Dear scarease, yes, we may see a duel down the road which will decide more than just life or death
Dear monkeywrench, thank you for your review! Made me happy!
Dear Guest, as always I enjoyed reading your thoughts. Thank you for sharing them!
In some things, you are right. Such as warning the Jedi of Order 66 being a difficult affair - Kenshin is well aware that the Jedi would never believe him. That's why he sought out Depa Billaba to pass on the message. We will see if the message is heard, and what the consequences will be.
In other things…When it comes to Sidious – are you so sure that Kenshin will be really that surprised? At this point, he may not yet know they're the same person, but he suspects an extremely strong connection between them.
He heard Dooku warning Obi-Wan about Sidious' influence on the Senate (on Geonosis); he senses Sidious' presence while Shmi Skywalker dies, and senses it again during one of Palpatine's speeches (Chapter 20 – Cast shadows). Before leaving the Jedi Order, he reveals his suspicions about Palpatine and Palpatine's connection to Sidious to Anakin, (which, given Anakin's blind trust in good ole Palpy, unfortunately falls on deaf ears). He also talks about it to Depa Billaba, when he meets her in that shady cantina.
Kenshin thinks that Palpatine is Sidious' ally, and threatening Palpatine is a deliberate act of poking the wasps' nest to lure Sidious out of hiding.
When Sidious reveals himself, he may simply realize that his target was a lot closer than expected. Will this be enough of a surprise to throw an experienced, cold-blooded assassin off balance? Kenshin is no Jedi anymore.
To fulfil his purpose, Kenshin has gone to great lengths, including sacrificing his friendship with Anakin by abandoning him. That absolutely was a mistake, but at the same time - there is strength in conviction, and uncomprisingness; and that very strength might yet be a veritable threat to Sidious' plans. Especially since Sidious shares a certain arrogance with Yoda. Yoda, and the Jedi Order, come from a Jedi tradition that hasn't been challenged in a thousand years; and Sidious, who developed his grand scheme undisturbed, thanks to the Jedi's blindness (apart from the few who dared questioning things but were skilfully eliminated, like Ronhar Kim), also remains unchallenged for a long time. How will this complacency turn out for Sidious?
There are more unknowns in that equation than you think, dear Guest. What is right, and what is wrong? What does it mean to win? What, specifically, does it mean to Kenshin Kano? Sidious is undoubtedly more powerful and stronger with the dark side than Kano – yet even the smallest mosquito can cause a mighty lion great pain, and sometimes that's all it takes for things to derail.
Also, there is still Anakin in the picture. While young Skywalker is often ridden by a storm of emotions, he is clever and capable of learning; and he might heed his late Master's teachings yet, in one way or another…
Credit where credit's due: parts of this chapter were inspired by Jack Forsythe's "The Day of the Jackal", the Demon slayer manga and Arcane animated series. I've also included direct quotes and text passages from the novelization of ROTS by Matthew Stover.
~ 26 ~
Ghost slayer
~ It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies,
but even more to stand up to your friends. ~
Turmoil.
The golden light of Coruscant's setting sun bathed the room in warm, peaceful hues, mocking the course of events that none of the wise Masters could have imagined. Had the entire galaxy gone mad? Depa had acted against the Council's orders, betraying HIM once again. Had Haruun Kaal not been enough? Trust between the Jedi and the clones was crucial to the war effort, as was trust between the Jedi and the Senate. Instead of that trust, there was now panic and discord. Depa's actions had not only been a breach of protocol but also a challenge to the High Council's very leadership. Her defiance was reckless and irresponsible.
His own former padawan had secretly manipulated the emergency broadcast beacon and sent out a warning to every Jedi, detailing the possible programming in the clones' inhibitor chips. Most Knights and Masters had remained calm, but some Jedi had abandoned their posts—a number high enough to compromise the war effort on some fronts—and the seed of uncertainty and distrust had been sown among those who stayed. The fallout of Depa's message was catastrophic. And what if it was true? A thorough and urgent investigation was in order to verify if the intel was legitimate, and to either prepare for the worst or restore order and trust. To swiftly decide on a course of action, an emergency meeting with the Chancellor and leading senators had been called. It was during that very meeting that things took an even worse turn with a sudden, violent impact.
A threat to the Chancellor's life, hitting this close to home, was unheard of. And no one could foresee the consequences of Dooku's death.
"It's absolutely outrageous! The Chancellor's schedule and the time and date of this meeting were highly classified. Nobody had the information that this meeting would take place! How did the attacker get so close? Where were the guards? Where was air security? And how did the terrorist manage to kill Count Dooku? We've sent Quinlan Vos—a fully trained Jedi Master, and a Sith assassin—after him and all failed. Who in all moons and stars is this 'Ghost'?"
Master Agen Kolar spoke with vigor, riled up in a way that was quite unusual for him. The words barely reached through to Mace Windu's ears. He remained quiet, frowning in contemplation. The Ghost had quite literally delivered them the head of the most sought-after separatist in the galaxy. The assassination of Count Dooku was a message, in all its deliberate, disgusting cruelty, and sent with the sole purpose of instilling fear.
Surely, Dooku's demise could be a favor to the Republic. This, however, did not change the fact that the Chancellor was in very real danger.
"This is a crisis like none we've faced before. Count Dooku is dead, and the message left with his head threatens the life of the Chancellor himself. We must determine our next steps with great care," Mace replied, his expression grim and resolute. It kept nagging him that the cut surface of the severed head was not cauterized like it would have been by a lightsaber cut. The person who had beheaded the Separatist leader had chosen to use a non-energy blade, as a cognizant act of malice. This was a message in itself. To be capable of killing Darth Tyranus in one-on-one close combat required an exquisite warrior and swordsman, and most likely to be Force-sensitive. There were VERY few people in the galaxy capable of such a feat. To add to what he already suspected, the deliberate cruelty and disgusting manner in which the message had been delivered had this particular handwriting all over it. It evoked feelings he shouldn't have felt, he scolded himself, but he couldn't help it. It was disdain and regret. It was hate. It was fear. He had helped train the defiant boy, back in the day, despite his reluctance to even accept him into the Jedi temple. If only he had sensed back then that he had helped raise a demon. If only he had foreseen that Kenshin Kano would turn into a venomous, vicious snake, biting the hand by which it had been raised. It was the first time that his shatterpoint ability had failed him.
"The political ramifications of Dooku's death will be immense," Ki-Adi Mundi said. "The Separatist forces may fracture without their leader, but they could also become more desperate and dangerous."
"And the Republic?" Master Kenobi added. "With this threat against the Chancellor, the Senate will likely push for even more drastic measures to end the war swiftly. This could lead to further militarization and loss of life."
Plo Koon's deep voice then resonated through the chamber. "The terrorist responsible for this act is highly skilled and well-informed. They managed to infiltrate the Chancellor's office during a highly secretive meeting. This suggests they have resources and connections within both factions."
Yoda tapped his gimer stick thoughtfully against the floor. "The shadows, uncover we must. A dangerous path, this terrorist walks. Clever and bold, they are, and willing to go to any lengths. Ready, we must be for their next move."
"Esteemed Masters," Windu raised his voice again. "This may entail that he is harder to find than we thought, but at this point I believe it is perfectly clear who the Ghost is."
"Could you specify this a bit further, Master Windu? I'm afraid not everyone shares your foresight." Kenobi asked.
