The Winds of Change

The Winds of Change

By geo3

Winds of Change tells the story of Anakin's return to the Temple after his secret marriage on Naboo, his gradual estrangement from the Jedi Order, his efforts to get back to Padme, and his first steps into the power of the Dark Side.

Nothing endures but change.

- Heraclitus



Chapter 1. The Braid



The hallways, training rooms and dining halls of the Jedi Temple were abuzz with gossip. Appalled Masters worked very hard to instill in their Padawans a high-minded sense of discretion and respect for personal privacy and a great many extra meditation sessions were assigned. But the rumors about Anakin Skywalker were just too good to leave alone. Everyone got involved at one level or another, but the Padawans, particularly the ones whom he had systematically trounced in almost every training match or competition, had a field day.

The Chosen One had returned to the Temple in disgrace. He had done Something Very Wrong. It was not certain exactly what, but the rumors were both imaginative and wide-ranging.

He had been badly injured in the process and was confined to the healing center without visitors.

There had been emergency meetings about him in the Council. Master Kenobi, who also had been injured, had attended all of them.

Most shocking of all, Whatever He Had Done had cost him his abilities to use the Force. Imagine! Skywalker without his Force abilities!

Some people even reported, in whispers, that there had been A Forbidden Attachment. Really!

No Master in the Temple could be coaxed to answer a single question about him. It was all very exotic, very exciting subject matter. Anakin had always had a slightly "otherworldly" mystique in the Temple; now he rapidly was becoming a mysterious, dark and glamorous figure to the impressionable and romantically inclined.

The Jedi Masters saw him in a very different light. There was great debate among them as to whether he should even have been allowed to return to the Temple.

Skywalker had broken all the rules. He had severed his training bond with his Master and openly formed a forbidden attachment to a highly placed politician, a Senator.

During a hostage siege involving the Senator he had killed one of the attackers purely out of anger.

That was without any doubt enough to expel him from the Order. But it got worse.

The Sith had become aware of Skywalker and were searching for him. While he was in hiding and in dereliction of duty his Master had been severely injured in an attack that had been intended for him - an attack that bore all the hallmarks of the Sith.

If Skywalker were expelled and turned rogue the problems would compound. But it got even worse.

For reasons that still were still unclear, at great risk to himself, Skywalker had performed an unprecedented Life Force Transference on the Senator from Naboo - an action that had permanently augmented her presence in the Force in exchange for his own. None of the Masters understood his reasons for doing it, or more to the point how he had done it. Such an act had only been performed three times before in Jedi history, in cases of extreme emergency, and in each instance had claimed the life of the giver.

But Skywalker had lived. He was badly damaged and had lost his abilities to use the Force, but he lived.

And therein lay the heart of the problem. Only the Chosen One could have accomplished this.

But the Chosen One was reckless, disobedient, and not to be trusted.

So here he was back in the Temple, already causing disturbances among the Padawans by his very presence. The Force only knew what trouble he would bring if he healed.

No, the Jedi Masters were not, by and large, pleased to have him back. But for the moment there was nothing else they could do.

* * * * *

Completely oblivious to the debate and gossip that his return had aroused in the Temple, the object of speculation was lying on his back watching a sliver of sunlight move across the ceiling of his room in the healing center at the heart of the Jedi Temple. He couldn't actually discern its movement, but over time it very, very gradually changed its location and shape.

It was astonishing, Anakin thought, how some changes in life seem to happen so quickly, while others seem to take forever.

One day he had been a slave boy on Tatooine; a few days later he was a war hero and a Jedi Padawan.

The sliver of sunlight appeared to be stationary. He waited patiently for it to move.

Less than two months ago his mother had died.

The patch of light was in a slightly different location how. He just hadn't detected the tiny movement.

Galactic war had begun.

He thought maybe the sliver's shape had changed a bit, but he couldn't be sure.

Less than three weeks ago he had cut his deep bond with his Master and gone to Naboo with Padmé.

He looked away from the sliver of light in case it went faster if he wasn't looking.

Ten days ago he had given up his life. But then he had lived after all. As it turned out, what he had largely given up was his ability to use the Force. It was so difficult to get used to seeing and experiencing the world with only a few senses to rely on. He wondered how people managed like this for a lifetime.

Maybe he would have to.

He looked back up at the ceiling. He thought the sliver of light might have shifted just a bit. He kept watching.

Six days ago he had gotten secretly married.

He tried closing his eyes. It seemed to him that he still saw the sliver of light behind his eyelids. But he couldn't feel anything from the world around him. How could he learn to rely only on eyesight to distinguish among things? Eyes could deceive.

Now he was back in the Jedi Temple he had left only.he counted backwards.seventeen days ago. Two and a half weeks. It seemed like a lifetime.

It was a lifetime. A lifetime's worth of change.

He looked at the ceiling again. The thin piece of sunlight was still there.

The room was so still. The whole healing center was perfectly quiet. He hadn't seen or heard any of the attendants for a long time. If he closed his eyes he could imagine that he was the only living being in the Universe and that everything else had just been a dream. Without the constant dialogue with the Force telling him where he was and what was going on it was hard to feel connected to anything at all.

Anakin was just contemplating whether events always had to be accepted as they came or whether one could bend the shape of the world with a mighty effort of will when a faint, irregular sound caught his attention. Good. Something else to think about. The sliver of sunlight was ignoring his efforts to make it move faster and going its own inexorable way. He listened carefully as the sound came closer. A shuffle followed by a thump that echoed slightly on the polished stone floor of the hallway. Another shuffle and another thump. Slowly, inevitably, it was coming his way.

Suddenly Anakin forced himself to sit up on his pallet and smoothed down his shirt. He no longer had the ability to reach out into the hallway with the Force to see what was coming, but every soul in the Temple could divine what that sound was.

Master Yoda was coming to see him.

Anakin instinctively corrected his posture as the Jedi Master made his way slowly into the room and contemplated him at his leisure. Anakin waited. He would never dream of speaking first.

"How feel you?" Master Yoda finally said.

A treacherous path opened in front of Anakin. There was no such thing as a simple straightforward conversation with Master Yoda. Ten years before he had been asked the same question and judged to be lacking. No matter what he said, it wouldn't be the right thing.

Anakin gave up and told the truth.

"Lost," he said. "I feel lost."

Master Yoda nodded, satisfied. The truth was always a good place to begin.

"Lost you are," he affirmed. There was a long pause. "Found, you want to be?"

Anakin reflected that he would feel safer standing off against ten heavily armed enemies than in one of these conversations with Master Yoda.

"I.I would like to find myself," he finally said, a bit hesitantly.

The ancient Master looked at him penetratingly.

"Why are you here?"

Anakin could have given a number of sound reasons, beginning with the fact that two very annoyed and resolute Jedi Knights had threatened him and Padmé with the combined power of the Jedi Order if he didn't return.

But this was Master Yoda. He cared only for the essentials.

"I made a promise," Anakin said. For the first time he said it out loud. "I promised Master Jinn." Even though he had made that promise in a time and place beyond this one to a Jedi Master who technically had died more than ten years earlier it was more real and clear to him than the room he sat in now.

"Told you to return to the Temple, did Master Jinn?"

Anakin swallowed and nodded, remembering in too much detail. "He made me come back. He made me promise."

Master Yoda was silent for a long time.

"And keep this promise, you must?" He finally asked with interest, exploring the boundaries of what the boy held sacred.

"Yes, "Anakin said simply. There was no question in his mind.

Yoda nodded, sorting out his impressions. The bond with Obi-Wan had not been held sacred; nor had his commitment to the rules of the Order or the directives of the Council. But Master Jinn's word was law to the boy.

Curious.

"What did Master Jinn want you to do?" he finally enquired.

"To learn the ways of the Living Force," Anakin responded." He said it would show me my path."

"Hmph." The wizened Master scowled. "Strong you must be with the Force, the ways of the living Force to learn."

Anakin hung his head. It hadn't really occurred to him that, having lost his ability to use the Force, he might not be able to keep his pledge.

"Do you.do you think it will come back?" He finally ventured to ask. If anyone had the answer to the question that had been troubling him so much, Master Yoda would.

"Hard to see," Master Yoda finally responded after long and serious thought. "Depends much on you, it does. But certain, it is not."

Anakin felt a rush of desperation. What would become of him now?

Yoda perceived it, as he perceived so many things about the boy. He looked at him intently and pointed his stick for emphasis.

"Remain here, you will. Train you will. Patience you will have."

Anakin nodded mutely.

"Seek out Master Obi-Wan, you must. Argued long and hard for you, he has."

It was the first inkling Anakin had of the battles that had been fought over him in the Council. It would not be the last.

"Thank you, Master Yoda," Anakin said with humility.

Yoda shook his head and turned away to make his way slowly back out into the hallway.

"Thank me you will not, I think."

Without further comment he left Anakin to the silence and to his efforts to find things to think about that were not painful. If he allowed himself to begin wishing or longing he was lost. And now it seemed that whatever came next would happen as slowly as the movement of that last sliver of sunshine across the ceiling.

Shifting awkwardly, Anakin reached into a tiny pouch he kept in his belt and pulled out a deep blue star stone jewel on a thin chain. He put it around his neck, tucked it under his shirt, and wrapped his arms around himself as though to hold it closer to his heart. And then he settled down to wait for what he would have to endure next.

* * * * *

In the end Anakin did not have to seek out Obi-Wan. His Master came to him. Obi-Wan looked stronger and relatively well, for which Anakin was grateful. He sank down into a cross-legged posture close to Anakin's pallet. Anakin lounged on his side, propped up on his elbow. Their faces were almost level.

"The healers are done with you, Anakin. Any progress you make after this is up to you."

Anakin was taken aback. He was still terribly weak, in constant pain, and could only make it up and down the hallway a few times by himself before collapsing from exhaustion. The chills were unrelenting, and there was no one here who would chase them a way.

"It's not going to be easy for you," Obi-Wan went on. "I want you to understand exactly what you can expect."

Anakin had a sudden, deep sense of foreboding.

"The Council has set certain conditions under which you may remain here at the Temple and try to rehabilitate yourself." He looked at Anakin with sudden emotion. "Because you severed your bond with me in the way that you did, you are no longer my Padawan."

There was a stunned silence while Anakin came face to face with the consequences of his actions. "Who will take me on?" He finally wondered out loud, sincerely hoping it would not be Master Andros.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "No one. You are no longer a Padawan learner and you no longer have a Master."

"Then."

His former Master shook his head firmly.

"No. You will not be made a Knight. Certainly not in the state you are in. Surely you understand that whether you ever become one will depend completely on your actions from this point forward."

"Then what am I?" Anakin asked hoarsely.

"Your status is uncertain. You are to be given your own quarters. For now you have only one purpose, and that is to determine the extent to which it is possible to restore your strength and your skills. You have been assigned to a Master who will supervise your training."

Anakin suddenly heard Master Yoda's words again. Argued long and hard for you, he has.

"It's you, isn't it?" Anakin asked, subdued.

"Yes."

"After everything I put you through you are still willing to train me."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I have invested a lot of time in you. I hate to see it go to waste."

Anakin looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry." He was, too. He was sorry for having let down his Master and for having caused him so much trouble. He was sorry that he had not lived up to his own ideals. He was sorry for himself too: the rising star of the Temple; the undefeated Padawan; the Chosen One, reduced to an uncertain place and to receiving charity from a compassionate Knight. He was quite sure that no one else in the Temple was willing to work with him now.

He just wasn't sorry about what he had done. He was trying to find a way to lock the part of his life that didn't belong to the Order safely away so that he could get on with the task at hand when another blow rained down on him.

"Your braid," Obi-Wan was saying. "I'm sorry, Anakin. You can't keep your Padawan braid any more."

So. His failing was to be made visible to all.

The Padawan's braid was the mark and badge of his status. It represented everything he was, everything he had achieved. Normally it was ceremonially cut when a Padawan had passed the Trials, as a first, deeply symbolic step to the rank of Knighthood. The Padawan's Master always cut it.

Anakin's eyes were much darker when he looked up at Obi-Wan again. "Tell me, Master," he asked, not knowing what else to call the Knight. "Who cut yours?"

Obi-Wan's voice was soft with sympathy and pain when he said, "Master Yoda cut it. There was no one else."

"You didn't stand the Trials, did you?" It was the first time they had spoken about these matters. The very first.

"No. My Knighthood was conferred upon me in the field."

"You earned it," said Anakin briefly. "You should never think you didn't. You are a great Knight."

Obi-Wan was so moved that he needed to remain silent for a while. It was the last thing he would have expected from Anakin.

"I want you to be the one to cut it," Anakin said after a while.

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan said, quickly. "I wouldn't let anyone else."

Anakin bobbed his head awkwardly in thanks. "Might as well do it now." He sat up and turned sideways so Obi-Wan could reach the strand.

Obi-Wan stood up gracefully and came close to Anakin, putting his hand on his shoulder. "We don't seem to do these things the normal way, do we?" He asked gently. Anakin knew he was remembering the evening on Naboo ten years before when Obi-Wan had shorn his hair, formed the rudimentary beginnings of a braid by supplementing Anakin's short hair with some strands pulled out of his own recently cut Padawan braid, and given him his first Jedi robes. It was just after Qui-Gon's funeral.

Anakin shook his head slightly because he did not want to risk speaking. He had a painful lump in his throat.

Obi-Wan took a small blade out of his belt and laid it against the base of the braid. He was grateful that Anakin had refrained from making any grandiose promises about his commitment to the task ahead. Trust had to be rebuilt through actions, not words.

"Here goes," he said. In no time at all he held the long golden strand in his hand.

Anakin took a deep breath. Obi-Wan patted him on the shoulder and then removed his hand.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asked.

Anakin held out his hand. "I might as well." He looked down at it. It looked surprisingly small and thin.

"I have arranged your accommodation," Obi-Wan said, changing the subject to give them both some space. "I didn't think you would be up to it."

"You are still taking care of me," Anakin observed as he slowly unfolded his legs and pushed himself carefully to his feet.

"Old habits die hard."

Anakin followed his former Master out into the hallway and toward the next part of his life. Yet another overwhelming change had taken place in the time it took to cut a few strands of hair with a sharp blade. Still, he had the sinking feeling that other things would take a much, much longer time.

Chapter 2. The Puzzle Box


I have had enough of this, Padmé thought furiously as the COM link in her hand fell silent. Those wretched Jedi have no right. Once again she had been refused any access to or information about Anakin.

Dormé flinched violently when her mistress suddenly began to smash the offending object against the gleaming surface of her antique desk until it broke. The desk did not withstand the onslaught well. Still unsatisfied, Padmé hurled the unresponsive thing into the wall opposite, making a nasty dent.

There was a long silence, during which Dormé wished fervently, as she so often did now, that Anakin Skywalker had never crossed her mistress' path. She had never behaved this way before.

"Perhaps."Dormé ventured hesitantly, "Perhaps the Chancellor would be able to help you get news of Anakin?" She didn't even like saying the boy's name out loud. But she loved Padmé and wanted to help. "He seems to have a good relationship with the Jedi."

"No." Padmé was certain that she didn't want to confide in Palpatine. She had enough serious issues to take up with that one without allowing him access to any personal vulnerability. "No," she said again.

That Jedi boy had left such trouble in his wake. Since his departure only a few days ago Padmé had seemed like another person. She was a bundle of energy and rarely slept. Periodically she would drift off with a faraway look in her eyes and lose track of what she was doing. She was moody. And most oddly of all, she was becoming illogical. More and more often she would base her responses and decisions on her feelings rather than the rational analysis that had always served her well. Just like now. Why wouldn't she trust the Chancellor with her problem? He had always been such a staunch supporter.

There was a hesitant tap on the door, and then it opened just as hesitantly. A tall young woman with light hair pulled back into a slightly untidy bun peeked around it, as though afraid to come in.

"Come on, Dellia, don't be shy," Padmé said in a friendly enough manner. Dormé began to breathe more easily now that her mistress was showing signs of behaving herself again. "You have every right to be here. You're supposed to be running this office."

Padmé's new secretary was young and relatively inexperienced, but seemed competent enough when she wasn't being bashful. She was the daughter of an old friend of Padmé's family. The job with the Senator was a dream come true.

"I have your schedule for today, My Lady," she announced with a little more confidence, handing it over.

Padmé brightened visibly as she read through it. "I'm seeing Rowen Farr this morning," she said cheerfully, and the atmosphere in the room lightened immediately. Rowen Farr was the Queen's Chief of Staff. Dormé suddenly thought that the meeting might have something to do with getting in touch with Anakin. It was the only explanation for the sudden light in Padmé's eyes. Nothing else seemed to make her that happy.

"The Chancellor's office just called." Dellia was a bit worried. "I tried to put the call through to you but I couldn't."

Padmé looked up from the schedule. "This COM link is broken. I'll need a new one." Dellia searched for it on the desk but found nothing. Padmé shook her head and pointed silently to the far wall. Dellia followed the line of sight and found the severely broken object on the floor. She looked up and met Dormé's eyes. Dormé shrugged.

"Put a return call through to the Chancellor, please," ordered Padmé. "I'll take it in the office next door."

As she picked up the broken communicator and followed her boss out of the office the Senator's young secretary decided that here might be more to this job than she originally had thought.

* * * * *

"I need your help, Senator," the Chancellor of the Republic said earnestly. "I hate to press you, but I think it is time you returned to Coruscant."

"I have a number of issues to discuss with you as well, Chancellor," Padmé said flatly, drumming her fingers on the desk as she spoke. "This occupation of Naboo is at the top of my list."

"Oh, come, Senator. You are being overly dramatic. The Garrison is there to protect Naboo from further attacks by the D'laians or other Separatist factions. Surely you appreciate the fact that our home planet is being given this protection."

"I certainly appreciate the fact that Naboo is being made to underwrite the cost of this - protective force - as you call it. And that the cost is considerable. And that we have had no say in the numbers of troops garrisoned here, the amount of equipment being brought planet side daily, or the planned duration of this exercise."

"The threat to Naboo is real," the Chancellor's image said firmly. "I am surprised you refuse to acknowledge that after your recent experiences with our D'laian neighbors."

It irritated Padmé that he kept referring to his own Nubian origins. The man hadn't spent more than a few days on Naboo in more than a decade. In fact a great many things about him had begun to irritate her recently. She had no idea why, but it made it more difficult to deal with him as diplomatically as she ought.

Padmé made a huge effort to pull herself together. She couldn't be effective stumbling through life in an emotional whirlpool.

"Tell me what you need my help with, Chancellor," she said, sounding more like her old self.

"A new piece of legislation has been drafted that I believe will become very important to our war effort."

The hairs on the back of Padmé's neck rose slightly while she listened.

"It will allow us to establish a training academy for officers in the Galactic Army. It directly addresses the two main concerns we now have about our command structure: that the Jedi cannot go on filling command posts forever, and that there are not enough of them to do so as our forces expand.Alarm bells went off in Padmé's head. Expanded forces?.and second, our concerns that cloned beings should not be in positions of high command." That was certainly something she agreed with.

"How can I be of help?" she asked, having already decided to return to Coruscant immediately. She had to be in on the beginning of this. There were too many dangerous directions it could take.

"I would like you to introduce the bill, and to lead the charge for its passage."

Padmé thought hard. She already had spent too much time away from the Senate. It was odd how she always seemed to be pulled away by crises just before an important vote.

"I will return as soon as possible, Chancellor," she agreed, without making any promises as to her support. "We should meet to discuss this at length upon my return."

"Thank you, Senator Amidala," the Chancellor said genially. "Your presence is sorely needed on Coruscant."

Padmé watched the holo-image fade with a bad taste in her mouth. Oh, well. A lot of odd things were happening to her lately. It must be love.

* * * * *

"I'm sorry, Senator." Her old friend Rowen Farr, the Queen's Chief of Staff, was genuinely sympathetic. "I have tried everything I could think of, using the full weight of the Queen's office. The Jedi won't budge. They will not release any information about your young friend at all."

Padmé didn't really expect anything else, but she had to try.

"Thank you, Rowen. I really appreciate it. I suppose there is nothing more I can do."

"It's really important to you, isn't it?" The ancient Nubian asked kindly.

"It is, Rowen, it is." Padmé felt she owed him some kind of explanation after all the time he had spent on her behalf trying to get information about Anakin out of the Jedi. His success had been no better than hers. "He was injured while on my security detail. I know him quite well, and I feel responsible. I just wanted to know how he is." The lies were coming more easily every time she told them. Even when she was speaking with old friends.

"Understandable, my dear, understandable." Rowen patted her hand kindly. He was old enough and high enough in status that he could do so without offending. He had been Chief of Staff to every Regent for the past three decades, including Padmé. "But surely you know that this is very typical of the Jedi. They take care of their own, and they feel accountable to no one."

Padmé nodded, and forced a smile.

"Thank you again, Rowen," she said, standing up to take her leave. "And please thank the Queen for me."

So the Jedi had truly reclaimed Anakin, and there was no way she could reach out to him. No way at all. It felt as though she had lost him all over again.

He is mine, she thought, rebelliously. They can't hide him away forever.

"Wait, my dear," said Rowen. "There is some good news."

Padmé sat down again.

Rowen handed her a large, elegantly written and illustrated parchment, prepared in the official style reserved for a certain category of documents in the Nubian bureaucracy. The irreproducible holo-seal was hidden in exquisite decorative illustrations. Padmé's heart started to pound as she read it. When she looked up again her face was glowing.

"She is mine, then. The adoption is official."

"Yes, my dear. Yes." Rowen was very pleased to be able to give her good news for once. "Young Balé is your daughter now."

This was a bright piece of news in a dark time. Padmé's handmaiden Cordé had been solely responsible for raising her nine-year-old niece Balé. Then Cordé had died in an assassination attempt while serving as Padmé's decoy on Coruscant, and Padmé had immediately taken responsibility for the little girl. Now she could give her a proper family, a name, and a home. It certainly wasn't a hardship. Balé was wonderful.

Our daughter, thought Padmé as she took her leave of the kindly official still clutching the parchment in her hand. Balé and Anakin adored one another.

If only she could let Anakin know.

* * * * *

"You're doing it again," Balé said earnestly to Padmé.

"What?" She looked up startled, coming back from the faraway place her thoughts had taken her. "Oh. Sorry." She managed to smile. "Where were we?"

"You were telling me that I can come with you to Coruscant."

Padmé raised her eyebrows. "Nice try, but I wasn't that far away." She went back to pulling clothes out of the wardrobe and laying them on the bed. All of her Handmaidens had abandoned her for their regular weapons training session and wouldn't be back until noon, but she was anxious to get the packing underway.

"Please! I promise I'll be good. I won't bother you at all."

Padmé sighed and got down onto her knees in front of the little girl so that she could hug her properly.

"First of all, you never bother me. I love to have you with me. Second, you don't have to be perfect. It has nothing to do with that." She nuzzled Balé's tumbled hair. "I wish you could come. But you have your lessons and I have a huge amount of work to do. We would never see each other if you came."

"We won't see each other if you go, either," Balé said logically.

Padmé laughed. Balé hadn't heard her do that for a while. It sounded nice.

She has all the makings of a politician, Padmé thought, not knowing whether that was something to be happy for or not.

"True, but if you came with me we would never see each other and you would miss all your lessons."

Balé quite honestly didn't think that was so bad, but knew better than to say so. She leaned her head into Padmé's shoulder, thinking how nice she was and how good she smelled.

"Are you really my mother now?" Balé asked, suddenly feeling shy.

"I am. Really."

"I'll miss you."

Padmé felt tears welling up. Missing was something she did all the time. The lonely ache never went away. "I'll miss you, too," she whispered. "But I think you will love staying with my family." She caught herself. "Our family. And Dormé will be here to take care of your lessons and anything else you need." She hugged her harder. "I'll try not to be gone too long."

Balé's arms went around her neck.

"Are you going to see him?"

Gods! Padmé thought. She always seems to know what I'm thinking.

"See whom?" Padmé asked, leaning back and making a fierce and largely successful effort to smile.

"The Jedi."

"The Jedi! Why do you ask?"

"I want to give him a present."

Padmé contemplated the child. She had such a serious expression on her face. She misses him, too, she thought. She hardly spent any time with him but he went straight into her heart. It occurred to her suddenly that this might be another explanation for Balé's determination to go to Coruscant with her.

"What kind of a present?"

Balé reached into her pocket and pulled out a small wooden box about the size of her hand. It was intricately carved and painted, and only a little bit grubby. The lid opened to reveal a shallow compartment inside.

"It's my puzzle box," she said proudly. "I want to give it to him. It has three secret compartments, see?"

Padmé watched in fascination as the child adeptly pressed certain carvings to allow hidden pegs to emerge, which she then turned to allow tiny, completely hidden drawers to open in the otherwise innocuous box. It was very clever, and she seemed to master it perfectly.

"The hardest one to find is the one in the middle." She made a few intricate movements and a small compartment at the heart of the box was revealed. "It's really good for hiding things."

As the compartment opened Padmé saw what looked like a tiny, folded piece of paper inside it.

"What's that?"

"A note I wrote. He'll have to find it to read it."

Padmé couldn't imagine a more perfect present for Anakin, and wondered how Balé had come upon the idea. She seemed so wise sometimes. But being able to get something to him was another problem. The Jedi were unlikely to allow him to receive anything from the outside world, and least of all from her.

"I don't know whether I'll be able to give it to him," she said honestly, touching the box with her fingers. "He's very busy right now." Balé's disappointed face made her resolve to find a way. "But I will try."

"You miss him, too, don't you." Balé observed.

The child sees everything.

"Yes, I do," said Padmé. "But I guess we will both just have to be patient." She took the box carefully. "I will take this with me. And I will try to find a way to get it to him. I promise."

Balé was satisfied with that. She could always trust Padmé to keep her promises.

"I'll help you," she offered, pleased, and Padmé accepted happily. They struggled with clothing and luggage companionably until a gaggle of Handmaidens descended upon them shortly after noon and turned the quiet dressing room into a colorful riot.

When they were almost finished, Padmé wrapped the little box carefully in a piece of velvet and added it to her hand luggage.

"What's that?" Sabé asked curiously.

Balé bounced up enthusiastically. "It's a present for the Jedi!"

"Oh," said Sabé expressively, looking down at the luggage longer than strictly necessary so that she didn't have to look into her mistress' eyes.

"It's from Balé," said Padmé shortly, also not looking up.

"I see. Are you going to see him?" There was a world of meaning in those few simple words.

Padmé pushed down her irritation, and said, with considerable emotion, "I would love to. If only I could. But there is no way to reach him. The present is from Balé. I promised her that I would try to find a way to get it to him."

"I'm sorry, " Sabé said, looking down and folding a single unfortunate scarf for the seventh time. It was hard for her to accept her mistress' passion for that arrogant Jedi boy, but there was no doubt that she was truly suffering. She had been thinking for quite a while that it was time to heal the rift he had caused between herself and Padmé.

"I'll come with you to Coruscant," she offered, although it was not in the original plans. "Maybe I can find a way to help."

Padmé was moved. She thought it was a generous offer, considering Sabé's feelings about her relationship with Anakin. It was just as well Sabé didn't know that Padmé and Anakin had married.

"I would like that," she said. "Thank you. Just make the arrangements."

Guilt and relief began to do serious battle in Sabé's soul. It was just as well that Padmé didn't know that she was the one who had revealed the affair with Anakin to Master Kenobi. She had thought that if Anakin would just go back where he belonged, everything would go back to normal.

She was wrong. It probably never would.

"I'll go pack," Sabé said, in a fit of repentance, and it was done.

Chapter 3. The Turning Point


Over time Anakin got used to the whispers behind his back. He learned to ignore the conversations that suddenly would stop when he approached, or the surreptitious glances he got from even the smallest Padawans. He didn't even mind the social isolation. He didn't much want to talk to anyone anyway. Anakin wondered sometimes what exactly people had been told about him, or what the rumors were, but didn't make the effort to find out. If he did it would look like he cared.

Master Obi-Wan had set up a monstrous training schedule that didn't leave much time to think about anything else. Since he still was unable to use the Force, all of Anakin's work was aimed at rehabilitating a body that was weak, resistant, and ached all the time. Every movement was an almighty battle against gravity and pain and inner resistance, and victories were at best small and seemed to come grudgingly. Even meditation had to be approached in a completely new and horribly tedious way.

His training sessions didn't look anything like those of the others in the Temple. The classic Jedi exercises that were designed to coordinate mind and body through use of the Force, the ones that he had mastered with such ease before, were beyond him. Even the smallest Padawans could carry out movements at a speed that Anakin could only dream about now. He had to be content with the kind of training that built muscle and sinew and skill alone.

In relatively short order Anakin found himself modifying the exercises given to him by Obi-Wan to suit his own needs. His former Master was an outstanding trainer for Jedi, but it was clear to Anakin that he had no idea what to do with a body that could not channel the Force. He probably couldn't even imagine what that was like. Through experimentation Anakin discovered that since speed was beyond him he needed to go the other way and slow down his movements drastically in order to re-learn the control and balance that had been his birthright. In time he developed a unique method of carrying out the basic Forms that involved going through the movements infinitely slowly but with an absolutely steady rhythm. His heart, which by now had settled back into a strong, steady beat, became his metronome.

Anakin kept to himself and spoke to others only rarely. His aloofness, together with the aura of shame and wildly rumored transgressions that followed him everywhere made him an object of intense curiosity wherever he showed up.

Anakin used any of the training rooms that were available, fitting himself around the classes and group work of others, and working alone either in an empty room or in a corner out of the way. He knew that annoyed Masters often had to redirect the attention of a group of Padawans away from his tall figure as he carried out his graceful, perfectly controlled and never-before-seen movements. He was not aware of the number of times his work became a subject for discussion among the training Masters themselves.

Anakin was tackling a slow-motion version of one of the standard saber forms when young voices behind him indicated that a group had just entered the training room. He had his back to the door and ignored them, needing all of his concentration to keep his protesting muscles from speeding up his movements. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that a teenaged Padawan was imitating him and trying to do the same exercise, and finding it very hard. Another one joined him. Then another one joined her. Anakin did not stop for a moment so he could not see that over time the entire group had begun to imitate his triple-slow-motion movements amid giggles and the odd thump and the occasional muttered, "This is harder than it looks." He just kept going at approximately the speed at which the sun rises, the sweat pouring off his body from the effort, until the form was done. He turned around to see an entire class of Padawans watching him with interest, while their disapproving training Master stood by the door with folded arms, taking in the scene. Anakin went to the side of the room to find his towel and sat gratefully on the floor to rest for a moment.

A hesitant voice next to him spoke up "Is it.is it true you can't use the Force any more?"

Anakin looked around and found himself face to face with a round-faced teenaged boy.

"Yes," he said briefly. It was the first time he had spoken to anyone all day. It would not have been his first choice of conversations.

"Then how can you do that?" the boy went on.

"What do you mean?" Anakin mopped his face and neck with the towel. His shirt was sticking to him unpleasantly.

"It's really hard. Even with the Force."

"That's the point."

"I can't do things well with or without the Force," the boy said with a certain resignation in his voice. Anakin looked up.

"If you couldn't, you wouldn't be here."

"You are," said the boy, with undisguised admiration.

