteps belonged to bounty hunters competing with the Clones to catch the Younglings.
In the smog, two silhouettes appeared on top of the scrap heap in front of them. Their outlines resembled cloaked Jedi with their hoods raised; however, the bottoms of their skirts did not fall down nearly far enough—Jedi cloaks draped down all the way to the ankles, while the cloaks worn by these shadowy silhouettes only went down to knee length. What was most frightening for a fourteen-year-old Wookiee though, was the fact each of these figures had a set of what seemed to be tiny glowing eyes. Pinpricks of yellow eerily glowing against their black outlines.
Knees trembling as he sized up these monsters, Gungi ignited his lightsaber and let out a terrified yowl. ["GET BACK!"]
"Gungi!" gasped nine of the Younglings at once. "SHHHHH!"
One of the mysterious figures set down his blaster and approached with his hands raised. Astonishing the Wookiee, he spoke in a consoling voice with a Coruscanti accent. "Hey kid, relax. I'm on your side."
Gungi shook his head vigorously. ["No, stay back! Get away from us! Stay…"] His protests faded into a confused moan.
This monster did not look half as scary up close. He was wearing a strange armored outfit Gungi had never seen before, with a yellow chestplate and shoulderpads, and a knee-length gray cloak. His conical helmet covered only the top half of his head and it was very featureless, with a lighter gray mask covering the wearer's face. Above that mask, two pinpoints of light emitted from their goggles. His companion stepped forward, dressed exactly the same.
It was hard to smell what species either of these men were, given the reek of the scrapyard they were hiding in. While Gungi felt less afraid than he had before, he still did not trust them.
"Gungi, they're underworld police," Ganodi explained, holding Gungi's bloody right hand.
The Wookiee noticed the letters 'PD' written in Aurebesh on their helmets but was unconvinced. ["The Coruscant Guard shot Master Sinube and Vastu!"]
"My name's Chal," explained the first one, "This is Jafet. We heard the ruckus on our police comlink, and we saw what they did to that reporter. Look, we stunned the Clones who were after you, but it's only a matter of time before another patrol comes by. Come with us, and we'll get you to safety."
"How?" Petro asked skeptically. "Everywhere we go, we get shot at."
"They won't be looking for you in a police speeder."
Five minutes later, the Younglings found themselves on a landing platform, stepping into a law enforcement model of the LAAT, or LAAT/le—with its uncharacteristic navy blue paint job and hexagonal cockpit viewport. On board, they met a third cop—a plump human of perhaps thirty or forty with dark hair, introducing himself as Inspector Tanivos Divo. The two pilots, wearing flight suits in the colors of the Coruscant Police, glanced back from the cockpit before lifting off from the platform.
As the side doors slid shut, Chal removed his face coverings, revealing that he was a dome-headed Bith with giant black eyes; the same species as the reporter who had been killed. Jafet was a young red-haired human with freckles.
"Don't you worry your little heads," Divo said, patting Zatt on the top of his bald head. "We'll get you back to the temple in a standard minute."
Gungi sat still as still as he could, allowing Chal to pluck the glass from his hand with tweezers while Jafet shined a glowrod at it. The Wookiee found, however, that he couldn't stop shivering and crying. He had been holding it all together as best he could, and now that they were out of danger, it was all bubbling out.
"Why are you helping us?" Petro asked, folding his arms as he regarded the inspector.
Divo looked flummoxed at the question for a moment, then answered, "Because it's the right thing to do."
"You're hiding something," Bhila said firmly, a suspicious frown forming on the Devaronian's face.
Gungi sniffled hard and wiped the tears from his eyes onto his arm. ["I sense it too."]
"What do you want from us?" asked Zatt, head tentacles flopping as he looked straight up into the much taller human's eyes. "Look, we may be kids, but we have lightsabers."
"There's nothing I want besides helping you," Divo said firmly, taking a step back from Zatt.
"You're lying!" screamed Ganodi.
["HE'S HANDING US OVER TO THE CLONES!"] Gungi roared, leaping to his feet, lightsaber in hand.
"No, I'm not!" Divo yelled back.
Gungi could sense fear from him but nothing to suggest deception. ["Then what do you want with us?"]
Orange light poured into the cabin as the LAAT/le emerged from an underworld portal. Off in the distance, the evening sun had lowered behind a wall of skyscrapers.