"As Master Koon stated: It takes an extremely skilled bladesbeing to manage and defeat Count Dooku. His own assassin, Asajj Ventress, trained by himself, could not accomplish this, nor could some of the finest Masters in our ranks. May I then highlight the fact that the head has been severed with a sharp, dead blade, and not a lightsaber. I have met only one person who wields such a weapon and has that level of skill and combat proficiency. We must acknowledge the fact that the Ghost has formerly been one of our own. It is my regret that we didn't stop Kenshin Kano while we still could have, before he turned into this abomination, mocking everything we hold dear."
"HOW DARE YOU!" Anakin Skywalker all but exploded. "Dooku was a powerful warrior, but not invincible, and anyone could have wielded a dead blade. Force knows what terrors the Dathomiri witches can conjure. Just because Ventress' previous attempts failed, doesn't mean she couldn't have found new, more powerful allies, and sided with the Ghost, and defeated Dooku together. What you state is no proof for anything!"
"Anakin, please. How often must we remind you how to conduct yourself in the presence of the High Council…"
"With all due respect, Master Kenobi, this is not the time to distract from the issue at hand with a lecture about etiquette. We are at war, and a threat against the Chancellor's life has been made! Master Windu is looking in the wrong direction. My Master would never turn against the Republic. He risked his life for it, many times, until the indecisiveness and rigidity and blindness which apparently rule this Council, drove him away!"
Aggression and indignation hung in the air, as for a few moments none of the older Masters knew what to say.
"Time for dissent, this is not!" Yoda exclaimed firmly, underlining his words with another heavy tap of his gimer stick. "Find the terrorist, we must, before again they strike. And protected, the Chancellor must be!"
"You are right, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan chimed in. "We must also decide on a course of action, regarding the political consequences of Dooku's demise. Dooku's death will likely create a power vacuum within the Separatist movement, leading to infighting and chaos among its leaders. Without Dooku's guidance and influence, the Separatist Alliance could become fractured and less organized, making them more vulnerable to Republic attacks. Additionally, Dooku's absence could leave a void in leadership that could lead to power struggles and internal conflicts among Separatist factions. To our benefit, with Dooku out of the picture, the Republic could gain a significant advantage in the war. Dooku was a skilled strategist and leader, and his absence would weaken the Separatist forces and potentially shift the balance of power in favour of the Republic. This could lead to increased Republic victories on the battlefield and a potential turning point in the war. On the other hand, the assassination of Count Dooku and the death threat against Chancellor Palpatine could possibly escalate tensions between the Republic and the Separatists. Both sides could view the attacks as acts of aggression and retaliation, leading to increased hostilities and a further escalation of the war. The Senate may respond by intensifying its efforts to crush the Separatist movement, while the Separatists may retaliate with more frequent and devastating attacks on Republic targets."
"Then what do you suggest, Master Kenobi?" Mace Windu asked.
"We must talk to the Chancellor. We can only assure what's left of trust and stability in our relations to the senate if we act with transparency and integrity. And we must ensure the Chancellor's protection!"
Tedious hours later, when the meeting had finally come to an end, Anakin all but stormed out of the Council chamber. Obi-Wan had trouble to catch up.
"May I suggest you slow down a little, so an old man can keep up?" he addressed the younger Jedi, in a forcedly light-hearted tone.
Over the past two years or so, Obi-Wan had become almost as much as a friend.
Anakin enjoyed working alongside the older man. He was a bit stiff, and cared a little too much about protocol, but there was a semblance of familiarity, benevolence, and comforting presence. It didn't exactly fill the hole that Kenshin's absence marked, but still. He missed his friend so much.
"What, Obi-Wan? What the Council is doing….I mean, yes, I'm a good choice as Chancellor Palpatine's bodyguard, but my abilities were put to much better use if they sent me to find the Ghost. That guy – or woman – knows how to hide, and how to fool us. I was trained by a secret agent! If anyone can find this mystery assassin, I can!"
"Said secret agent often complained how little you cared for his teachings, from what I recall. I distinctly remember Kenshin saying, you had the affinity for stealth of a bantha…"
"Yeah, he might have said that once or twice…or literally all the time." Anakin hung his head low.
Obi-Wan gently pressed his hand onto Anakin's shoulder.
"You miss him, don't you?"
"Oh, don't you come at me with a lecture about attachments!"
"I'm not judging you, Anakin! It's ok" A bit more quietly, he added: "I missed my Master, too, when…"
"There being the difference that Kenshin isn't dead! I could try and find him, and he could help us track the terrorist down!"
"Anakin…" Obi-Wan shook his head with a solemn expression.
"No, Obi-Wan! Please don't say you buy into that bantha podoo, that Windu is stirring up."
"Just because you don't want to see it doesn't mean it isn't true. We sent Quinlan Vos to assassinate Dooku and it turned out badly – he came back days after Ventress had freed him, and he has come back a broken man! Ventress has tried and failed several times as far as we know, she failed despite Quinlan's help, and despite using that monstrosity called Savage Opress. None of them succeeded. There is a very limited number of people in the galaxy capable of besting Dooku. We both know one of them, and he might very well be the only one with that level of capability, and he is indeed wielding a dead blade! We haven't heard anything from him since he left, nor have we any clue about his whereabouts. He has always walked closer to the dark than any of us was comfortable with. "
"Then let's entertain the theory that he has fallen to the dark side. Why would he help the Republic by killing Dooku?"
"To replace him. To become Sidious' apprentice."
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?! Kenshin would never do that! He would never turn against the Republic. He would never betray me. He left the Jedi Order, yes, and in all honesty, I can't blame him. After what they did to Ahsoka. After how they treated him all these years. Sometimes I wonder if the High Council has gone crazy. Kenshin despised greed and power. Joining Sidious would go against everything he has ever fought and stood for!"
"Indeed, and he would not be the first Jedi being twisted into the very thing they had set out to destroy, Anakin!"
The night had covered Coruscant by long, when Palpatine closed the door to his office to let out his last visitor and settled down, alone, gazing out of the generous window. He had just said goodbye to Anakin, who had come to inform him in person, that the Council had assigned him to continue as his personal Jedi bodyguard, until the terrorist they called the 'Ghost' was found.
The young man had been very upset but wouldn't yet let on for what reason. He had a feeling what it was, and knowing Anakin, he would tell him soon enough. He was so easy to manipulate. Such gullible, blind, unyielding loyalty and trust young Skywalker had.
And that, he might have to rely on much more and sooner than he originally had planned. The unimaginable had happened. Events had taken place without his knowledge, without him planning for it to happen, outside of his control. He, the Dark Lord of the Sith, he, the orchestrator of galactic fate – he wasn't supposed to feel fear. Fear was a tool, a weapon to be wielded. By him, not against him. He didn't understand his own feelings. He wasn't truly concerned that a death threat had been issued against him – well, the Chancellor, really. Who would truly be powerful and cunning enough to challenge him – no one. He couldn't quite pinpoint this unfamiliar emotion; maybe it was the unfamiliarity in itself that shook him. Things outside the perimeter of his knowledge, outside of his control weren't supposed to exist! Deep down, for a fleeting moment, an impalpable Force shadow had whispered into his ear and told him how next to the Force, the Dark Lord of the Sith was insignificant, brushed him with the chilling certitude that next to the wrath of the Force herself, even he was powerless.
He shook his head as if to shake these unbecoming feelings.