Anakin shook his head. "Don't take me as an example. For anything."

The boy's training Master saw him talking to Anakin and called him over sharply. "Poulan Brith! Join your group!"

The boy gave Anakin a lopsided grin. "Maybe I'll see you around some time."

Anakin nodded his head briefly. It was obvious that the Masters did not consider his influence desirable.

The saber class commenced and Anakin got up to leave. On his way out the door he glanced back to watch for a moment. Those things had once been so easy for him. He saw the boy, Brith, struggling with his stance. The problem was obvious. He was a husky boy and needed to find his center of balance differently. He badly needed some confidence, too, but the Master only told him to mind his focus and went on with the group.

After a brief inner debate Anakin strode over to the boy and spoke to him for a moment, helping him correct his stance while ignoring the murmurs and giggles of the other Padawans and the displeased look from the training Master. He stood back to watch a few exercises. It seemed to be working. The boy grinned at him gratefully. Anakin turned and left the Jedi Padawans to their training. For the thousandth time he wondered whether he would ever again be able to use the Force in the way these children took for granted. As he had once taken it for granted.

* * * * *

"What have you done to yourself this time, Padawan Brith?" The healer was friendly and reasonably gentle as she probed his skinned and swollen knee.

"I'm not so good on the jumps," he said miserably.

"It will come in time," she said, soothingly. Poulan spent so much time in the healing center lately now that the physical training had intensified that he was more comfortable with the healers than his Masters. At least they were sympathetic.

"Stay here while I get a bacta patch," she said. "It may take a minute. There are a few more people here this morning." Poulan sighed and settled back comfortably, happy to be out of the training room for a while. With his curious and agile mind he was much better at lessons. He stretched his awareness out through the rest of the healing center's rooms just to see who was there and what was going on. A most uncommon Force signature caught his attention.

It was strong, to be sure, but that was not unusual in the Temple. What really caught his interest was the fact that it was somehow untamed, uncontrolled. He had never encountered a strong but untrained Force signature in his young life, and attracted his attention the way a waterfall or a whirlpool would.

Poulan forgot about his knee. All of his curiosity remained focused on the unfamiliar Force signature. It wasn't long before the person it belonged to came out of the healing center director's office, and Poulan was even more intrigued. It was a beautiful, richly dressed Lady. She was talking to several Masters. Poulan sat up in surprise. Even Master Yoda was there!" He made himself as invisible as possible and strained to hear the conversation.

"Thank you for taking the time to come in, Senator Amidala." The Director of the Healing Center was saying. "This helps our research into the Life-Force Transference enormously."

"You're very welcome, Master Liaat," the Lady said in a soft, musical voice. "I'm happy to be of assistance."

"Strong you are with the Force, My Lady," Master Yoda said. "Remarkable, this is."

The Lady smiled. "I had very little to do with it." She paused for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts or her courage, and then said, "Master Yoda, a child of Anakin's acquaintance on Naboo asked me to bring him a gift. Is there a way that I could get it to him?"

When he heard Anakin's name Poulan almost fell off his cot. There was only one Anakin in the Temple. It couldn't be anyone else. Master Yoda's next words startled him even more.

"Better it is, that he has no contact at all with you or with anyone else from outside the Temple. Sorry for you I am, but the gift we cannot allow."

Poulan could feel the sadness rolling off the beautiful Lady in waves.

"I understand, Master Yoda. But the little girl will be terribly disappointed." Poulan thought that the Lady was pretty disappointed, too. He was captivated by the mystery that was unfolding before him. Who was she? A Senator? And what did she have to do with Anakin? And why wasn't he allowed to see anyone? Especially her?

Poulan rapidly sorted through all the rumors he had ever heard about Anakin's disgrace. By the time he finished, his idolization of Anakin had turned into worship.

The Lady took her leave and left, and the Masters went back inside the Director's office. Poulan didn't even think about what he did next - he just did it. He slipped off the cot and followed the lady into the corridor. With completely unaccustomed boldness he addressed her.

"Excuse me.Senator?"

Padmé heard the young, hesitant voice through her sorrowful thoughts and stopped. She turned around to find a young Padawan with a badly skinned knee looking at her anxiously.

"Yes?" She made an effort to smile. The boy looked profoundly uncomfortable.

"I.I'm sorry, but I was just in the healing center." he gulped and waved in the general direction of his knee.

The lady nodded courteously.

"I.I'm sorry," he said again, awkwardly, "but I overheard your conversation with Master Yoda and .well." He took a breath and plunged ahead. "I know Anakin. I could give him something for you. If you like, I mean. I mean.."

Padmé contemplated the boy. It was odd, but she immediately felt that she could trust him, even with something as precious as this. The feeling was strong. And given her desperation he seemed like her last, best hope. Poulan suddenly felt himself turning pink from the wave of gratitude that poured over him from the Lady.

"I would be so grateful if you would." Her voice was as warm as her feelings. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

She reached into a small bag she was carrying, pulled out a small wrapped parcel and handed it to Poulan without hesitation.

He nodded awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. "I.have to go." He pointed randomly in the direction of the healing center.

'What is your name?" The lady asked in her soft voice.

"P.Poulan Brith," he stammered.

"Well, Poulan Brith," she said, "You can be certain that I will never forget this favor."

He nodded awkwardly and then started backing away from her in the direction of the healing center, tucking the parcel into his sleeve as he went. She watched him until he disappeared through the door.

"Where did you go?" The kind healer was standing by his empty cot holding a large bacta patch.

"Sorry," Poulan said, trying to collect his thoughts. The image of the beautiful Lady with the untamed Force signature was still clouding his mind. "I.I saw someone outside I needed to talk to."

"Well, she sighed, "come here and let me take care of this knee. You're due back at your lessons."

Poulan complied without paying much attention. He crossed his arms to keep the parcel from falling out of his sleeve and waited impatiently until he was given leave to go.

* * * * *

Poulan finally caught up with Anakin in one of the dining halls at lunchtime. By now Anakin was used to the boy's shadowing him and popping up at the oddest times. He quite liked it, actually. Poulan was sometimes the only person he spoke to all day.

"Hey, Brith," he said, when the boy plunked himself down by his side in the corner Anakin always favored for his quiet meals.

This time the boy was quivering with some kind of excitement. It didn't take the Force to perceive it.

"I have something for you." He pulled a small parcel wrapped in a piece of fine cloth out of his sleeve.

Anakin was very surprised. "What is it?"

"It's from a Lady. A Lady who was asking about you in the healing center."

Anakin's heart began to slam very hard against his ribs. He tried hard to keep his fingers from trembling as he reached out for it. He shivered involuntarily as they touched the soft cloth.

"What Lady?" he asked softly as he drew the parcel closer.

"A Senator. She wanted Master Yoda to give this to you but he refused. He said you couldn't see anybody, especially her." Anakin closed his eyes. Poulan was amazed at the powerful emotions that were coming from him. They almost knocked him off his chair. "Did.did I do the right thing?" he worried.

"Yes." Poulan hardly recognized the voice. Anakin gathered himself and took a breath. "Brith, I will never forget this favor."

That was what the Lady had said. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

"She.she said it was from a child you know. A little girl." Poulan flinched backward as Anakin stood up quickly enough to knock over his chair. Several people looked their way. Anakin had the parcel hidden in his hand.

"I have to go," he said quickly. "Thanks. I have to go." And he fled, followed by many curious eyes. Poulan suddenly thought he had better go, too, before he got questioned by people who were bigger and more powerful than he was. Skipping lunch was a small price to pay for the exciting way he had spent his morning, and for the sense that he had done something for Anakin that was important.

* * * * *

Anakin felt like exploding. If he had the power to make his rage and passion manifest there would have been a violent trail of destruction throughout the Temple that noontime. He imagined a blast blowing the roofs off all the buildings in the Temple compound and toppling the towers, or an earthquake swallowing it whole and making it disappear forever. In reality he made it back to his small room with the Temple unscathed but with his own soul in pieces.

She was here. She was here in the Temple and I didn't even know. I couldn't sense her.

It took a long time for him to quiet down enough to actually look at the parcel. He carefully unwrapped the cloth and found only a small wooden box. Opening the lid revealed a single shallow compartment. It was empty. He looked at it for a long time, thinking about what it might mean. The box was not new. It was from Balé. It was probably something that had belonged to her, that she wanted him to have. He picked it up and turned it around and around in his fingers. After some time he accidentally pressed one the carvings in just the right way and a tiny, cleverly hidden peg came out.

A puzzle box.

Once he understood what it was it didn't take Anakin long to work out the operation of the first two hidden drawers. Inside one of them was a folded piece of parchment, which he opened to find a note from Padmé.

Balé wanted you to have her puzzle box. Her note is in the center. I have just adopted her. She is ours now.

I have no gift for you. You already have everything I have to give. I will wait forever.

P.

You won't have to, thought Anakin in a blind fury. You won't have to.

It was harder to find the center compartment when everything was blurry, but he persevered. He found the tiny note, read it, and then placed both notes back in the center compartment of the box. He found a hiding place for the box under his cot, washed his face, and surged out of his room in search of Master Kenobi. It had become perfectly clear to what he must do. He was through with being helpless. From now on he intended to operate from a position of strength.

After a search he found his training Master in the library. Obi-Wan looked up, surprised, when Anakin exploded into his awareness.

"I need to re-learn how to use the Force," Anakin demanded in a low voice. "Now."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Master Yoda predicted that you would burst in on me with that demand one of these days when you were ready," he said calmly. "He said to send you to him when that day arrives. Apparently it has."

Anakin nodded and stormed off without so much as a thank-you. Obi-Wan sighed and returned to his work

Chapter 4. Every Road Has a Beginning


I can do this, Anakin thought. I can outlast him. I can sit here forever if I have to. I won't give in.

He no longer had any sense of how long he had been sitting with Master Yoda, struggling to meditate with him in the way he had been taught. His body was strong and at the moment it was the only thing keeping him upright. The struggle was in his mind and in his senses. It was in the spaces between his cells and in the energy points in his body. It was in the boundaries he himself had created against the Force; the inner armor that had held him together and allowed him to cling to life when he had deliberately turned his life's essence away from its natural flow.

Pushed it away, you did, Master Yoda had told him. Fenced it off. Allow it back, only you can.

Anakin felt the old Master was playing a waiting game with him. How many times had they sat together in this way, only to have Anakin give up in anguish? But he kept coming back to try again. And Master Yoda allowed him to.

Not in the Force, are the barriers. The Force has none. In you, the barriers are.

Without barriers he would fall apart.

Great fear in I sense in you, young Skywalker. Trust in the Force, you must.

He always had trusted in the Force. It had been his constant companion, like his blood or his breath. Suppose the Old One was right? What was he afraid of? He desperately needed to open himself to it again; to have it surging though him like an endless stream. To hear it speak and to feel it move. To use it to shape his life and his dreams.

Remember how it was, before this fear. Before so afraid were you.

Anakin calmed his breathing even more and tried to find some memory of an earlier time in his life, a time when he could use the Force, that wouldn't hurt if he dwelled on it. He visualized a vast series of doors, each one a threshold to a memory, an experience, and a part of himself. Everything he loved and longed for was behind those doors. Everything he couldn't have, or had lost. Everything he had been, and was no more. He felt that if he opened even one of them the pain would be impossible to bear. In his mind he wandered down the corridor looking at door after door trying to find one that he could risk opening.

Always in motion, is the Force. Stuck fast, you are, going neither forward nor backward. How can the Force find a home in you?

He was stuck. The Old One was right. If he didn't move forward he would have no mastery over his life. He could not reach out and take hold of the things he wanted. But if he did open one of those doors - any one - he was sure that whatever he encountered would throw him straight back into the fiery pit at the core of his existence.

Let go, you must, young one. Let go.

He had let go before. He had willingly given up everything. But that was different. That was for her.

He hadn't really expected to come back and have to carry on. In fact, that time he had no expectations at all.

No expectations.

If he had no expectations, that meant he had to trust in whatever happened. He would have to trust that whatever happened would not be more than he could bear.

Trust in the Force, young one.

He could stay here forever. Longer than Master Yoda, even. He could outlast him.

Or he could move forward and put an end to this limbo.

No expectations.

No fear.

Finally Anakin reached out in his mind and yanked open one of the doors. He didn't care which. Whatever it was, he was sure he would regret it.

Do not fear, young one. The Force will be with you.

Anakin open his inner eyes to feel himself leaping through thin air. Where was he? He was younger. He felt physically smaller and lighter. He felt.joyful. Light. Free. The jump seemed to go on forever. And then he landed, steadied by the waiting arms of Obi-Wan.

"Good job, Anakin," his Master said, looking very pleased. Anakin felt his younger self looking into his Master's eyes and laughing. "Look how far you jumped," Obi-Wan was saying, pointing the way he had come. Both the younger and the older Anakin turned to look behind them and take the measure of the wide fissure in the earth that Anakin had just leaped. It could not have been done without aid of the Force.

"Well," Anakin remembered his younger self saying, "I figured that if you could do it, I could do it."

How confident he had been. How bold. How.open.

How feel you?

With some difficulty Anakin pulled himself away from the inner image and came back to Master Yoda.

"How feel you?" He opened his eyes to find the Master's face in front of his own.

There it was again, that eternal, pesky question.

"Surprised," Anakin said. "I'm surprised."

It was an honest answer, but did not directly address the question. Anakin was still not ready to allow himself to feel deeply.

"Forgotten, you have."

Master Yoda was right, of course. In the effort to protect himself he had forgotten many things. And lost many things.

"Go and think on this. Come back again tomorrow, you will."

Anakin unfolded his limbs with some difficulty and wondered how long he had been sitting there. His muscles had become stiff. He took his leave of Master Yoda and wandered into the corridor only to find that streams of people were moving in the direction of the various dining halls. It was early evening. He had been sitting with Master Yoda since noon.

Anakin didn't feel like eating. He felt like moving.

He found himself heading in the direction of the training rooms. Most were empty at his hour of the day.

He really, really felt like moving.

He gave into an urge he hadn't had since he was much younger and did a few cartwheels across the polished wooden floor. Then he went through two basic forms in not particularly slow motion. Just to stretch, he told himself. Then a few back flips. That felt good.

Then he did a back flip with a twist.

He did another two, just for good measure.

Anakin felt lighter than he had in a long time. The constant ache in his body had been gradually subsiding for some time, but right now he hardly felt it at all. It was such a relief.

He was sitting on the floor going through a routine of intense stretches when a couple of older Padawans came in. Anakin knew them pretty well; they were close to him in age. He had not spoken to either one of them since his return to the Temple. Nor had they spoken to him.

The taller of the two was a human from somewhere near the core. He looked Corellian, with dark curly hair and a strong build, and bright blue eyes. The other was a blue Twi'lek whom Anakin remembered well for her speed and skill with a saber. She had bested him twice in matches a few years ago.

The two watched Anakin with undisguised curiosity as he moved into a headstand and held it.

"So, Skywalker," the boy finally said. "Done any sparring lately?" Anakin took his time and didn't come out of his headstand until he was good and ready.

"No," he said briefly. He hadn't touched a light saber since his return to the Temple. There was no point in running before you could walk.

"Maybe you'd better get out of the way," the boy said. "We don't want you getting hurt."

The Twi'lek shook her head at her companion. "Knock it off, Lon. We can find another practice room."

V'ar. Her name was V'ar.

"I was just leaving," Anakin said, getting up to go.

Lon filled the doorway as Anakin headed out, blocking his way. "Why don't you stay and watch? You might get a few pointers."

"No." Said Anakin, standing nose to nose with him. They were almost the same height.

Lon grinned. "Or you could go a few rounds with me. I'll take it easy on you."

"That wouldn't be as much fun as watching V'ar wipe the floor with you," Anakin retorted.

V'ar giggled behind him.

"Come on, Skywalker," Lon persisted. "Let's see what you can do."

"Do what you like," said Anakin evenly, "but leave me out of it."

Lon shook his head. "I guess what they say is true. You really have lost it."

"Move," Anakin said.

Lon used the force to shove him backward a few steps, and Anakin found that he could do nothing to counter it. Lacking the same use of the Force, Anakin stepped forward, grabbed the boy by his elbow and wrist and spiraled him onto the floor. All he wanted was to leave. In very short order a hot light flared and he found himself facing an ignited light saber as the boy surged back to his feet.

Anakin grinned in spite of himself. Despite the clear imbalance between them, he suddenly realized that he had the advantage. Lon was all bluff - he had to be. He would never dare to actually use the weapon on an unarmed fellow Jedi. His training and his scruples gave him definite limits within which he had to operate. Anakin, on the other hand, didn't care. It gave him a lot of freedom of action.

"Go on, then," he said, not moving an inch. "Strike me down."

"Come on, Lon," said the ever-sensible V'ar again. "Stop fooling around. Let's just spar."

"Go on, Lon," purred Anakin. "Be a good boy."

Predictably enough Lon deactivated his weapon. But he hadn't given up. "I'm sorry," he said acidly. "I forgot. You can't do this. My mistake."

Anakin wondered where the hostility was coming from. For his part Lon and the others like him weren't even a part of his everyday consciousness. All he wanted was to be left alone. Why was this fool focusing on him so intently?

He shook his head and made for the door again, only to be stopped by another shove.

"What is your problem?" Anakin was getting annoyed.

"You are." Lon was talking straight into his face. "You're everybody's problem. You don't belong here any more. You walk around like you're better than everyone else. You go off and break all the rules and they take you back and make special concessions for you. You're not really part of the Temple, or the Order. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Why do you care?" Irritation was dissolving into something stronger. Something that was getting perilously close to being a feeling, and not a very nice one, at that.

"I care about being a Jedi. I care about the Jedi Order, and what it stands for. It really burns me that they took you back, and that they let you do whatever you want."

Anakin suddenly realized that V'ar had stopped telling Lon to back off. She must feel the same way. So must a lot of people. He thought that he would very much like to do what he wanted, if only he could. It would most certainly not involve wasting his time with self-righteous Jedi Padawans.

"So," Anakin said with darkness in his voice, "shoving me around a practice room makes you feel better? By doing that you restore the purity of the Order? Get over yourself, Lon. Try to stop being pathetic." The pleasant feelings of lightness he had experienced after his meditation session were long gone. His inner armor was in place, and polished, and ready.

As it turned out, it was the good Jedi Padawan who threw the first punch. So much for the purity of the Order. Lon slugged, Anakin blocked with his artificial arm, Lon's wrist cracked against it, and Anakin picked him up by his tunic and threw him across the floor. All without the benefit of any Force involvement. The whole thing took seconds. Even V'ar couldn't move fast enough to intervene.

The three Jedi Masters who had been attracted to the training room by the dark emotions that were roiling out of it saw only the last move. One of them was Obi-Wan.

Safe inside of his armor Anakin locked down his feelings and opted for silence. He was certain that there was nothing he could say in his own defense, so he didn't try. He had no expectations that V'ar would defend him, either. As always, he was well and truly alone.

Master Liaat, the healer, went straight to Lon. Master Windu looked at Obi-Wan, who nodded.

"Come with me, Anakin," he said. Anakin went, without looking at anyone. Master Windu went over to V'ar as they left. Obi-Wan's destination, to Anakin's surprise, was a neighboring training room. Obi-Wan shut the door of the room and then locked it. Then he went over to the weapons locker and opened it.

"Pick your weapon, Anakin," he said. "Anything you're comfortable with."

Anakin hesitated. He hadn't done any weapons training since his return. Light sabers were out of the question since they required Force involvement and speed. It would have to be something heavy, and clumsy, and dead. Like himself. He finally reached for a staff. It didn't really matter what he chose.

Obi-Wan selected a similar staff and closed the locker.

"Now," he said. "If a fight is what you want, a fight you will get."

The door was locked. It was just the two of them without any onlookers. They were not angry with one another. It wasn't punishment, for that was not the Jedi way. Obi-Wan simply had decided to knock all the fight out of Anakin; while Anakin realized very quickly that to keep from being badly hurt he had better fight back. Obi-Wan never made the mistake of underestimating him, with or without the Force.

It was a fight that, if there had been any witnesses, would have gone down in Temple annals as some kind of a record for its length and its ferocity. Obi-Wan took care about his use of the Force, but he freely used what he needed to push Anakin to his limits and beyond. His goal was not to win, but to vanquish. His adversary was not Anakin, but the walls that Anakin had built around his heart and mind and guts. They fought until one of the stout staffs actually broke, and then they moved on to training sabers and kept fighting. Their breath came in painful heaves. Their muscles screamed. Every time Anakin thought it might be over Obi-Wan came at him from another side. As Anakin grew weaker from exhaustion he began to take a lot of hits. Obi-Wan still didn't let up. He wasn't going to stop until he reached his intended goal.

Finally Anakin fell to his knees in surrender, gasping for breath. Obi-Wan dropped to his knees beside him, wondering at Anakin's physical strength. How had he fought like that without benefit of the Force? But Obi-Wan had still not achieved his objective.

Very gently, he reached out and put an arm around Anakin's shoulders. Anakin shuddered. Obi-Wan reached out with his other arm and pulled him into a strong embrace. Anakin cracked, and he started to sob. Obi-Wan held him for a long time until the shuddering slowed and then stopped. That had been his purpose. To break through. To get inside.

With his fine attunement to Anakin Obi-Wan felt that there was more to the Force in and around Anakin than just what was needed to keep him alive. There was a small but noticeable increase in its flow around and through him. A little eddy. The odd vortex.

Master Yoda had been right, as always. The barriers to Anakin's healing lay within him.

* * * * *

When Anakin finally returned to his small room that evening he sank face first down onto his pallet without even stopping to wash. He simply collapsed, asking himself how it was possible that every part of his body could hurt at the same time.

He wondered idly when the last time was that he had been completely without pain.

It was an unfortunate train of thought, because in his vulnerable state his treacherous memory took him straight back to the night before his wedding on Naboo. Padmé was lying on top of him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm, her head on his chest. Her hair was soft on his neck and his cheek and smelled of. of.flowers and of .well.of Padmé. His hands were resting on her back and rose and fell slightly as she breathed. He felt perfectly happy, perfectly peaceful. Nothing hurt in his body or in his soul. The memory triggered a stab of longing so powerful that he began to shake all over.

Lying face down on his pallet in the Jedi Temple Anakin wondered how all these people could spend a lifetime without being held or touched. How all of this was enough for them. How their hearts didn't break for wanting more.

The shaking lasted a long time. When it finally subsided Anakin got up to light a small glow lamp and went to retrieve the small puzzle-box from its hiding place. Working carefully in the dim light he eventually managed to open the innermost compartment and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded many times. Unfolding it with trembling fingers he re-read the carefully written letters that hardly wobbled at all.

For my Jedi, from Balé Mindin Naberrie

Rummaging around for something to write with, Anakin finally found a broken stub of a stylus and added one word to the scrap of paper: Skywalker.

Balé Mindin Naberrie Skywalker.

He reached into the tiny pouch that he always kept in his belt and pulled out his star stone jewel. Carefully wrapping it in the piece of paper, he placed it his into the center compartment of the puzzle box next to Padmé's note. Then he found his Padawan braid and, curling it up into a small knot, stuffed it into the overflowing compartment with the notes and the jewel. Having safely locked away everything in the world that was his, he tucked the box away.

And then, to get away from it all, he went to sleep.

Chapter 5. A Touch of Genius


"Are you ready for this?"

Obi-Wan came into Anakin's sleeping quarters after only a cursory knock and sat down while his trainee finished pulling on his boots.

"Of course I am. I have been working toward this for a long time."

"You have done well, Anakin." Obi-Wan didn't often hand out praise, but his former Padawan's dedication to his training had been astounding, particularly once his ability to use the Force had gradually begun to return. "I have never seen anyone work so hard."

Anakin bobbed his head in thanks. He rarely spoke much any more. For three months now he had worked and slept and worked some more, and kept very much to himself. He never chatted or shared a joke. But he trained as though demons were snapping at his heels. He was nothing like the Anakin from before.

When Anakin finished with his boots and stood up he seemed to fill up the small room. He had added a good deal of muscle to his frame in the course of his training. Obi-Wan thought he might have grown a finger or so in height, as well. He was becoming an imposing presence.

Without signaling his intentions Obi-Wan suddenly used the Force to snatch the hilt of Anakin's lightsaber off the bed at lightening speed. Anakin caught it before it got beyond arm's reach. It was a pretty good reflex.

"How was that?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin shook his head. "I'm way beyond that by now. Don't waste your time."

"I asked, how was it?" Obi-Wan persisted.

"All right that time, but still inconsistent," Anakin admitted. There was no point in hiding his inadequacies from his training Master if his goal was to eradicate them. "Sometimes I'm certain, other times, less so. I can't seem to control it all the time." He was talking about his ability to use the Force. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan and shook the weapon at him. "But playing catch is something I can do." He clipped it to his belt.

"It will come in time. You have improved a lot already," Obi-Wan said, and stood up as well. "Let's go. You need to get out."

Their destination was the Council Chamber. They were to be given a joint assignment. It was Anakin's first since his return, and he was quite certain that he owed it exclusively to Obi-Wan's recommendation and confidence in him.

He wished he had the same confidence in himself. His ability to channel the Force was gradually returning, but it didn't feel anything like the way it had before. It was workmanlike, methodical. He felt clumsy and awkward with it. When he thought back to his skills before.before Naboo. he remembered the feeling of knowing no limits. He had felt light, free, almost invincible. Nothing was particularly difficult. Now he had to work for every single achievement. There was no genius in it.

They entered the Chamber and bowed to the Council members.

Master Windu gave them their assignment.

"The Senate is conducting an awards ceremony to honor heroes of several recent battles." he began. "The event is a fairly straightforward one but attendance is expected to be very large."

Anakin looked straight at him. The Jedi Master caught the look and shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, of course she wouldn't be there. They would not give him the assignment if the Senator from Naboo were on the list of those who would attend.

Master Windu went on. "Some of the invitees are from far-flung territories and may bring their local disputes and animosities with them. Extra security has been requested."

A security assignment. Of course. What else would they entrust him with? Anakin did as he always did nowadays and locked away his feelings and hopes and dreams into a deep place inside. There was no point in yearning for what he could not have right now. The more he could act and react like a machine the easier it was to get through each day. He turned his focus to the present and kept it there.

Anakin remained silent from the time they left the Council Chamber until their arrival at the Senate building. Obi-Wan knew better than to try to start a conversation. He would get nothing in return. Once there they took up their respective places at the edges of the vast Senate audience chamber. The space was dotted with security personnel of all descriptions as well as other teams of Jedi. The Senate had really pulled out all the stops for this one.

Both Jedi stood without moving. Anakin's tall, still, dark figure was silhouetted against the side wall of the huge room. Obi-Wan was twenty yards away, towards the back. Independently their eyes and senses searched the room for discord or disharmony of any kind.

Dignitaries were beginning to file onto the raised dais at the front of the chamber. Chancellor Palpatine was there, of course, as Master of Ceremonies. Numerous Senators and diplomats from around the Galaxy gradually took their places around the Chancellor; slowly filling the plush seats that had been carefully arranged on the dais.

Obi-Wan's attention was suddenly drawn to a single figure that was stepping up to the dais. She stopped to greet the Chancellor, and then took a place near the exit on the opposite side. He stared. It couldn't be. The Council had reviewed the list very carefully. He looked again. It had to be Senator Amidala. He sent out a probe through the Force and confirmed her very familiar Force signature. It was as strong as ever.

Blast! he thought, and glanced toward Anakin.

Anakin had vanished. A quick search through the Force confirmed that he was nowhere in the audience chamber.

Blast! thought Obi-Wan again.

Anakin had spotted Padmé immediately. He was gratified that he had felt her presence even before seeing her - at least that worked. Without the tiniest hesitation he had flung himself out of the audience chamber and through the corridors that led to the side entrance to the dais, moving with creditable speed, even for a Jedi. He hadn't seen her in almost four months. The only thought in his mind was to get to her. Nothing else mattered.

When Anakin arrived at the dais entrance he stepped unhesitatingly through it and approached her directly. A few curious eyes followed him. Jedi were commonplace in the Senate building but what was one doing up here? Padmé turned her head toward him without knowing why even before he touched her arm. Her face was a picture of shock and disbelief.

Many eyes in the chamber noticed, having paid more or less attention, a Jedi bending down to say something to Senator Amidala, who then stood up, took the arm that was offered, stumbling slightly, and followed him off the dais. A few noticed that several other dignitaries on the dais who were nearby took the trouble to say something to the Senator or even pat her on the back or shoulder. Most in the room didn't notice anything at all.

Obi-Wan observed everything, including Padmé's complete surprise. So this was just an unfortunate coincidence, he thought. But even that was enough to make Anakin bolt.

Blast.

Anakin had approached Padmé by saying, clearly enough so that those around her could hear, "I am sorry to disturb you, Senator, but I bring news of a death in your family." As she stared at him with shock he added, "Perhaps you had better come with me."

Not yet sure what was real and what was an act, Padmé asked to know who it was. Bending close to her ear so only she could hear, Anakin had said, "Me. If I don't see you right this instant."

Her tears were real enough and led several of her colleagues to offer their condolences. Just taking Anakin's arm made Padmé so nervous that she stumbled leaving her seat. He's walking, she thought. He is working. He looks just like always - better, even. I can't believe it. He guided her formally off the dais and out into the corridor. Padmé had not seen him or heard from him since their wedding day, when he could barely stand up on his own.

Chancellor Palpatine stood at the center of the dais talking and greeting people. He hardly looked in the direction the Senator from Naboo had taken with the young Jedi, but his face did wear a noticeably pleased expression.

I was right. The boy is badly in need of some inspiration.

His pleas to the Senator to change her plans and attend the ceremony in place of another were paying off, then.

They had rounded several curves in the corridor before Padmé dared say a word. She was clinging to his arm like a lifeline. He put his hand over hers where it lay on his arm.

"Anakin."

"Not yet." He hurried them to the bank of lifts that led to her suite of offices. They were alone in the lift but still Anakin kept his formal bearing for the benefit of the security holos. Tears continued to stream down Padmé's face, adding to the drama and believability of his ruse, and explaining to anyone who might ask why she needed to be accompanied all the way back to her office. Anakin watched her intently without appearing to.

An endless corridor later they finally arrived. Anakin held the door for her formally and entered behind her, remembering to lock it. The office suite was empty because of the awards ceremony. He no sooner had turned around than Padmé threw herself at him, body and soul with a force that knocked him backward. He caught her in his arms and crushed her to him.

"I can't believe it," Padmé said, over and over again, between kisses. "I can't believe it."

After keeping his feelings so tightly under control for such a long time Anakin was in danger of drowning in them. He lost his footing and sank down to the thickly carpeted floor, taking her with him. Padmé tried to pull back so she could look at him but he wouldn't let go.

"It's all right," she said, holding his arms. "It's all right. I won't let go. I just want to look at you."

She scrutinized him as well as she could from such close quarters while he leaned against the door, breathing hard. He looked strong and fit. His hair was a bit longer and the braid was gone. But mostly he looked absolutely desperate.

She wrapped her arms around his neck again as if she could keep him from flying apart.

"What have they done to you?"