"I want to return you to the temple… Look, right over there. Look at where we are going."
The Temple was slowly growing larger in the distance. Satisfied that at least that bit was true, Gungi deactivated his lightsaber, but a suspicious frown still crossed his lopsided snout.
Remaining seated toward the back of the cabin, the Tholothian Youngling, Katooni, spoke up for the first time. "Why do you really want to return us to the temple?"
Now even the two underworld police officers were staring at Divo with some suspicion.
"I… I am Inspector Tanivos Divo," the plump human started lamely, "I ask the questions—Not you."
o.o.o.o.o
RIG NEMA
They had so many questions and so few answers. Rig Nema's questions about the Jedi Order's loss of Force power was answered in the worst possible way with the revelation of Darth Sidious and the Sith Shrine. Now, the lowermost laboratory in the Jedi Temple was abuzz with activity as engineers, medical doctors, and xenobiologists—Jedi and non-Jedi alike—tried to get to the bottom of whatever it was Ahsoka Tano had been doing.
What the Force told Master Rig Nema, however, was that it had something to do with Fives and the inhibitor chip incident a few months back.
"Jazal, run a genetic analysis on that brain tissue," the doctor ordered the Miraluka Jedi ex-convict.
Things had gotten so desperate with the ongoing siege that all non-violent Jedi convicts had been freed to aid with the Temple's defense—except for Jazal. A former biologist herself, after the Miraluka had recovered from smoke inhalation, she was whisked immediately into the Temple laboratory to aid in uncovering one of any of the fifty mysteries.
"I already did," Jazal said testily, pulling the slice of inhibitor chip out of the readout terminal. Encased in glass to preserve it, the brain tissue and inhibitor chip had been found in Ahsoka Tano's quarters. "It belongs to a Jango Fett Clone."
Rig Nema blinked incredulously. "Which Jango Fett Clone?"
Jazal shrugged. "It's impossible to say. There doesn't appear to be any serial number or identifying marks either."
Feeling stupid all of the sudden, Rig Nema closed her golden eyes tight and began rubbing them. While she was primarily a medical doctor, the Jedi Master had enough of a scientific background that she should have known that. All Jango Fett Clones, or at least the 'production' troopers, were all but totally identical. "Any luck on reconstructing the device?"
"No, no, no, no no! Not reconstructing… Constructing." The Parwan non-Jedi scientist, Dr Gubacher, hovered over with his tentacles dragging on the floor as he approached Jazal and Rig. "Since I have no parts of the original device to work with, and only security footage of Ahsoka Tano building… something… I am not reconstructing. I am building it from scratch."
"Very well, Doctor Gubacher. Constructing. Have you had any luck constructing the device?"
The Parwan turned his head back over to the machining table, which was surrounded by engineers holding datapads and astromech droids projecting holograms of Ahsoka's device from different angles. "No I haven't."
If Rig Nema had lacked the patience, not only from her Jedi training but from years of treating Jedi who had often injured themselves doing the ridiculous, she would have exploded.
I need Shaak Ti up here. Figuring out what's wrong with the Clones should be top priority.
Using her wrist-comm, she immediately dialed Obi-Wan's comm code. Ever since Yoda disappeared shortly after returning from the Sith Shrine, Obi-Wan seemed to have taken over coordinating things.
"Doctor, I'm a little busy," Obi-Wan said testily.
"We are not making any headway so far, and I really could use Master Ti's expertise down here. Jazal's the closest I have to a geneticist, and I know there must be some way of differentiating different Fett—"
"Hey!" Jazal interrupted. "Respectfully, Master, there isn't. Bring Shaak Ti down here if you want, but—"
"Jazal," Shaak Ti's voice came through the comm warningly.
"I am sorry—sorry Master Nema," Jazal stammered.
Rig walked away from Jazal and the other scientists, trying to keep the conversation more private. "Shaak, I need help."
"You need my skills more as a warrior than as a scientist, I'm afraid," Shaak Ti sighed. "Besides, Jazal's right. At best, unless the sample belongs to a member of Clone Force 99, I would only be able to tell you what generation this sample came from. You can figure that out by radiodating the sample."
Rig Nema put her palm to her head, grimacing. Radiodating the sample. Another thing she should have thought of. "I—"
"Our best hope, if you ask me, is to awaken Count Dooku."