So, his apprentice was dead. Dooku, the pawn he had groomed to destabilize the galaxy, had been struck down by the Ghost. This assassin, this so-called peace activist, had disrupted his plans. How intriguing. How... vexing. Some on the Jedi Council thought that Anakin's former Master, Kenshin Kano, was hiding behind the Ghost's mask. He had always thought Kano to be a rather insignificant existence, and his defection from the Order, further destabilizing Anakin and further damaging his trust in the Jedi, had proven rather supportive of his plans. Did the true identity of the Ghost matter?
With Dooku's death, he had lost a crucial piece on the board. He was to lead the Separatists until the final moment, ensuring the galaxy's descent into chaos, paving the way for his ultimate rise to power. His elimination creates a void that must be filled swiftly and strategically. He had to determine how to turn this situation to his advantage.
'The Jedi will be in disarray', he thought to himself, 'their Council scrambling to understand this new threat. The Senate will clamor for increased security, more power in the hands of the Chancellor. This could be an opportunity. I must exploit the fear and chaos sown by this assassin.'
The reveal of Order 66? This one made him chuckle. At a first glance, it appeared disruptive to his plans. Instead, the Jedi's trust in the Chancellor's authority was so deep, so blind, they thought this to be a sabotage attempt. It turned out to serve him, too, sowing chaos and fear, that he would reign in, further cementing his authority.
He would turn the emergence of the Ghost and the chaos caused by their actions into an opportunity to serve his purpose! He couldn't but admire the genius of his machinations.
And still, he felt uneasy. He couldn't silence that venomous voice within, however small, that had now invaded his consciousness. It soiled his glory, it scratched at his greatness, and it didn't go away. Beneath all his confidence, there now was a small, but growing seed of fear and doubt.
Not far from "The Last Drop," on a forgotten rooftop of an abandoned industrial complex, the city planet's busy hustle and buzzing appeared distant. Calmly, he let his gaze wander over the jewelscape of Coruscant against the night sky. It was almost a place of serenity. He even came here to meditate sometimes. After he had returned from his quest to Serenno, Balu had once more provided shelter. A perfect base to prepare for his quest, gathering intel, and acquiring the weapon he would need for this particular mission.
The message to Palpatine had been delivered. He knew he had to act quickly now. Otherwise, the political and military ramifications of Dooku's death would drag the galaxy into worse chaos and suffering than before and achieve the opposite of what he had intended.
He was familiar enough with how the Council and the Senate operated, and could imagine all too well how Palpatine, or Sidious pulling the strings in the background, would try and twist things to their own advantage. Not only that—the Jedi were in grave danger. He would never know if Master Billaba would find a way to warn the Jedi of Order 66; and if that message would then be acknowledged and heard. He hoped they would believe her, but he knew he had to assume the worst. The more so he had to act rapidly and end the war and eliminate the threat looming over the entire Jedi Order before tragedy would strike.
Of all the different ways to kill a politician, he had concluded that striking when and where it was least expected, with death hiding in plain sight, would harbor the best chances of success. With the help of a few mouse droids and probes, he had soon acquired detailed information about the Grand Convocation Chamber's ventilation system and layout. He also knew that even now, with the recent threat on the Chancellor's life, these ventilation tunnels were not guarded or surveyed.
As simple as the plan was, as intricate and sophisticated was the tool that would be used for its execution. His sensitivity to the Force would aid him; yet the feat was not an easy one. The stretch a bullet or charge would have to cover from his vantage point to its target, measured exactly 72.3 meters. Not an impossible distance for a sniper gun, yet he would have only one opportunity, one shot. Maybe two, but not more. The charges were not regular blaster charges, but bullets of a very special make. Having hollow tips filled with mercury in liquid form, they would explode within the body of their victim and assuredly kill. This kind of ammunition was highly illegal in about every civilized star system, by far exceeding any military standards.
A gentle breeze caressed his face, blowing a few strands of hair to the side. The Force felt different to him now. Darker, more terrifying and yet he felt more connected to it. He had committed himself to this path, fully aware it would undoubtedly bring about his own destruction. He had made peace with it. With the Chancellor's—the tyrant, as he preferred to put it—demise, this war would soon come to an end. And once Palpatine was dead, Darth Sidious would have lost his most crucial ally and be forced to reveal himself. He had no illusions about the outcome of facing a dark lord. He knew what the price of going into this ultimate, terminal battle would be.
Walking to his own fall, he would take Darth Sidious down. There was freedom in life, there was purpose in death. He wasn't afraid of the dark.
He was ready.
In lieu of a better ritual, he ignited his lightsaber. The dark, menacing hum of his weapon made him feel calm. With curious interest, he noticed that the blade had lost its color. Instead of shining with the former purple glow, it was almost invisible now, merely a transparent blur could be perceived by human eyes. The heart of his blade wasn't a kyber crystal, but a piece of fossilized and crystallized Yashkaru blood. The large reptiles had roamed his homeworld since long before the emergence of humans. Fossils of them sometimes included crystallized parts that had very similar properties comparable to kyber. He had found one, by chance, or will of the Force, he couldn't say, and chosen it to power his new blade after he had abandoned his Padawan lightsaber. It emitted a very powerful and destructive blade, that had always appeared a dark shade of purple. A few months ago, the purple glow had begun to fade, as if to underline him giving up his identity as a Jedi. The lethal energy was still the same. He liked it. It was now a blade truly befitting a Ghost.
Obi-Wan sat beside Mace Windu while they watched Yoda scan a report. Here in Yoda's simple living space within the Jedi Temple, every softly curving pod chair and knurled organiform table hummed with gentle, comforting power: the same warm strength that Obi-Wan remembered enfolding him even as an infant. These chambers had been Yoda's home for more than eight hundred years. Everything within them echoed with the harmonic resonance of Yoda's calm wisdom, tuned through centuries of his touch. To sit within Yoda's chambers was to inhale serenity; to Obi-Wan, this was a great gift in these troubled times. But when Yoda looked at them through the translucent shimmer of the holoprojected report on the contents of the latest amendment to the Security Act, his eyes were anything but calm: they had gone narrow and cold, and his ears had flattened back along his skull.
"This report—from where does it come?"
"The Jedi still have friends in the Senate," Mace Windu replied in his grim monotone, "for now."
"When presented this amendment is, passed it will be?"
Mace nodded. "My source expects passage by acclamation. Overwhelming passage. Perhaps as early as two days from now."
"The Chancellor's goal in this—unclear to me it is," Yoda said slowly. "Though nominally in command of the Council, the Senate may place him, the Jedi he cannot control. Moral, our authority has always been; much more than merely legal. Simply follow orders, Jedi do not!"
"I don't think he intends to control the Jedi," Mace said. "By placing the Jedi Council under the control of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor, this amendment will give him the constitutional authority to disband the Order itself."
"I understand that the incident about the inhibitor chips is troubling to the Chancellor, but to go to this length?" Obi-Wan said. "Surely you cannot believe this is his intention."
"His intention?" Mace said darkly.
"The Chancellor's intentions, darker than we thought, they might be," Yoda said solemnly. "Moving to take control of the Jedi, the Chancellor is."
"I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi," Mace said solemnly.
"When the death threat was issued by the terrorist, sensed something curious, I have. Darkness. Fear. But proof we need, before taking this to the Council, we can."
"It is suspicious that now, that Count Dooku is dead, no moves towards a restoration of peace have been made by the Chancellor's office!" Obi-Wan admitted.