"I miss you so much," he moaned. "I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. If I can't see you I can't keep going."

"Well, I'm here now," she soothed. "I'm here now." He felt so solid in her arms but he seemed brittle enough to break. She held him gently.

"I left my post," he said after a while. "Obi-Wan might come looking for me."

"That would mean he would have to leave his post," Padmé said logically. "He'll most likely cover for you and kill you later."

"I wish he would," Anakin said tragically. "It would put me out of my misery."

"You don't mean that," she said. "Besides, you are not easily killed." She stopped and looked at him again. "You look wonderful, Anakin. I'm so relieved you are well."

"I would rather be the way I was before and be with you," he mumbled into her hair. He had not let go of her yet and no plans to do so. As far as he was concerned he would live the rest of his life and meet his death without ever leaving her arms again.

"No," Padmé said firmly. "There are very good reasons why you wouldn't." She brought her nose close to his. "In fact, I'm still owed a wedding night."

"Come to think of it," Anakin said, "so am I." By the time Padmé realized that he was fully committed to remedy that situation without delay, she was beyond caring where they were. Just having him back made her reckless and bold and ready to follow her passions wherever they led.


The office was mercifully quiet. No one came to the door. The COM link only signaled occasionally. The ceremony seemed to be taking up everyone's afternoon. As the angle of the sun through the wide windows flattened and the light became tinged with gold Anakin finally seemed calmer and happier, although he still showed no inclination to ever let go of her. Padmé was a contented mess.

"I bless the Jedi," she sighed into his chest. "They seem to have made all things possible."

"Hah."Anakin wasn't about to give them credit for anything. "Either that or it was just a matter of time and I have endured all this for nothing."

Padmé made a decision.

"Anakin, you have to let go of me now."

"Why?" He tightened his grip.

"Because we are going to put ourselves back together. And find some furniture to sit on. And talk. This floor is getting hard."

"No."

"Anakin. I am not going to disappear."

He loosened his hold slightly.

"Please. I don't want anyone to find us like this."

He sighed and reluctantly let go. But the look in his eye said he would pounce at the slightest provocation.

Padmé finally coaxed him into a semblance of order and herself into as much perfection as she was able to muster under the circumstances.

"Come and sit down," she said to him, indicating a chair. He lounged rebelliously against the back of it with his arms crossed.

"Talk to me," she tried again. All she got was a lopsided smile, but at least it was a smile.

"All right," she said. "I'll talk." And she did. The soothing sound of her voice and her vivid descriptions of people and events that were far away from the insular concerns of the Jedi Temple gradually loosened the last of the armor that Anakin had fastened around himself so tightly. Little by little he became able to tell her about the hardships and the experiences of the past months.

As Anakin spoke Padmé could sense a change in him. He breathed more easily. His body relaxed. His movements became freer. And above all, his sense of humor began to return. She stayed close to him, listening to him, holding him and teasing him until he began too look and seem more like the Anakin with whom she had arrived on Naboo.

It was early evening before the long-anticipated knock came on the door.

"Come in," called Padmé.

Obi-Wan stepped through the door to the unaccustomed sound of Anakin laughing. He subsided a bit when he saw Obi-Wan, but otherwise looked unconcerned.

The two of them were sitting at a table eating fruit.

Anakin was sitting with the Senator eating fruit instead of at his post.

"Hello, Obi-Wan," Padmé said, courteous as always.

Anakin pushed back his chair and stood up. "Is it time to go?" he asked ingenuously.

Obi-Wan looked from one to the other. Of the thousand things that he would have liked to say to Anakin - that needed to be said - not one came out.

"Yes," he finally managed. "It's time to go."

He watched with simple amazement as Anakin bent down to give the Senator a lingering good-bye kiss that was ardently returned; said, "I'll see you soon," and headed obediently out the door still munching on a piece of fruit.

Anakin again was completely silent on the way back to the Temple, but it was a vastly different silence. It was vibrant and warm. It was a silence that moved and sparkled and danced.

Obi-Wan suddenly noticed something. It gave him an idea.

He waited until they had entered the Temple complex and steered his steps toward the open plaza between the towers. It was late evening and the red-violet sky cast deep shadows but left enough light to see by. Anakin followed along, not giving much thought to where they were going or why.

Without warning Obi-Wan went for his light saber and attacked Anakin full force. Anakin countered him instantly. Obi-Wan poured everything he had into an all-out assault that stopped at nothing. The battle was so intense that it quickly attracted the attention of the few people who were out and about at that time. More people streamed out of the tower buildings or stood at the windows to watch.

Anakin didn't have time to think about why he was fighting, or with whom. He only had time to act and to react. He needed everything he had just to stay alive. The Force flowed and surged through him so powerfully that his speed made him seem like a blur. Obi-Wan kept pushing him in every way he could think of and Anakin fought back, going from strength to strength. The battle raged over the entire plaza area, causing bystanders to scramble for safety and climb up onto statues and walls to find a safe place to watch.

"Halt!" Obi-Wan called suddenly, leaping far out of reach in case Anakin didn't react fast enough.

Anakin stopped, winded and only beginning to realize what had just happened.

Obi-Wan walked back towards him.

"How was that?" he inquired, breathing hard.

Anakin stared at him in amazement. "A little more than playing catch," he gasped.

"I asked," Obi-Wan persisted, "how it was."

Anakin looked around him, as if suddenly seeing his surroundings for the first time.

"I didn't have to think about it at all," he said, still not over his astonishment. "It was just there."

"Just as I thought," said Obi-Wan as he secured his weapon and headed back to the tower building. The onlookers had begun to disperse.

Anakin hurried to catch up with him. They walked in silence for a few steps.

Finally Anakin said, "I need her, you know. I need her in ways you can't understand." It was clear to the Jedi Master that this was as close as Anakin ever would come to an apology.

"I couldn't possibly comment on that," Obi-Wan said flatly. "I can only observe. Something changed in you today. You are using the Force as well, and as consistently, as you ever have." Better, even, he thought to himself. All that training had certainly paid off.

Anakin continued to walk by his side in a thoughtful silence.

"There won't be any more assignments," Obi-Wan said as they strode through the spacious lower lobby.

"I didn't think there would," said Anakin.

On their way up in the lift Anakin broke the silence one last time. "What are you going to do with me now?"

I wish I knew, thought his training Master, shaking his head. I wish I knew.

Chapter 6. The Lighted Path - Part I


"That's extraordinary," said Obi-Wan. He couldn't tear himself away from watching the Padawan saber class. All the strugglers between the ages of 14 and 16 had been brought together into one group. They would be facing their qualifications in their respective age groups soon and all of them needed extra work.

"It seems to be a good solution," Mace said over his shoulder. "For now. Watch Brith over there."

Obi-Wan watched as the boy's teacher coaxed him through several complex forms and a few leaps, without any damage to his knees or elbows. Poulan was working better than he ever had, and even seemed to be enjoying himself. But most noticeable was his confidence. His posture and the way he moved could have belonged to a different boy.

The class next was arranged into rows and set to performing the saber forms in triple-slow motion. The teacher strolled up and down the rows watching carefully, correcting very occasionally. There were surprisingly few groans from the students, although it was clear that many of them found the exercise quite difficult.

"It's unorthodox," Mace said, "but it works. He has been able to diagnose and correct a great many bad habits, and he caught two structural problems that had been overlooked before."

"He seems so different," Obi-Wan said. His eyes were on the teacher. "He has opened up so much." The class had stopped the exercise and was laughing at something the teacher had said. The Padawans never took their eyes off him. The atmosphere in the room seemed to be charged with a kind of positive energy.

"It suits him to have this kind of responsibility," Mace said, and then added dryly, "At least here there are no distractions."

Obi-Wan shook his head thoughtfully. "There is so much to him. He's so talented. If only we could find a way to use it."

"Don't think that we aren't aware of that, Obi-Wan," Mace said with rare gentleness. "We are."

They watched the class in silence for a while longer. The teacher singled out a human girl who was fairly small for her age for a demonstration.

"Isn't that.Gren?" asked Obi-Wan.

"It is," said Mace.

Obi-Wan winced. Gren Illoria's Master had been killed in battle only two weeks before while commanding a brigade of Clone Troopers in infantry battle on Rexus Prime. It had been an ugly, inglorious death - there was some talk that her tactical group had been betrayed to the enemy. Gren had been grieving inconsolably ever since, drifting through the Temple like a small shadow. Why would he single her out in that way?

The teacher sparred with her for a few strokes. Obi-Wan could see how careful he was being. Gren was hesitant, tentative. It slowed her down. The whole class seemed to reach out to her in silent sympathy.

Then the teacher whispered something in Gren's ear. Obi-Wan saw her glance up sharply. Even across the room he could see a flush rise into her pale face.

Obi-Wan must have moved or released some feeling into the Force because Mace placed a quiet hand on his arm.

"Let's just watch."

They squared off again, teacher and student. This time she attacked first, and fast. The teacher had to move pretty fast himself to block her thrusts. She followed with a rapid and complex pattern based on the fourth form and had him backing for a few steps until he took over the attack. She slithered under his blade and turned on him again, forcing him into a classical third-form defense. By the time the teacher called a halt they were both grinning. The class broke into spontaneous applause.

Obi-Wan wondered what he had said to her.

"Will ever be made a Knight?" he asked Mace straight out.

"It will depend on him. But the door is not closed."

"He has a lot to overcome," Obi-Wan reflected sadly.

"We all have a lot to overcome," Mace said with the bedrock back in his voice. "None of us is without weaknesses, nor are we expected to be. To deal with them successfully there is one, and only one, unshakable requirement."

Obi-Wan looked at him.

"To be a Jedi first. In all things, to be a Jedi first."

The class was drawing to a close. Obi-Wan watched the Padawans crowd around Anakin, talking and asking questions. It had gone very well indeed, as all of his classes for the past two weeks reportedly had done. Anakin seemed relaxed and very much in his element; not at all the closed, tense figure that had accompanied him to the Senate not so long ago.

Obi-Wan waited for Anakin by the door of the training room and fell into step beside him in the corridor.

"What did you say to Gren?" he asked, curious.

Anakin shook his head and grinned. "Teacher-student privilege."

Obi-Wan looked at him sideways. The boy was serious. He wasn't going to say.

Curiosity took on a tinge of suspicion, but Obi-Wan knew it was time to change the subject.

"Where are you off to now?"

"To see Master Yoda," Anakin said, and veered off down another corridor with a brief wave of his hand.

If Obi-Wan had been prone to admitting such things, he might have acknowledged that he was beginning to feel redundant. Apparently, when a Padawan loses a Master, the reverse is true as well.

* * * * *

In the evening when Anakin had finished with his duties for the day he went back to his room and immersed himself in his new favorite pastime. If it were a training exercise, it might have been called Reaching Out With The Force. Now that his abilities substantially were restored Anakin devoted all his spare time to training himself to reach out further and further with his awareness. His intention was to cover to greater distances than ever before, and to do it with pinpoint accuracy.

If Anakin had given his pastime a name, he might have called it Finding Padmé. For that was his sole motivation. He was going to be able to reach out and find Padmé anywhere, at any time at any distance. Whatever he learned along the way was sure to come in handy.

Anakin still was restricted to the Temple compound without access to outside communications. Before his serendipitous encounter with Padmé at the Senate he didn't even know how to get in touch with her, or what her current apartment assignment was. Now he could call her or even slip out to see her easily enough, if he just bent the rules. But that wasn't his plan for the moment. Anakin was concentrating on finding a way of reaching out to her that would serve them both always, and anywhere, without any restrictions. Only when he had perfected that he would make his next move.

Anakin's recent experiences with powerlessness and helplessness had begun to teach him something about patience and planning.

He once had been able to communicate with Padmé through the Force over small distances. Now he refused to accept any such limitations. He was convinced that it was just a matter of creating the first link. Anakin had been trying systematically to find his way to her through the Force for the two weeks since he had seen her.

It wasn't as straightforward as it might seem. Although he knew her Force signature better than anyone's, she was one among billions on the teeming capital planet of the Galaxy. He initially had approached the problem thinking that the trick was to learn to navigate through the Force as one would on a road, or by defining a path between two points as one did in space. He generally tried using a specific destination like her Senate office or her residence. Once or twice he had actually thought that he had touched her, but he couldn't do it with any consistency.

Tonight, after a long and interesting meditation with Master Yoda, Anakin took an entirely different approach. He released any preconceived ideas about spatial location and time and immersed himself completely in the Force. His goal was not a destination but a unique personal configuration. He stilled himself completely and dissolved any sense of the physical. The only image he allowed in his consciousness was that of Padmé's Force signature. Not her face, not a location, nothing. Just her signature. The essence of her. He concentrated so hard that gradually, with long effort, he became able to filter out all the other information that the Force gave him. It wasn't about going somewhere, he told himself. It was about already being there.

There.

He focused his entire being, his entire will on what seemed like a familiar configuration in the Force - something that spoke to all of his inner senses at once. A familiar glimmer of light. An impression of warmth. A soundless whisper. The feeling of having come home.

She definitely was there.

Once he thought he had found her he poured everything into focusing on that one shape, that singular feeling in the Force and shut out everything else. The focused intention behind his effort surged through the Force like a deep ocean wave.

There she was. It suddenly became easy. He just needed to open the other end of the link.

Padmé.

Padmé stirred restlessly in her sleep. She had gone to bed early after a frustrating day. Now she was dreaming about Anakin. He was talking to her in her head again.

Padmé. He was still talking to her in her head.

Padmé opened her eyes and looked into the dark, trying to remember why she woke up. It was something about Anakin. Well, that wasn't unusual. She always was thinking and dreaming about him.

Padmé. She could have sworn.

"Anakin?" She said out loud. No of course not, silly. She tried again, just on the off chance that she wasn't fantasizing,

Anakin?

Here.

ANAKIN?

I'm here. I found you.

Where are you?

I'm on my way.

Anakin?

I'm coming.

And that was it. There was no more. Either she was having a complicated and ultimately frustrating dream, or he was going to walk through her door shortly. Padmé found herself smiling into the dark like an idiot. She would bet anything that he was going to walk through her door.

* * * * *

Elsewhere on Coruscant a particular surge in the Force sounded as loudly as an alarm bell. It was as though a string had been placed across a closed door and a bell attached to the string. As soon as the door opened the bell sounded.

To the Sith Master it was a clarion call.

The door has opened, he thought with a mounting sense of pleasure that he chose to enjoy to its fullest. The door has opened and the pathway is lit.

He closed his eyes and visualized a vast, complicated machine in which each part depended upon the movement of others. It was like infinitely detailed clockwork mechanism, powered not by mere physical laws but by living Will. The individual actions and intentions of all its components influenced and moved one another in countless intricate ways.

In his mind's eye a central cog just had clicked forward, taking the rest of the construct with it.

It was time for him to meditate on the machine, and to decide upon his next move.

Chapter 6. The Lighted Path Part II



It was a good night to go for a walk. Anakin had no plans to broadcast his intentions; on the other hand, he didn't particularly care if anyone knew that he had left. After months of having willingly remained confined to the Temple except for his visit to the Senate building with Obi-Wan, he simply got up and walked out of his room, down several corridors, rode down two different lifts and made his way to the Temple's main hallway. The evening threshold sentinel looked up as he passed. Anakin lifted his hand in greeting. The Padawan on duty stared at him for a moment. It was Brith.

Anakin was about to wave and be on his way when something made him go over to the boy.

"Hey, Brith."

Poulan ducked his head in greeting.

They looked at one another for a moment, with their eyes and through the Force. Poulan was troubled.

"Are you .are you coming back?" he asked suddenly, awkwardly.

Anakin nodded. "I'll be back before you wake up."

Poulan wasn't comforted. There was something weighing on him. Anakin could feel it through the Force.

"Don't you.don't you want to be here?"

Anakin could feel his pulse rise slightly as some sleeping demons began to stir. He didn't want to think about this now; he only wanted to go. But the boy's need held him.

"I've never wanted to be anywhere else," he said truthfully. Still, his feet were itching to move toward the door.

Poulan couldn't contain himself. "I.I don't want you to go." He clearly didn't just mean tonight.

Others do, thought Anakin. The bond between them was not such that Poulan could pick up the words, but there was nothing wrong with his perception. He understood perfectly.

Out loud Anakin said, gently, "I have to go."

Poulan nodded.

"I'll see you," Anakin said, and headed toward the massive doors of the Temple.

Anakin made his way out of the Temple compound and into the nearest Transit Station. Lacking credits, he comfortably used a few tricks to get to his destination, which turned out to be an elegant apartment building quite near the Senate precinct.

It was so simple.

A few minutes later he did indeed walk through Padmé's front door. The only obstacle was that the person who opened it didn't look very happy to see him.

"Hello, Sabé," Anakin grinned.

"Oh, Gods, not you again." She seriously was tempted to slam the door in his face until Padmé came flying out of her bedroom and threw herself into his arms. Anakin looked at Sabé meaningfully over his wife's shoulder. She rolled her eyes and gave up. It had been a nice thought while it lasted. But he never seemed to go away.

"Aren't you under armed guard, or something?" Sabé grumbled.

"Not at the moment," he said, looking only at Padmé. With her sleepy face and tumbled hair she looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

"How long can you stay?" Padmé asked, taking his hand and pulling him toward the bedroom.

"I should get back before dawn."

"AWOL," Sabé muttered. "Great."

The first thing Padmé did when they were safely behind the closed door was to have a good look at Anakin. She was worried about what she might find.

She loved what she saw. He seemed fully himself. He was self-assured, smiling, and relaxed.

"You look better," she said, satisfied.

"Only since I saw you." Anakin smiled into her eyes. "Everything changed after that."

"Everything? You mean you got back all of your."

She stopped abruptly when her open robe lifted as though a breeze had caught it and slithered to the floor, seemingly of its own accord. The shiver she felt was not from cold.

"Parlor tricks," she finally managed, in a voice that wasn't as light and steady as she had intended. "What else can you do?"

He regarded her for a moment. A challenge, was it?

I can find you anywhere, he said inside her mind. Padmé closed her eyes. She had missed being able to reach him this way. Terribly. Constantly. More than she had allowed herself to admit until this moment.

I've missed you, she thought so passionately that he instantly opened his arms to her.

"What else can you do?" Padmé asked again, plunging headlong into his embrace. With every reassuring demonstration that Anakin was as he had always been, the heavy burden of guilt she had carried since he gave up his abilities for her lightened a little more.

"What would you like me to do?" Anakin was trying to think of other displays of his restored Force abilities that might please her, but he was becoming distracted by the ardor that shot through her shimmering aura in the Force and by her overwhelming physical presence next to his body. At the moment he couldn't think of any other demonstrations beyond the parlor trick level that wouldn't be somehow destructive or bring Sabé running.

"Pretend I'm your wife and you haven't seen me for a while," Padmé said, taking possession of him once and for all.

"Oh, er.Force!" Anakin gasped, beginning to feel helpless again and yet not-helpless in a mixed-up sort of way. Any further demonstrations she might have needed just came naturally. Everything non-essential was forgotten for a very long time.

Anakin was trying hard not to doze off and failing when a very wakeful Padmé captured his full attention once more.

"I have to go back to Naboo for a while," she said. "I've left Balé far too long. I never intended to be gone for months. I talk to her every day but it's not enough."

Suddenly wide-awake, Anakin rolled over and drew her close. "Don't go," he said. "Not now. Bring her here."

Padmé hesitated.

"I can't get away from Coruscant yet," he persisted. "I've managed this, but I can't go further. Not yet." He paused. "I want to see her, too. And I don't want you to go."

Padmé was silent while she turned it over in her mind. There were a lot of reasons why she didn't want to disrupt the child's life with a trip right now. Balé had settled in wonderfully with her family. And Coruscant, Padmé had decided, was not a healthy place for a child. Padmé didn't like the feel of the place.

"Please," Anakin whispered.

"I'll see what I can do," she finally decided. "A visit, that's all." She couldn't deny him anything.

His lingering kiss said "thank you" much more eloquently than words.

Anakin realized that he had better think about going if he was going to get back to the Temple before dawn. Padmé must have sensed his intentions because she managed to nestle down around him again in a way that did away with any motivation for getting untangled. He yielded to warmth and comfort and decided to stay just a little longer.

"So," she said idly after a while, "what else can you do?"

Anakin laughed out loud. "What else do you want me to do?"

"Control time and space," she murmured, in the way one sometimes sends one's dearest wishes out into the darkness in the hours before dawn. "Bring peace to the Galaxy. End injustice and slavery." Anakin's arms tightened around her. "Make it possible for us to be openly married and to live together."

"I'll work on it,"Anakin said softly. He couldn't deny her anything.

Chapter 7 (Part I) When one door opens...


"Senator Amidala, I hope this discussion has addressed your concerns about the Officer Training Academy Bill. If our reverend Jedi Masters are in agreement that this is the best path to take, and if it will ease their heavy burden of having to supply commanders for our troops, then surely you can have no further objections?" The Supreme Chancellor spoke with the greatest warmth and kindness.

Padmé's stomach still was tied in knots, as it had been during the entire meeting. She was beginning to wonder whether she was losing her grip. In the past it had never been difficult to think clearly. Now she constantly was hearing things one way and feeling them another way. She looked around at the others who were seated at the Chancellor's massive desk. Masters Windu and Mundi were as impenetrable as ever. Master Yoda kept watching her and making her thoroughly uncomfortable. The Chancellor was exactly as he had always been, but she nevertheless was reacting to him in odd ways without knowing why. Bail Organa was the only comforting presence in the room, except he was firmly in favor of the proposed legislation and she had the distinct feeling he was annoyed with her.

There was no doubt about the way she felt. No doubt at all. Padmé had serious concerns about putting the amount of resources that were under discussion into a training academy for military officers. It was going to be huge, and its reach would cover the Galaxy. As conceived in this draft of the bill it would turn out far more trained military personnel than were needed at present, even under war conditions.

But the Jedi were supporting it. Padmé was alone in arguing that the bill, in its present scope, was the first step toward the development of a massive military hierarchy that would supersede the sovereign military forces of the member planets. And yet the Jedi seemed to see nothing wrong with that. Why?

"I'm curious," Padmé said, "what role your Graces see for the Jedi Order in the future that this proposed legislation describes."

Mace Windu fixed her with a level look. "Role, Senator? I'm not sure what you mean. The role of the Jedi Order will remain the same it always has been. To ensure peace in the Galaxy."

Padmé had to hold on to herself tightly not to retort out loud, well, you haven't done a very good job recently, have you? Instead she behaved herself and said only, "I ask because the development of a very large military force reporting to the Senate easily might end up assuming some of your traditional roles."

"Perhaps you are reading too much into this," the Chancellor intervened smoothly. "We are only talking about making certain that we have trained officers to command our armies. You must admit that our need is grave, and immediate."

"I am asking what comes after," Padmé persisted. "You, Chancellor, have vowed that you will lay down your emergency powers as soon as the crisis is over. What will happen to this Academy, and to the tens of thousands it will have trained, at that time? The Senate will no longer need an army then." She looked pointedly at the Jedi Masters who sat in the plush red office so implacably in their modest robes. "Suppose the Senate sees fit to retain a standing Army of the Republic and have it take over the peacekeeper role?"

"What are you suggesting, Senator?" Master Mundi asked sharply. "That the Order no longer has a place in the Galaxy?"

"No, Master Mundi, not at all," Padmé cut in quickly. Can you not hear what I am saying? Listen to me! "I am saying that there is a danger the Order might find itself pushed out of its place."

There was a very deep silence in the room.

"Padmé," Bail said uncomfortably, "I think you are carrying your concerns too far. If what you outline were the case the rest of us in this room surely would not be in agreement on this bill."

"No, no, Senator Organa, Senator Amidala is right," Palpatine said smoothly. "As always she serves as our conscience and our constant reminder of our love for democracy and freedom that underlies all that we do."

He smiled warmly at her, making her stomach lurch.

What is wrong with me? Padmé wondered, not for the first time.

"I suggest you take on this bill, Senator Amidala, as I have asked you to do from the beginning. Take it on. Build in whatever safeguards you must. But then let's get it passed, so that we can finally relieve our Jedi brethren of their heavy burden."

There may not be enough safeguards in the entire Galaxy for this one, Padmé thought. And he knows it.

"Please, Padmé," said Bail. "It's time to move forward with this."

Padmé's head told her that the bill was safer in her hands than in someone else's, and so she agreed. Her feelings continued to tell her that there was far more to it than met the eye. She was beginning to get a headache.

Palpatine settled back with an air of relief. "Well, another piece of good work done. Thank you for joining use, your Graces." The Jedi stood to take their leave and everyone else stood with them.

"Tell me Master Windu," Padmé heard the Chancellor ask as they strolled across the spacious office toward the door. "How is my young friend Skywalker? I haven't seen him since before he accompanied Senator Amidala back to Naboo. Is he away on a mission?"

Padmé froze, listening, but tried to do it in a casual way.

"He is well, thank you, Chancellor," Mace said formally. "He is here on Coruscant."

"Ah," said the Chancellor. "I enjoy watching his progress. Is he close to achieving his Knighthood yet?"

"Not yet," said Master Windu briefly, turning to go.

"Such a fine young man," the Chancellor said. "And such skills! He did a remarkable job in that unfortunate encounter with the D'laians." He turned back to Padmé. "Didn't he, Senator?"

Padmé wondered what he was playing at. The Jedi were notably silent on the subject. Well, she thought. I might as well play, too.

She looked up and raised her chin. "He saved our lives," she said. "He saved us all."

"Indeed he did," Palpatine went on, warming to his subject. "He saw straight through the D'laian's duplicity and gave us the vital information we needed to secure that Sector." The Chancellor beamed at the Jedi Masters. "He is a real credit to you."

All three Jedi Masters maintained their stony silence.

Padmé glowered a bit, thinking about the military force that now swarmed over Naboo.

"I was wondering," the Chancellor persisted, "whether you might consider making him available to me at some point soon." He paused and made a courteous half-bow in Mace's direction. "If it does not interfere with his other duties, of course. There are some pressing matters he could help me with greatly."

Padmé turned her back to them and gazed unseeingly out the window.

"What matters?" Mace's voice was as bland and carefully modulated as always, but Padmé could have sworn she sensed concern. "Do you require protection?"

The Chancellor shrugged. "I have more security than I know what to do with. No, it's not a bodyguard I need. I have something with a bit more scope in mind." He looked earnestly at each of the Jedi Masters in turn. "In truth no one turns out better tactical thinkers than Your Graces. I desperately need someone who can help me solve some pressing problems having to do with overall Senate security."

One of the great pleasures of forming complex plans, thought Palpatine, was watching them take on a momentum of their own. Without Anakin's stunning initiative and skill in performing the Life-Force Transference, he would not now be in a position to stand before these members of the Jedi Council asking them to part with their finest jewel. A jewel on which they seemed unable to place any value.

And they would agree. He had foreseen it.

He looked around at the venerable Jedi Masters who held the Order's fate in their hands. Fools, he thought. Blind Fools. They stand here saying nothing. They should fight me for him!

"I would be most grateful for our young friend's assistance," he crooned with an air of the deepest humility. "The Jedi Order turns out the finest strategic minds and the most skilled warriors in the Galaxy. Staff of many talents surrounds me, but there is no one who combines these skills in the way that your Graces make possible with your superb training. The help of such a one would aid greatly in my struggle to end this terrible conflagration in which we find ourselves."

Bail was turning to leave and Padmé put her hand on his arm to keep him there. She was straining to listen to the conversation between Palpatine and the Jedi, but did not want to appear too eager.

"Let's walk back together when they are finished," she whispered, making it look as though she were trying to give the other conversation some privacy. "We can talk a bit more on the way."

Bail nodded and joined her at the window, thinking his own thoughts as he looked out upon the streams of traffic far below.

"Would not an experienced Knight be more useful to you?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, speaking up for the first time.

Palpatine spread his hands out before him palms up, as if indicating their recent discussion. "There are none to spare. I know this better than anyone. That is why I thought of young Anakin. He is not a Knight and would not be needed for a command position, but he has all the skills to be of assistance to me." He allowed a little pause to go by. "To the Republic."

Mace Windu fixed the Chancellor with a flinty gaze. "What tasks do you have in mind for Skywalker?"

"They are almost too numerous to mention," the Chancellor sighed with the air of a leader who is being beleaguered by annoying details. "To begin with, the Senate's own security Forces are badly in need of re-structuring and re-training. We don't have a cohesive contingency plan in case of attack by terrorists. Each of the delegations brings its own security force to the capital but the lines of authority between those forces and Senate security are unclear and the source of daily, time-wasting friction." He stopped. "Shall I go on?"

"No thank you, Chancellor. We understand." Mace contemplated the supreme leader of the Galaxy in silence for a while. "And you believe that Skywalker can be of assistance to you in solving these problems?"

"Without a doubt, Your Grace. I need someone who is both bold and creative in his thinking, and fearless in his actions."

Every single Council member both in this room and back at the Temple thought that Anakin did indeed have those qualities. It was what he did with them that caused the worry.

"He would work under my personal supervision, of course," Palpatine went on smoothly. "I can teach him the subtleties of Senate politics quite quickly. And if he experiences any difficulties, he can come directly to me. He would have the authority of my office behind him." The Chancellor allowed his face to brighten, as if he had just thought of something. "I will serve as his mentor. And I will report back to you on his progress regularly."

Padmé thought that she was going to stop breathing soon. The idea of having Anakin out of the Temple and working here in the Senate building completely blotted out the discomfort she felt around Palpatine lately.

She felt, rather than saw, Master Yoda's eyes on her.

They won't want to let him do this with me here. My presence is a constant threat.

To Bail Organa's complete surprise, Padmé took his arm in both hands and demonstratively pulled him over to the other group to take her leave of them. She still was leaning on his arm in a very friendly way as they walked across the office and out the door. To keep him from commenting on her unexpected behavior, she kept him engaged in a very serious discussion about the Officer Training Academy Bill all the way to her office.

The less they see of me, she thought, the better.

Chapter 7 (Part I When One Door Opens).........Part II Another One Closes


"Oh, no," Lon Erian groaned out loud. "It can't be. This has to be a mistake."

Anakin grinned at him, waving a data pad in his hand. "Afraid not, Lon. Saber Master Class. Final rankings. I'm teaching." He pointed to the list on the pad. "See? It says it right here."

Lon tasted bitter gall. That meant Skywalker was empowered to approve his Saber Master qualification. Whatever happened, it was going to be his signature on the final document.

It was too much to bear.

"I thought you were teaching the young ones?"

"I finished with that. I just have to clean up this lot." He waved his hand to indicate the nine other young adult Padawans who were milling around the training room, stretching and chatting.

"I want another teacher present on grounds of extreme prejudice."

"Don't worry, Lon," Anakin said kindly. "The competition matches are all juried. My job is to make sure you're qualified to enter them."

Lon groaned again.

"So.Lon," Anakin asked, all solicitous concern. "How's your wrist?"

Lon had enough sense not to say what he was thinking out loud, but Anakin picked up the feeling behind it perfectly well and laughed.

He loved being in charge.

Calling the class to order Anakin made them go straight through five basic forms just to see what he was dealing with in terms of balance, strength and grace. They were all pretty good, as they ought to be by this level.