"Can we trust anything he says?!" Rig gasped in disbelief.
"Perhaps not," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, "But Dooku did talk about 'inhibitor chips.' He did—"
Rig was so shocked that if she had been holding a communicator instead of wearing one, she would have dropped it. "By the Force!"
"What is it?" Shaak Ti asked.
"Dooku. The inhibitor chips! He was telling us all along!"
"You might be right," Obi-Wan gasped. "Dooku said to destroy the… something…"
The memory of the conversation flashed to the forefront of the Halaisi's mind. "The communications array!"
"Okay… Which communications array?"
o.o.o.o.o
ANAKIN SKYWALKER
Careful not to scrape anything, Anakin slowly ambled one of the Jedi Temple's BARC speeders up to the side hatch of an LAAT/v—a special Low Altitude Assault Transport variant designed for transporting speeders. It could hypothetically fit sixteen speeder bikes, or any combination of light vehicles up to the size of a TX-130 repulsortank, in its hold, but the one parked in one of the Jedi Temple's hangar bays only had to fit Anakin's BARC speeder.
And also Padmé's Rian-327, a long rectangular speeder with curved corners and enough seats to fit Mace Windu, Voolvif Monn, Bail Organa, Anakin's wife Padmé, the Bothan Senator Polo Se'lab, and with enough space left over to fit an astromech in front of the diminutive Bothan's legs. In this case that was the ever reliable R2-D2.
One reason why Anakin had to be so careful not to bump anything was that this BARC had recently been painted red and gray, matching the color scheme of Padmé's airspeeder.
"Skywalker, I don't have enough room without getting too close to the sides." Mace Windu said, sitting behind the wheel of Padmé's speeder, which was hovering immediately outside the LAAT.
Anakin swiveled the BARC to the left, angling it so that, rather than being positioned aft to stern within the much larger Republic transport, it was facing sideways from wing to wing. "You should be able to fit now."
"Perhaps you should let Anakin maneuver—" Padmé started.
"I've got this," Windu said sternly.
Anakin smirked as the Master of the Order hovered the speeder on board at a snail's pace. "You know, pride is the downfall of many a-Jedi."
Sitting between Polo Se'lab and Bail Organa in the back seat, Artoo tweedled, swiveling his head in a full circle.
"Wait," Anakin muttered, looking around the gunship's side and up at the empty cockpit and realizing Artoo was right. "Who's gonna pilot the gunship?!"
"That task will fall on me," said Saesee Tinn in his deep slow voice. The Iktochi stood outside the gunship in the hangar with two human Jedi Knights Anakin did not recognize, one male and one female.
Saesee Tinn stepped aboard the gunship, meandering between Padmé's and Anikin's parked speeders before climbing up a ladder and occupying the pilot's seat. The other Jedi Knights each stepped into one of the side turrets.
Anakin felt a little bit of tension leave him.
"No co-pilot?" Bail Organa asked.
"I won't need one," Tinn explained, "And at least you'll have Jedi Vanmar and Jedi Jorasa manning the turrets."
"We'll only be on board the gunship for a few minutes," Voolvif growled to the Senator reassuringly, occupying the front passenger seat. The Shistavanen did look more than a little silly wearing a dark blue Bothan Marshal Uniform. Hopefully, a Jedi mind trick would be enough to fool any security that became suspicious.
While Master Tinn performed a quick pre-flight check of the instruments, the hangar door slowly rumbled open. Even with his limited view out the side-slats, Anakin could make out several artillery pieces and flak turrets—some of which had been positioned inside the Temple Precinct and within the Jedi Temple's protective shield barrier. Every minute, more and more Clone reinforcements were crossing the large bridges spanning the urban canyons.
Already, hulking Juggernaut tanks and SPHA walkers were beginning to be brought into play on the far side of the bridges. The latter in particular began to level their powerful siege weapons at the Temple as several more AT-TEs, backed by sleek new transparisteel-canopied bipedal scout walkers and towering quadrupedal heavy walkers, marched across the bridges with a sizable infantry screen.
Sitting astride his BARC speeder, Anakin looked away from the LAAT's front, back to the speeder. He caught the eye of his wife, who also happened to be one of the opposition Senators, and a part of the Jedi Order's best hope of removing the Sith menace from government… Or at least luring him out so the Jedi could fight him in the open.