"There is still Grievous to deal with. The proof will come when Grievous is gone. If the Chancellor doesn't end this war after the destruction of General Grievous, he should be removed from office," Mace said.
"I'm now sure we cannot trust Palpatine as much as we have. What if he really is under the influence of the Sith?"
"What makes you say that, Master Windu?" Obi-Wan said.
"With everything he has done since the war started, ever since he 'accepted emergency powers with great reluctance,' he has been on a not even so covert quest for more power. I can see it now. All the amendments to the constitution, all the special measures supporting the war effort, to bring it to a quick end? Then why is the war still raging? This latest action is a move toward our destruction. The dark side of the Force surrounds the Chancellor."
"If all this is true, then Palpatine's intentions are irrelevant; all that matters now is the intent of the Sith Lord who has our government in his grip. And the Jedi Order may be all that stands between him and galactic domination. What do you think he will do?"
"Authority to disband the Jedi, the Senate would never grant."
"The Senate will vote to grant exactly that. In two days."
"The implications of this, they must not comprehend!"
"It no longer matters what they comprehend," Mace said. "They know where the power is."
"But even disbanded, even without legal authority, still Jedi we would be. Jedi Knights served the Force long before there was a Galactic Republic, and serve it we will when this Republic is but dust."
"Master Yoda, that day may be coming sooner than any of us think. That day may be the day after tomorrow." Mace shot a frustrated look at Obi-Wan, who picked up his cue smoothly.
"We don't know what the Sith Lord's plans may be," Obi-Wan said, "but we can be certain that Palpatine is not to be trusted. Not anymore. This draft resolution is not the product of some overzealous Senator; we may be sure Palpatine wrote it himself and passed it along to someone he controls—to make it look like the Senate is once more 'forcing him to reluctantly accept extra powers in the name of security.' We are afraid that they will continue to do so until one day he's 'forced to reluctantly accept' dictatorship for life."
"I am convinced this is the next step in a plot aimed directly at the heart of the Republic, and the Jedi," Mace said.
Anakin lurched upright in bed, gasping, staring blindly into alien darkness. How she had screamed for him—how she had begged for him, how her strength had failed on that alien table, how at the last she could only whimper, "Anakin, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you"—thundered inside his head, blinding him to the contours of the night-shrouded room, deafening him to every sound save the turbohammer of his heart. His hand of flesh found unfamiliar coils of sweat-damp silken sheets around his waist. Finally, he remembered where he was. He half-turned, and she was with him, lying on her side, her glorious fall of hair fanned across her pillow, eyes closed, half a smile on her precious lips, and when he saw the long, slow rise and fall of her chest with the cycle of her breathing, he turned away and buried his face in his hands and sobbed. The tears that ran between his fingers then were tears of gratitude. She was alive, and she was with him. In silence so deep he could hear the whirring of the electrodrivers in his mechanical hand, he disentangled himself from the sheets and got up. Through the closet, a long curving sweep of stairs led to the veranda that overlooked Padmé's private landing deck. Leaning on the night-chilled rail, Anakin stared out upon the endless nightscape of Coruscant. It was still burning. Coruscant at night had always been an endless galaxy of light, shining from trillions of windows in billions of buildings that reached kilometers into the sky, with navigation lights and advertising and the infinite streams of speeders' running lights coursing the rivers of traffic lanes overhead. But tonight, local power outages had swallowed ragged swaths of the city into vast nebulae of darkness, broken only by the malignant red-dwarf glares of innumerable fires. Anakin didn't know how long he stood there, staring. The city looked like he felt. Damaged. Broken in battle. Stained with darkness.
She had only a few months left to live. They had only a few months left to love each other. She would never see their child. And all she said was, "Oh." After a moment, the touch of her hand to his cheek brought his eyes open again, and he found her gazing up at him calmly. "And the baby?"
He shook his head. "I don't know."
She nodded and pulled away, drifting toward one of the veranda chairs. She lowered herself into it and stared down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. He couldn't take it. He couldn't watch her be calm and accepting about her own death. He came to her side and knelt. "It won't happen, Padmé. I won't let it. I could have saved my mother—a day earlier, an hour—I…" He bit down on the rising pain inside him, and spoke through clenched teeth. "This dream will not become real."
She nodded. "I didn't think it would."
He blinked. "You didn't?"
"This is Coruscant, Annie, not Tatooine. Women don't die in childbirth on Coruscant—not even the twilighters in the downlevels. And I have a top-flight medical droid, who assures me I am in perfect health. Your dream must have been … some kind of metaphor, or something."
"I—my dreams are literal, Padmé. I wouldn't know a metaphor if it bit me. And I couldn't see the place you were in—you might not even be on Coruscant …"
When a Jedi had a question about the deepest subtleties of the Force, there was one source to whom he could always turn; and so, first thing that morning, without even taking time to stop by his own quarters for a change of clothing, Anakin had gone to Yoda for advice. He'd been surprised by how graciously the ancient Jedi Master had invited him into his quarters, and by how patiently Yoda had listened to his stumbling attempts to explain his question without giving away his secret; Yoda had never made any attempt to conceal what had always seemed to Anakin to be a gruff disapproval of Anakin's very existence. But this morning, despite clearly having other things on his mind—even Anakin's Force perceptions, far from the most subtle, had detected echoes of conflict and worry within the Master's chamber—Yoda had simply offered Anakin a place on one of the softly rounded pod seats and suggested that they meditate together. He hadn't even asked for details. Anakin had been so grateful—and so relieved, and so unexpectedly hopeful—that he'd found tears welling into his eyes, and some few minutes had been required for him to compose himself into proper Jedi serenity. After a time, Yoda's eyes had slowly opened and the deep furrows on his ancient brow had deepened further. "Premonitions … premonitions … deep questions they are. Sense the future, once all Jedi could; now few alone have this skill. Visions … gifts from the Force, and curses. Signposts and snares. These visions of yours …"
"They are of pain," Anakin had said. "Of suffering." He had barely been able to make himself add: "And death."
"In these troubled times, no surprise this is. Yourself you see, or someone you know?"
Anakin had not trusted himself to answer.
"Someone close to you?" Yoda had prompted gently.
"Yes," Anakin had replied, eyes turned away from Yoda's too-wise stare. Let him think he was talking about Obi-Wan. It was close enough.
Yoda's voice was still gentle and understanding. "The fear of loss is a path to the dark side, young one."
"I won't let my visions come true, Master. I won't."
"Rejoice for those who transform into the Force. Mourn them not. Miss them not."
"Then why do we fight at all, Master? Why save anybody?"
"Speaking of anybody, we are not," Yoda had said sternly. "Speaking of you, and your vision, and your fear, we are. The shadow of greed, attachment is. What you fear to lose, train yourself to release. Let go of fear, and loss cannot harm you."
Which was when Anakin had realized Yoda wasn't going to be any help at all. The greatest sage of the Jedi Order had nothing better to offer him than more pious babble about Letting Things Pass Out Of His Life. Like he hadn't heard that a million times already. Easy for him—who had Yoda ever cared about? Really cared about? Of one thing Anakin was certain: the ancient Master had never been in love. A painful memory nudged his heart. Oh how much it had taken him to open up, but eventually Kenshin had shared how he had had these same, gruesome struggles, with letting someone pass out of his life. Loss. Pain. Missing a loved one.
He would have understood.