As usual Anakin made them go through several forms in his personal triple-slow motion style. There were groans all around. Predictably enough he quickly picked out a number of weaknesses that had been hidden by the momentum of the faster forms. Lon had a noticeable imbalance between his right and left arms. The problem seemed to originate in his shoulders and upper back. His wrist seemed fine.

Anakin decided that picking Lon out to work with first was asking for trouble, so he paired them all off and set them to sparring while he assisted one pair at a time. Over the next two hours he worked his way through the whole class, systematically identifying weak points and offering methods for curing them. Finally he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, and moved over to Lon. He was sparring with V'ar again.

There wasn't much advice he could offer V'ar. She was brilliant, as always. Maybe just a little slow on the attack sometimes.but he couldn't figure out why.

"Come and spar with me for a minute," he suggested to her. He needed another look.

Lon glowered off to the side.

"There's nothing wrong with V'ar's style," he said pointedly.

"I never said there was," Anakin said, without taking his eyes off his partner. They both began with the same stance. V'ar lunged with her usual aggressiveness only to find that, wherever her blade went, Anakin's was there already. He felt her pause. "Go on," he encouraged. His intentions were purely diagnostic. She attacked again and they fought for a few more moves.

There was nothing wrong with her style. It was her thinking. Anakin called a halt and puzzled about how to put into words something that he could feel and perceive in the Force, but could find no physical equivalent for.

Anakin's continued meditation sessions with Master Yoda had begun to give him a different perspective on the Force. Before it always had been something he used, like a tool. Something that he reached for or into when he needed it. Now he gradually was beginning to feel the Force as something he lived inside of - something that was no different from himself. When he thought about something or reached for something or moved through space he was doing it as though he was the Force - and therefore there were no limits on his thought or his movement. There were only limits if one believed there were. He himself was the Force.

Belief. That was the key.

"Try imagining that your blade has already arrived at its destination before you begin to move," Anakin suggested to V'ar. "See it there. The blade will follow."

Lon made a disgusted noise by the side.

V'ar ignored him. She wanted to learn to move like Anakin. They tried a few more patterns and soon V'ar found herself arriving at her destination at almost the same time Anakin did. She grinned widely.

"Amazing," she said. "Thank you."

Anakin smiled back. "Just trust yourself," he said. "You won't have any more trouble." He turned to Lon, who was of course glaring at him.

"Let me show you something," Anakin said, as a teacher.

"There is nothing you can show me," Lon growled, as an adversary.

"Come on, Lon," said Anakin reasonably. "This is just a class. There's nothing more to it than that."

"You have no business teaching a class," Lon said in a low and dangerous voice. "You have no business teaching anyone. Especially the kids." He glared at Anakin. "I know what you said to Gren. You told her to fight by imagining that her opponent is the one who betrayed and killed her Master." There was a ripple of murmurs among the Padawans closest to them who had heard him. "That's just wrong."

Anakin looked at him silently. There was obviously more to come.

The rest of the class had gotten wind of something going on and went suddenly quiet.

"I know that you leave the Temple almost every night and don't come back until dawn. I know it and so do a lot of other people. The threshold sentinels see you come and go all the time. You pretend that you're following all the rules, and then you go and do exactly as you please. As far as I'm concerned you are not to be trusted. Believe me when I say that there is nothing.but nothing.that I want to learn from you."

Anakin took a good look around the training room at all of the expectant faces. Then he looked back into Lon's eyes and ignited his lightsaber. The collective gasp that rippled around the room told him even more than Lon's tirade had done about how he was seen in the Temple.

They fully expected him to use it on Lon.

"You have an imbalance between your arms that originates from your shoulders," Anakin said coolly to Lon after a long silence. "I am offering to help you correct it by sparring with you. I can teach you how to overcome it."

When Lon didn't move or answer right away Anakin took a step closer to him, his blade still humming in the hushed room. "If you want to carry this further and go head to head with me I will. Outside. But you need to understand something. You need to understand that you have everything to lose. I, on the other hand, have nothing left to lose. The choice is yours."

Lon finally turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him. Anakin disengaged his lightsaber with the gut feeling that a similar door had closed somewhere inside of him

Chapter 8. From Light into Darkness


Patience was something Obi-Wan Kenobi thought he had learned long ago, but even so he was beginning to wonder whether this debate ever would come to a resolution. He had been standing in the center of the Council Chamber for more than two hours while the latest discussion about Anakin went on and on. That didn't bother him. He could and would stay on his feet as long as required.

But the discussion was going around in circles.

Obi-Wan remembered the urgency with which he had sought after Anakin on Naboo, believing with all his heart that the Council would know what to do with him once he was safely back in the Temple. Now he was beginning to wonder whether that was true. The thought disturbed him deeply.

"What is your view, Master Kenobi?" Mace Windu asked him directly.

"We can't just hold Anakin hostage in the Temple," Obi-Wan replied, honestly. "He needs a purpose - something to work toward. If he is not to become a Knight, by what right do we keep him here?"

"We might ask who is holding whom hostage!" Adi Gallia burst out with unaccustomed vehemence. She had been sitting quietly for some time, but obviously had much on her mind. "If he is here only because we fear what he might do if we expel him, then the Jedi are the ones being held at bay."

Mace looked at Obi-Wan again, giving him permission to reply.

"Anakin needs a job to do. A cause to serve, now that he is fully healed. He is young and skillful and energetic. At his age and ability level the Padawans are carrying out highly complex and challenging missions with their Masters. "

"A true Jedi is prepared to serve in any capacity that is necessary." Adi Gallia retorted. "His dedication is to the act of service, not to the cause. The Chosen One, if he has the heart of a Jedi, would be content to spend a lifetime cleaning freshers if that were his mandate!"

There was a pause that contained a ripple of amusement detectible only to the Force-sensitive.

Some of that hidden mirth leaked out in Mace's voice as he replied, "That is of course true. But we do take great care to match assignments to abilities. We would never ask you to clean freshers, Adi, and risk losing your valued skills in other areas."

She made an impatient noise. "I'm only saying that he should do as he is told. And be glad for it."

Eeth Koth had just returned from a long diplomatic mission through several systems and was not current on Temple events.

"What is Skywalker doing now, may I ask?"

Master Yoda's voice was heard for the first time in the past hour. "Teaching saber classes to the Padawans, he is. A gift for teaching, he has."

"Is that wise? I thought his influence on them was a matter for concern."

Mace spoke up. "Every group he has taken on has leaped up in the rankings. All of the 14-16 year-olds who were struggling now have achieved or exceeded the required level of mastery." He stopped for emphasis. "All of them." Even Brith, he thought with satisfaction.

"What about the difficulties he had getting along with some of the older Padawans?" The Zabrak had left the Temple shortly after Anakin's first altercation with Lon Erian.

Mace shot the tiniest glance at Obi-Wan. "There have been some tensions. And one incident. We are reliably informed that he did not instigate it."

Good, thought Obi-Wan. I'm glad he said it for all to hear.

"Then," said Oppo Rancisis, "forgive me. I don't understand the full dimensions of the problem. Can he not remain in the Temple as a teacher?"

"I believe that teaching will not satisfy Anakin for long," said Master Windu. He was a man of action himself, and sympathized.

Master Yoda fixed Rancisis with a baleful stare. "Willing to let Skywalker stand the Trials, are you? Ready for a Knighthood, is he?" His fellow Council member subsided and shook his head briefly. "Expect him to remain here obediently without hopes for a Knighthood, I do not."

"I gather that obedience is not his strong suit as it is," Master Mundi said dryly.

Obi-Wan thought privately, as he had begun to think for some time, that the key to the puzzle of Anakin was relatively straightforward. Anakin always had been reckless and rash, to be sure. But in every instance his out-and-out disobedience seemed to be motivated by the same thing.

"More thoughts, have you, Master Kenobi?" Yoda pinned him with a steady look.

Blast.

Obi-Wan didn't speak up right away.

"Go on, Master Kenobi. Speak, if something to say have you."

You won't like it if I do, thought Obi-Wan. And neither will I. Too many times he had stood in the same spot in this same Council chamber at his Master's side, hoping against hope that Qui-Gon would remain silent and not say what was on his mind. He certainly didn't relish finding himself in the same position now.

"I just think." he began with uncharacteristic hesitation, ".I think that Anakin is different." He tried again. "Unique." Obi-Wan wished he hadn't opened his mouth, but it was too late now.

The silence in the Council chamber seemed very loud, somehow.

"His skills are not just remarkable," Obi-Wan went on unhappily. "They are unheard of. I have no doubt that at this point his abilities are the equal of most of us here."

Several Council members looked at Master Yoda, who pursed his lips and frowned.

"True it is, that grown and deepened young Skywalker's knowledge of the Force has." He would not say more.

"A Jedi is identified not only by his skills, but by his character, Master Kenobi," Plo Koon said sternly.

"Yes, Master, you are right." Obi-Wan decided to stop talking. There was no precedent for what he really wanted to say.

"Master Obi-Wan," Yoda said. "More to say have you?"

Actually, I'd rather not.

"Speak, Master Kenobi," ordered Mace. He wasn't kidding.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, already feeling apologetic for what he was about to say, "but I have been, and continue to be, in a position to observe Anakin very carefully. As far as I can see, his fundamental weakness ." here Obi-Wan nodded to Master Koon in acknowledgement, ". admittedly a character weakness, is one that can be understood by his background and experiences, and the late age at which he arrived at the Temple." He looked around at the Council members. "Anakin seems to need attachments of the kind he had with his mother, and has found with Senator Amidala."

Predictably enough there was another ringing silence in the Council chamber.

"I believe," Obi-Wan went on despite a brief inner picture of his neck lying on a chopping block, "that if Anakin somehow were allowed to maintain this.attachment, all the other problems we have with him could be dealt with in time, and he would make a great contribution to the life and the work of the Order."

It was so quiet in the chamber that Obi-Wan could hear himself breathe.

After a while Mace said gently, for Obi-Wan's benefit, "We are aware of Anakin's nighttime.ah.excursions.outside of the Temple, and have been for some time."

So they do know. And they are treading carefully. Obi-Wan was thoroughly surprised. He had been sure that the Council would take unequivocal action once they knew. The realization suddenly shifted his perspective on what the Council was trying to do.

Master Yoda added, somewhat tangentially, "Strong in the Force, Skywalker is. Learns quickly, he does. But still greatly in need of guidance, is he."

It was another way of saying that the Council was making unusual concessions to ensure that Anakin didn't slip through their fingers.

Obi-Wan began to feel better.

"Then we are back to the same problem," Master Rancisis pointed out. "If we expel him from the Order, or if he leaves of his own accord, he will lose the benefit of our guidance and.shall we say.our restraining hand. Yet we are not prepared to offer him a place in the Order that he will find meaningful."

Master Yoda said, to no one in particular, "The boy's light shines brightly."

It was Mace's cue.

This was the moment in the discussion when the circular path had begun to close on itself again, and the opening of a new one could be viewed as an opportunity rather than a distraction.

"There is another possibility," Master Windu suggested. "A new task he could take on."

Obi-Wan became curious. He had not heard of any new assignments for Anakin.

"Anakin may be ideally suited to provide us with an important service," Mace went on carefully. "Chancellor Palpatine has requested his assistance in solving a number of security-related problems faced by the Senate." In a few well-chosen words he explained the proposal the Chancellor had made.

Ki-Adi-Mundi added to the picture Master Windu was outlining in a way that suggested the two of them had discussed the proposal beforehand. "By taking on this assignment Anakin would be perfectly positioned to be our eyes and ears in the Senate."

This time the silence in the chamber was active. Dynamic. An invisible surge of thought and consideration seemed to fill up the large space.

Obi-Wan had to fight down a sense of unease.

The Senate. Anakin on his own and with only minimal guidance in the Senate, with all the temptations that offered. After holding him so closely, why would they allow that? Surely there were other ways of investigating any potential threat?

The boy's light shines brightly.

By all the stars in the Galaxy, Obi-Wan thought, feeling an old, familiar sense of dread as the realization hit him, hey want to draw out the Sith. And Anakin is to be the bait.

The Sith were aware of Anakin and his abilities. They had pursued him on Naboo.

This was why Anakin's waywardness had been, and apparently would continue to be, tolerated. The stakes were enormous. The threat of the Sith rising again was a far greater peril than Anakin's transgressions. The Council was hoping to use him to shine a light into the darkness that was blinding them.

Suddenly Obi-Wan felt awful.

Tuesday is upon us! And so is another post.


qinguak Thank you! There is more of our dear Chancellor to come.

illuminatrix Which path is it that they say is paved with good intentions? Thanks for the up!

leia_naberrie Yes, the dark side is moving a bit closer, but not all at once.

c_owensby Thank you! I'm glad you're back!



On with the story:



Chapter 8. From Light into Darkness (Part II)



"Come on, Brith. You can do it." Anakin threw out the challenge without the slightest consideration for the fact that Poulan was thoroughly fed up with perfecting double somersaults. It was not something he had ever aspired to do particularly well.

Still, he kept at it. That was the problem with spending time with Anakin - he rarely was still. He always was doing something, and as far as Poulan was concerned it was usually something daunting. But because it meant getting to enjoy Anakin's company, Poulan went along with everything. And despite his best efforts to the contrary, he was getting better and better at the very skills that had been the bane of his existence not long ago.

He watched with trepidation as Anakin shot gleefully into the air from a standing start and did a triple.

No way. There was no way he was even going to attempt that.

"A double, Brith. I know you can - you just did five in a row."

"That's five too many if you ask me," Poulan muttered, but he did it anyway. If this was the price for having Anakin's undivided attention, then so be it. He gathered himself and executed a perfect double somersault from a standing start.

Anakin's laughter and a friendly clap on the back were reward enough.

With the normal inattention to matters of appearance that was typical for the Jedi, Poulan wasn't fully aware that he was thinning out a bit as he grew, and that his physical presence was radically different than it had been just a few months ago. He walked taller, he was more limber and supple, and his always-strong presence in the Force had taken on a new vibrancy. Even if Poulan didn't pay much attention, his Masters did, and were deeply pleased.

As far as Poulan was concerned the real payback for struggling through all the physical exercise that Anakin liked to do was getting to talk to him. Over time they had all kinds of wide-ranging and interesting conversations. Anakin appreciated the fact that Poulan didn't ask too many personal questions, even though he was clearly deeply curious. Instead, Poulan kept Anakin entertained with the uncanny amounts of Temple gossip to which he always seemed to have access, and in turn was rewarded with fascinating stories of places he had not yet visited and experiences he yearned to have. He never tired of hearing about Anakin's childhood on Tatooine, or of the worlds Anakin had visited with Obi-Wan.

Poulan's Master was quite unlike Obi-Wan. He was a Jedi Knight, of course, with all the talents and skills that entailed. But more fundamentally he was a scholar. As an archaeologist and historian his assignments tended to take place in libraries or on ancient sites away from the volatile politics of the age. The problem was that Poulan and his Master Santo Medulla were almost too well matched. The boy's prodigious intelligence received unlimited opportunities to develop. But his Master was so deeply engaged in his studies that he absent-mindedly tolerated his Padawan's indifference to physical activity. Anakin's arrival on the scene had changed all that.

Still, enough was enough. Poulan figured that the only way out of more somersaults was distraction.

"Do you know anything about Sith history?" he asked suddenly.

Anakin looked up from somewhere near the floor, where he was doing a merciless stretch. Now this was an intriguing topic.

"Not much," he admitted. "Why?"

Hah. Interest. Poulan figured it was safe to sit down now.

"My Master and I have a new assignment researching some long-forgotten materials about it. You'll never guess where they turned up."

Anakin flowed into a sitting posture next to Poulan, who breathed a sigh of relief.

"In the Senate library," the boy went on. "Apparently they have quite an old and rare collection that nobody has looked at for ages."

"The Council is interested in Sith history?" Anakin asked curiously.

"Everybody is lately. A lot of people around the Temple are working on it in one way or another, especially since you and Master Kenobi got back from Naboo." Poulan glanced sideways at Anakin to see whether any new tidbits of information might be forthcoming.

Anakin sat still for a change while he pondered this. He and Obi-Wan had not talked much about the events on Naboo, and only rarely about their battle with Count Dooku. Almost involuntarily Anakin looked down at his artificial arm, which was gloved as always, and flexed his fingers.

Poulan held his breath. That duel with Dooku was something he had been longing to ask Anakin about, but it had never been the right time. Maybe now.

"What was it like?" he breathed.

"Like nothing you could ever imagine," Anakin said after a while. "That power is so unbelievably strong".memories of the pain still took his breath away."I was knocked flat in a second." It still hurt to remember it - not only because of the agony and the loss of his arm, but because Anakin felt responsible for Obi-Wan's injuries. He wondered constantly whether they would have been able to defeat Dooku if they had worked together as Obi-Wan had intended. Anakin voiced the question that had bothered him mercilessly since that experience. "How could a Jedi learn to do that?"

"He's not a Jedi any more," Poulan said practically. "He's a Sith."

Anakin was silent. He had so many questions, and no answers.

The arrival of a presence interrupted their reverie. Both Poulan and Anakin felt Master Kenobi through the Force before they saw him.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "You are requested to appear before the Council."

The words went through Anakin much like a bolt of Sith lightning. From the ripple in the Force next to him Poulan's reaction must have been similar.

"Now?" Anakin asked.

"Now," said Obi-Wan.

Anakin had been waiting for such a summons for a long time, and expected the worst. An ultimatum, perhaps. Even expulsion. Was it possible that his whole life was about to change again right now? Without warning? Well, why not? So many things seemed to happen to him in the blink of an eye.

He glanced at Brith's stricken face. He obviously was thinking the same thing.

"See you," Anakin said to him gently, wondering whether he would.

Poulan nodded, his throat tight and his eyes stinging.

Obi-Wan did not offer the slightest hint about what was coming as they made their way through the polished halls of the Jedi Temple. Anakin looked around as though it were the last time he would see it. He was so absorbed in his own worries that he never noticed the painful quality of the silence in which Obi-wan had wrapped himself.

It was a terrible walk.

By the time Anakin found himself standing before his Masters any confidence or brashness he might have had were completely gone. He concentrated on his posture and his breathing, and waited.

Master Windu spoke.

"You are well, Anakin. Your abilities are restored."

Anakin nodded.

"You are now in the position to perform a service for the Jedi Order and for the Republic."

Anakin's heart started to pound.

"Chancellor Palpatine has requested your assistance in reorganizing Senate's security services."

Anakin forgot to breathe.

"We have agreed."

Anakin took an experimental breath.

"We expect that you will serve the Chancellor well," Mace Windu went on. "At the same time, this assignment will permit you to become our eyes and ears in the Senate."

Spying. They want me to spy on the Senate. Anakin felt a tingle of anticipation that shot all the way through him down to his toes.

"You will continue your regular meetings with Master Yoda, and you will report to this Council weekly. You will continue to reside in the Temple unless your work requires you to be elsewhere."

Anakin stood like a statue, so overwhelmed with the implications of the assignment that he completely forgot to respond to Master Windu.

"Well, Anakin?"

Anakin snapped out of his shock when he heard his name. The only reply he could think of was to bow.

"I understand," he finally said, and then added, "I won't let you down," as an afterthought. A smile that he just couldn't stop began to light up his face.

Outside the door of the Council chamber Obi-Wan stood alone battling with darkness and dread.

Chapter 9. A Parting of the Ways (Part I)


"What is this bantha-offal?"

Senate Security Chief Zangan tossed the offending data pad across his desk toward his Deputy as though the pale human were the bull's-eye on a target, in the process dislodging some of the untidy piles of data chips and the odd blaster part from the clutter on his desk.

Accustomed to his Chief's manner, Tibbs intercepted the pad with his pale, narrow hand and read the entry calmly. When he had finished, he looked up and said in his usual colorless voice, "It is what it seems, I imagine. A Jedi is being assigned to review this department and its procedures."

"What is a motherblasting Jedi doing looking at Senate security protocols? What's he gonna do, cut the files in half with his light saber if he doesn't like what he sees?"

Tibbs looked at the memorandum again. "It's more than files he's looking at, Sir. It's the whole setup - personnel, training, armament, contingency plans; you name it." He checked the data pad again. "It has the Chancellor's security code on it."

Zangan was unimpressed. Palpatine was the third Chancellor under whom he had served as Chief of Security for the Galactic Senate. He had seen them come and he had seen them go, and none of the comings and goings had the slightest effect on the way he did his job. Palpatine had been around for a long time, but had never particularly bothered him before. Now he dropped this detonator without any warning.

Well, he would have to be re-trained. Like every Chancellor before him. But in the meantime he had this annoying spawn of a T'aan to deal with.

"And today we're supposed to baby-sit this Jedi while he pokes his nose into our business?"

"I believe so, Sir." Tibbs wished that once, just once, his superior would read something for himself and not have to have it explained to him. On the other hand, Tibbs' long and successful career had been based on making Zangan's life possible by taking care of the annoying details. It was the reason a career bureaucrat had risen to second-in-command of the Security service. Chief Zangan was only interested in weaponry, military tactics and being in charge.

Zangan let loose a complicated and colorful curse from his native Cixassia. Tibbs wasn't certain, but it seemed to have something to do with the offspring of animals indigenous to that lively planet.

"Would you like me to deal with him, Sir?" Tibbs asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"No." Zangan loved to play the part of the Supreme Leader. And despite their fearsome reputation the Jedi didn't intimidate him. He had figured out long ago that their peculiar beliefs made them unlikely either to interfere or to get too involved in other people's run-of-the-mill, ordinary business. The Jedi were called in when there was a crisis, or to solve a particular problem, usually at very high levels. He didn't know why one was being sent to look at his Department, but he figured that it was some kind of a political move to satisfy some bigwig's worries about one thing or other. It would pass. The Jedi were probably sending one of their old guys who could no longer handle fieldwork, just to give him a job to do.

"When's he coming?"

"He should be here now."

Zangan thought that was unusually short notice. What was going on?

Sure enough, the COM beeped to let Zangan know there was a visitor in his office. "Send him in," he snapped into the device, and sat back to see what would walk through his door. When he saw a boy dressed as a Jedi, Zangan looked past him into the anteroom to see where the real adviser was. There was no one else there.

What the muckwallowing turdshine is this? he thought to himself.

The boy walked right up to his desk and looked him straight in the eye. "You're Security Chief Zangan," he said.

Zangan stared at him incredulously. The boy was a bit taller than he was, and there was no doubt that he was solidly built. But he was a kid.

"Who are you?"

"Skywalker," the boy said. "The Chancellor's adviser."

This had to be the biggest pile of rancid tauntaun guts Zangan had ever had the misfortune to stumble across. Surely it was some kind of mistake.

"You?" Zangan put every ounce of disgust he could manage into the one syllable. What in the moons of Rexla was Palpatine playing at, sending a child to waste his time?

"Me," the boy said.

Among the many advantages of being trained as a Jedi, Anakin reflected, was that he always knew what was waiting for him in a room before he walked into it. In this case he already had a pretty good picture of the two individuals in the room, their attitudes, feelings, strengths and weaknesses.

As he walked through the door Anakin matched his initial sense-impressions to the individuals in the office. The self-satisfied one with an overweening sense of his own power was a tall, heavyset Cixassian, a humanoid with golden skin and a heavy, ridged brow. The one who read as closed, shielded and duplicitous turned out to be a thin human male with pale gray hair, pale gray eyes and pale gray clothing. It was almost as though he cultivated the impression of being a shadow.

It was abundantly clear to Anakin that neither one of them was prepared to take him seriously, as an emissary of the Chancellor, as a Jedi, or as a person.

Oh, well. In that case, the only possible approach was a direct offense. Anything less and they would dismiss him out of hand. His brief but intense scan through the Force had told him that Zangan had no intention of cooperating with him, now or ever. The other one would do whatever the Chief said. It remained to be seen whether that would change if Tibbs detected a shift in the power structure.

"I suppose you want a tour," Zangan said in a tone that dripped with sarcasm.

"Actually, no," Anakin said. "I have been observing your operations on all shifts for a week."

That startled Zangan. He had only received notification about the Chancellor's adviser this morning. And he hadn't received a single report about an observer. Not one. Blasted sneaking Jedi.

"Then why are you here?"

"To get to work," Anakin replied. "To begin with, you need to set up a meeting with all available active personnel to introduce me and to announce a new training program."

Anakin waited to see what would happen. His senses told him that there was a good chance Zangan would decide to throw him out of the office, Chancellor or no. They were technically serving the same master. And as a Jedi, Anakin couldn't very well threaten him or use intimidation to get his way.

This might end up being a very short assignment, he thought, without betraying his doubts in his outer demeanor of confidence.

Contempt devolved into fury in the Cixassian's innermost being.

"I thought your job is to make some kind of report. You say you've seen everything. So go report."

"My mandate is to identify weaknesses and to make the necessary changes."

"It is NOT!" Zangan slammed his fist onto his desk so hard that everything on it jumped. "This is MY department and I'm the only one who is authorized to implement changes!"

"Look again," Anakin said with an appearance of calm.

Tibbs had remained quiet during this exchange. But he was the one who had read the Chancellor's directive, so he knew that the boy spoke the truth. He had watched the scene with interest but said nothing.

Zangan turned to his Deputy with a look that could have skewered him for dinner. "Well?"

"I'm afraid so, Sir. Chancellor's orders."

Zangan cared nothing for the Chancellor's orders. The man was a politician. As far as Zangan was concerned Security stood at the very pinnacle of the Administrative pecking order in the Senate. And he was the top man in Security. The politicians had nothing to do with it.

"No," he growled to Anakin. "You're done. Get out."

Anakin shrugged inwardly. Without Zangan's cooperation there was little else he could do for the moment. He represented the Chancellor's office and the Jedi Order and that meant working within the rules. Especially since he thought of this assignment as a kind of reprieve. He had observed enough to give a comprehensive report to the Chancellor at their meeting tomorrow. As of now it was a meeting he was not looking forward to.

Anakin bowed to Zangan, thinking somewhat ruefully that Obi-Wan would be proud that he had kept his temper. "As you wish. I will make my report as I see fit." Without further discussion he turned and left.

Anakin was not accustomed to failing. He hadn't so much kept his temper as he had kept it to himself.

As Anakin left Zangan's office every Jedi who happened to be in the vast Senate building that day sensed, but could not attribute, a brief but powerful spike in the Force.

Chancellor Palpatine had no difficulty at all identifying the origin and meaning of that angry surge. He looked out the window and smiled.

* * * * *

Padmé?

Here.

Padmé tried not to laugh with delight in the middle of the Committee meeting. Her days at work had become exciting and entertaining. Whenever Anakin was in the building, which for past week was most of the time, he kept up a constant secret dialogue with her. It was like passing notes in school, only better.

What are you doing?

Meetings, she replied. For the rest of the day.

Come and meet me.

Padmé sensed longing, and something more. Something was bothering him.

I can't, she replied regretfully.

Her disappointing reply nevertheless arrived wrapped in shimmering love and reassurance that was not lost on Anakin.

Tonight, then, he proposed, sending the last thought tagged with an image that made Padmé think she ought to start wearing veils again. It was impossible not to blush.

Tonight, yes.

Padmé began to fan herself, as though she felt too warm, and went on with her meeting.

Chapter 9. (Part II) A Parting of the Ways


After his deeply unsatisfying meeting with Zangan and Tibbs, and unable to see Padmé until much later, Anakin retreated to the Temple to think. For once physical activity was not what he wanted or needed. He didn't much want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to meditate. He ended up going into his small room and sitting on his pallet for a long time, reflecting on the job ahead.

"I have come to say goodbye, Anakin."

Anakin looked up, startled. Obi-Wan was suddenly there, leaning against the doorframe.

He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had not noticed Obi-Wan's presence. In fact, Anakin had been so wrapped up in himself and his own concerns for so long now that he hadn't given his former Master much thought at all. Obi-Wan had simply been there in the background - reliable, predictable, and strong.

But here he was, and he was wearing his heavy traveling cloak. He must be going right away.

When had all this happened?

Suddenly Anakin felt a twisting pang of regret for not having spent more time with Obi-Wan lately. For having taken him for granted.

"Where are you going?" Anakin could already feel the emptiness that Obi-Wan would leave behind him. It was one thing to leave others. It was quite another to be left.

"I have been given a mission." Obviously he was not going to say more than that.

Anakin nodded, surprised at how bereft he felt. He knew better than to ask how long he would be away. A mission, for a Jedi, was always a complex and uncertain thing.

"A command?" Anakin knew that missions were secret, but he couldn't resist asking.

Obi-Wan paused. "No," he finally admitted. "A bit of unfinished business." For some reason Anakin didn't like the sound of that.

But Obi-Wan clearly had more on his mind than a farewell.

"You have a big job ahead of you, Anakin," he finally said.

Anakin nodded in acknowledgement. This was another fine example of Kenobi understatement.

"It's something no one can help you with. You truly will be on your own now." Obi-Wan looked directly into Anakin's eyes. "Like a Knight."

Anakin wondered what his former Master was trying to tell him. He never said anything idly.

"And like a Knight," Obi-Wan went on, "you will be representing the Jedi Order. Everything you say and do will reflect not only on you, but on the Order as a whole."

It sounded like a lecture, but for once Anakin didn't mind. As though he could make up for his earlier neglect he turned the full focus of his awareness on to his former Master. What he found held his attention completely. There was a great deal of unspoken intent and meaning behind Obi-Wan's words. There was deep worry. And there was.love.

Obi-Wan struggled to condense everything he wanted to say to Anakin, everything he wanted him to know, into a mere few words that might have some meaning.

"Trust yourself, Anakin. And trust the Force. You can't control everything, nor should you. Modest actions, taken with care and a good heart, can make a huge difference in the overall scheme of things."

Moderation. If there was anything he wanted Anakin to learn, it was moderation.

"You are already a great warrior, Anakin. Now be a great man."

Anakin was listening to Obi-Wan's words, but he was more focused on something the Force was trying to tell him. Something familiar and very unsettling was skittering around the edges of his awareness. It was something connected with both Obi-Wan and himself.

Oh, no.

"Are you going alone?" Anakin asked abruptly.

Obi-Wan looked up, startled.

"Yes." Then he smiled a little. "It's what we do, you know."

I should be going with him, Anakin thought, with unaccustomed regret. If I were still his Padawan he wouldn't be doing this alone. We would succeed this time. I'm much stronger now.

"You shouldn't face him alone," Anakin said, bluntly, completely ignoring Temple etiquette around mission secrecy.

Obi-Wan looked at the boy thoughtfully. There was certainly nothing wrong with his perception. His tact, perhaps; but not his perception. When he paid attention.

"I don't intend to," he said. "But there are other matters that require investigation." Then he caught himself. "Look, Anakin, we can't discuss this."

"I'm worried about you," Anakin said straightforwardly.

"That makes a nice change," Obi-Wan shot back.

There was an intense silence between them.

"I'm sorry I let you down," Anakin said. "I wouldn't do it again."

Obi-Wan took a calming breath.

"Thank you for that," he said softly. "But I really came here to talk about you. I am concerned about you. I want you to be careful."

