Republic Executive Building
Sidious allowed himself a grin of delight, his teeth glistening in the multicolored light as purple clashed against blue. Anakin swung down hard against Windu's blade in a ferocious sweep, then the two locked sabers.
Windu's face scrunched up in fury and determination, and Anakin stared back with a more stony expression, eyes alight with malevolence. But something was wrong. Both would-be foes turned, their hateful gazes now bearing down on Sidious himself.
"No," Sidious whispered in horror, standing up from his throne. "No!" He let off a stream of crackling lightning, which lit the room in pulses as it clashed against both sabers.
Wordlessly, menacingly, the two Jedi stepped closer and closer, straining against the Sith Lord's onslaught. Straining but prevailing. While Mace Windu held off the brunt of the storm, Anakin stepped around the lightning to Sidious's left and swung down.
In total shock, Sidious screamed in agony, managing to yell another deafening "NOOOO!" He found himself hoisted roughly into the air over Anakin's head in a two-handed grab.
Now no longer encumbered by the lightning, Windu shattered the octagonal window positioned directly behind the Sith Lord's throne. Cold, high altitude wind whipped through the room, blowing flimsiplast, banners, curtains, and robes alike.
Without a word, without even a second thought, turned around, twirled Sidious in the air like a rag doll, and hurled him through the newly opened viewport.
As the surroundings of his throne room were replaced by the open darkness of the Coruscant night sky, Sidious shrieked. Up above, the distinctive jet-black building from which he had been defenestrated, the Grand Republic Medical Facility (otherwise known as the Chancellor Palpatine Surgical Reconstruction Center, ChanPal SuRecon Center), grew further and further away. In seconds, he had fallen so far that the angular wings surrounding the upper structure shrank to the point he could no longer make them out. His stomach fluttered from the speed of the fall as he traced the base of the tower down.
If I die in such an inglorious manner will the banite Sith knowledge still pass on? To whom? Windu or Anakin? To both?
Then he noticed how odd the location was. Last he remembered, he had been sitting in front of a Sith Holocron in his small bed chambers in the Republic Executive Building (a bedroom he used sometimes when he worked so late that a commute to his apartment was unreasonable). How could he now be in the ChanPal SuRecon Center?
"AAAARRGH!" With a furious snarl, Sidious snapped out of it, gasping for breath, his face on the thick carpet of his bedchambers. The Sith Holocron was ten or so centimeters away, lying on the carpet too. He also felt something cold and soft in his hand, and the Sith Lord quickly realized he was holding an ice-pack over his head while he meditated.
Presently, he remembered. After the Jedi's ill-conceived attack on this building, he had given a five minute press release, then retired to his bedchambers. In the aftermath of the Jedi bombing, it had become more and more apparent that the serious head injury he had suffered at the hands of Grievous over twelve hours ago was still a problem. Despite feeling a headache greater than anything he could remember, he had fought the overwhelming urge to fall asleep and just rest. No, instead, he had meditated on the future and fallen asleep.
Was that a vision of the future? Sidious wondered. He sat back up, kneeling in front of the Holocron, and reached out to it with the Force. Then he cursed himself, quaking from the effort, and snapped his gaze to the Chronometer.
2103. He had been meditating (or rather asleep) for more than forty minutes.
"My Lord," Kagi's voice said over the intercom. "My Lord, are you—"
"Speak," Sidious said quickly and glanced around the room distractedly. He looked towards the Jedi Temple, where smoke was rising but there were no flashes of battle. More started coming back to him.
Yes. Open negotiations… Did the Jedi actually submit?
Sidious did not genuinely allow himself to hope for that—even if the Jedi did submit to his will and surrender, it would be nothing more than a temporary ceasefire; after which the Sith would no longer have the upper hand when the Jedi decided to strike anew.
"My Lord, there is good news."
"Is that so?" Sidious asked with a mocking level of skepticism, steepling his fingers as his hands rested on his stomach.
"The Sentinel did it, sir. He captured Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker."
Heavily modified combat droids, Sentinels had utilized an unusual analog computer for their main processing unit. Though still machines, these analog computers roughly mimicked the firing of neurons brought about through changes in stimulation of organic brains, and their consciousness essentially followed the same patterns as that of an organic being. These droids were Sidious's first attempt at Essence Transfer, one which had been largely a failure.
While Sidious could replicate his consciousness in a machine, he had not managed to transfer himself into one, and worse, the machines were not Force-sensitive. Yet, the Sith Lord had kept several around for a few purposes. Contingencies. Plans within plans in the event something went terribly wrong. Many sentient computers though had utterly failed to defeat Jedi.