He could have used the comfort of his understanding, and not being judged for once, and undoubtedly, Kenshin would have had some actual counsel.
Padmé had been less than impressed when he had revealed his torment to her. She didn't believe anything could happen to her here. But he? It tore him apart. Every time he tried to sleep.
A little late, the opera performance had already begun, Anakin quietly announced his presence, presenting a polite excuse for his delayed arrival.
"Welcome, Anakin! Don't worry. Come in, my boy, come in." Palpatine gave him an inviting smile. "Thank you for your report on the Council meeting this afternoon—it made most interesting reading. And now I have good news for you—Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous!" "That's tremendous!" Anakin shook his head, wondering if Obi-Wan would be embarrassed to have been scooped by the clones. "He won't escape us again." "I'm going to—Moore, take a note—I will direct the Council to give you this assignment, Anakin. Your gifts are wasted on Coruscant—you should be out in the field. You can attend Council meetings by holoconference." Anakin frowned. "Thank you, sir, but the Council coordinates Jedi assignments." "Of course, of course. Mustn't step on any Jedi toes, must we? They are so jealous of their political prerogatives. Still, I shall wonder at their collective wisdom if they choose someone else." "As I said in my report, they've already assigned Obi-Wan to find Grievous." Because they want to keep me here, where I am supposed to spy on you. "To find him, yes. But you are the best man to apprehend him—though of course the Jedi Council cannot always be trusted to do the right thing." "They try. I—believe they try, sir." "Do you still? Sit down." Palpatine looked at the other two beings in the box. "Leave us." They rose and withdrew. Anakin took Mas Amedda's seat. Palpatine gazed distractedly down at the graceful undulations of the Mon Calamari principal soloist for a long moment, frowning as though there was so much he wanted to say, he was unsure where to begin. Finally, he sighed heavily and leaned close to Anakin. "Anakin, I think you know by now that I cannot rely upon the Jedi Council. That is why I put you on it. If they have not yet tried to use you in their plot, they soon will." Anakin kept his face carefully blank. "I'm not sure I understand." "You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatine said grimly. "The Jedi Council is after more than independence from Senate oversight; I believe they intend to control the Republic itself." "Chancellor—" "I believe they are planning treason. They hope to overthrow my government and replace me with someone weak enough that Jedi mind tricks can control his every word." "I can't believe the Council—" "Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?" Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you …" "Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, for that matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its own members according to its own rules—a less generous man than I might say whim—and gives them authority backed by power. They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat." "I admit …" Anakin looked down at his hands. "… my faith in them has been … shaken." "How? Have they approached you already? Have they ordered you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's. "They want you to spy on me, don't they?" "I—" "It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide." "I—don't know what to say …" "Do you remember," Palpatine said, drawing away from Anakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "how as a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried to teach you the ins and outs of politics?" Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much care for the lessons." "For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should have paid more attention. To understand politics is to understand the fundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you should remember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power are afraid to lose it." "The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little too firmly. "Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one. Take your Dark Lords of the Sith, for example. From my reading, I have gathered that the Sith believed in justice and security every bit as much as the Jedi—" "Jedi believe in justice and peace." "In these troubled times, is there a difference?" Palpatine asked mildly. "The Jedi have not done a stellar job of bringing peace to the galaxy, you must agree. Who's to say the Sith might not have done better?" "This is another of those arguments you probably shouldn't bring up in front of the Council, if you know what I mean," Anakin replied with a disbelieving smile. "Oh, yes. Because the Sith would be a threat to the Jedi Order's power. Lesson one." Anakin shook his head. "Because the Sith are evil." "From a Jedi's point of view," Palpatine allowed. "Evil is a label we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? Yet the Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." "The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakin countered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—" "Which brings with it greater power, does it not?" "Well … yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know better than to argue with a politician." "We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably. "Perhaps the real difference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orientation; a Jedi gains power through understanding, and a Sith gains understanding through power. This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most important aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allow themselves to love." Except for me, Anakin thought. But then, I've never been exactly the perfect Jedi. "The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear. They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why the Sith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel." "The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "but when that passion runs dry, what's left?" "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runs dry at all. Who can say?" "They think inward, only about themselves." "And the Jedi don't?" "The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flow of the Force. We care only about others …" Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or so you've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?" Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interesting than Palpatine's face. "I … don't know anymore." "It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—one would, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe.
"What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of very powerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you are loyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I have known you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?" Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?" "Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?" "I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might have been telling the truth. It was possible. They might only want to catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpatine. They might. Maybe. "Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violate the Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your own values?" "Chancellor—" "Think, Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think—yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith." Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened in too short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense. Except for what Palpatine said. That made too much sense.
"This puts me in mind of an old legend," Palpatine murmured idly. "Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?" Anakin shook his head. "Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master, life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearly enough—death itself." Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? "He could keep someone safe from death?" "According to the legend," Palpatine said, "he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?" A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin's head. He murmured, "Stronger than death …" "The dark side seems to be—from my reading—the pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural." Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "What happened to him?" "Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he has gained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it—that's why the Jedi Council brought him to mind, you know." "But what happened?" "Well, to safeguard his power's existence, he teaches the path toward it to his apprentice." "And?" "And his apprentice kills him in his sleep," Palpatine said with a careless shrug. "Plageuis never sees it coming. That's the tragic irony, you see: he can save anyone in the galaxy from death—except himself." "What about the apprentice? What happens to him?" "Oh, him. He goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord the Sith have ever known …" "So," Anakin murmured, "it's only a tragedy for Plagueis—for the apprentice, the legend has a happy ending …" "Oh, well, yes. Quite right. I'd never really thought of it that way—rather like what we were talking about earlier, isn't it?" "What if," Anakin said slowly, almost not daring to speak the words, "it's not just a legend?" "I'm sorry?" "What if Darth Plagueis really lived—what if someone really had this power?" "Oh, I am … rather certain … that Plagueis did indeed exist. And if someone actually had this power—well, he would indeed be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, not to mention virtually immortal …" "How would I find him?" "I'm sure I couldn't say. You could ask your friends on the Jedi Council, I suppose—but of course, if they ever found him they'd kill him on the spot. Not as punishment for any crime, you understand. Innocence is irrelevant to the Jedi. They would kill him simply for being Sith, and his knowledge would die with him." "I just—I have to—" Anakin found himself half out of his seat, fists clenched and trembling. He forced himself to relax and sit back down, and he took a deep breath. "You seem to know so much about this, I need you to tell me: would it be possible, possible at all, to learn this power?" Palpatine shrugged, regarding him with that smile of gentle wisdom. "Well, clearly," he said, "not from a Jedi."
The bluish light of the datapad she was engrossed in faintly illuminated her face. Hearing the familiar whirring of Threepio's actuators, she looked up, and a grateful smile appeared on her face. The golden helper arrived with some snacks and a welcome drink. In a few short hours, she would have to be back in the Senate again. She should have been in bed by now. Instead, the night had been spent working through a pile of documents, preparing to tackle yet another complicated affair. Another amendment. What was happening to this republic? Chancellor Palpatine had claimed to be reluctant to accepting even more authority and power. Only that her former Mentor had grown more and more distant and she wasn't so sure anymore if he really was as reluctant and burdened by wielding more power as he had claimed to be.
Her head throbbed. Were two thousand senators enough to turn things around? Or was the path that Bail and Mon had begun to plan to embark on, and that tore apart her heart since she was forced to keep quiet about, even to Anakin, indeed unavoidable? The only way to stop this madness?