Anakin shrugged. "How careful can any of us be, given what we are asked to do?"

"You would be surprised," Obi-Wan said dryly, bringing the conversation back to where he had originally wanted it to go, "at how much patience, thinking before you act, and moderation can contribute to keeping you safe."

He was rewarded by a grin instead of a retort. Good. Time to forge ahead.

"Look, Anakin, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me that if you are ever in trouble - the kind you can't handle yourself - that you will come to me. I mean it."

Anakin considered the statement. There was something about it that was out of character. Obi-Wan was truly worried. But about what? He obviously wasn't talking about a spur-of-the-moment situation.

"How can I do that if I don't know where you are?" He meant it to be teasing. Anakin couldn't imagine a situation so grave that he would call out to Obi-Wan for help and actually take him away from a mission. He was supposed to be taking care of himself now.

Obi-Wan on the other hand pondered the question so solemnly that Anakin began to feel very ill at ease.

"I'm going to do something unorthodox."

"You?" Anakin was still trying to keep the conversation light. Otherwise it was too uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan was having none of it.

"Pay attention. I'm serious." He paused, trying to decide how to say what was in his heart. "I am going to find a way to let you know wherever I am."

Anakin was truly surprised. This was not standard procedure; it was probably even breaking the rules - not something one expected from Obi-Wan. He wondered somewhat desperately what had driven the upright Jedi Knight to this measure

Obi-Wan wasn't finished.

"But hear me, Anakin," he went on earnestly, "if you care about my safety at all, if it matters to you whether I stay alive, you will not share this information with anyone. Do you understand me? Not anyone - not even those whom you trust the most." He pinned Anakin with a look that was unlike any his former Padawan had ever seen. "Not even someone to whom you would trust your own life."

It was Anakin's turn to take a calming breath.

"All right," he said when it had helped a little. "I promise. But I would very much like to know what you are so worried about."

There was nothing Obi-Wan could tell him. There was nothing more he could do.

"Just think, Anakin. Look around at what is happening in the Galaxy. Study the forces that are rising around us. Observe. Make no assumptions. Trust your feelings."

"Yes, Master." Anakin couldn't help it. It just slipped out.

Obi-Wan smiled.

"Take care, Anakin," he said. "May the Force be with you." And then he was gone.

Chapter 10. A New Suit



"Well, my friend? What do you think?"

Anakin sat opposite the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic in his vast and quiet office and pondered how to respond.

"It's a mess," he said finally. "I'm surprised it even functions."

"Can you fix it?"

It was an unusually blunt question. The Chancellor was normally more circumspect, more diplomatic in his conversation. Anakin felt pinned down.

"Theoretically it's pretty clear. A lot of changes have to be made, and the Senate Security Force is badly in need of re-training. The problems with the individual delegations' security forces will need clearer rules and a whole new setup for enforcing them."

"Can you fix it?" the Chancellor asked again, with the emphasis on "You."

Anakin started to squirm. "The people involved are not going to want to listen to me, or to take orders from me."

"You have the direct authority you need from my office."

"They don't accept that," said Anakin uncomfortably.

The Chancellor regarded him in silence for a long moment during which Anakin wondered what would happen to him if he failed at this assignment.

"Suppose you made them accept your authority," the Chancellor finally said.

Anakin looked up into his mentor's face. "I.I don't know what you mean."

Palpatine stood up and moved to the broad window of his office. "Come over here Anakin."

Anakin quickly came and stood beside him.

"Look out there. What do you see?"

Anakin looked out the window at a jumble of buildings that went on as far as the eye could see, the streams of traffic between them, and the monochrome dome of the sky above. He didn't understand what he was being asked.

"The city," he finally said, lamely. "Coruscant."

"Can you see the Temple from here?"

Anakin squinted. In the distance he could just make out the thin spires of the Temple complex. He nodded.

"How large is the Temple in comparison to the rest of the city around it?"

"Small," Anakin said, thinking how all encompassing the Temple seemed when one was inside it, and inside of the world it represented.

"You are now in the world outside the Temple, my boy," the Chancellor said pointedly. "This is a world in which, sadly or not, results count for more than methods. Outcomes are the standard by which our work is judged."

Anakin was silent.

"Suppose," Palpatine went on, "suppose you were walking from the Temple to this building because you had an appointment with me. And suppose a street gang decided that you were invading their territory by walking their streets. Would you allow them to deter you from your goal?"

"No," Anakin admitted.

"Would you know how to deal with them in the most efficient way possible?"

"Yes," Anakin said. It was a certainty.

"Would you even have to stop to think about it?"

"No," said Anakin again.

"Entrenched bureaucracies operate like street gangs," the Chancellor said, still looking into the far distance. "They are territorial and will not give up their turf unless they are made to."

There was a pause during which Anakin tried to let the implications of this conversation sink in. The Chancellor stood quietly as though he had all time in the world. In fact he had a hundred pressing obligations waiting for him; but for this meeting, for this conversation he would take as long as was needed. The rest of the Galaxy could wait.

"Do I understand you to say that you don't mind what methods I use to get the job done?" Anakin finally asked in disbelief.

Here it was. The nuance. The fine line. The approach that made the difference between an unimaginative lackey like the rest of them and a gifted, creative tool.

"I know that I do not have to worry about your overall comportment when you represent my office, my young friend, because you have been trained by the Jedi. You will not bring dishonor onto yourself or, by extension, onto me. But within those larger boundaries every choice about how to proceed is ultimately yours." He looked at Anakin, holding his gaze just long enough to assure that he had his undivided attention. "I operate in the world outside of the Temple. Therefore, my primary objective is to get results. I am a busy man and do not want to be bothered with details of method."

Anakin felt a strange feeling of lightness, as though a burden were trying to lift from his shoulders.

He was being given permission to operate based on his instincts and his own judgment.

He was being told to trust his feelings and to act on them.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing, and felt he needed to test it further. In case he was mistaken about what the Chancellor had just said.

"There will be complaints," he said. "I'll have to change the rules about everything, from weaponry to overtime. Lines of authority will have to change."

"Give Dar Wac your requests. He will see to it that they are fulfilled."

"It might get messy," Anakin said, probing further. "You know. Personal."

"I am far to busy to concern myself with petty details," the Chancellor said, still gazing out the window as though he had never seen the panorama before.

"Chief Zangan and his Deputy will be a big problem."

"I don't doubt it," said the Chancellor. "They will receive a memo ordering their full cooperation within the hour. If they behave true to form they will ignore it." He turned to Anakin again and smiled for the first time in the conversation. "That means that ensuring their cooperation will be entirely up to you."

Anakin didn't see the smile. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at the floor, and thinking hard. Palpatine watched him closely.

"I would not give you this very large task if I were not certain that you can do it," the Chancellor said very gently. "I have great confidence in your abilities."

"I don't want to let you down," Anakin said to his boots.

"Do not forget that you are a Jedi," Palpatine said, "And a very powerful one."

Somehow that comment didn't make Anakin feel any better about what he was facing. He wasn't exactly sure what he was any more. But he was sure that the Jedi Council would not approve of what he was being asked to do. More importantly, Obi-Wan wouldn't approve. That almost mattered more.

To a Sith Master his feelings read like an open book.

"My reports to your Masters will be based on results, not methods," Palpatine said firmly. "I am neither your teacher nor your judge. I have a war to fight and a Senate to run. You are here to make my burden lighter, and for no other reason."

Anakin continued to look at his boots.

"So.can you fix it?" Palpatine asked again, bringing the conversation full circle.

"Yes," said Anakin to his boots. One toe was by now repeatedly stubbing the thick carpet. "I can fix it."

"May I make a suggestion, my young friend?" the Chancellor asked, beginning to move away from the window and across his office. The movement roused Anakin out of his deep reverie and he followed along.

"Anything," Anakin said.

"Ask Dar Wac for the name of my tailor."

"Excuse me?" Anakin thought he hadn't heard right. "Your tailor?"

Palpatine smiled. "Get yourself some new clothes. Design a uniform. Anything you like. Just not.that." He pointed at Anakin's Jedi robes.

Anakin looked down at himself, startled. He never once thought about what he was wearing. Ever.

"Trust me," Palpatine said kindly. "It will help enormously."

Anakin was truly caught off guard. "Why?"

"The Jedi are advisors. You need to take command. In this world, appearances count."

Anakin was so bemused that the Chancellor practically had to push him out the door.

He closed it behind the boy and strolled slowly back toward his desk.

Astonishing, he thought. Truly astonishing. All that without the slightest need for coercion.

When the time is right, he reflected before moving on to his next task, nothing can stop the inevitable.

He was looking forward to seeing how the boy ended up handling Security Chief Zangan and his Deputy. He could so easily have removed them beforehand to make things easier for Anakin. But that wasn't the point.

The point was to determine how far the boy would go on his own if his fetters were loosened.

Chapter 10 (Part II) A New Suit


Staggered by the latest turn of events and not focusing clearly Anakin went into the hallway and toward the bank of lifts without paying any attention to where he was going. It was with vague surprise that he soon found himself in front of the heavy door that led to the Naboo delegation's suite of offices.

Of course, he thought. Where else would I go?

It seemed that now he had as much right to be here as anyone else in the building. Anakin stepped toward a young secretary and asked to see Senator Amidala. Dellia, who had never seen him before, became suddenly flustered as she explained that the Senator was in a meeting.

"I'll wait," said Anakin, enjoying the simple fact that he was here openly. Enveloped in his own thoughts and eager to see Padmé he was oblivious to the effect he was having on the young woman, whose fascinated gaze by now had traveled from the top of his head to the tips of his boots and back.

Dellia found it hard to take her eyes off him and get back to work.

Finally Padmé stepped out of her office with three members of the Malastarian delegation. After taking her leave of them and with surprise, delight and a certain boldness she invited Anakin into her inner office. She took care to lock the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked while her eyes told a different story, along the lines of I don't care why you're here, come here. "And why didn't you let me know.you know.the usual way?"

"For once," Anakin admitted, "I wanted to walk into your office and ask to see you openly. Just like anyone else."

"You have more right than anyone." Padmé's heart went out to him.

Anakin stood silently for a moment while he scanned the anteroom and the surrounding areas to make sure they would not be interrupted, and then gathered her into his arms in a hug that lifted her off the floor. "I need help," he said. "I'm desperate."

Padmé feared the worst.

When he explained what he needed she laughed so helplessly that Dellia heard it from her desk, and wondered.

"You need help with your wardrobe," Padmé said, wiping her eyes.

"I'm serious," Anakin said. "I have never thought about clothes in my life."

"You can fight ten warriors at a time," she said.

"Yes."

"You can tell what's going on in a hundred-foot radius of this office while you are sitting here."

"More than that. Depends on what I'm looking for."

"You can make yourself practically invisible and move like a blur."

"Yes." By this time Anakin had his arms crossed and was looking sulky.

"You can climb up the side of the Palace at Theed to my terrace the way I walk up a flight of steps."

"Yes." He was scowling now. He didn't like being made fun of.

"But you can't buy a suit of clothes."

"Are you going to help me or aren't you?" Anakin demanded.

"Of course I am," Padmé said, still giggling in bursts. "Just let me enjoy this."

Anakin subsided into a sullen silence.

Padmé took pity on him and took his face in both hands and kissed him thoroughly. It worked. The sullenness vanished.

"How long do we have?" Anakin asked.

"I have another meeting in five minutes."

"I'll just say hello, then," Anakin murmured, returning the kiss and elaborating on it in a way that made Padmé wish feverishly that the Senate and everything in it would vanish. Just for a while. A long while.

Dellia looked up after Anakin had left. "Who was that?" Her eyes had a particularly glazed and dreamy look. "He looks like a Jedi or something." What a waste, was the implied comment that still hung unspoken in the air.

Padmé grinned mischievously, hoping her hair wasn't messed up. "He's with Senate Security. He just came by to say hello." Hello had taken on an entirely new meaning.

"You know him?" the secretary asked enviously.

"Very well," Padmé said, happily beginning to build her new cover story. "He has been part of my personal security detail several times. He has worked with Captain Typho quite often."

"What was so funny?" Dellia asked, too taken with the vision of Anakin to realize that it might be an indiscrete question.

Padmé paused, making a mental note that Dellia's diplomatic skills needed work. "He tells good jokes."

Dellia became suddenly hopeful. "Does this mean he'll come by more often?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Padmé said calmly, hiding her amusement at Dellia's obvious crush. "We've had a lot of security problems lately. He has promised me that he will give them his personal attention."

Dellia went back to work a happier person.

Padmé went back into her private office, closed the door and hugged herself for joy.

Anakin headed up toward Security Chief Zangan's office feeling for all the world like a Hutt gangster staking out his territory.

Chancellor Palpatine immersed himself in the complexities of leading a double life and running both sides of a Galaxy-wide civil war.

Master Yoda sat in his meditation room, no longer meditating, but poking a patch of sunlight on the floor with his stick while reflecting on the jagged path young Skywalker was tracing through the Force.

* * * * *

Chief Zangan stared at Anakin furiously.

"What are you doing here? You don't have an appointment."

"I don't need one," Anakin said. "Today you and I are going to review the armory and talk about personnel training and deployment."

Chief Zangan was silent while he thought of ten quick ways to squash the annoying boy like an insect.

My move, Anakin thought, putting the whole scene into the context of a street fight, using the Chancellor's analogy. It felt a bit like one, too; it felt as comfortable and familiar as the dusty alleyways back on Tatooine. Anakin decided to enjoy himself for once.

He had noticed on his first visit that the desk was covered with various types of blasters, many of them in pieces. It looked as though Zangan used his office as a junk room; or maybe he collected them and liked to tinker with them. Anakin reached out with the Force and allowed what looked like a special edition Lasek II to fly into his hand, and quickly checked to see if it was in working order. It seemed to be, and luckier still it was loaded. He chose the highest setting, aimed the blaster at a wall he was sure didn't have anyone behind it and fired.

As one the Security Chief and his Deputy jumped, both from the blast and from surprise. The close-quarters blast left a hole in the wall the three of them could have climbed through at the same time, along with considerable debris in the adjoining room. As luck would have it, Anakin had just made a huge mess in Tibbs' office.

"Is this standard issue for Senate security forces?" Anakin enquired as one professional to another.

Zangan stared at him, speechless. He couldn't even think of a suitable curse. Anakin took aim at another part of the wall.

"Yes!" Tibbs piped up, suddenly. He didn't relish the idea of having the remainder of his office reduced to rubble. "This weapon is standard issue for all personnel."

"I need to see your people in action so I can design the re-training program." Anakin said. "Now."

Zangan looked at the hole in the wall and then at the boy in front of him.

Anakin felt a rush of pleasure as he sensed the Chief's acute discomfort and better yet, his uncertainty.

"What do you want?" Zangan asked, stalling for time while he planned his next move.

"Set up a meeting with your available active personnel on the firing range in an hour. Go there. Introduce me. And then you can come back here and play with your blasters."

Zangan's hand automatically went for his personal weapon. It never connected because the blaster was suddenly in Anakin's Force-sensitive hand.

Anakin looked at it and weighed it. "This is more like it."

He fired it at the other side of the same wall, making a second, much larger hole and reducing Tibbs to despair.

"Tibbs," said Anakin, "Perhaps you had better set up the meeting."

Tibbs was about to point out that his workplace had been rendered unusable, but thought the better of it and scurried into a neighboring office to do as he had been asked.

"You have no right!" Zangan shouted.

"Don't cross me," Anakin said simply. "You will regret it."

"You won't get away with this!" Zangan was beside himself.

"It's a pity about the blaster misfires," Anakin said, feeling happier by the minute. "Let's go. We just have time to survey the armory before the meeting."

In the end Anakin did get his meeting that day, and on his terms.

Two hours later the Chancellor received the second of what would become an enormous collection of bitter complaints and demands from Zangan. He directed Dar Wac to begin a new file, which he set aside to read in the evenings as an entertainment at the end of each day.






Chapter 11. Through the Eyes of Others (Part I)




"You are a royal pain in the neck, you know that?" Sabé muttered at her companion.

She was tired, she was annoyed and she was scrunched uncomfortably into the corner of her seat in the air taxi to make room for Anakin, whose legs were too long for the cramped space.

He looked at her, taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

Sabé had just spent three hours accompanying Anakin to his third, and what she had hoped was his final, fitting for his new clothes. It had been a nightmare, and now they would have to go back again. She knew that wardrobe duty was part of her job, but this was above and beyond what she thought was reasonable.

Sabé frowned at him skeptically. Was it possible that he didn't understand how exasperating he was being?

Padmé was too busy to keep going back to the tailors' with him, so after the first visit the duty had fallen to Sabé. This time the clothes were finished. All they were supposed to do was pick them up.

For someone who purportedly didn't care what he wore, Anakin had been impossible.

Everything bothered him. The first fittings were disasters because he didn't like the style. Too ornamental. Then the fabric. Too stiff. Then the cloak was too narrow. Then the sleeves felt wrong.

"Why don't you just stick to your Jedi robes?" Sabé asked, jostling for space. "At least you can tolerate them."

"I wish." He scowled out the window.

This time the tailors, who now blanched whenever Anakin walked into their workshop, thought they finally had it right. The fabric was a fine, dense, soft material that had to be imported from across the Galaxy. It felt like silk on the skin but wore like iron.

Anakin had insisted they trim the design down until it almost looked like a narrow version of his old robes, done in the exquisite night-blue fabric. The tailors struggled for a week to build fine pleating into the stress points to allow for range of movement. Except the buttons had to go. Anakin rejected anything that might catch. The light-but warm cloak was re-done twice because Anakin refused to believe it would be warm enough. And it didn't hang right. The tailors finally weighted the hem to make it feel more like his old one. There were long and hard battles about the complex epaulette-like shoulders on the tunic. The tailors insisted that the construction was necessary to secure the pleats. Anakin didn't like them because they seemed ornamental. Then, the Gods forbid, the redesigned sleeves had the temerity to flap when he waved his arms around.

This time, though - this time was the last straw. Anakin tried on the finished suit. Even Sabé agreed that it was stunning - simple, elegant, and superbly crafted. The tailors had taken the trouble to arrange with the leatherworkers to have his new, buttery-soft black boots, utility belt and gloves ready for the final fitting. Anakin walked into the workroom wearing his new ensemble and looking like - well, not like a Jedi, anyway. It wasn't so much a uniform as a Look. Dark. Authoritative. Exquisite in its simplicity. The tunic draped like a second skin. The cloak flowed like a waterfall. Sabé and the tailors had breathed a sigh of relief.

But did Anakin look into the mirror to see how he looked?

No. Of course not.

He clipped his light saber to his new belt, clipped and unclipped it experimentally a few times, and then ignited his saber and launched into a terrifying set of exercises that sent the tailors and their apprentices scrambling for cover. He yanked off the cloak in midair, presumably just to see whether it could be done, and broke the fastener. A few more midair lunges and two triple somersaults later one of the sleeve seams tore. Anakin stopped and shook his head. The tailors sighed as they crept out from their hiding places and righted the two chairs that he had upended.

Sabé ended up having to pay a substantial bribe for them to re-work the suit one more time and to make a spare just like it. Anakin seemed to be oblivious to the consternation he caused. His only concern was whether the clothes functioned and that they didn't bother him in the slightest.

"You can go back by yourself next time," Sabé growled.

"I can't work in something that hinders me," Anakin insisted. He didn't understand why it was so difficult for everyone. He never had any trouble with his old clothes.

Sabé sighed and tried to get more comfortable in her corner.

"I don't know how she puts up with you," she griped.

Anakin looked over at her.

"Padmé never has any complaints."

"She wouldn't." Sabé propped her elbow on her knee so she could rest her chin on her hand, and looked gloomily out the window at the endless city. She missed Naboo. She missed plants, and trees, and water. "She never complains about anything."

Something about her tone, or perhaps it was the feelings he could read through the Force, caught Anakin's attention.

"Like what?" he asked, suddenly very curious.

Sabé continued to gaze out the window. The silence around her felt muffled, as though she were deliberately refraining from saying something.

"Like what?" Anakin nagged. "Tell me."

Sabé's patience finally snapped. She whipped around to look Anakin in the face, and said, "I think you are the most self-centered person I know."

Anakin was stunned. Honestly stunned. Stunned enough to be momentarily speechless.

"You claim that you love her," Sabé persisted.

"I do," Anakin retorted, hotly. "I do." What was Sabé talking about?

"Then why don't you take better care of her? Why don't you help her? It's probably your fault she's feeling this way, anyway."

Sabé didn't realize it, but there was nothing she could have said to Anakin to torture him more. He was suddenly impaled on the agonizing memory of Obi-Wan, back on Naboo, forcing him to understand that his powerful presence in the Force was harming Padmé, and that the only way to help her was to leave her.

Oh, no, not again, Anakin thought desperately. Please, not again.

"What do you mean?" he asked, unable to keep the dread out of his voice.

"Exactly!" Sabé declared triumphantly. "That is exactly my point. You don't know what's going on. You never do. You come and go as you please and she never says a word to you and you never notice a thing!"

Sabé turned back to the window muttering "selfish," again, just for emphasis.

"Sabé," said Anakin, and this time his voice was dead-cold enough to freeze the blood in a living vein, "tell me what you mean. Now."

Sabé decided to talk, not because she was intimidated in the least, but because she had a lot to say to him. She had wanted to tell him off for a long time.

"She doesn't sleep well," she said, looking out at the buildings and traffic spinning past rather than at Anakin "Since Naboo. And with you coming over all the time I don't know how she gets any rest at all."

Anakin was silent.

"She's moody. Thin-skinned. Emotional. She never was like this before. She was always calm and rational. It's as though.as though she feels things too much, and can't handle it." Sabé turned and looked at him. "She reacts to people so strongly that sometimes it makes her ill." The look became a glare. "She is overwhelmed with work because of the war, constantly worried about leaving Balé for so long and about the safety of her family and about what's going on back home, and yet she drops everything the minute you show up."

Anakin still didn't say anything. Sabé had no way of knowing that inside he was so weak with relief that it felt as though all of his bones had melted.

He knew what was wrong with Padmé. Sabé was right, in a way. It was his fault. But it was nothing that couldn't be remedied with some training in meditation and some consistent use of the basic Jedi exercises he had begun to teach her on Naboo. Padmé was spilling over with the Force, and had no means of controlling it. Anakin was so used to, and attached to, her vibrant and sometimes volatile Force presence that he never gave a moment's thought to the possibility that it might be causing her problems or discomfort.

Once he had resolved that problem in his mind he was left with Sabé's other assertion to deal with. That he was self-centered. That he had not noticed that Padmé was struggling. That, in effect, he took from her without giving back. Anakin's cold fear turned into stinging heat, and his thoughts surged out through the Force to find comfort and reassurance.

Padmé?

Here.

Where are you?

Later, she responded lovingly and patiently. She was obviously in the middle of something.

Anakin slumped into the seat of the air taxi. He wanted to talk to Padmé now. Right now.

Sabé had to grab the safety strap as the speeding vehicle lurched sickeningly, dipping through what must have been turbulence caused by an irregular flow of traffic. She waited a while for a response from Anakin. Any response. Nothing was forthcoming.

"Do you have anything to say?" Sabé wasn't about to let him off the hook.

"I'll see to it that she feels better," he said shortly, refusing to discuss it further.

Sabé turned away from him and continued to stare at the city beyond.

Chapter 11 (Part II) Through the Eyes of Others



Despite the press of Anakin's new responsibilities, the Jedi Council was unyielding in its insistence that nothing be allowed to interfere with his regular sessions with Master Yoda. Since Anakin's reports to the Council tended to be brief and businesslike and Obi-Wan was far away on a mission, these meetings with the Master Teacher of the Jedi were the Order's primary method of keeping Anakin within its sphere of influence. In effect, they were a way of maintaining a link with his heart and soul.

Lately Anakin's meditation sessions with Master Yoda had begun to take on the character of a duel followed by a truce.

The Ancient One liked to begin their sessions with a conversation around a topic that was invariably the last thing Anakin wished to discuss. When he was thoroughly fed up they would meditate together, and each time Anakin learned something extraordinary. It was the thing that kept him going back without hesitation or complaint. The price of his growing knowledge of the Force was a constant battle with opposing viewpoints and deep personal challenges.

After Anakin's taxi ride with Sabé the Old One was of a mind to talk about compassion.

I spent years as Obi-Wan's Padawan, Anakin thought to himself. Wasn't that enough?

"What know you of compassion, Young One?" Master Yoda asked.

They sat on circular cushions in the Master's spare, spacious meditation room in the Temple. The late afternoon sun leaked in through the slats in the window coverings, leaving a pattern of glowing stripes on everything in the room, not distinguishing among floor, robe or face.

Anakin sighed inwardly. "It is central to a Jedi's life," he said, repeating the litany.

Master Yoda repeated the question exactly as before, with just slightly more emphasis on the "you."

"What know you of compassion?"

Anakin didn't hesitate. "Compassion is unconditional love toward all things."

Master Yoda looked at the floor as though the stripes of sunlight held the secret to the mysteries of the universe.

"What know you of love, Young One?"

It's going to be one of those, Anakin thought dejectedly. And it's going to go on forever.

He knew what love was. He knew what it felt like, how much it mattered, and how devastating it was to lose it. He knew that he would do anything to keep it.

"It is central," he finally said, expecting to be challenged. "It is the most important thing."

The floor apparently continued to hold Master Yoda's undivided attention. He waited so long before saying anything else that Anakin's attention began to drift. When the Old One finally spoke again Anakin wasn't ready, and it brought him down hard.

"What know you of being alone, Young One?"

Everything. He knew everything there was to know about being alone. And what did that have to do with anything? He would refuse to answer on grounds that there was nothing he wanted to say about it.

"I am alone," Anakin said, surprised and annoyed to hear the words coming out of his mouth.

Anakin unexpectedly was rewarded by Master Yoda's full-on gaze that, puzzlingly enough, contained a warm expression of approval. He felt as though he had been trapped like a hunted animal and reacted the same way: wary, tense, and watchful.

"And why alone, are you?"

This is a Saarlac pit, Anakin thought.

He took a calming breath. It didn't help. "Because I'm different," he said.

Master Yoda stared at him. "Different, say you? Why different are you? Are you not alive?"

"Yes."

"Awareness, have you not, and consciousness?"

"Yes."

"A body, have you?"

"Yes."

"Then the same, are we."

No, we most certainly are not, Anakin thought stubbornly.

"We are different inside," he said. "Our thoughts, feelings and experiences are different."

Master Yoda nodded, and his ears went flat sideways. "Then alone we both are," he said, "Alone and separate."

Well, obviously. Anakin nodded in agreement.

There was a long pause.

"Then separate, all creatures are."

Anakin nodded again, cautiously.

"Love that which is separate from yourself, can you?"

I can. I love Padmé. Another nod.

"Love everything that is separate from yourself, can you?"

No, Anakin decided upon reflection. There were many things that he did not love. Particularly those that did not love him. But he suspected it might be the wrong answer, so he refrained from responding.

He didn't have to. Master Yoda knew what was in his heart.

"Difficult you find it, to love all things unconditionally, do you not, Young One?"

Anakin still didn't respond.

"In a prison are you," Master Yoda said firmly. "A prison of your own making. Limit yourself, you do, to a narrow time and space of your own devising within the Universe." Master Yoda suddenly banged his stick against the floor to ensure that he had Anakin's attention. "A delusion of your consciousness, this is! Restricts you, it does, to personal desires and affection for only a few!"

Anakin sulked on his cushion.

"Alone, you feel, because of this," Master Yoda confirmed softly. "But alone you need not be. A luminous being are you, and one with the Force."

All of a sudden Anakin remembered Master Jinn. How clearly his old Master had spoken to him although he was long dead. How close he had felt to him. He hadn't felt separate, then. He found himself longing to reach Master Jinn again, but stopped, confused about whether that was right thinking or wrong thinking.

"Loves all living things equally, the Force does." Master Yoda said. "So can we. That is compassion."

Anakin was relieved when Master Yoda decided it was time to meditate. He always came out of these lessons bewildered and questioning his own assumptions. It made him terribly uncomfortable.

If he had known what awaited him Anakin would have fled beforehand instead of contentedly composing himself for another one of their inner journeys.

As he slipped into the meditation Anakin suddenly realized that he was blind. Master Yoda somehow had made him blind. Helplessly he stumbled through the inner world they entered together, trying to reach out with his feelings to guide himself. Lost. Truly alone. For a while he could not even find Master Yoda.

Then, when he had begun to despair, he heard the Ancient One's voice guiding him.

When no longer your own eyes serve you, see through the eyes of others, you must.

Anakin was puzzled. What others? He didn't know who was there. He couldn't see.

Stretch out with your feelings, young one, and find another.

Anakin tried to do as he was told. After a long while he seemed to sense a presence, although he didn't know who it was.

Speak to that one, Master Yoda said. Ask help to see, you must.

Anakin did, and to his surprise found that he could see again. But he was looking at himself. He truly was looking out of someone else's eyes.

He was on the bridge of the Queen of Naboo's yacht. It was dimly lit. D'laian warriors were holding everyone on the bridge hostage. Even as an outside observer his heart lurched to see D'ai Wolan's dagger being pressed against Balé's throat. He heard her scream. He watched himself reach out with the Force and close Wolan's throat, and press. He kept pressing. By now Balé had slipped away from the warrior's grasp. But he saw himself continue to press, and press, and press, until Wolan sank lifelessly to the floor. It was odd to see the scene this way. He could observe everything, but he could not experience the emotions that had led him to that action. He couldn't justify it. He could only see the action.

Overwhelmed, Anakin thought to look down at himself, to make out whose eyes he inhabited. He saw Jedi robes and heavy boots. Large, square, rough hands. A familiar light saber clipped to the belt. He reached up to find long hair spilling over his shoulders.

Master Jinn, Anakin thought, with a mixture of delight and despair. You are here. You were there.

Suddenly Anakin found himself outside of Master Jinn, and blind again. He felt strong arms come around his shoulders and hold him close. Anakin wondered whether it was possible to weep while meditating. He felt he might.

This is the secret of the Living Force, Anakin, he heard Master Jinn say. We are all one. Everything is one. We must learn to see with one another's eyes.

* * * * *

The session with Master Yoda had lasted well into the evening. When Anakin left he made straight for Padmé's apartment and found her sitting with Sabé, drinking steaming tea. Sabé had been right, of course. Padmé looked bone weary.

Padmé greeted him as she always did - with pure delight and welcome. Sabé nodded tersely.

And as always, it wasn't long before Padmé and Anakin disappeared into the bedroom. Sabé stayed where she was, staring gloomily into the bottom of her teacup. She was very surprised when Anakin reappeared not long after and headed for the front door.

"You might need to make sure she wakes up on time tomorrow morning," he said. "She's going to sleep very deeply." And then he left.

Sabé looked at the back of the door for a long time after he gently closed it behind him.

Chapter 12. A New Kind of Jedi (Part I)



Since he began to work for the Supreme Chancellor Anakin's world had expanded dramatically, as though he had stepped out of a dark cave into the blinding light of the desert.