At this news of unexpected success Sidious bolted upright, unable to believe his ears. A droid captured Anakin and Mace Windu? The Sentinel had been sent to CoCo Town with a company of Clones to distract the Jedi while a group of commandos captured Padmé, leaving Anakin and Windu to grapple with this. It wasn't supposed to be successful.
"Are you certain? What is Sentinel-1's current status?"
"Yes, my Lord, I am certain. Sentinel-1 is requesting reinforcements from orbit to assist in the capture of Senator Amidala. It is on its way here currently."
"No!" Sidious snapped. Under the unexpected wave of fear, he had cried out far louder than he had intended.
"No?" Kagi said in utter confusion.
Sidious closed his eyes, remembering the feeling of his hands being sliced off. The way his stomach fluttered as he was thrown through a window. The complete and utter failure of the Sith Grand Plan. He struggled for a moment, grasping for the right question. Then it came to him. "Do all of the personnel accompanying the Sentinel believe the Sentinel actually to be me? Do they believe that I personally captured Skywalker and Windu?"
"We have given them no reason to think otherwise," Kagi said, voice filled with concern and confusion.
"That's not what I asked," Sidious sighed. More of his pre-concussion memory started flowing back into his aching head.
"Shall I tell the Sentinel to belay its request for reinforcements?" Kagi asked.
Sidious ignored Kagi's question. "Have you done as I instructed? Have you actively listened into the communications of the platoons accompanying the Sentinel?"
"My Lord, I have done as you instructed. None of the troopers seem to believe the Sentinel is anyone but you; however, I can't say for certain that the Jedi have been fooled."
Sidious let off a laugh. "They were captured by this droid. Anakin's own hubris will not let him believe otherwise! As for the reinforcements…" He trailed off, staring at the ceiling. In the wave of Force awareness that permeated all of Coruscant, the Sith Lord could feel that Padmé was so close to being in his clutches. If that happened, Anakin would be trivial to control. "Don't interfere with the Sentinel's request for reinforcements.
"Where is the Sentinel to take the Jedi prisoners?"
A plan was continuing to formulate in Sidious's mind, now with new detail. "Begin transferring patients to my medical center. Take the Jedi there."
"Patients?! Do you mean the Grand Republic Medical Facility?" Kagi sounded more concerned than ever.
"Yes. Let the Jedi make their escape, or better yet, rescue attempt."
o.o.o.o.o
WULLF YULAREN
Aboard the RSD Integrity, in orbit of Coruscant
Admiral Wullf Yularen closed his eyes, seething anger as he looked away from the main viewer. On screen, the unconscious bodies of Generals Skywalker and Windu dangled haphazardly beneath a pair of LAATs, cocooned in synth-fabric nets.
Sitting in one of Integrity's many spacious briefing rooms, Yularen was all alone; Save for the three other faces broadcast live over subspace video transmission, crammed into various smaller rectangles beneath the meeting room's main viewer. Certain he could no longer trust any of his Clones, Yularen had sealed himself away and sent discreet messages to fellow command staff and the members of the Republic Security Council whom he felt could be trusted.
Observing the conflict in various parts of the city through Arakyd probe droids, Naval Intelligence now had a probe floating above the military skylane. A few minutes ago, it caught a glimpse of Skywalker and Windu, apparently having been captured.
"What—They seem to be changing direction," said the voice of Vice Admiral Dodd Rancit, his face positioned on a smaller screen to the lower left of the main display. There was a murmur of voices on Rancit's side of the broadcast, and he turned away for a moment and asked, "Are you sure?"
"What is going on there?" asked General Locus Geen, a bald human with a distinctive goatee who represented the Army on the Republic Security Council. His face was sandwiched on Yularen's display between those of Dodd Rancit and Director Armand Isard.
Rancit looked into the camera again, whispering in shock. "Their trajectory has shifted. They are now transporting Generals Windu and Skywalker away from the Federal District."
"Where to, Rancit?!" Geen asked, this time more impatient.
"Central District," Rancit sighed. "It's too early to tell for certain. Perhaps the ChanPal SuRecon building."
"That place is completely controlled by the Chancellor," Isard muttered. "Not even I have access."
"That's it then," Yularen said bitterly.
Yularen didn't know exactly what he had hoped would happen. Perhaps he hoped for Mace Windu and Anakin to take the Chancellor into custody. Perhaps he hoped for the Jedi to win this insane civil war before things got too out of hand. As a native of Coruscant himself, the thought of the violence spreading past the Jedi Temple made him shudder. Even worse was the possibility of this boiling over into a civil war all over the Republic, and for all he knew, this already was happening.
"We should have enacted Order 65 fifteen hours ago," General Geen said bluntly.
"On what grounds?" asked Isard. "Incompetence?"