"I imagined you would like some refreshments, Milady, to sustain your hard work."
"Thank you, Threepio, how considerate of you."
"Oh, nothing to thank me for. After all these years, I have learned much about the maintenance needs of organics. Therefore I" the droid began to stutter "Calcu….calculated…" Threepio's voice died down and the light behind his visual sensors went out. So did every other light source in her apartment.
She jumped to her feet, the datapad carelessly dropped onto the plush sofa. Quickly, she reached for her small blaster she was always wearing underneath her skirt.
A cloak rustling, soft steps coming closer. Her heart was thrumming violently as she swirled around.
A black being stood menacingly in the middle of the room. A matte black armored suit, short black cloak, and a black helmet and mask.
"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" she said and raised her blaster.
"I mean you no harm."
The voice was muffled and distorted by the mask, yet she believed she had heard it before.
"Who are you? What do you want? In a few short moments, my security will be here and.."
"Nobody will come, Senator. All communications in and out of this apartment have been jammed, you have no way of calling for help. Your personal security forces have been taken care of, along with your handmaidens. Don't worry, nobody was hurt. They will all be enjoying deep, restful sleep for tonight and a good part of the next day."
"Who are you? What's going on? Explain yourself!" she demanded
Hidden withing her sleeve, she pressed a concealed transponder, set to an encrypted emergency frequence. To no avail. The communications were indeed completely jammed, the intruder had done a very thorough job.
"You will not attend the Senate session in a few hours. There is something going to happen of which you want no part of. Of course, merely telling you to stay away for your own security would be fruitless. Therefore, I have made sure you will stay put here in your apartment. There will be eyes watching you, and protecting you, and you will be released again once it is all over."
"You're holding me hostage in my own home!? And …" realization came quickly, and with a violent impact. The recent events, the threats against Palpatine…and she had by now recognized the peculiar accent.
The star system it originated from was so small, and so far away, she had only ever met one person who spoke like that. It still came as a shock. How could the man, who had thrown himself into harm's way to protect her and Anakin, and who had risked his life numerous times for the Republic, how could this man now turn against it? Anakin had confided in her, what the Council suspected about the identity of the Ghost. She had agreed with her husband, that his former Master may have become disillusioned with the Jedi Order, but that he would never…
"Once this is over, you might want to improve security. It was far too easy to take out your staff and place my people on their posts. You won't see anyone; nobody will bother you. Just know they're here to protect you, from others and from yourself."
"I know who you are! I know who is behind that mask!"
"I'd be more concerned if you hadn't figured it out."
"Why, Kenshin? How can you do that? Many disagree with the course of action the Chancellor has chosen, and there must be a way to stop him, but what you have done, and are still planning to do, is terrorism! It is an act against the Republic!"
"There is something very wrong with this Republic. I know it. You know it. I want to free the Republic from the rotten, corrupt cancer that has been festering far too long, so it can at last heal itself. A goal that some of your political friends share if I am not mistaken."
"You believe violence is the answer. It is not. Violence is what brought us into this galactic mess in the first place. Do you think you can solve this conflict with a blow of your lightsaber, where thousands of words and acts of diplomacy couldn't?"
He lifted his mask and Padmé stared into an abyss. First, she was almost compelled to feel pity. Dark circles underneath his eyes, an ashen skin tone—she looked at an emaciated, tired man who needed rest, not war. The energy in his eyes stood in stark contrast to the worn face. An ancient, merciless power emanated from them. Their faint, eerie violet glow seemed to pierce through her. Strangely so, she wasn't scared.
"Precisely because words and acts of diplomacy couldn't! Words and diplomacy are useless against a monster. Palpatine keeps pushing the Republic further and further towards its demise. He is under the influence of Darth Sidious, the Dark Lord of the Sith. As cunning of a politician as he may be, he could never have amassed so much power just by himself and lead and orchestrate so many intrigues to success as he did. There are far more terrible things behind his smooth mask than meets the eye. And only through eliminating Palpatine as his greatest asset, Sidious can be forced to reveal himself."
"And then what? You'll just kill him, too?"
"What do you suggest? You dedicated your life to protecting peace and freedom, to protect the Republic, and your acts of diplomacy have achieved more than all efforts of the entire Grand Army during the entire time of its existence. You have tried to stop the war on the Senate floor, you have embarked on diplomatic missions into separatist territory, you have tried to reason with Palpatine… don't you believe if he were susceptible to reason, if he truly believed in peace, don't you think you had succeeded? Diplomacy can't put a halt to his quest of tyranny. Only Palpatine's and Sidious' deaths can. I am not turning against the Republic. The day we stop believing democracy can work, is the day we lose it. You said this yourself. Just like you, I do think that murder is wrong. But what choice do we have? To kill Palpatine, and Sidious, and save billions of lives…. or to lose everything we have known."
Was this what it felt like? Like the ground beneath your feet was swept away. Like everything she had worked so hard for, had dedicated her life to, was crumbling? Peace had died, a long time ago, and diplomacy had failed to save it. Maybe the former Jedi was right. She still didn't want to admit it, not even to herself, but a terrible sensation rapidly grew stronger, like everything convulsing into a terrible, scary recognition of truth.
She turned her face away, she didn't want Kenshin to see her tears, and pretended to focus on the spectacular view from the nearest window.
"You truly must be careful, Padmé. Anakin doesn't want to see it, but Palpatine is truly evil, and through Palpatine…he is influenced by Darth Sidious. You are in grave danger, Padmé. You, and the life you are carrying."
The words hit like an ion bomb. She swirled back around, her face now as white as the alabaster sculpture of Naboo's moon goddess. "What?"
She knew was showing a little bit by now, but Sabé and her other aides did an amazing job at covering everything with wide, flowy, elaborate garments masterfully concealing her figure. Nobody, save for Anakin, could possibly have figured it out.
"Does Anakin at least know?"
"I don't know what you are talking about!" she protested, knowing that she wasn't fooling anyone, not even herself. He was reading her like an open book and there was nothing she could do against it.
"I can sense the Force presence inside you. And if I can sense it, so can others who can touch the Force. I am speaking of those who have far more sinister intentions than I have."
"There have been countless attempts on my life—I have never been afraid and I'm not now, either!"
"Oh, but you are afraid. And you have every reason to be! This threat is much harder to evade than a bounty hunter with a blaster charge or a poisoned bug."
She didn't protest anymore. She felt she was facing something so terrible, unfathomable, like she never had before. But she had no choice. She couldn't give up. She didn't know what to do, but she couldn't give up.
"What about Anakin?" she asked at last, her voice shaking.
"They say he is the Chosen One. But he trusts Palpatine. Before…before I became the Ghost, I tried to warn him, but he would not hear. He is blind. In a way, I can't even blame him, with how the Jedi treated him, that he would fall for Palpatine's lure."
"Promise me you won't harm him!" she commanded.
There was desolation in his eyes.
"He was my friend, Padmé! My brother! I give you my word! Although you don't need to worry. Once he realizes what I have become, I'm more likely to die by his blade than otherwise. The good thing is, with Palpatine dead, the dark lord will be forced to reveal himself. And Darth Sidious will undoubtedly kill me before Anakin even gets the chance to try. I'm unlikely to survive the final encounter with Sidious. But I can and will take him down with me."
"You're embarking on a suicide mission."
Why does every perspective, every path in this war, have to be about death? Is there no other way?