As the Chancellor had predicted, and to the surprise of some Jedi Council members, Anakin was equal to the specific tasks he had been given. With respectable efficiency he correctly had analyzed the strengths (there were few) and the weaknesses (there were many) of the Senate's security establishment and had devised ways of addressing the problems. The discipline, subtlety and rigorousness of his Jedi training gave Anakin untold advantages over most of the ordinary souls he encountered in what Palpatine referred to as "the world outside the Temple."

What Anakin did not understand, because of his inexperience, was the enmity that his privileged position aroused at all levels of the Senates' complex bureaucracy of career civil servants. Anakin took his unparalleled access to the Chancellor for granted. He never questioned the fact that all of his requests for funding for additional personnel or weapons were authorized immediately without becoming bogged down in the normal budgetary process. If he decided to reorganize a working group he simply went ahead and did it, with all necessary permissions in place. Without a title other than the vague and all-purpose "Chancellor's Adviser", and without the limitations of a rank within the system, Anakin's presence was like a dark cloud hanging over the heads of many of the Senate's functionaries. They never knew when or where he would swoop down and make their lives miserable.

Anakin neither knew nor cared what the bureaucrats thought of him. He accepted his top security clearance as a matter of course. His work and his priorities were decided in his weekly meetings with the Chancellor, and true to his training he tackled each with focus and efficiency.

In that sense it wasn't much different from his life in the Temple. Wherever he went, Anakin seemed to dwell outside the mainstream.

The Jedi Council, in the meantime, took pains subtly to increase the Jedi presence in the Senate in a number of areas. With Jedi Knights in shorter and shorter supply because of their wartime command duties, older Padawans were assigned to diverse functional areas. Master Medulla and his Padawan, Brith, were hard at work in the Senate archives, reading between the lines as best they could in the ancient materials regarding the Sith. Lon Erian, whose skill with puzzles, codes and ciphers was akin to Anakin's piloting ability, was assigned to the Senate's Intelligence Unit. V'ar and several other Padawans whom Anakin had taught in his saber Master Class appeared regularly in various departments.

The Jedi watched the Senate. The Bureaucrats watched their backs. The Chancellor watched Anakin. The Senators watched one another for signs of Separatist loyalties. The war continued to rage in many sectors of the Galaxy, bringing entire systems to their knees and bringing suspicion, treachery, death and destruction wherever it touched.

And Anakin had a new suit.

The first time Anakin wore his new clothing he was deeply uncomfortable. The clothes themselves finally had achieved a level of functionality that he could live with. But the step outside of the Jedi identity that they represented was a completely different matter. He drew the line at wearing them within the Temple, so he kept one set in a small office he had commandeered for himself down near the training rooms and changed when he got to the Senate building. The other set was stored at Padmé's apartment when not in use.

Anakin profoundly disliked that fact that the suit not only made him feel different, but also, as the Chancellor had predicted, changed the way others reacted to him. The boy in the Jedi robes was a different presence than the man in the dark, expensively tailored clothing that might or might not have been a uniform. Whatever it was made people stop and take notice; and being a Jedi, Anakin perceived their reactions very clearly.

It just seemed absurd to him that people would react so strongly to something that was nonessential.

Zangan and Tibbs were among the first to see him in it when his unwelcome presence darkened their doorstep yet again on that particular morning.

"Well, well, well," sneered Zangan. "Either the Jedi got themselves a new tailor or the Chancellor got himself a new kind of Jedi." Tibbs just peered at him through narrowed eyes.

Anakin chose to appear to ignore the comment, but it irritated him so much that he decided to move up the deadline on a new set of security protocols more than was reasonable and demanded its completion by the end of the week. Zangan's and Tibbs' combined hostility felt like daggers and followed him all the way to his next task. Anakin didn't care. Their antagonism was nothing compared to his own.

As it turned out, Zangan's comment set the tone for the rest of the day.

Anakin's next stop was the first meeting of a close-quarters combat re-training class he had arranged for experienced personnel. That was no better. The Security Force veterans who had been required to take the class took the re-training as an insult and brought their resentment with them. Anakin knew that the first class set the tone, the pace and the agenda. Even his limited teaching experience in the Temple had shown him how important it was to take charge immediately.

When he walked into the training room Anakin learned that his appearance, which had not changed at all from fifteen minutes earlier, had a completely different meaning for this group.

"Who's the little prince?" someone snickered at the back of the room. Several people laughed. Clearly to them he looked like someone who had wandered out of a royal reception upstairs and gotten lost.

Anakin sighed inwardly. This group would have responded better to a Jedi of any age. He should have changed clothes before coming.

Blast, he thought, invoking Obi-Wan for comfort. The memory was opportune because it put him in mind of a favorite lecture of his Master's that had to do with going directly to the issue at the heart of a matter rather than getting lost in nonessentials.

Right. The issue was respect. Preferably mixed with a little fear.

Anakin started talking to the group about what they were going to be doing. As he spoke he began to strip down. First he unclipped his light saber hilt from his belt and tossed it into the air a couple of times. Just enough to remind them that, clothing notwithstanding, he was a Jedi. Then he put it aside and removed his belt. Then his jacket came off and was tossed aside. Anakin was still talking. Then the gloves came off. First the left. Then the right. The sight of his artificial hand had the intended effect. There was a collective inward pause.

"Where'd you lose the hand, princeling?" someone bold called out from the rear of the group.

"Geonosis," said Anakin. There were a few nods and murmurs. The first battle of the war.

He threw the gloves aside and started to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. There was no visible end to the artificial limb. When the sleeves were rolled up above his elbows Anakin paused, hands on hips, and looked at the group. He could sense that everyone's attention was on his metallic arm. The class was by now appropriately hushed.

Next Anakin selected the member of the class for a demonstration who, to his perception, had the worst attitude. Either that or he reminded Anakin of Zangan. It was a tall, middle-aged Cixassian. And he was going down.

Never losing the train of what he was saying Anakin demonstrated the appropriate responses to six different types of attacks. Each time the Cixassian ended up either on the floor or in a lock hold so quickly that neither he nor the class understood what had happened. The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. They all wanted to learn how to do that.

That was no challenge at all, Anakin thought. He kept forgetting how easy it was to manipulate the Force-blind.

The rest of the class went so smoothly that he ended it a half-hour early. He rolled down his sleeves, put his gloves back on and retrieved his light saber, belt and jacket, scowling slightly at the disliked piece of clothing as he did so.

Stepping out into the hallway Anakin allowed himself a much-needed treat.

Padmé?

Here. I'm about to introduce the Military Training Act.

Wrapped up in his own work, Anakin had forgotten all about it. Cringing inwardly at an imaginary Sabé pointing a finger at him and saying "selfish," Anakin sprinted up to the vast Senate Chamber to watch at least part of the debate. There, to his surprise, he found Master Windu, Master Koon, Lon Erian and V'ar, all watching from the rear of the upper gallery where Anakin had planned to position himself. Their collective stare made him remember with acute discomfort how he was dressed, and he had to struggle to lock down his shielding before they caught his embarrassment.

This really was getting annoying.

He managed to put aside his personal concerns when Chancellor Palpatine called upon the Senator from Naboo and Padmé's pod moved to the center of the great hall. Anakin listened with pride and pleasure as she outlined the need for the bill and the safeguards against misuse of the new Training Academy, and called for a prompt favorable vote.

Despite Padmé's articulate arguments in favor of the bill, there was a short but lively debate. The opponents expressed the same concerns that Padmé had felt before she grudgingly took on responsibility for the legislation.

"We don't need that many Officers," a member of the Malasterian delegation argued when it was his turn to speak, "and we certainly won't need them at the war's end. The Jedi are doing a fine job as commanders."

"If the war keeps on much longer, there won't be any Jedi left!" yelled someone, out of turn. Cold-blooded laughter erupted from pockets throughout the vast room until the Chancellor called for order.

Anakin quickly glanced at Master Windu's face. At the moment it appeared to be cut out of stone.

The debate continued for a short while until the Chancellor used his emergency powers to compel an immediate vote. The Military Training Act passed by an overwhelming majority.

Anakin left the Chamber after the vote to make sure he would be on time for his next task. V'ar followed him and they walked down the corridor together in silence for a while.

Finally V'ar couldn't resist making a comment.

"Nice clothes," she said dryly. "What are they, political camouflage?"

"Don't ask," Anakin replied in his most long-suffering voice.

V'ar grinned but didn't take it any further.

"Listen," Anakin said after another pause. "That comment about 'soon there won't be any more Jedi left' - what was that all about?"

V'ar shrugged. "I guess it's a reference to the number of Jedi Knights we're losing in the course of combat duty." She glanced at Anakin sideways as he slowed to a stop and looked at her. "Did you know that Master P'taat was killed last week?"

Anakin shook his head.

"The funny thing about it," V'ar went on, "is that it seemed to be a personally targeted attack. The unit he was commanding wasn't in battle at the time."

Anakin frowned. "Like Gren's Master."

V'ar nodded and agreed. "In a way. Each one is a little different, but they're all suspicious."

They stood together in silence for a moment, lost in thought.

"I didn't think that Jedi Knights are that easily killed," Anakin said.

"Neither did I," V'ar agreed. "We have four Master-less Padawans in the Temple now. It seems like there's a new one every week."

Anakin started thinking about the way Obi-Wan had been attacked on Naboo. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard from his former Master yet.

V'ar took her leave and headed back to her assignment in the Senate Data Center. Anakin was heading back down to the training rooms to oversee the induction of new recruits when Lon came up behind him.

"Hey, soldier boy," Lon said silkily, with yet a different take on Anakin's now thoroughly unloved new suit, "planning to do a little dressing up and marching around?"

Anakin briefly wondered whether the present circumstances would allow him to get away with giving Lon a severe pounding, but decided to postpone that pleasure for another time. Taking down a Jedi required more thought and consideration than he had time for right now.

"I'm late," Anakin said over his shoulder as he headed off in the other direction, "and you're an idiot."

He reflected bitterly over Lon's laughter that the day wasn't even half over yet.

Chapter 12. A New Kind of Jedi (PartII)



At the end of that long, long day Anakin looked around and took stock. It was late evening already and he had worked through since early morning. His last tour through the inner guts of the Senate building to inspect the deployment of the night shift had taken him through quiet hallways and smaller, more hushed working groups than were commonly found during the day. He double-checked security in the Data Center, the Senate's communications nerve center, and headed up to the office levels for the reward he craved.

Padmé?

Here. Even the single thought felt weary, and worried.

Still working?

I could ask you the same thing, she replied. Anakin smiled but didn't answer right away.

Where are you? she wondered after a brief silence.

"Here."

Padmé jumped to hear his voice and looked up to see him leaning in the doorway.

"Don't do that!" Her eyes automatically checked the outer office. It was empty. She had sent Dellia home hours ago.

Of course it was empty. Anakin wouldn't be here if there were any danger that he would be seen after hours like this. Their acquaintance was common knowledge, but Anakin took enormous pains to shield her from any allegations about a more compromising relationship.

"Sorry." Anakin didn't look at all sorry.

Padmé forgot her fright when she let her eyes rest on him for a moment.

By all the Gods, she thought, you could sculpt him in that outfit and put the statue in a park somewhere as some kind of a mythical hero. It was a shock to see Anakin dressed in something other than his familiar Jedi robes. It gave him a completely different air. More imposing. More...noticeable.in every way.

"You look gorgeous," she said sincerely.

It was the first positive reaction to his new clothes that Anakin had received, and because it came from Padmé it instantly cancelled out all the other humiliating ones. Just being in her presence smoothed out all of his rough edges, and the first time all day his spirit found some peace.

Anakin pushed himself away from the doorjamb and sauntered up behind her, reaching out to rub her neck with his living hand. He could feel her immediately relax into his touch. Although he had mastered the use of his artificial arm in all of its capabilities, Anakin still didn't like to touch her with it any more than necessary. He had become highly skilled in the art of the one-armed back rub.

"What's the matter?" He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, lingering a little to take in the softness and scent of her hair.

Padmé leaned back into him. Now that she had let go a little she became aware of her weariness.

"Um.the war, to start with."

"Always a worry." He kept massaging gently. He had an uncanny knack for finding knots of tension. "What else?"

Padmé groaned as he found the tightness in her neck. "Against my better judgment I've arranged for Balé to come to Coruscant for two weeks."

"It's been so long since I've seen her," Anakin said wistfully. "She probably won't remember me."

Padmé didn't think there was much danger of that, but decided to let him find that out for himself when the time came.

"I'm worried about her safety on the journey."

Anakin stopped rubbing and focused. "Who is bringing her?"

"Dormé, of course. Captain Typho and a handpicked team. They are getting a ride with a Republican Army transport that is returning to Coruscant next week. Captain Typho thought it better not to travel through the Sector in a Nubian vessel."

"Makes sense," Anakin said, starting to find a few more knots.

Ow!

Sorry.

"They should be all right. The transports are well armored and defended."

Padmé looked down at the data pad she had been studying when Anakin startled her and frowned.

"Something doesn't make sense."

Anakin's fingers were starting to snake around her shoulders. She could feel the tension drain away, making it difficult to concentrate.

"The official reports I get about military activity in the Sector.ooh, that feels good.don't always tally with the ones I get from home. Oof."

"How are they different?" His hand slid around to her other shoulder.

"Mmm.in odd ways. Some of the disparities are significant. Some are smaller. Like.this transport that is bringing Balé and my staff. It's not listed anywhere in the official documents. Nor is its mission."

Anakin stopped rubbing again "That's strange."

Padmé leaned back and looked up at him. "That's what I thought."

He bent down for an upside-down kiss that made her laugh. "I'll check it out for you, if you like."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. I have the top security clearance."

He said it so nonchalantly. Padmé wondered whether he had the slightest idea how privileged his position was. Probably not. Knowing Anakin he was doubtless unaware of the jealousy of the career bureaucrats in the Senate about his free hand with everything. She shook her head. He was such a funny mixture of fierce pride and utter ingenuousness.

Anakin dropped down on one knee next to her so they were face to face.

"What are you shaking your head about?"

"You." Padmé smiled. "I accept your offer. I would really like to know what is going on."

"Done." Anakin wanted to go. He wanted to get Padmé out of this building and away from this atmosphere. Everything weighed on her so much. He wanted to see her happy for a while. "The day is over, Senator. Time to go home."

Padmé allowed herself to be guided out of her office and up to the transport platform. Anakin subtly but very noticeably adjusted his demeanor the minute they stepped into the public corridor. Positioning himself just behind her left shoulder,he became attentive but formal. Distant. Businesslike. Padmé walked those two steps ahead of him in silence, letting herself be steered and guarded, as by a bodyguard. No one watching them could have had any question about their relationship.

Let's go play, suggested the stern-faced, correct and professional bodyguard.

What do you have in mind? asked the Senator as she walked ahead of him through the winding corridors, expressing nothing on her face other than the intention to reach her destination.

Anything that will make you forget about all this for a while, came the reply as he checked the lift before allowing her to enter it and then double-checked the hall behind them before stepping inside with her.

The Senator pondered the options as they stood side by side in the lift, a respectable distance apart, staring straight ahead. There was only one thing she wanted.

You. Me. Bed. she specified as they stepped out onto the windy platform. Their routine was that if there were other people on the platform the Senator left alone. If not, they left together. Tonight there were several clusters of people awaiting their transports.

Anakin felt her keen disappointment.

Don't worry. I'll be there before you know it.

The Senator had to be content with that. She was looking forward to bedtime.

The bodyguard was looking forward to her relieving him of his suit.

Chapter 13. Friends and Foes (Part I)


Anakin quickly became bogged down in the problems he was meant to be solving. The job was too big for one person and Zangan made absolutely certain that he provided as little help as possible. He had stopped trying to block Anakin's efforts outright for the moment, but he didn't lift a finger unless he was forced to.

Chancellor Palpatine's first priority was to shape the Senate's own Security forces into an elite unit that would take on the lead role in all areas of Senate Security. The plan was to ensure that the security units Delegates brought from their home worlds would be required to defer to the Senate's own Forces in all matters that were not internal to the individual delegations. And the Chancellor wanted Anakin to do it, not Zangan.

Along with wide-ranging changes in procedures the plan called for extensive reorganization and restructuring of the enforcement units and retraining of the existing personnel. More worrying, though, was that there weren't enough of them. Recruitment efforts had been stepped up but the process of bringing new recruits into service was taking longer than Anakin or Palpatine liked. And Anakin had to do much of the hands-on training himself, which took time away from all of the other high-priority projects. He felt himself sinking fast.

The training itself wasn't a problem. It was in many ways an easier job for Anakin to establish his authority in the eyes of the troops than it had been to gain Zangan's current grudging level of acquiescence. Anakin could outshoot, outfight and outlast every one of them, and that was ultimately more important to them than his relative youth.

Zangan had to be forced inch by inch to introduce Anakin to each group that he was going to deal with and hand over the authority for the training. Anakin couldn't help but be amused by the fact that in each meeting Zangan took pains to make it look as though this whole reorganization had been his own idea, and that he had arranged for the Jedi to take the burden off his own busy shoulders.

Anakin worked relentlessly to pull the existing security personnel into shape and to instruct the new hires a quickly as possible. He tended to push them as hard as he pushed himself.

After a long and harsh training session in hand-to-hand combat Anakin was standing at the side of a training room, watching the matches that were in progress. The combatants, men and women of various species, were tired and irritated. Several of the matches already had disintegrated into something close to a brawl, and he was keeping a close eye out for more trouble.

"You've got to give 'em a rest some time, Yer Lordship," said a voice by his side. Anakin looked over and then down. The voice had come from a small, wiry human of indeterminate age who stood no higher than Anakin's shoulder. He had a closely cropped thatch of flaming red hair and the palest blue eyes Anakin had ever seen. He stood easily with his arms crossed and his legs slightly splayed, watching the sweaty melee.

The man went on. "They can't keep going this long without a wee break."

"I can," Anakin responded briefly. "So can they." When he released them the troops would have the opportunity to rest. He, on the other hand, would continue to work far into the night.

"Well, ye're just special then, aren't ye?" the man said comfortably, his eyes still on the room.

Anakin paused to consider him. He had been observing the small man all afternoon. He was tough and highly skilled and always seemed to get the best of his matches, even against much larger opponents.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, not having enough information to react one way or another.

"The voice of reason, at the moment," the man said in his lilting accent. "Yer only friend if ye keep this up."

"It's not friendship I'm after," observed Anakin dryly. "It's competence."

"Well, Yer Lordship, it's friendship ye'll need soon if ye don't come to yer senses. Good troops, they are. Jedi they're not." Ever since Anakin had appeared in his new clothing, the soldiers had taken to referring to him as "The Prince" behind his back. This was the only one who had dared to make reference to the nickname to his face.

There wasn't anything hidden in the man, Anakin thought, and there wasn't a trace of toadying in his manner. His straightforwardness was very refreshing.

"How considerate of you to look out for the others."

"I don't mind the others," the man said easily. "It's you I'm lookin' out fer."

"Why?" asked Anakin, more curious than affronted.

"I know which way the wind blows,Yer Lordship. I like to be on the leeward side of the dune."

Anakin deliberated. The fellow certainly had guts. His sparring partner, a big human, was slumped in a bench on the other side of the room, head in hands.

"What's wrong with him?" Anakin asked.

The small man smiled. "I'm giving him a wee break. Like the others need."

"I didn't say to stop."

The man smiled. "Aye. Ye didn't. But if yer smart, ye will."

Anakin probed the room through the Force. The man was right. It was time to stop. But he chose not to. Not yet.

Anakin thought about Obi-Wan's constant reminders to assess carefully the available resources. Assets often appear in strange guises, My Young Padawan. Judge them without prejudice. He scanned the man again and found a pragmatic mindset together with a quiet air of authority. And no little amusement.

"You've been around this place for a while," Anakin observed.

"Aye."

"Tell you what," Anakin said to the little man, "I'll let them stop if you spend the next hour with me telling me everything that's on your mind - everything you know that I don't. No holds barred."

The man grinned. "And if I don't?"

Anakin gave him a measured look. "You're their Sergeant, right?"

"Aye."

He had guessed right. Anakin didn't allow insignias of rank in his training rooms. Everyone he taught soon learned to deal with each opponent flat out, without hesitation. Consciousness about rank just slowed down the process.

"Then you'll have hostile troops on your hands who will blame you for the misery I'm inflicting on them. And I'll blame you, too."

The man looked straight ahead, unperturbed. "Keinan Pell," he said easily. "At yer service."

Anakin nodded and called a halt.

Considerably more than an hour later he had a lot of new information, an ally and a de-facto second-in-command onto whom he could offload many of his more burdensome tasks, including most of the time-consuming training. The oddly matched pair had a surprising number of things in common. Like Anakin, Pell came from a desert planet. That explained his far-seeing eyes and his toughness. And like Anakin, Pell's material needs were small, his gifts prodigious, and his drive to succeed relentless.

For his part, Pell had a load of new responsibilities and a bright future. The young Jedi had struck him right away as someone who wasn't to be trifled with. Keinan Pell had seen a lot of people of all species in his lifetime and had a pretty good feel for who was going to come out on top. This one had made him sit up and take notice. There was ruthlessness, a sense of suppressed power simmering beneath the boy's surface that you didn't see every day, especially in one so young. And the extraordinary thing was that he didn't throw his weight around unless he had to. Pell wondered whether the boy even knew how powerful his current position was.

As long as Palpatine was on top, anyway. Like so many others in and around the Senate Pell wondered about Anakin's absolute access to the Supreme Chancellor. Well, the boy was pretty enough to have a special place in the Chancellor's heart, which could explain a lot. After all, what was a Jedi doing wearing expensive clothes like that? That was the story Zangan was circulating, in any case, but Pell wasn't bothered one way or the other. As long as the present arrangement continued he was now in a position to benefit.

"So, Yer Lordship," Pell said skeptically at the end of their long conversation, "What makes ye think ye can actually wrangle this promotion for me? Yer not exactly inside the system."

"That's why," Anakin said. He hadn't yet had a single request turned down. "Just pull those units together for me in the time we have agreed and you'll have what you need."

Pell leaned back clasped his hands behind his head, and grinned. "If I'm doin' all of yer work, what're ye goin' to be doin'?"

Anakin grinned back. "Whatever I have to," he said. "Just like you."

"Aye," agreed Pell, "that I will."

Anakin stood up to leave. Satisfied that Pell was going to work out just fine, he had another mission on his mind. He had promised Padmé that he would check out the discrepancies between the intelligence reports she was getting and the news that was coming from Naboo, and he had been waiting impatiently for an opportunity to do so.

"One more thing, Yer Lordship," Pell said. "Watch yer back. Zangan's not as stupid as he looks. An' he's been around a long time."

Anakin shrugged. It didn't bother him. He waved and walked away.

"Don't say I didn't warn ye," Pell said to Anakin's retreating, beautifully tailored back.

Chapter 13. Friends and Foes (Part II)


The visible heart of the Senate complex was the enormous, bowl-shaped Senate Chamber. Its brain and nerve center was located deep underground in a vast series of interconnected spaces known collectively as the Data Center. In it were housed all the intelligence gathering and analysis units as well as the huge Senate library.

Chief Zangan's department was responsible for assuring that the intelligence units' work could take place under completely secure conditions. Otherwise there was very little overlap between the work of the intelligence people and the security people. Anakin's presence in the Data Center was commonplace since he regularly checked the deployment of guard forces as well as the personnel access and data distribution systems, but he had not yet figured out how to personally obtain intelligence data without arousing suspicion or worries that security had been breached.

He began by striding into the analysis unit as though he were doing one of his usual surprise inspections, knowing from his prior probe through the Force whom he would encounter. Lon was there, along with the usual complement of analysts and a few guards. Lon's most recent assignment had him working with highly sensitive coded information from covert operatives throughout the Galaxy.

Oddly enough, Tibbs was there as well. Curious. What Anakin did not expect was to find Tibbs deeply involved in a private conversation with Lon. He couldn't imagine what the Deputy Security Chief was doing in a whispered conversation with the Jedi Padawan, or why it stopped as soon as Anakin walked into the room. They both eyed him cautiously. Lon's mental shielding was tightly locked down, and Tibbs was nervous.

Anakin walked straight over to them without an invitation and crossed his arms, looking at Tibbs rather than at Lon.

"I wasn't aware that you had business here, Tibbs."

"It must be very difficult to be all-seeing and all knowing," the small gray man replied blandly, but there was a spike of barely suppressed rage beneath it that both young Jedi perceived perfectly well. Lon was amused, but hid it for the moment.

"Not really," said Anakin, his eyes boring into the Deputy Security Chief's.

Tibbs dropped his gaze, mumbled some kind of excuse, and scurried away. Anakin resolved to have his secret out of him in short order. For the moment he turned his attention back to Lon.

"You're keeping interesting company," Anakin observed. His arms were still tightly crossed over his chest. Lon stood facing him, his hands relaxed, his knees soft, his weight distributed evenly. The basic Jedi posture of readiness. They were no more than two paces apart, yet the distance between them was enormous.

"That's my business," Lon said pointedly.

"Funny," Anakin said. "I could have sworn we're on the same side."

"When you figure out what side you're on," Lon shot back, "I'll let you know whether we are."

Anakin reflected on the fact that Lon would be aware of, and probably very curious about, any attempts he made to retrieve intelligence data. Quickly he put together an alternate plan and turned to go without another comment.

"Skywalker, wait."

Anakin turned back.

"You should know better than to use this unit as your personal message service."

Double-checking his mental shielding to make sure Lon didn't pick up his complete surprise, Anakin tried and failed to work out what His Smugness was talking about.

"I don't, as a rule. Why?"

"There's a message here for you. It's from Tatooine."

Anakin's senses slammed into top alert. He couldn't imagine any reason why anyone on Tatooine would want to get in touch with him. He thought fast.

Shrugging as casually as he could, he said, "I have family there. Maybe they didn't know how else to reach me and the message got routed here."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth the gulf between the two young Jedi widened into a chasm. Jedi didn't have family - none that they were in regular contact with, at any rate. On one side of the divide stood Anakin in his elegant deep blue suit, nominally a Jedi but without a particular status in the Order; a secretly married man with family with whom he was in ostensibly in contact. On the other side, in his modest and functional standard-issue robes stood Lon Erian, Jedi Padawan. Months away from his Knighthood, Lon's only affiliation was to the Order, and his only burning ambition to serve it. Neither young man perceived a bridge across the abyss.

"Is it secure or has it been read?" Anakin asked.

"Everything here gets read before it's distributed," Lon said in a tone that implied you ought to know that.

"In that case," Anakin said maliciously, "would you like to give it to me or would you prefer to just tell me what it says?"

Lon looked away, stung, and went to the nearest console to retrieve Anakin's message, which he transferred to a small data chip. He handed it over as though it were something that burned his fingers.

Without thanking him Anakin turned away and strode out of the room toward the Senate Library.

Watching him walk away Lon wondered why family would send Anakin a message that, even unencrypted, read like a series of riddles.

* * * * *

The Senate Library was nothing like the vast and beautiful heart of learning in the Jedi Temple. Buried as it was in the bowels of the Senate building, it served as a functional data retrieval center that generally was accessed remotely. It was glaringly lit, unornamented and lacked any sort of creature comforts. Materials that were not available electronically were archived in an endless series of locked storage rooms to which only staff had access.

Anakin's first stop was a bank of consoles tucked away in a dreary corner. He switched on to "read only" mode, dropped in the chip and read his message.

Obi Wan. It could only be from Obi-Wan. And he wasn't on Tatooine, that was for sure - he had painstakingly routed the message to make it look as though it came from the Lars family.

It took Anakin only a few minutes to get the sense of it. Since their earliest days as Master and Padawan Obi-Wan had devised a series of code words that only the two of them knew, for use in times of danger when no other form of communication was possible. They were based on places they had visited together and on shared experiences. The trick was to piece them together into a sensible message.

Anakin studied it carefully, and then experienced a physical feeling of shock. Obi-Wan was on D'lai, which was the last place that Anakin thought he should be. The D'laians were terrified of and murderous toward the Jedi, whom they thought of as sorcerers. Worse still, Obi-Wan was known to a handful of D'laians who had not long ago tried to assassinate him, thinking he was Anakin. The message warned Anakin that there was grave danger arising from activities on that planet, directed him to study the situation on Naboo, and indicated that a further message would come soon by a different method. There was a final warning to use extreme caution and to trust no one.

Aside from giving Anakin his location, the message did not indicate how to get in touch with Obi-Wan. Anakin could only assume that the promised next message would arrive by more secure means and give more specific information.

Thoughtfully Anakin erased and destroyed the chip and checked back to make sure that his message had not been saved or accessed while he was reading it. There was no way to know whether Lon had kept a copy without going back through the Intelligence Analysis unit. His instincts to find another way to dig up the information he needed had been right.

Anakin stretched out with his awareness and located Master Medulla and his Padawan, who were a significant part of his alternate plan. He was happy to find them ensconced in a distant corner of the library. Not recognizing him as a Jedi at first library staff tried to block Anakin's way, but quickly thought the better of it, whether because of the light saber by his side or the top-priority security chip he flashed at them. Without breaking stride Anakin went in search of Brith.

Master Medulla was the first to become aware of Anakin's presence and awaited his arrival serenely from his post on the floor in an uncomfortable-looking corner where he sat surrounded by ancient parchments and clumsy-looking antique data readers. Whatever private thoughts he may have harbored about Anakin's appearance played no part in the way he greeted the Temple's most famous ex-Padawan, whom he knew only slightly. He did know that Anakin was his own Padawan's friend, and for Poulin's sake he was prepared to put aside any private concerns. Master Medulla's smile was warm enough to soften even Anakin's cautious heart.

"It is a pleasure to see you, Skywalker," Master Medulla said. "I can only imagine that you have taken the trouble to find us in our little dungeon in order to visit with my Padawan."

Anakin realized guiltily that he had neglected Poulin since he began to work for the Chancellor, and quickly resolved to change that as soon as he had the time. For the moment he resorted to absolute honesty in speaking with the Jedi Master.

"I wish that were true, but unfortunately I am here on another matter, for which I need your help, Master Medulla." Anakin folded himself into a seated posture on the floor next to the scholar.

The Jedi Master composed himself and listened carefully as Anakin described his suspicions about the discrepancies between intelligence being given to Senators and that, which came from other sources. Without revealing his distrust of Lon or his communication with Obi-Wan, Anakin described his own difficulties in accessing the required information and asked for Master Medulla's help in retrieving it. As they spoke both Jedi automatically expanded their fields of awareness through the Force in order to assure the privacy of their conversation. The confluence between these powerful and familiar fields brought Poulin running with a big smile on his face.

Poulin wasn't as circumspect as his Master had been at the sight of Anakin's clothing and stared at him open-mouthed.

"Don't ask," Anakin grinned. "It wasn't my idea."

Poulin shrugged, accepting that the unexpected was as much a part of his friend as his powerful presence in the Force. Perhaps they went hand-in-hand. He was just happy to see Anakin.

A little while later the three had agreed on a plan of action, and Poulin was about to take on his first intelligence-gathering mission. Life was always more exciting when Anakin was around.

For no particular reason Anakin reached over and grabbed Poulin in a headlock and ruffled his hair with his other hand. They mock-wrestled idly while Master Medulla serenely went back to the document he had been reading.