"No, Isard," Yularen said, shaking his head. "This is more than incompetence." He looked back to the display, where the LAATs were still ambling along the empty skylane.
"It's treason," Geen said.
Isard took a sharp inhalation of breath. "I wouldn't go that far. The Chancellor had legitimate reasons for asking the Jedi to turn over Dooku—"
"That's just an excuse!" Geen spat, his face visibly reddening. "It's just an excuse for him to destroy the Jedi, so the Separatists can overrun us."
"I've been considering that possibility myself," Yularen sighed, nervously adjusting the collar of his uniform. "We'll need proof though, Geen, and we have to convince millions and millions of Clones."
"That might not be possible," Isard said darkly. "Remember the 'inhibitor chip' that went faulty on Ringo Vinda? Well, I've been hearing rumors, mutterings really from others in Palpatine's inner circle… They're worried because a group of Clones have gone rogue and joined the Jedi. Clones that had their inhibitor chips removed by Ahsoka Tano."
"What?!" gasped General Geen and Vice Admiral Rancit in unison.
"You waited til now to tell us that?" Yularen snorted in disbelief. "Are you suggesting the inhibitor chips might actually cause the Clones to… to what? Take the Chancellor's side?"
Isard poured dark brown liquor into a small class and took a sip. "I know it sounds mad, but that's what I have been able to put together."
Rancit looked more disconcerted than ever. "I've heard rumors myself. Rumors that, on some fronts, Clones have turned on their Jedi Generals and shot them in cold blood… Instances of Clones killing any non-Clone military officers who stood in their way, even gunning down their own who refused to comply."
"Let's focus on what we know," Yularen said, shaking his head. Enough rumors!"
"If the rumors are true, we've come full circle again!" Geen scoffed. "If the Clones obey the Chancellor, all we have to do is replace the Chancellor!"
"You're sounding dangerously close to treasonous yourself," Yularen hissed. "We need evidence. We can't just—"
"Admiral, please call the bridge," said a female voice over the ship's intercom.
Suddenly afraid of being watched, Yularen shot a glance over his shoulder, then looked down to his datapad. He had several missed messages, all from the bridge.
"We are in no position to depose the sitting Chancellor," Yularen whispered. "Even I am unconvinced that is the prudent course of action, and even if it were, it would set such a dangerous precedent. I do not want to live in a Republic where, anytime civilian politicians stop behaving as expected, the military steps in and ousts them! If the Chancellor is a traitor though, and circumstances suggest this is a—"
"Uh Admiral," the same female voice started with wavering uncertainty, then stiffened. "Admiral to bridge."
What in the blazes is going on?
"I need to go," Yularen said quickly, then added, "Find me evidence!"
o.o.o.o.o
"Admiral on deck!" shouted a Clone security trooper at the rear of the bridge.
"At ease," Yularen sighed, passing between the data pits as he made his journey to the front of the bridge. When Integrity's executive officer (a Clone Naval Officer named Drifter) said nothing, the Admiral added "Report."
"Sir, Scepter has broken formation and is refusing my order to return."
"Broken formation?" Yularen asked, then cursed under his breath when he sighted the ship, another Venator-class Star Destroyer, dipping down into Coruscant's upper atmosphere. He looked to one of the Clone Navigation officers. "Is this still set to their comm frequency."
"Yes Admiral, it's on the fleet frequency."
Jamming his thumb down on the speak button so hard that it hurt a little, Yularen raised his voice. "Integrity to Scepter, this is Admiral Wullf Yularen. I have given no orders to break formation and land on Coruscant. Do you read me?"
A Clone voice with a typical concord dawn-influenced accent responded. "Scepter to Integrity, we read you Admiral, but we can't comply. Our intention is not to land on Coruscant though."
"Why the hell not?!" Yularen asked, his face beginning to redden again.
"We're under orders of the Chancellor, Admiral. Got a full detachment of the 187th and 501st to back up the Coruscant Guard in CoCo Town." After an awkward silence that lasted perhaps five seconds, the Captain elaborated, "Senator Amidala has escaped."
Amidala? Padmé Amidala?
For a moment, Yularen shook his head in confusion, then remembered the capture of Anakin and Mace Windu for CoCo Town. "I wasn't aware that you were targeting Senators now," he said bitterly, then swallowed, remembering the rumors of Clones executing their commanding officers.
"The Chancellor has activated a Contingency Order, sir. Anyone who interferes with Order 66 is a traitor to the Galactic Republic," said the voice through the comm.
So now Palpatine is accusing anyone who does not fall into line of treason then? And to think I once admired the man, he's worse than any of the corrupt senators lining their pockets.
Something about this made Yularen so angry that he wanted nothing more than to yell into the comm. To berate all the Clones who are following those orders, declare the execution of Order 66 to be illegal, and to accuse anyone willingly following the Chancellor of treason.