Padmé didn't want to accept the absoluteness, this rebuttal of life…It was wrong, at the core of its definition, it was the essence of what had enabled all this violence to escalate onto a galactic scale.
"My life is a cheap price to pay to stop Sidious. I'm a demon, Padmé. I am the Ghost. I have no reason to live!"
"What makes you think you have any right to say that? What makes you think you have a right to throw your life away?" She paused and pondered. What plea could she give that he would understand? "What makes you think you have no purpose beyond this? You're selfish! You never thought that you still have a brother and friend, who needs you. Could you ever understand that you have a purpose, to save that friend, who has been abandoned or manipulated by almost everyone he thought close to him?"
The overwhelming pain in Kenshin's eyes told her that he knew very well what she was talking about. He shook his head, and tears welled in his eyes.
"To save Anakin? I believe you're the only one who truly can."
He turned away and walked towards the balcony.
"Kenshin…"
"Stay put here until it's over! That's the best you can do to protect the Republic since the Republic will need you. Anakin needs you. And your children will need you, too."
"Children?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"You're carrying twins, Padmé."
He activated the jetpack on his back and within an instant, she was alone.
Twins? She had often felt the baby—babies, she corrected herself—moving; and it was true that they had been exceptionally vivid, but never had she imagined that there were two of them. How had Anakin not sensed it, how had she, with all her motherly intuition, not sensed it?
She imagined how she would ask him. And how surprised and happy he would be, and how they would playfully argue about baby names. She imagined how she would soon travel back home to Naboo. It would come as a shock to her parents, but her mother would be so thrilled, as would be her father. And Sola, her sister, would scold her endlessly for her secrecy, but then would dig out the cute little suits and pajamas that her nieces had worn as toddlers. She would make this vision come true! She would fight tooth and nail to keep this hope alive. And if there was one thing she had learned from her husband, it was that there was always hope, no matter how desperate and dire things seemed. There was always a way, even if she couldn't yet see it.
The Great Convocation Hall was still empty. The senate session would begin in an hour. He had already assumed his vantage point and position, from which he would strike. The small grille in the air duct provided a clear view of the Chancellor's podium. He removed the maintenance crew uniform, that he had stolen from a laundry carriage in preparation, to make it into the senate building undisturbed and unnoticed. He had made sure to choose a Wookie's uniform, so the bag with his equipment would fit underneath.
Gently, he unwrapped the package he had brought and pieced everything together, bit by bit. He had practiced the process so often; by now, he knew how to assemble and disassemble it in his sleep.
With admiration, his gaze wandered over the weapon. The sniper rifle truly was a lethal masterpiece of precision engineering, custom-built for this mission. It also represented the most humane way to achieve his goal. A sniper shot from an unexpected angle, targeting Palpatine alone, would avoid collateral damage and minimize the risk to innocent lives. It was the most precise method, one that aligned with his own code of conduct despite the dark path he now walked.
He had even allowed himself the sentimentality of carrying his katana, although today, he would not have use for it; but having the weapon close to him gave him a deep sense of comfort and reassurance.
A last check, and everything was ready. Excitement was beginning to grow in him. With a series of deep, calculated breaths, he regulated his pulse and calmed his spirit. There was now only resolve and a sense of purpose.
He had practiced enough meditation and sitting still in his life to endure an hour. What was another hour in the face of the enormous threat he would soon eliminate.
Eventually, the grand, silent hall began to grow animated. As the beginning of the senate session grew nearer, the vast chamber below now buzzed with the debates and discussions of senators from countless worlds, their voices blending into a droning hum.
The session began. Palpatine stood, exuding a smug self-satisfaction that almost made Kenshin gag in disgust.
Next to the Chancellor were not only Mas Amedda and his other aide but a third person, the features obscured by a dark brown, flowy cloak. A Jedi cloak. It didn't surprise Kenshin that the Chancellor was now relying on additional protection using a Jedi bodyguard.
A pang of pain and nervousness surged through him as he sensed and recognized the Jedi's presence in the Force. Anakin!
He reined himself in and drew the Force as a stealth cloak tighter around him. Not ever did anything go 100% to plan, one had to account for unexpected events, and he would not let himself be thrown off guard now.
He settled into position, lying prone within the narrow confines of the duct. The metal was cold against his body, but he paid it no mind. He peered through the scope, adjusting the focus until Palpatine's face filled his vision. Kenshin's breath slowed, his heartbeat steadying as he centered himself in the Force.
He adjusted his aim, centering the crosshairs on Palpatine's forehead. The Chancellor was in mid-speech, his tone measured and persuasive. Kenshin blocked out the words, focusing only on the target. A single shot, perfectly timed, would end the Chancellor's life. Kenshin's finger hovered over the trigger, his mind clearing of all distractions.
Just as he was about to squeeze the trigger, a senator's unexpected outburst caused Palpatine to turn his head slightly. Kenshin paused, recalculating. Patience was key. He could not afford to miss.
Palpatine resumed his speech, turning back towards the center of the hall. Kenshin adjusted his aim once more, the crosshairs settling on the target. His breath hitched, then steadied. The moment was now. He exhaled slowly and began to apply pressure to the trigger.
The shot rang out, a silent flash of deadly intent. But in that instant, Anakin next to the Chancellor shifted. The Force screamed a warning in his mind, a cacophony of alarms. Time slowed down, in foresight of what had not yet come to pass, an image flashed to life in Kenshin's mind, how the bullet would tear through Anakin's chest and explode in his heart, killing him within an instant.
No!
Reaching deeply into the Force, Kenshin altered the bullets trajectory.
Shooting past Anakin, it impacted in the pod's control panel, which erupted with spectacular, but ultimately harmless electric sparks. Alarmed, Anakin shoved the Chancellor down the pod's floor and threw himself over him to shield Palpatine with his body.
Chaos erupted in the hall below as senators screamed and dove for cover and everything began to move. Kenshin realized there would be no more chance, not now at least.
Would he fire a second shot now, it would kill not only Palpatine, but Anakin, too. And killing his own student, his brother – not only had he given his word, this was something that at the core of his being he was not willing nor able to do. For all his training, and all his mastery of the Force, this was bigger than him.
He had to move!
He disassembled the rifle with lightning speed, his mind already mapping the quickest route to his escape. He shoved the bundle with his weapons behind a nearby maintenance flap, he would come and retrieve it another time. He kept only his lightsaber, so he could move more easily and quickly through the narrow ventilation shafts, since he knew he wouldn't have much time.
The cover uniform! Wearing his black combat suit, he was instantly recognisable, but he couldn't remedy that now. He would have to rely on speed alone to make his escape.
Kenshin raced through the ducts, eventually reached an outled that released him into a corridor. Beings screamed and jumped aside as he ran, trying to reach an exit. A squadron of Clone troopers blocked the passage to the lower levels of the building, so he turned around and went up instead.
Cries and the sounds of blasterfire, aimed at him, rang through the air.
Searing pain shot through his left leg! One of the projectiles had hit!
A powerful Force push in his defense toppled over troopers and senators alike, and he chased and ran, grimacing in pain but he could not allow himself to slow down.
He finally reached a flight of stairs, that lead onto the rooftop, to access the outside maintenance structures.
Despair pushing him forward, he fled upwards once more, he sensed Anakin's presence in the Force closing in on him.