She wasn't looking back at him, but was instead staring at the back of Mace Windu's head, perhaps scrutinizing how well the costume fit the Master of the Order.
Within fifteen seconds, the gunship was hovering off the hangar floor. The side hatches closed, and the craft hurdled out of the Jedi Temple and into the evening air.
"Good news," Tinn yelled from the cockpit. "They didn't seem to have actually expected this! They're not even ready—"
The Iktochi's hopefulness was suddenly hampered by a volley of anti-air fire. As the LAAT/v pitched into a hard roll to port, Anakin's BARC floated backwards, bumping up against the interior walls.
"Skywalker, you might want to power down that speeder!" yelled Tinn as he jerked on the steering column, zig-zagging every which way.
"Thanks for warning me ahead of time," Anakin scoffed, voiced laced with sarcasm. But he did as advised, allowing the BARC to lower to the solid floor of the transport.
No doubt seeing ground targets none of the passengers could see, the Jedi Knights Vanmar and Jorasa opened fire, targeting their beam cannons downwards.
"Control, I'm approaching the barrier," Tinn said into the cockpit radio. Following the plan, he continued on course. "CONTROL I—"
"PITCH DOWN!" Anakin yelled, feeling a pulse of danger from the Force. He gasped, covering his head, expecting the craft to slam into the field, but just as they were about to impact, the shield powered down.
Even the usually collected Mace Windu sighed in relief. "That was too close," he grumbled to no one in particular.
Behind the LAAT, flak cannons and anti-air batteries continued firing—but their shots from within the Temple's shield's impacted the barrier uselessly as it reactivated. In the distance, Clones ran in every direction as pieces of debris from the artillery shells, which had been deflected off the shields, flew straight back at them. A supporting leg of one of the AV-7 artillery pieces burst into flames and snapped, no doubt hit by a large piece of shrapnel. The gunner jumped out but was crushed as his own artillery piece toppled over.
"V-wings incoming!" barked Tinn in warning. "Taking evasive maneuvers."
Sparks erupted from beneath Padmé's Rian-327 and Anakin's BARC as they scraped along the floor, moved by the g forces as the LAAT pitched hard to starboard. Darkness abruptly filled the transport's interior as it descended into the urban canyon between the Temple Precinct and the surrounding city blocks.
"Be careful!" Anakin yelled, wishing more than anything right now that he was behind the yokes.
Explosions rocked the permacrete walls, illuminating the LAAT's interior with bright flashes.
Anakin stood up from his BARC, daring to stand. "We have to lose them!"
"Master Skywalker, you are not the only one who knows how to fly a starship!" Tinn pitched down, dodging a torpedo and causing Anakin to trip backward. "I advise you all to remain seated."
"Got one!" Jorasa shouted triumphantly.
"Good, I'm going to try and shake them." Tinn pulled hard on the steering column, pitching the LAAT nearly straight up, hugging along the surface of a skyscraper.
Anakin and Padmé both yelled out in protest as the BARC speeder scraped along the floor, colliding with the nose of the Rian-327. Artoo shrieked in droidspeak as sparks flashed in the hold, the steering vanes of the BARC bouncing off the Rian's cooling grille.
"Activate your repulsorlifts. Prepare for drop in three, two—"
"ARE YOU CRAZY?! WE CAN'T DROP THIS CLOSE TO—"
Before Anakin could say each other, the rear drop hatch of the LAAT opened. Wind whipped through his hair as both speeders fell into the darkness, scraping against each other. With gritted teeth, Anakin flipped the repulsorlift on, and, a moment later, his BARC settled into place on a dark balcony. Padmé's speeder almost landed on top of him, as Windu too hovered down to the empty balcony.
Seemingly failing to notice them, two V-Wings roared past the balcony, sending wind howling upwards as their ion engines shrieked. Thousands of levels overhead, the LAAT was now beginning to emerge from the river of shadow into the fading evening sunlight.
"Next time I'm flying!"
"Young—I mean Master Skywalker," Windu said, "You already are flying."
"I think I am going to be—oh kriff—get out of my way!" Polo snarled, clambering over Bail Organa and then leaping from the side of the Rian-327 with surprising swiftness. He stooped over the side of the balcony and wretched, vomiting into the darkness.
"Well, Senator," Voolvif growled, "I hope that doesn't land on anyone."