"Damn you," Yularen spat, "You damned tr—I mean…" He quickly cut himself off, and turned around to see every eye on the bridge on him. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned back to the comm station. "For you to follow those orders, Captain, is every bit as baffling as it is for the Chancellor to issue them in the first place. Do you read me?"
"I read you sir," the voice on the other end said, now sounding as if worried for Yularen's sanity.
Wide eyed, the Clones continued staring at Yularen. Their alarmed expressions gave the Admiral the impression that they expected him to spontaneously combust or transform into a mythical creature.
Yularen snorted in anger, bitter at the fact that his subtlety had gone completely over the Clones' heads, and that he could not risk telling them how he really felt about this. Without another word, he stormed off the bridge, heading to his quarters to find something to drink.
o.o.o.o.o
RAZAL WULF
Razal Wulf, Ardennian, veteran of the Republic Navy, and patient (or perhaps former patient) of the COMPOR Hospital made his way through the crowds, pushing a wheelchair. The notice that he and his crippled Chelidae friend Hashtivar were to be transferred to another hospital had come through less than ten minutes prior.
"I can help you with that," said a Sullustan nurse wearing green scrubs.
"I'm fine," Wulf said, rolling his giant almond-shaped eyes. He continued through the open doors, exiting from the brightly lit hallway and following the crowds out into the Coruscant night air. His sense of smell hadn't quite been the same ever since he had taken a blaster shot to the back of the head on Murkhana, but he knew smoke when he smelled it. Off in the distance plumes of smoke arose amidst the shorter buildings of CoCo Town. Beyond the horizon was a dull orange glow.
"Maybe the Jedi are going to attack the hospital," Hashtivar said from his wheelchair. The comment was extremely unemotional. Deadpan even.
For a moment, Wulf stared in awe at the Venator-class Star Destroyer slowly descending in the distance. His foggy mind began to slowly process Hashtivar's hypothesis, but it was difficult. Slow. "Why would the Jedi attack a hospital?" he managed to ask at last.
"The Chancellor is a patient here, remember? They say he got a wicked concussion during the attack this morning."
A dozen meters or so to their left, an LAAT lowered to the balcony. Nurses hurriedly pushed a trio of beds on board, while an attending doctor, Rodian female, stood to the side holding a datapad and discussing something with a fully-armored Clone. The blood red of the Clone's armor jogged old memories.
For a moment, the Ardennian was a Counter Terrorism Operative again, training alongside the Coruscant Guard. He smiled, remembering that day earlier in the war when credits fell from the sky like food from heaven—back when a Banking Clan terror cell dumped trillions of credits into the Coruscant underworld in an effort to cause the collapse of the Republic economy.
"Don't worry we got this."
Wulf snapped out of his reverie, head suddenly aching. Two burly male nurses, one a human and the other a Trandoshan, had picked up Hashtivar's wheelchair and were carrying it, Chelidae included, onto an LAAT that had suddenly lowered in front of them. At some point could not remember, Wulf had let go of the chair's handles.
A yellow-skinned female Twi'lek nurse whose nametag read Ratha stood at the edge of the LAAT, one foot inside the cabin, one foot on the COMPOR hospital's balcony. "Come on now. Take my hand."
Smiling, Wulf felt a hot flush of attraction as he grabbed her hand, allowing himself to be tugged aboard. Like he always did before flirting, the Ardennian reached one of his four hands up and behind the back of his head, as if to simultaneously scratch an itch and adjust a hat he was not wearing. However, he winced in surprised pain, gasping in shock.
Oh yeah. Scar tissue. Don't touch.
"Is the next hospital going to be nicer than this?" grunted the robotic voice of a ginger haired human female named Lursi Venn, a former Lieutenant in the SBI who had narrowly survived being gulleted by an assassin a year prior. From what Wulf had heard, she was still awaiting cloned vocal chords to replace the voice synthesizer.
"Wasn't this hospital nice enough?" chortled the Twi'lek, Ratha. "I'd certainly expect the next hospital will be nicer. It's the Chancellor's own hospital."
That caught his attention. Wulf gasped, half in alarm, half in surprise. He looked meaningfully at Hashtivar, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You were right!"
"No I wasn't," Hashtivar snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "They wouldn't be moving us to where the Chancellor was if they were afraid of us being caught in the crossfire, would they?"
Wulf began thinking about that, and how strange it was for them to be relocated to some place directly associated with the Chancellor in the middle of a conflict between the Jedi and the Senate. Soon though, the LAAT's engines accelerated, and the night-time air whipped through the Ardennian's fur. Before long, they would all be exactly where Sidious wanted them to be.
In a place that was far from safe.