It was quiet in that dusty corner of a neglected library archive somewhere at the center of the vast, pulsing heart of the Galaxy. It was quiet and safe and peaceful, in complete contrast to the realities of Anakin's everyday life. He relaxed a little, and immediately the demons of discontent that always lay in waiting inside him began to stir and whisper once again.

Anakin realized that he was sick and tired of the life he was leading. He hated the bureaucrats and the sycophants. He hated the daily struggle for status and position and influence. He hated the restrictions, the procedures and the pettiness.

Obi-Wan was out there somewhere doing something important and dangerous.

Since his return to the Temple from Naboo Anakin had been vigilant about keeping a tight rein on his wishes and dreams, except for his determination to get back to Padmé. And having succeeded in that, there was nothing more he should want.

But now he did want more. He wanted to be out of the twisting hallways and the tense, malevolent atmosphere of the Senate.

He wanted to be Out There somewhere. Battling. Flying. Making things right.

He wanted a mission worthy of a Jedi.

"Master Medulla," Anakin asked suddenly, while Poulin struggled vainly to free himself from a particularly effective lock hold, "why are we all here in the Senate instead of out fighting in the war? How is this helping?"

The Jedi Master looked up and thought for a moment. Poulin stopped struggling to listen.

"We are looking for the pieces to a puzzle that is potentially even larger and more sinister than the war," he finally replied. "A puzzle to which we may have the key, but which we cannot solve because we don't have all the pieces."

"We have the key to the puzzle of the Sith?" Anakin wondered. "What do you mean?"

Master Medulla looked at him appraisingly. Don't you know, Anakin? he thought to himself. We believe that you are the key.

But if the young man didn't know, then it was not his place to tell him.

"Our work is important," he said firmly, "and I think we should all get back to it."

Anakin sighed and stood up to take his leave. He would rather face a battle against terrible odds than go back to his next tedious tasks, but he would do his duty.

But oh, how he envied Obi-Wan.

Chapter 14. A Suitable Reward



Anakin was careful not to bother Padmé in her office too often, but occasionally he just couldn't resist. He always found a plausible pretext, and never overstayed his welcome, so he was bewildered one evening when Padmé asked him not to stop by the delegation's suite for the next two days.

"Why? What have I done wrong?" Anakin demanded to know from the shelter of her lap.

Padmé smiled disarmingly and ran her fingers through his hair and down his throat in a way that made him crave more. Anakin was torn between feeling horribly rejected and wondering where her fingers were going next.

"You haven't done anything," she said, letting her fingers trace further down his chest. "It's just that I need to get a huge amount of work out and it won't happen if you drop by."

"I never stay very long. I didn't know that I keep you from working. I'm really sorry.."

Her fingers hushed him before they want back to tracing their deeply interesting path. "It's not you. It's Dellia. She has a terrible crush on you, you know."

"What?" Anakin stared up at her. "What do you mean?"

Padmé laughed. "She's useless for ages after you visit. I can't afford to have her daydreaming and forgetting things for the next couple of days."

Anakin puzzled about this unexpected piece of information for a while, not knowing what to do with it, while Padmé's fingers continued their explorations.

"Surely you have noticed," Padmé prompted. "You know - with that exceptional Jedi awareness?"

Apparently not.

"I only see you," Anakin said defensively, "Whether you are there or not."

Don't stop, he urged when her fingers unaccountably stopped moving.

Padmé came back to herself, startled, and realized that she had drifted off on some shadowy train of thought or other. It happened often lately, and the meditation she was learning didn't seem to help.

Suddenly it struck her that she was sitting, in uninterrupted peace and privacy, in her own home, with Anakin lying in her lap. He was magnificently well and healthy. They weren't in hiding. It had not been necessary to feign illness to get this time alone with him. No one was shooting at him or her or about to tear him out of her arms to feed them both to beasts. There were no pressing demands on her attention for meetings or other obligations.

Padmé looked down at the man in her arms, who had gotten bored with waiting for her idle fingers to go further and had begun a systematic search for a way into her silky one-piece garment, although for the moment it was defeating him. In fact, all her dearest wishes and desires about Anakin had come true. She looked at him in wonder. He was right here, and he was all hers, so why had she been drifting off in her thoughts to some place that left her with a lingering sense of foreboding?

I am such a fool, she thought.

Anakin caught the part about being a fool and felt the shift in her attention, and happily burrowed his way further into her lap. This evening was already close to perfection. But it was about to get even better.

"Yes, you are a fool," he said contentedly. "You should spend more time thinking about me."

"I am now," she said in a way that promised that all of Anakin's wishes were about to come true, but then a cloud seemed to settle over her and she became serious again.

"Anakin, do you know how lucky we are to be together right now?"

"If you want to call it luck, go ahead," he sighed, deducing from her sudden change in mood an indefinite postponement of whatever had been about to happen.

"What would you call it?"

"Sheer determination. Never giving up. Being willing to break any rules and go to any lengths so I can lie here in your lap and do battle with whatever that thing is you're wearing."

Unaccountably Padmé felt stinging tears behind her eyelids.

"I've cost you a lot, haven't I?"

Anakin wondered where all this was coming from.

"What's wrong?"

A tear dropped and splashed on his cheek. Anakin sat up and rearranged himself so that he could hold her close.

"I don't know. I don't know what's wrong. Suddenly, I'm scared. It's strange," she stopped and wiped a hand across her eyes, "but everything is finally going well and I'm more scared than I have ever been. Something feels terribly wrong, and it's getting worse all the time."

Anakin didn't have any answers. He didn't perceive any unusual dangers. "You're worried," he finally suggested. "You're worried about Balé coming."

"Yes. No. That's not it." Padmé took a deep breath and clung to Anakin. "I'm afraid of losing you. And I don't know why."

Anakin was about to ask whether she had any idea how absurd that sounded after everything they had been through together, but then thought better of it. Hadn't they married to make sure nothing could force them apart? And now she was worrying about it again. For Anakin their hard-won time alone together was sanctuary - sacred, inviolable, and not to be encroached upon in any way. He didn't know where her fears were coming from, but dwelling on them could only make them worse. And discussions like this one could go on forever.

It was time to take action. He deliberately chose an approach that was sure to get him in trouble but had a high probability of distracting her.

"Well," he said theatrically, "if you won't pay attention to me, I guess Dellia will."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Padmé muttered, and elbowed him.

It was working.

"See, the thing is," he whispered into her ear suggestively, "you have to use me or lose me."

This time he ducked because it wasn't so much an elbow but something closer to a right hook that was heading his way. He wrestled his way around it and ended up grabbing his partner and the keeper of his soul bodily and throwing her over his shoulder.

"This isn't very subtle, Skywalker," Padmé complained while being summarily carried to the bedroom. "Suppose I want to have a long and depressing conversation?"

Anakin didn't care. In the process he had found what he was looking for - some kind of fastener that promised an opening to the wretched thing she was wearing.

"You don't," he assured her. "What you really want is to pay attention to me."

Padmé was pretty sure he was right about that.

"Besides," he added as he dumped her onto the bed and cheerfully bounced onto it beside her, "I don't know what you're worried about. "As far as I know, I'm almost impossible to get rid of."

"I wouldn't know," Padmé mumbled as she willingly conceded his victory. "I would never try."

* * * * *

After having Dellia's crush pointed out to him Anakin began really to observe her for the first time and was astounded to see that Padmé was right. Dellia always got flustered as soon as she saw him. He reached out with the Force to confirm his observations and immediately regretted it. What he encountered was downright embarrassing.

He had no idea what to do. His first thought was to design some kind of Force block, but he was hesitant to try. He didn't know her that well, and if it didn't work, the extra attention from him would make the situation worse.

Even after his visiting ban was over Anakin was afraid to step into Padmé's office for fear of running into Dellia, so he stayed away. He thought his struggle was a private one until he walked in on a conversation between Padmé and Sabé in which they seemed to be extremely amused by the ease with which a powerful Jedi could be turned into a quivering coward.

That did it.

That was also what gave him the idea. A terrible, wonderful, awful, perfect idea. As soon as the plan was clear in his mind Anakin began to scan the Senate building regularly for a certain Force signature. He had to wait for a couple of days, but finally a long-awaited confluence of individuals occurred, much like a favorable conjunction of planets in the Zodiac. When it did, Anakin moved fast.

First, he made a call.

Not long after, some of Dellia's dreams unexpectedly came true when Anakin appeared at her desk, looked directly into her eyes, and greeted her warmly.

Dellia thought she would breathe her last. Her heart began to race.

He sees me, she thought. He is finally noticing me!

Not only did Anakin notice her and look into her eyes, but he held her gaze so intently that she found she couldn't speak or move. She also couldn't think of anything that she might have wanted to say. She had the impression that Anakin was speaking to her but couldn't make out the words, so she contented herself with just gawking at him.

Anakin continued to hold her gaze while his senses scanned the surroundings. Then he counted down. At the last moment he stepped back from Dellia's desk and hid in Padmé's empty office, leaving the door open so he could observe. His mental shielding was locked down as tightly as possible. He wanted to be invisible. Actually, he had better be invisible, or he was in big trouble.

Dellia looked up and realized she was looking into the bright blue eyes of the most breathtakingly gorgeous man she had ever seen. In an instant she fell head-over-heels in love.

"May I...may I help you?" she whispered.

When he spoke his voice was like pure honey, and the mere sound of it made her tremble.

"I have some reports for Senator Amidala," he said. "Is she in?"

"Who.who are you?" Dellia asked, not so much on Senator Amidala's behalf, but because she felt she would die instantly if she didn't know.

"My name is Lon Erian."

"She isn't here," Dellia said, in one of the throatiest, most seductive voices Anakin had ever heard. He hadn't actually heard that many. But he was impressed. "But you're welcome to wait here with me."

With completely uncharacteristic boldness Dellia stood up and draped herself over Lon's arm and down his side, and began to draw him over to one of the long sofas in the anteroom. She was clearly indifferent to the fact that he was dressed in Jedi robes, with all that implied.

Even Anakin was amazed by his success. For the briefest of moments he wondered whether he had overdone it, but he had wanted to make sure that it worked. When he felt the shockwaves of surprise and discomfort coming from Lon he shrugged off any feelings of repentance.

Even better, he could sense that Lon was responding to Dellia. The good Jedi Padawan just couldn't help himself.

Go, Dellia, Anakin thought, wanting to dance around the office.

Lon clearly had never been given any lessons in resisting the power of seduction.

Unfortunately, Padmé arrived back at her offices while Anakin was still hiding and he was trapped. His first twinge of guilt came when he tried to figure out how to explain to her what he was doing there.

And why he had to stay hidden.

Padmé?

Where are you?

Hiding in your office. Please don't give me away!

Padmé already had noticed the interesting dynamic between Dellia and the dark-haired Jedi Padawan, whom she did not know. Considering that there were few parts of Dellia that were not touching the young man, and observing his acute discomfort, it didn't take her long to figure out what had happened.

You didn't!

He deserved it.

Well, Dellia didn't. How could you?

Caught in a moral dilemma of Anakin's making, Padmé finally decided to deal with the immediate situation first and Anakin later. It gave him plenty of time to experience a second tiny pang of guilt while he waited in her office.

"Dellia," Padmé said gently. "Who is this?"

The Jedi Padawan struggled to his feet. Padmé could sense the huge effort it cost him to pull himself together, poor boy.

"Lon Erian," he said to introduce himself. "I have some intelligence reports that you requested. I was asked to bring them personally." Padmé admired his fortitude.

That's Lon? Padmé asked. She had heard about him.

Yes, Anakin admitted, from his hiding place.

He's so handsome, Padmé remarked, evilly.

There was a noticeable absence of a response from Anakin.

Padmé smiled at the embarrassed young Jedi, trying to put him at his ease.

"Thank you. Just leave them on Dellia's desk. I'll take care of them immediately. Thank you for taking the trouble to bring them personally."

Lon remembered to bow gracefully and took his leave.

And such nice manners, too, Padmé pointed out, turning her attention to her hopeless secretary. Dellia was almost beyond reaching.

"Come here, Dellia. Come back to your desk," Padmé urged, practically having to pull her all the way. The young woman's face was flushed and the gleam in her eye was one that had never even been there for Anakin.

Padmé settled Dellia in her chair and quickly closed and locked the outer door of the office suite to deter visitors.

You had better take care of this RIGHT NOW, she told Anakin in no uncertain terms.

He looked suitably sheepish when he crept out of her inner office. Padmé stood with her arms crossed, waiting for him to undo whatever he had done. It made him nervous.

Anakin forced himself to concentrate on Dellia, and did his best to remove the suggestion he had planted in her mind. When she came to she was surprised to see Anakin, but didn't seem to react to him the same way as before.

That was a relief. But his new problem was more worrying. Padmé was radiating disapproval, and he couldn't exactly try to make it up to her while they were standing in front of Dellia.

Padmé, he tried.

Don't. Just don't. I'll talk to you about this later. Anakin was astounded when she turned away and went back into her office, closing the door behind her.

Anakin nodded a goodbye to Dellia and left the Naboo delegation offices unhappily, experiencing his third and worst pang of guilt. He still thought Lon deserved to have his smugness wiped out once and for all, but if it made Padmé angry the price was far too high. To make it worse, for some reason he kept remembering Master Yoda's voice saying,"Loves all living things equally, the Force does," followed by Master Jinn's voice saying, "We are all one." Lon would have been gratified to know how much Anakin suffered for most of the rest of that day.

But Lon had other things on his mind. The incident in the Naboo Senator's office had been unexpected and terribly uncomfortable. But it has also left him with a vague feeling of longing that he had never experienced before. It was a wistful feeling, as though he had lost something and didn't know what it was. He went back to his duties, but was quiet and thoughtful for the rest of that day and long into the night.

Dellia sat at her desk for a long time, a little vague about what had happened that afternoon. For some reason she kept remembering a pair of bright blue eyes and a voice like honey, and the memory touched a chord somewhere deep inside of her that continued to reverberate like the sweet sound of faraway bells on the wind. She didn't get much work done for the rest of the day.

Padmé sat in her office with her head in her hands for a while, trying to sort out her conflicting feelings. Finally she pushed them all aside and went back to work with a vengeance, setting herself the task of clearing away all of her most pressing obligations. Balé was arriving tomorrow, and she wanted nothing else demanding her attention.

* * * * *

The voices of the Jedi Masters remained in Anakin's thoughts until the very end of the day when he kept his weekly appointment with Chancellor Palpatine. They vanished the moment he stepped into his mentor's presence.

"So, my young friend," the Chancellor said, leaning back in his chair and forming his fingers into a steeple. "What progress have you made?"

It was early evening, just before the glowlamps came on automatically, and the Chancellor's office was suffused with shadow. Their two figures could hardly be distinguished in their dark clothing, and only their faces and the Chancellor's hands reflected some of the remaining light.

"The majority of the units of the Senate Security Forces are ready to be deployed now," Anakin said into the gloom. "The remaining two will be ready in two weeks."

Interesting and unexpected, the Chancellor thought. How did he manage that? Palpatine had deliberately set the boy a task that would be next to impossible for him to accomplish alone, and certainly not in the time frame he had demanded. And yet apparently he had succeeded.

"Excellent, my friend. I'm glad to hear it." He paused. "Has Chief Zangan provided you with the requested assistance?"

Anakin laughed at the thought. "No. It would hurt his pride to do so."

"Those of us who serve cannot afford pride," the Chancellor remarked.

Anakin reflected that the words sounded like something a Jedi Master would say, but the dismissive tone was all Palpatine's.

The shadows deepened. Anakin wondered idly when the glow lamps were supposed to come on.

He has found a new ally and he is not telling me, the Chancellor thought. He needs to learn that I must approve his friends and associates from now on.

"So.whom have you found to help you?" The Chancellor persisted.

"A soldier from within the ranks. A good one."

By now the Chancellor's office was almost in total darkness.

"And what have you promised him in return?"

"A substantial promotion," Anakin conceded. "It's a just reward."

Palpatine paused for thought. Hidden inside the darkness he made a small movement that permitted the glow lamps to come on after all.

"I'll have to approve the promotion personally," Palpatine said, fixing his eyes on Anakin's now that they could see one another again.

"As you wish," Anakin said stubbornly. "But I stand by my choice."

Palpatine wanted to smile. So bold, he thought. I give him credit for that.

"If he is all that you believe him to be, the promotion will not be a problem." He leaned back in his chair without taking his eyes off his protégé. "And so, my friend, how can I reward you for your efforts?"

Anakin was caught off guard. He almost responded, "I serve," in the Jedi way, but for some reason decided against it. "I just did my job," he finally said, a bit awkwardly. "I am grateful for your confidence in me."

The Chancellor kept looking at him while he rested his chin on the points of his steepled fingers.

"There must be something I can do to show my appreciation. Something that I could provide you with that you might not otherwise have."

Anakin realized that there was something he wanted. He just wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to ask for it.

"Go on, my friend," Palpatine prompted very gently.

"I would like a few days' leave," Anakin finally said.

Now the Chancellor was surprised. And curious. He was very, very curious.

"That is a modest request," he said. "May I ask why?"

Anakin hesitated and reassured himself that his inner shielding was locked down. Certain parts of his life were simply not open to the scrutiny of others. No matter who they were.

"A friend is coming to visit Coruscant," he finally said, since he had to say something. "I would like to spend some time with her."

Oh, but this is delightful! Palpatine thought to himself. Has the affair with the Senator from Naboo finally run its course? My young Jedi is truly forging his own path outside the Temple. He played with the idea of pushing aside those feeble Jedi shields to learn Anakin's secret, but decided that there were other ways to find out without alerting his young Jedi to his own powerful presence in the Force. Not yet.

"I think that can be arranged," Chancellor Palpatine said, keeping a perfectly straight face. "Let Dar Wac know when you will be gone." Now he permitted himself a gentle smile. "It goes without saying that your Jedi Masters will be informed that you are on duty."

Anakin nodded, believing that he was successfully hiding his elation.

"Thank you, Chancellor. Thank you very much."

Palpatine waved him off. "We will turn our attention to the next items upon your return."

He liked the fact that his chosen one had once again managed to surprise him.

Chapter 15. The Unguarded Heart




"I still think you owe Dellia an apology," Padmé said quietly to Anakin as they stood side by side on the Senate building's rooftop landing platform waiting for Balé, Dormé and Captain Typho to arrive by shuttle from their military transport.

Anakin shifted impatiently. She still hadn't given this up.

"I think it would be a bad idea. She still doesn't understand fully what happened, and going over it in detail would just embarrass her more."

"She is pining for Lon now. Pining!" Padmé insisted, still with a lowered voice.

"Maybe they were meant for each other, and I just helped them along," Anakin said crossly, wishing she would stop harassing him about it once and for all. "Did you ever think of that?" When Padmé didn't respond right away he added, "I don't understand why you're still mad about this. It only worked so well because Dellia wants to be in love with someone. Anyone."

It was Padmé's turn to feel a wave of impatience. "I'm upset because you're so casual about having interfered with other people's lives like that, Anakin. It just isn't right!"

A shuttle was becoming visible in the distance, heading in their direction.

"People do it all the time, Padmé," Anakin said abruptly. Even the rising whine of the approaching shuttle didn't drown out the peculiar hardness in his voice. "They do it all the time in ways that are terrible and soul destroying. They put a transponder bomb into your body and make you a slave. They kidnap someone you love and torture them to death. They decide what you can do, where you can go, and whom you can love. In every case your life is changed forever and no one discusses whether it's right or wrong. What I did was nothing like that."

He stopped when the roar of the shuttle's landing cycle made it impossible to be heard. Padmé stood beside him in stunned silence, torn between deep sympathy and her steadfast moral convictions.

"That still doesn't make it right," Padmé persisted when the shuttle's roar had quieted to a throbbing purr. "Why contribute to what we know is wrong?"

Anakin remained silent while several figures disembarked from the shuttle. As one, he and Padmé walked forward to meet them. At first all the passengers looked like adults and Anakin couldn't see Balé anywhere. Suddenly a small figure that evidently had been hidden in the middle of the group broke free and headed straight for Padmé at a dead run. Typho took off after her but Balé managed to throw herself into Padmé's arms before the Security Chief came puffing up behind her.

Anakin watched their reunion hungrily, taking in every word, every look and every hug until Typho spoke to him.

"She was supposed to stay put until we arrive under cover." Captain Typho looked worn out in a way that even a mischievous ten-year-old child could not have brought about.

Anakin looked at him sharply. "Do you expect any immediate danger?"

"Always," said Typho shortly.

Anakin nodded and bent closer to Padmé and Balé, who were crouched together in the middle of the spacious landing platform.

"We had better go inside now," he said firmly.

Balé looked at him sideways from the safety of Padmé's shoulder. Anakin looked straight back at her, marveling at how much she had grown in a little more than half a year. She was destined to be a petite Nubian woman, but she looked taller and sturdier than the child Anakin had left behind on Naboo. Padmé stood up and took Balé's hand, turning to go back into the building. The little girl continued to regard Anakin steadily.

Finally Balé smiled shyly and offered him her other hand, and Anakin took it gently. Balé clung even harder to Padmé's hand as they walked into the building, but she never took her eyes off Anakin or let go of him.

All of a sudden she grinned. "You don't look like a Jedi any more." Anakin was wearing his official suit.

"I'm still a Jedi," he reassured her. "You can't always believe what you see."

"Padmé said you got my puzzle box. She promised she would give it to you, and she did."

"Yes, I got it," Anakin said, glancing at Padmé with a look full of memories. She nodded almost imperceptibly out of a similar place in her own heart.

"Did you find my note?" Balé really wanted to know whether Anakin had figured out how to work it.

"For my Jedi, from Balé Mindin Naberrie," he quoted, and then smiled. "It wasn't too hard."

Balé nodded, satisfied. They stepped through the double doors into the waiting lounge.

"Captain Typho says I'm a handful," she announced, well within the good Captain's earshot. Padmé, who had watched the interaction between her husband and her adopted daughter with deep interest, bit her lip while the Security Captain only shook his head.

Anakin approved wholeheartedly of anything that made the Captain despair. While they waited for the rest of the party to catch up with them he dropped down on one knee so he could speak to Balé face to face. He and Padmé were the only grownups that did that.

"Maybe you need a Jedi protector," he said gravely. "We're known for our way with.people who are a handful."

This of course played right into Balé's plans.

"I think I do," she said with equal gravity. "Captain Typho says I need to be protected the whole time I'm on Coruscant."

Padmé shot a glance at her Security Chief, but before he could comment the double doors opened again and Dormé fell into Padmé's arms while the four Nubian Security Guards gathered around them.

For a change it was Padmé whose tears flowed. "I've missed you so much," she wept, clinging to Dormé, who held her soothingly while wondering at her mistress' raw emotions.

Balé took advantage of the situation to zero in on Anakin, who for the moment seemed to be all hers. That was just the way she liked it.

"I want to learn to fight," she said. "Can you teach me?"

Anakin paused briefly, hoping that wasn't all she thought he was good for.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"I don't want to be scared. Everybody at home is scared."

Anakin glanced quickly at Padmé to see whether she had heard, but she was absorbed in an animated conversation with Dormé.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"I wish you were there," Balé said, looking at him steadily. "Like you were when we were on the Queen's Yacht. Then Grandma and Sola and everybody would feel safe." In her heart Balé believed that nothing bad could happen to her or her loved ones if Anakin was nearby.

Captain Typho interrupted them by insisting that the group leave the public lounge and move on to the Naboo Delegation offices for a briefing. Balé moved closer to Anakin, her initial shyness rapidly disappearing.

"Piggyback?" he offered. She was getting too big to ride on his shoulders. Balé agreed instantly and clambered happily onto his back.

As the group moved toward the lifts Padmé looked over at them and Anakin caught her eye. A long, wordless look passed between them. Their earlier discussion wasn't over yet, but it had been put aside for the time being.

"Thank you for letting me come," Balé said to Padmé from her perch on Anakin's back. Padmé reached over and patted the little girl's leg.

And you were worried she wouldn't remember you? Padmé couldn't resist reminding him.

Anakin beamed.

The group proceeded into the lifts and through the winding corridors of the off ice complex in a disciplined group; two uniformed security officers in front, Padmé and Dormé behind them talking quietly, the dark-robed Jedi behind them, carrying the little girl on his back, and two other security officers bringing up the rear. Captain Typho fell into step with Padmé on the way.

"How secure are your offices, Senator?" he asked softly.

"They are swept for listening devices daily," she said, frowning. "Why?"

"Who does the sweeps?"

"Our own staff." Padmé tried to control her rising anxiety.

Captain Typho scowled into the distance, thinking. "I'd like to search them again myself before we talk. Just to be on the safe side."

Padmé took a deep calming breath, as Anakin recently had taught her to do. "Is it that bad?"

"We can't afford to take a single chance," the Captain said grimly

It was decided that, while Typho and two of the uniformed guards checked the Naboo Delegation's offices the rest of the party would adjourn to the elegant Senator's lounge for some refreshment during the hour that Typho needed to take the offices apart and put them back together again. It was a reasonable thing for a party of travelers to do, and would not arouse suspicion.

Anakin didn't plan to join them. It was one thing to greet them at the shuttle. It would give quite a different impression if he spent too much time in the company of the Senator from Naboo and her staff. But he wanted to be in on the briefing.

"Suppose I give Balé a quick tour of the building?" he suggested. A little bounce on his back indicated enthusiasm from that quarter. Balé hated having to amuse herself while the grownups talked. Lately they went on and on.

Padmé looked at Captain Typho for agreement, and when he nodded slightly, gave her permission. Who better than Anakin to keep her safe?

"Can you give us two hours?" the Captain asked.

It was obvious that Typho did not include Anakin in Padmé's inner circle and wanted to speak with her without him there.

Your security IS my concern, Anakin protested silently.

I'll fill you in later, Padmé replied quickly.

He wasn't happy about it but there was nothing to do but agree.

"Two hours," Anakin nodded, and set off toward the nearest bank of lifts with his very pleased passenger.

Around the next bend in the wall, unseen by the party that he knew was coming his way, a tall, dark-haired Jedi Padawan slipped out of the Naboo Delegation offices and vanished down the corridor in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

Thousands of people worked in the Senate building day and night. The Senators, despite their numbers, were the smallest group. The offices and corridors were crammed full with staff, security guards, soldiers, bureaucrats, and workers of all kinds on a regular basis. It was surprising how many of them knew Anakin by sight by now - not so much the Senators themselves, but the soldiers, the guards, and many of the staff, in addition to the ever-present Jedi advisors.

Not all of those who recognized the dark figure striding through the corridors or appearing in a doorway were happy to see him. The soldiers and guards who believed that their careers now depended on Anakin's goodwill automatically stood up straighter and stopped joking around in his presence.

The staff whose workload automatically doubled every time he appeared in their offices generally tried to make themselves invisible when they saw him. Some had been known to bolt in the other direction. Their superiors, who by now were well acquainted with the stories of the young Jedi's intimate personal relationship with the Chancellor smiled and bowed to him hypocritically.

A certain group of Senators tended to defer to Anakin - the ones from relatively weak systems for whom the war had brought a nightmare of fear, who now tended to cluster around the Chancellor like courtiers to a king hoping for the protection of his influence.

By some miracle of his own selective focus Anakin remained unaware of the rumors about himself and the Chancellor and ignored all groups equally, so he didn't pay much attention to the whispers that followed him when his notable and to some, ominous figure suddenly appeared in the Senate corridors with a young child riding on his back. A clearly happy child.

Anakin began his tour by showing Balé the gigantic Senate Chamber itself. The Senate wasn't in session yet, so the cavernous space was mostly empty. Anakin shifted Balé around and held her on his arm so she could see as he pointed out how the floating pods worked and where the Chancellor stood.

"I didn't know a room could be that big," Balé whispered, suitably awed. "Does it get all full of people during a.a."

"During a session?" Anakin supplied. "Yes. Mostly. Not as full as it used to since the war."

"Why?"

"Because some systems left the Senate, and those are the ones we are fighting against now. Their pods are empty." He didn't add that more pods became empty every week.

"Are we fighting to make them come back home?" Balé whispered.

Anakin pondered this. "I suppose we are," he said. "In a way. When they all come home again we will have peace."

"I hope they come home soon," Balé said sadly, leaning on his neck.

Anakin decided that it was time to move on. He hoisted her onto his back again and headed down toward the Senate Library hoping to find Poulin.

Balé enjoyed the ride tremendously. For one thing, even at Anakin's shoulder height she could look at the world from a vantage point she didn't often enjoy. She noticed, even if Anakin didn't, how some people nodded and deferred to him, and by extension to her. She became bolder and began to point over his shoulder to the places she wanted to explore, and her steed obediently turned and took her there. By the time they had gone down a few levels nearer the in-house barracks and training rooms the corridors were full of people in uniform.

"I want to go see the soldiers!" Balé demanded. "The ones that are all lined up in their shiny white armor!" She had seen a lot of those back home. They were everywhere on Naboo.

"We don't have any of those here," Anakin said, bemused. They would, once the next part of the Chancellor's plan was implemented, but so far there were no clone troops guarding the Senate.

"We have some gray and red ones, though."

He took her into the mustering room where the Senate's regular troops gathered for briefings and orders. There were always uniformed soldiers there ready to go on duty because Anakin had staggered the shifts to avoid the weaknesses inherent in massive shift changes. The first person they ran into was the newly promoted Captain Keinan Pell.

Anakin grinned at him. "I told you so."

"Fastest promotion in the history of this service," Pell said with satisfaction. "Practically overnight. Yer a right miracle worker, ye are."

"It doesn't come free," Anakin reminded him.

"Aye, I know that." He eyed Anakin's burden. "An' who might this be?"

"Balé, this is Captain Pell," Anakin said. "Captain, this is my. this is. Balé." He hoped no one had noticed his hesitation. For some reason he longed to try out the word "daughter." Just to see what it felt like.

"Oh, aye?" Pell sized up the situation instantly. If the little girl wanted soldiers, the little girl would get soldiers, or there would be a steely-eyed Jedi to account to. He turned around and called his troops to order in dress formation. Even the ones that weren't fully dressed yet.

Balé laughed with delight, especially at the partially dressed ones, who despite the humor inherent in the situation stood perfectly at attention with stony faces, acutely aware of the presence of both their Captain and the dark Jedi with the light saber.

Balé leaned down and whispered to Anakin. He moved closer to the nearest soldier and said, "She wants to try on your helmet."

The soldier's eyes shifted nervously to Anakin. He didn't know what to do. If he took off his helmet he would be breaking his pose of attention.

"Take off your helmet and give it to her," Anakin said softly.

The man scrambled to remove it and passed it to Balé, who happily put it on. It covered her eyes. The room throbbed silently with suppressed fascination.

"May I keep it?" Bale's slightly muffled voice said into the strangled atmosphere.

"Have the Quartermaster issue you another one," Anakin said to the soldier. He turned to Pell, studiously ignoring the violent efforts that were being made throughout the room to keep a straight face.

"Thank you, Captain. Carry on."

"Aye," said Captain Pell simply. "At ease."