Anakin Skywalker, renowned Jedi Knight, took in the sight of what was currently the most wanted criminal in the galaxy. The few who had encountered the Ghost described him as radiating a deep, bone-piercing chill. Not to him. Anakin was way past and above such susceptibility for primitive fear.
The Ghost was shrouded in black from head to toe—his hood, the demonic helmet, the boots, and the cloak that seemed to move with a life of its own in the chill breeze. Anakin's ignited lightsaber cast the scene in a faint, blue light, the blade's hum resounding in a sad harmony with the sound of the wind and the ever-present rushing of speeders and spaceship traffic. The domed roof, slick from a recent rain, glistened with the city's lights.
They stood on the edge of the Senate building's roof, high above Coruscant's cityscape. Vast space and deep chasms of the city lay behind them. No one, not even a Force wielder, would survive a fall from this height. Anakin had the Ghost cornered.
Kenshin would be proud, Anakin thought, a bitter irony lacing his thoughts. His younger self would have been brimming with excitement, anger, and eagerness to capture the galaxy's most wanted, most elusive criminal, the very man who had attempted to take the Chancellor's life. Palpatine, the column carrying the Republic and his fatherly friend. His only friend, it felt like. Now, he felt only cold resolve. He was, at last, in control, calmly analysing what lay ahead, almost disconnected.
So, this is the Ghost.
He was of humanoid figure, and short. A lot shorter than he had expected. Then again, he didn't know what he had expected. There wasn't much known about the Ghost—terrorist, assassin, murderer, a thorn in the side of both the Republic and the Separatists alike. A Force wielder, possibly. Dark Jedi or Sith? No one knew for sure. Not that it mattered. Anakin's anger flared, not ruling him any longer, but instead fuelling his resolve.
Whoever you are, today, the Force will not be with you, he thought with acid bitterness.
There is no emotion, there is peace, he then reminded himself.
Not a trace of fear was in him. The Ghost was said to be a terrifyingly skilled warrior, but Anakin was unfazed. He was Anakin Skywalker. If I cut you, you'll bleed, just like the rest of us.
In fact, the Ghost already was.
Dark droplets splattered onto the ground where the Ghost stood, scattering it with red spots that eventually formed a tiny puddle. He must have been badly hit to shed that much blood. Courtesy of one of his clone troopers. And here they say my men weren't good shots, Anakin thought with a grim smile.
"For both of our sakes, let me go," a distorted voice came from behind the mask. Was it just his wishful imagination, or had there been weakness and defeat resonating in that voice?
"As if! I'm not in the mood for jokes!"
"I don't want to hurt you, Skywalker."
"Don't worry, you won't. Since you know who I am, you'll know that my Master was the best duelist in the galaxy, and he trained me well!"
The Ghost visibly flinched at these words.
Anakin wasted no more time. He launched. He launched himself not only at his opponent – he launched himself at every pain, every rejection, every loss, every doubt he had ever felt. Today, he would prove that he was stronger than all of it!
The sound of an energy weapon rang through the air, screaming with lethal violence. His opening strike was swiftly blocked. An instant of worry flickered through him. He couldn't see a blade! The Ghost pulled back and slashed. Only his heightened senses and the Force warned him of where his opponent's weapon would strike. A few exchanges later, he realized it was a lightsaber, there was nothing else it could be, though its blade was invisible, void of all color.
Sparks flew from his blue plasma beam. The enemy blade emitted only a faint black smoke.
It doesn't matter.
How often had Kenshin scolded him, when he had been too distracted, his mind wandering off mid-fight. He was no Padawan no more. Now was not the time. He could wonder about this peculiar weapon later. Now, there was only this battle, this moment, only him and his opponent.
The temperature around them distinctly dropped. The dark side swirled around them. Viciously, but unmistakeably, tendrils of fear grew, engulfing Anakin's spirit.
A sensation that Anakin knew far too well, but he had never felt it in battle. He was the Chosen one after all, and there was hardly a battle he had not won. Fear. Wounded he may have been, but the Ghost masterfully manipulated the dark side to draw on its terrible, unfathomable strength. Anakin realized he was fighting a monster, and he was outmatched. He was fighting, desperately, for his life! Not ever had he seen such swordsmanship in an opponent, not since Kenshin had left the Order. A surge of dread shot through him. The style the Ghost fought in was hauntingly familiar.
FOCUS!
It couldn't be! This was impossible! The man he knew, his Master, his BROTHER, he would never….. FOCUS!
For now, he had to save his own life, he could wonder later.
Be resourceful!
Many, many years ago, when he had been but a little boy, he had already proven to find a way when there wasn't any, to do the impossible, within instants when normal beings didn't have enough time to think. He wasn't normal. He was Anakin, and he had the Force! Trains of thoughts, leading to an idea that could make or break everything at a speed that was beyond human. There was not only his own life at stake. The Chancellor's life and the fate of the Republic, the Jedi Order, and Padmé's life! It all depended on him! He had to prevail! He felt that he wouldn't win this duel the normal way, not by skill, his opponent was the superior swordsman. But Anakin was Anakin, and there were other ways. There was always a way.
Just like the Boonta eve!
He switched his tactics in a way most unusual for him, relying on his defence instead of offensive attacks that didn't get him anywhere against this opponent. He was buying time. And he didn't need much time! He had realized that he couldn't best his opponent, but what if he could disarm him, or disable his weapon? What could stop a lightsaber?
Anakin dodged the next blow, rolled away and brought some distance between himself and the Ghost. Confused, his opponent stopped. He was breathing heavily, Anakin content to see how the fight was wearing his enemy down.
Carefully, so his opponent wouldn't notice, he feigned holding his lower leg as if in pain and pulled a small dagger from his boot. A birthday gift from Kenshin, years ago, that had come with a note saying it might be handy one day. He had never needed the dagger before but always carried it with him, hidden in his boot. So, today was the day.
Both his hands closed around his lightsaber hilt again, the dagger now alongside it.
He attacked again and engaged his opponent into a series of blows, that he parried with the far end of his blade first, and then blocked the Ghosts blade. He grabbed the other man's upper hand, he was taller and stronger and could at least momentarily hold him in a lock. He slid his own blade along his opponent's, bringing the cortosis dagger into contact with the invisible weapon. It fizzled and crackled and finally died.
He sensed the Ghost's shock ripple through the Force.
'Got you there, bastard', he thought.
Anakin feigned another blow and skilfully kicked his opponent's lightsaber hilt from his hand. He retracted his foot, just a little bit, and sent another kick against the other man's head. A risky move and he had to be fast, but he was! Granted, it was more effective when the opponent didn't wear a helmet, but it still did its due damage. It was a trick Kenshin had taught him, shortly after he had become his Master. His enemy was staggered; Anakin landed another forceful kick against his chest. The man crashed to the ground. Finally, the Jedi brought his bright blue blade to his throat and ripped off the helmet and mask.
At last, he saw the Ghost's face. It was the image of exhaustion and defeat, soiled by blood and sweat. The eyes were heavily bagged and bloodshot. Eyes that had once been a beautiful dark brown had turned a demonic black, and the irises were rimmed with a sickly, eerie purple light. They were still piercing like arrows.
Anakin's racing pulse came to a screeching, sudden halt. He froze. In an instant, his skin turned pale. The broken heart of gold, that had been interveined with fine, delicate cracks for so long, held together only by the brave yearning of the innocent, pure child within him, who had only ever wanted to help – it shattered. His entire world crumbled, disintegrated in a violent blow. It felt like free fall.
NO!