Even with the order given, not a single soldier relaxed until Anakin was well out of the room. When they finally did Captain Pell cut through the rising uproar with the cold voice of reason.

"None of yer business, Lads. If ye know what's good for yer, ye'll get on with yer duties."

Anakin had chosen his Captain well.

* * * * *

Anakin had intended to introduce Balé to Poulin, but after a meandering search and a companionable stop for refreshments the boy was nowhere to be found, and it was almost time to return. Somewhat reluctantly Anakin wound his way back to the upper levels of the Senate complex. The utilitarian aspect of the lower levels gradually gave way to the plush, softly lit winding corridors and spacious meeting rooms of the building's more public face. Somewhere between the Senate Chamber and the conference rooms Balé became excited.

"Look! Red soldiers!" Balé had finally taken off the helmet and was clutching it awkwardly in one hand. Now she could see again.

Ahead in a broad foyer Anakin could see a contingent of the Senate's magnificent, scarlet-clad Elite Guard flanking a small group of dignitaries as they moved toward the Chamber. He instantly checked his mental shielding to prepare for the fact that two separate parts of his life were about to meet. It was unavoidable. The Chancellor himself was coming his way.

Anakin stepped aside to let them pass and Chancellor Palpatine called a halt to the small procession to greet him personally. The significance of this action was not lost on the two delegates and three assistants who accompanied him, and they glanced at one another meaningfully behind the Chancellor's back.

"Chancellor Palpatine." Anakin bowed as gracefully as he could with the little girl still on his back and the helmet hanging down awkwardly by his side.

"And who is this?" asked the Chancellor, taking in everything about the little girl. The look of her. The connection between her and Anakin - the way their Force presences seemed to resonate together. His young Jedi's protectiveness toward her. No amount of shielding could hide the bond from his perception.

"This is my friend Balé," Anakin said as well as he could, considering that the child was suddenly clutching him violently around the throat. He could hardly breathe. The helmet had fallen to the floor.

She was absolutely radiating fear.

The Chancellor's eyes bored into hers. Anakin had to loosen her grip gently and hold her arm away from his throat before he passed out.

"How charming," the Chancellor said gracefully to the child. "And where do you come from?"

Normally Balé was very good about the manners that had been drilled into her from an early age, but she remained silent. Anakin could feel her trembling, body and soul.

"Balé is visiting from Naboo," he filled in. "I borrowed her for a tour of the building. But I'm afraid I have to return her now." Anakin had no idea why Balé was so terrified, but he wanted to get her back to where she would feel safe as quickly as possible.

"Ah, Naboo. I see our small planet continues to provide the Galaxy with beauty and delight."

Anakin bowed awkwardly again, since one hand was guarding his ability to breathe.

"I don't want to keep you, Chancellor."

Chancellor Palpatine smiled and waved the procession on. As it retreated Anakin gently loosened Balé's grip and set her down on the floor next to him, retrieving the helmet in the process. Crouching on one knee, he looked into her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm scared of him." She clutched the front of his suit so tightly that her fists were white.

Anakin gathered her into his arms, the helmet dangling from his fingers, and headed back toward the Naboo delegation's offices.

"Why?"

Balé shook her head, then buried in his shoulder.

"I don't know. I don't like.I'm scared of his eyes. They went inside of me."

Anakin puzzled about it all the way back to Padmé.

By the time they reached the Naboo Delegation's offices the meeting had finished and preparations were underway for the whole party to depart for their quarters in the Senate apartment building. Padmé looked tense and worried.

There is no time to talk now, she sent briefly.

Later, then, Anakin replied, already beginning to feel left out. He evidently was not to be a part of the group.

The feeling worsened when he handed Balé back to Padmé and watched his family walk away. Balé turned around and waved to him as they rounded the first bend in the corridor, and then they left him behind.

She is mine, too, Anakin thought bitterly as he watched them go. You both are. Yet under the present arrangements, given their vow of secrecy, all he could do was stand aside and allow Padmé to take all the responsibility and make all of the decisions. He couldn't assert his right to participate in every part of their lives, and worst of all, he couldn't make himself known to Balé as anything more than her Jedi friend.

The sudden, terrible feeling of loneliness took his breath away.

Chapter 16. Under Cover of Darkness

For the sake of propriety Anakin was banished back to his small room in the Temple to sleep for the duration of Balé's visit. As soon as he was on his own he dreamt again - for the first time since his return to the Temple from Naboo. The dreams were not like the nightmares that had called him to Tatooine. They were vague and confused and full of puzzles and contradictions, troubling enough to wake him but too elusive to make any sense.

During the first weeks and months of his recovery, when he had been helpless and weak, sleep had been a welcome friend; a way of disappearing and putting aside the pain and the things he didn't want to think about. By Padmé's side he slept like an infant - so sheltered and comforted that two hours of sleep could do the job of four.

His very first night in his own room in the Temple Anakin's peace was shattered well before dawn. He was not surprised or disoriented when he woke up - just resigned. It was time to get up. He knew from experience that it wasn't worth trying to get back to sleep.

The dreams left him with a feeling of loss that he couldn't attribute. It clung to his mind and feelings like a mist, so he dressed quickly and decided to go out for a run. His Jedi robes felt comfortable and familiar, and his muscles were longing for the kind of workout his days in the Senate never left time for. The Temple complex provided a number of different opportunities for a long run, and he decided to make it a good one. Without stopping in any of the dark and chilly training rooms for his warm-up he headed straight outside to the Temple plaza.

The halls and lifts were as empty as he expected, based on his many nighttime excursions out of and back into the complex. The sky outside had hardly begun to lighten, and the threshold sentry gave him a sleepy nod. He was very surprised, then, to encounter someone else just outside the double doors into the great entry hall.

Anakin's presence was evidently even more startling to his fellow wanderer, because the figure in the light Jedi robes froze as soon as he appeared. Each believing himself to be alone and safe, neither had thought to check ahead for the presence of others. After the first split second of recognition a pool of silence formed between them. Bitterness flowed into it from one side, cold calculation from the other.

Anakin spoke first.

"I have been wondering," he said evenly, "what you and Deputy Chief Tibbs could have to say to one another."

The silence pulsed like a heartbeat while Lon Erian decided how to answer.

"There are a lot of things going on," he said reluctantly. Only this event, this moment, this act of being caught breaking the rules by the last person he would have wanted to see could have pulled a response out of him, and Anakin knew it. "You aren't involved in all of them."

"Life is funny sometimes," Anakin said softly into the cold gray light. "Sometimes you're on top and it seems as though nothing can stand in your way. Then a single moment, a single action can change everything for you. Forever."

"Are you really that vindictive?" Lon asked. "Would you actually turn me in, just because you could?"

Anakin allowed the space between them to fill with silence for a while longer. When he finally spoke it was in that same soft voice.

"You would," he pointed out.

Lon couldn't hide his fury and despair, even by remaining silent.

"Tibbs was just passing on some gossip," he finally muttered.

"About me?"

Lon shifted uncomfortably.

"Zangan has it in for you," he said sourly. "He's passing around the story that you are the Chancellor's." He stopped, and then started again. "That there are personal reasons why the Chancellor has given you so much authority."

Anakin drew a sharp breath.

"Go on," he said, certain there was more.

"What assurance do I have that you won't turn me in anyway?"

"You would be surprised at how little I care about what you do, and with whom you do it, as long as it doesn't affect me personally. But when something affects me or those connected with me, I will have the truth. One way or another."

Lon's silent, intense thought process was palpable.

"Zangan has gone to some of the delegates with the story, claiming that the Chancellor is endangering the Senate by allowing an inexperienced favorite to interfere with proven Security procedures."

Anakin stood like a statue in the gray light, his eyes searing into Lon's.

"And that's it?" Anakin asked, knowing it wasn't.

Lon nodded tersely.

"Aren't you supposed to stand the Trials soon?" Anakin enquired almost tenderly.

Lon didn't answer, but the tension in his body was apparent.

"Let me put it another way," Anakin said, more forcefully this time since Lon didn't seem to appreciate what was at stake for him. "What was Tibbs really after in the Data Center?"

"A list." Lon finally said between gritted teeth.

Anakin took a determined step toward him.

"A list of systems within the Republic that meet certain criteria," Lon added quickly. "I've been working on the model for some time." Then he couldn't resist adding nastily, "It would probably be over your head."

Anakin sighed heavily and walked past Lon while remarking sadly, "Understanding your position here seems to be over yours. I have to go."

"Wait."

Anakin stopped but did not turn around.

"It's a list of systems still officially within the Republic but which, according to my analysis, may support Separatist activities."

Anakin looked up at the slowly brightening sky. "Who authorized Tibbs to obtain the list?"

Lon actually laughed. "I'm surprised you don't know that."

Now Anakin turned around and looked at him. He didn't know; or he hadn't known, until something in Lon's voice and manner and something in the Force whispered a name to him.

"Chancellor Palpatine," he declared, making sound as though he were certain.

"Well, if you know, why are you bothering me about it?"

Anakin stepped close to the Jedi Padawan and threw a hard metallic arm around his shoulder. Lon flinched and pulled against his grip.

"It just goes to show you, Lon," Anakin said sincerely. "The truth will set you free."

Lon tried to shrug him off but Anakin held fast.

"Just make sure that I have a copy of the same list by the end of the day." Anakin could feel Lon gather himself in the Force for an attack, and then subside. He went on as though he hadn't noticed anything. "If there are any discrepancies between what you give me and what I get from Tibbs."

Lon broke his hold and turned away.

"By the way," Anakin said to his back, "just a friendly warning - you might want to keep in mind that Dellia is very indiscreet."

Lon turned around with a smile of pure pleasure on his face. It made a startling contrast to the mood of the conversation that had just taken place.

"Oh, I know," he said pointedly. "That works both ways."

By the time the sun began to send the first tendrils of daylight into the Temple courtyard, it was empty and silent again.

* * * * *

Anakin's run turned into a grueling one because his body was driven by a turbulent mind and even the physical exertion didn't have its normal calming effect. He ran as though he were being pursued by something dark and relentless, and no matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't seem to shake off the feeling.

Why would the Chancellor ask Tibbs to do something that I could do for him?

He pushed a little harder. He really was feeling the effects of having let his own training slide.

Is Tibbs operating behind Zangan's back or is this all connected?

Keep going. Don't slow down.

Anakin's thoughts about Zangan didn't so much take the form of words as of dark and unpleasant images detailing what he would like to do to the offensive Cixassian. He kept running.

What didn't Master Medulla want to tell me? Why did he look at me so oddly?

Oh-oh. Thoughts are scattering. Try to get focus back. Run.

Why was Balé so terrified of the Chancellor?

One more circuit. Keep going. You're all over the place here.

What is Obi-Wan doing? And what is he worried about?

Yes! Second wind. Go.

I can't shake off this feeling. It's as though something is sticking to me.

Final sprint and then you can slow down.

Obi-Wan said to trust no one.

Breathe. Keep jogging. Breathe.

Why can't I get my thoughts clear?

Run as he might, Anakin couldn't shake off the sense that the dreams were still with him somehow. And he couldn't seem to center himself.

When he finally gave it up and returned to his room with trembling knees and ragged breath despite a lengthy cool-down, he realized that he had only a short time before he was expected to report to the Jedi Council on the week's activities in the Senate. At the moment he had no idea what he was going to say, and there was no time to meditate beforehand.

Not good.

While he was showering and dressing Anakin made superhuman efforts to calm himself and clear his thinking. He almost had achieved a particular state of inner stoniness that often substituted for genuine calm when Padmé called out to him. The wrench of missing her threatened to unbalance him again.

Anakin? Can you come to see us?

Us. He liked the sound of that.

Soon, he replied, longing to go right now.

Please come. I need to talk to you.

It was not a helpful addition to his state of mind.

I will, he reassured her as he walked toward the Council Chamber, resigning himself to standing before his Jedi Masters with an untidy mind. It wasn't just an unpleasant prospect. If you had something to hide it was tantamount to stepping in front of a moving speeder with the throttle open and expecting to live. The Council members were the most powerful Jedi in the Galaxy, and Master Yoda knew him far too well for comfort.

He wasn't worried about hiding the extent to which his life was linked with Padmé's. Their attachment was well known; their marriage, as far as he knew, well hidden. She had become so much a part of him that for the Jedi Masters to perceive all the nuances of their commitment to one another would have been like trying to distinguish among different kinds of cells in a single body.

The other areas of his life were more difficult to shield from a circle of powerful adepts who, he believed, were intent on judging him. His feelings toward Balé were raw and volatile. She had brought a painful awareness of new possibilities into his life that once again had unleashed the demons of wanting something that he wasn't supposed to have. Family life called to him and Anakin found himself aching for it the way he had longed for Padmé when he thought she was out of his reach - breathlessly, and in a state of constant yearning. It was a weakness, and one that a Jedi Master would be able to perceive without difficulty.

But what he was really having trouble with was anger. He was simmering with antagonism at Zangan, and Tibbs, and Lon, and even the Chancellor, if it turned out that he was being played for a fool. At Master Medulla, for his knowing-but-not-telling look. At the bureaucrats and the soldiers and the gossips.

Stop this, he ordered himself. Stop this now. Breathe. Calm down. It's only going to get you in trouble.

He arrived outside of the Council Chamber and waited to be called inside.

What was he afraid of? He had been reporting to the Council regularly for many weeks without incident. Why did this time feel different? Not long before he had been resigned to being removed from the Order, telling himself that it didn't matter. So why was he concerned now that the Council might probe his weaknesses and divine his secrets? What had changed?

I am a Jedi.

Anakin had changed. He was no longer on lockdown. All of the feelings he had held back, suppressed, denied were surging up full force and he couldn't seem to stop them. His inner armor had come away and he couldn't contain himself any more.

I was born to be a Jedi.

If he had learned anything from his time in Senate working for the Chancellor, it was that he didn't belong in that world. He was a powerful Jedi. He had lost those powers and still they had returned, and that could only mean that he was meant to use them, and that he had a purpose to fulfill. He could not imagine fulfilling his purpose within the suffocating boundaries of the ordinary lives that he now saw all around him every day. The Jedi were not only protectors and defenders, which in Anakin's eyes was the most noble calling, but they existed in a kind of separate realm outside of the ordinary run of things - they operated freely in all spheres and their actions were restricted only by their own unique Code.

Anakin couldn't imagine any other kind of life than that of a Jedi Knight, although in his soul those dreams were not separate from his determination to have a family life. He just assumed that he would find a way to have both. As far as he was concerned the only thing standing between him and the existence he yearned for - and was meant to have - were those twelve Jedi Masters inside that Council Chamber. They held his dreams in their hands, and if he stood before them in turmoil and without complete control over his thoughts and feelings, they would continue to judge him unfit for the one thing he was most suited for.

Lon will probably have not only his Knighthood but also his own Padawan before the Council ever judges me worthy to become a Knight, he thought resentfully. If they ever do.

He managed to keep from sweating outright, but try as he might Anakin was unable to center himself. Inwardly he was a mess, and he was terrified that they would see it. When facing an enemy he at least had a fighting chance. When facing the Council, he didn't.

Anger and now fear, too. You're really in for it this time, Skywalker.

The massive door to the Council Chamber opened of its own accord and Anakin gathered himself as well as he could and strode inside.

"Welcome, Anakin," Master Windu said. Anakin bowed.

The discussion began as usual. The Council members asked questions and Anakin answered, never volunteering information that had not been specifically requested, although he dutifully reported his suspicions regarding the misdirection of intelligence information. As always they asked many of the same questions they asked every time, as though to verify whether his answers changed in nuance or emphasis or detail from week to week. And as always Anakin could not tell from the nature of the questions what exactly they were looking for. They never gave him specific tasks. Anakin almost had given up trying to understand what they wanted from him in this Senate assignment.

After the questions and answers there was some discussion among the Council in which they included Anakin when he had something to offer. The discussion proceeded as smoothly as it had in all previous weeks and Anakin began to relax.

Then Master Gallia spoke up.

"We have received formal complaints from several Delegates about Jedi involvement.." She paused and corrected herself ".Jedi interference in Senate security matters. Apparently these Senators have been warned by the Security Department that the reorganization of Senate security is being carried out in a way that is ill conceived and likely to increase the Senate's exposure to outside threats. They have lodged a formal protest with us and with the Office of the Supreme Chancellor."

Anakin felt a burst of red rage. Zangan.

All eyes turned to him, as if inviting him to comment.

Master Windu nodded at Anakin, who controlled himself enough outwardly to say that he was aware of these accusations, that they were based on the jealousy of the bureaucrats who had the authority taken out of their hands, and that as far as he knew the Chancellor approved of the changes that had been made. Then he shut up in order to have more energy to battle his feelings.

"The Chancellor is not an expert in security," Mace Windu said straightforwardly to Anakin. "He relies on your skills and your judgment in this matter. Are you fully confident in your work?"

Anakin was ready to explode. Why am I the one whose competence is being questioned? Why do I have to prove myself over and over again?

He managed to stop and take a deep quiet breath, which only just prevented him from shaking with rage.

"I am confident in my work," Anakin gasped out shortly, and then held his tongue again.

There was a pause for consideration.

"Very well," Master Windu said, and turned to look at Master Gallia. "Adi?"

She nodded, and the discussion turned to other matters. There wasn't the slightest indication from any Council member that Anakin's struggle with his feelings had been noticed.

He was stunned.

He stood before them with an attitude of respect, looking just as he ought to. But they droned on and on. He looked at their eyes - the eyes he had feared because he thought they could penetrate into his soul. Suddenly these twelve people no longer seemed prescient.

Anakin looked at Master Yoda, with whom he had spoken and meditated only days before, and saw that the Ancient One was indeed watching him carefully. And yet. and yet. Anakin did not have the feeling that he was being perceived.

The sensation of being hidden from the Council members' perception was so strong that Anakin dared to try an experiment. Recklessly he allowed himself to visualize Zangan's destruction without trying to control the emotions that went along with the powerful fantasy.

Nothing. There wasn't a single reaction anywhere in the Chamber. The discussion continued around him exactly as before.

They can't see me! I can hide in plain sight and they can't see me! Anakin felt the way he had in Padmé's office watching Dellia and Lon. He would have liked to dance around the Council chamber! For the first time since his recovery he felt powerful. Really powerful. If power was the freedom to act as he saw fit, without being held back and challenged all the time, then that was how he felt. Powerful. and free.

Master Windu was speaking now.

"Anakin, you are to continue with your assigned tasks. If Chancellor Palpatine has more work for you, carry it out. Don't concern yourself with the intelligence problems any more than they directly affect your duties. We have others working on that aspect."

Not like me, you don't, Anakin thought. He did not intend to abandon his investigations. He had promised Padmé that he would help her.

"Continue your meetings with Master Yoda and report back to us as usual in a week's time," Master Windu finished.

Anakin turned to his ancient teacher and bowed politely in acknowledgement. Ask me how I feel, he thought. I dare you. There was no indication of a response.

Anakin left the Council chamber a different person than the one who had gone in.

Things have changed, he thought gleefully. Everything is going to be different now.

* * * * *

After Anakin's departure from the Council Chamber there was a long silence.

"It seems our plan is working," Mace Windu finally said sadly.

"Found him, the Darkness has," Yoda said softly. "Shrouded, he is."

Adi Gallia added, "Even in the face of a direct challenge to his competence he remained completely unreadable. That is not like Anakin."

"Cloaked, his feelings are," Yoda pointed out. "Not controlled. Sense them, I still can." He looked around at his worried colleagues. "Work with him, I will, to help him hold fast."

"Perhaps we should pull him back now," Mace said heavily. "Before things get to the point where we can no longer reach him."

"That would leave us in the same position as before," Plo Koon reminded him. "Do you have an alternate suggestion? Our ability to see through the Force declines every day. Until the Sith move openly our hands are tied."

"Tell him of his role soon, we must," Master Yoda insisted.

Master Windu sighed. "I wish we could tell him now. But for the trap to work it must appear that none of us is aware of the movements in the dark side. Especially not Anakin."

"What news is there from Master Kenobi?" Adi asked.

"He has confirmed that assassins are being recruited and trained on D'lai," Mace said quietly, staring into some sorrowful distance. "As we suspected, they are being taught to target Jedi. Force-interrupter devices like the one used to attack Obi-Wan on Naboo are being manufactured there."

"Is there reason to believe this is somehow connected with Anakin?" Plo asked.

Mace shrugged and looked down. "Many things seem to be connected with Anakin," he said. "We don't yet know how." After another moment's silence he looked around the Council Chamber, catching the eye of each Council member in turn. "Are we all agreed to continue with this plan?"

The troubled silence indicated acquiescence.

Chapter 17. A Matter of Trust


When Anakin finally arrived at Padmé's apartment, hours after he had said he would come, he suffered an onslaught of very unexpected greetings. To begin with, Sabé opened to door to him with a big smile, grabbed his arm and practically pulled him inside.

"I'm so glad you're here!"

Anakin looked at her suspiciously while allowing himself to be carried along.

"You have been sorely missed," Sabé said with the utmost sweetness. Anakin assumed Padmé was the one who had missed him and glanced over to find her standing quietly by the wide window, and therefore reacted a fraction of a second too late to avoid being temporarily winded by a kind of flying bludgeon that caught him squarely in the stomach.

"Oof," he grunted, catching the small terrorist and lifting her up onto his arm to prevent further attacks. She threw her arms around his neck, making him reflect that being strangled was not a much better alternative.

"Hey," he gasped. "If I can't breathe, I'm no good to you."

Balé eased off immediately and pulled back enough for him to look at the grinning child. She seemed to be partially covered with an odd powdery substance, and his trained Jedi mind quickly deduced that by now he probably also was covered with it. He looked down at himself and gave his robes a desultory brushing.

"Flour," said Sabé very, very helpfully, having noticed the gesture. "Balé has been waiting for you all morning. We've been baking to pass the time."

Ah. His failure to arrive in a timely fashion was manifest, and Sabé certainly knew how to point it out. At least on that front things were normal after all. Anakin was almost relieved.

"You look like a Jedi again," Balé said, scrutinizing him. She was a tireless observer of his appearance.

"Is something burning?" Anakin asked to distract her long enough so that he could make contact with Padmé, who had watched the whole scene wishing that she could throw herself at him too. She hadn't really talked to him since their tense discussion on the landing platform while waiting for Balé's shuttle, and it was awful how much she had missed him. But with Captain Typho lounging on the sofa she restrained herself.

Balé looked at her favorite playmate dubiously, but then scrambled down and ran to the kitchen just to make sure. Anakin reckoned he had about a minute and a half before the next assault, and used it to greet Padmé silently in a way that made it abundantly clear to her that he felt exactly the same way. Anakin took in the fact that she was dressed formally, as for a meeting or a session of the Senate.

"Skywalker!" Captain Typho called Anakin over. "Just the person I need to see."

That makes a change, Anakin thought, suspicious again. He knew the good Captain blamed him for failing to protect his beloved mistress and getting her tangled up in the Battle at Geonosis. For some reason Typho's manner toward him had become even colder after his last visit to Naboo. Anakin approached him with his senses on alert.

"I have a message for you," the Captain said, a bit stiffly. "I did not have the opportunity to give it to you upon our arrival, for which I apologize."

Anakin frowned. "From whom?"

Typho shrugged. "It's a diplomatic packet that came sealed directly from the Office of the Queen. I am merely passing it on."

Anakin thanked him and took the odd, old-fashioned parchment packet into his hand and scanned it through the Force, this time managing to maintain his focus even when assaulted once again by a determined child. He caught Balé before she could catch him and swung her up onto his back, never taking his eyes off the message. It seemed as though Typho's hands were the only ones that had handled it, and the holoseal was the original one. He suspected it was from Obi-Wan. Odd.

"Can you play with me now?" Balé begged over his shoulder as Anakin moved closer to the window and to Padmé, who still had not said a single word.

"I am here at the command of Senator Amidala," Anakin said to the child, all the time looking warmly into the Senator's eyes, "who has requested my presence for a meeting. When she is finished with me, I'm all yours."

Balé slumped dramatically on his back. "Oh, no," she moaned. "Not talking again."

Padmé smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Balé. But I do need to borrow him. I should be finished by the time your cake is done."

However reckless her behavior with Anakin, Balé was much more judicious with Padmé, and she slid obediently back down to the floor.

"It will be done very soon," she said meaningfully and headed reluctantly back to the kitchen. Sabé grinned and followed her.

"Do you mind if I read this first?" Anakin asked quickly.

Padmé shook her head, looking at him intently. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"Why?" he asked, startled.

"I don't know. You seem." She couldn't think of the right words. "Cloudy. As though something is weighing on you."

Anakin shrugged. There was no point in telling her about the dreams right now. I slept alone last night, he pointed out.

Padmé smiled and walked over to sit next to Captain Typho to allow Anakin to read his message in private.

He turned it over in his hands once more and broke the seal to find a finely written page folded over a strange device.

It was from Obi-Wan, and Anakin couldn't believe that his supremely cautious former Master had entrusted this message to this route.

And he tells me not to trust anyone.

The message was again written in riddles and it would take longer to work out every detail. But in essence Anakin was given to understand that Obi-Wan was now on Naboo, that the planet was the location for much illegal activity, of which the Naboo themselves were largely unaware, and that Anakin was to study the enclosed device carefully and take care never to fall prey to one like it.

Anakin looked at the object in his hand. It was a small, rounded metal box with two long prongs emerging from one end, and appeared to be designed to fit comfortably into the palm of a hand. He turned it over and over, intrigued and wondering about its inner workings. The motion or a touch must have triggered a switch or a sensor because in the space of half a heartbeat he was doubled over with pain. The device was in his living hand. He dropped to the floor like a stone and with his last strength managed to bring his now vibrating right hand over to it and find a way to turn it off. Anakin lay crumpled on the floor gasping while Padmé and her Security Chief rushed toward him.

Anakin suddenly had a very clear picture of how the device worked and of its intended purpose. He could imagine vividly the effects it could have if the prongs had entered his body. The pain it had caused was the very, very familiar result of severe Force disruption.

Padmé got to him first, reaching out for him in wordless shock.

Typho reached out for the device, but Anakin managed to clench his hand to prevent him taking it.

"Don't," he gasped. "Dangerous."

Typho pulled his hand away while Padmé cradled Anakin's head.

After a few more minutes of concentration on his breathing Anakin managed to sit up, still holding the now quiescent device with great caution.

"What happened?" Padmé whispered, terrified. Seeing Anakin like this brought back too many dreadful memories.

"Stupidity," he groaned. "Complete, inexcusable stupidity."

"What is that thing?" Typho demanded impatiently.

Anakin took a few more stabilizing breaths before answering. "It's a weapon. A specialized weapon designed to kill the Force-sensitive quickly and easily, provided you can get close enough." He rolled forward and flexed his legs. They seemed to be functioning. "It's very effective."

Padmé shuddered. "Why?" she wondered out loud. "Who?"

Anakin stretched his arm out to Typho, who helped him up.

"This one," Anakin said when he had his balance back, "apparently came from Naboo."

Padmé and Captain Typho glanced hurriedly at one another. Anakin caught the look.

"Is this what we need to talk about?" he asked.

Padmé guided him over to one of the sofas.

"Captain Typho has brought disturbing news," she said.

"My Lady," the Captain said hurriedly, "I'm not sure this information should be shared."

"Well, I am," Padmé snapped more sharply than she had intended, and the Captain fell silent.

Anakin made himself lean forward to place the device gingerly on a nearby table, then uncharacteristically allowed himself to sink back into the cushions to ease the ache. He was grateful when it brought a little relief.

All three of them stared at the innocuous-looking device in silence for a moment.

Balé stuck her head around the corner. "Are you finished yet?"

"No!" Chorused the three adults simultaneously. Startled, she disappeared again.

Padmé looked at her Security Chief. "Perhaps, Captain, you had better begin."

Typho sat down reluctantly and addressed Anakin.

"As you know, Naboo has been host to a large garrison of the Army of the Republic since. well, since you were there. As you can imagine, we have not been happy about hosting this force."

Anakin nodded. He knew all right. Padmé's fury at having the garrison imposed upon Naboo had been a constant in his life for some time.

"In order to safeguard out autonomy and. well, our sovereignty," Typho went on uncomfortably, "we keep a close eye on the activities of this Republican Army outpost." Anakin remained silent and attentive, so Typho continued. It was obvious that he was deeply uncomfortable discussing these matters with an outsider. Even a Jedi.

"Our. observers. have reported a number of disturbing facts that, pieced together, have led us to the conclusion that there is a great deal more going on from that base that simple protective patrols." Captain Typho's mouth had a bitter twist, as though it had cost him a great deal to say those words.

"Go on," said Anakin, knowing that there had to be more to cause the Captain this much distress.

"We have reason to believe. " Captain Typho went on, and then stopped, as though he couldn't continue. Padmé put her hand over his to encourage him. "We have evidence," Captain Typho soldiered on, "indicating that Naboo is being used as a base for raids carried out by the Army of the Republic on our allies in the sector. In effect, the Army is carrying out pre-emptive raids on planets within the Republic."

Anakin frowned. How could that possibly be happening?

"Why?" he demanded, a bit sharply. "Why would they do that?"

"There is a great deal of evidence to support this assertion," Typho insisted, seeing Anakin's expression. Then, when Anakin did not respond, he turned to Padmé. "My Lady, I don't see the point of sharing this very sensitive information."

Padmé gently placed her hand on her Security Chief's arm to silence him and continued the explanation herself.

"Anakin, we believe they are carrying out these raids on any planet they suspect of harboring Separatists, and that they are doing it secretly, bypassing diplomatic channels, and without the express consent of the Senate."

Anakin absorbed this devastating assertion for a moment before replying.

"So that the Republic will have an excuse to occupy those planets in the same way that they occupy Naboo?"

Padmé and Typho nodded.

Anakin didn't want to believe it. If it were true, it would mean that the Chancellor had authorized the raids. No actions of that scope would take place without his knowledge or consent. "That's illegal," he frowned. "Why would the Republic do that? The Chancellor wants to end this war. He only wants peace."

"Anakin," Padmé said gently, "you and I have discussed that fact that the official information provided to me as Senator, and perhaps to all Senators, is incomplete, if not downright false. You said you would help me to get to the bottom of this. I need your help more than ever now."

Anakin leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, stretching his back in the process. The pain was beginning to subside.

"Do you have an idea which planets are being attacked?" he asked, still reluctant to believe Typho's story.

"We have a list," Typho said shortly.

This is my day for lists, Anakin thought, staring at the floor.

"I have a list, too," he said. Well, I will shortly. "A list of planets suspected of having Separatist leanings."

Padmé looked at him in surprise.

"New information," Anakin explained. "I haven't had a chance to tell you."

Captain Typho looked from one to the other, weighing their conversation carefully.

"I'd like to compare them," Padmé said with a flinty edge in her voice.

"We will," Anakin assured her. It was the only way to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps the Naboo were mistaken. Then he caught sight of the folded parchment that lay on the table next to the force-disruptor weapon. Obi-Wan had spoken of illegal activities on Naboo.

Typho couldn't contain himself any more.

"If what we suspect is true, and if anything we have said here today gets out - a breath, a hint, even a suspicion, we the Naboo could be accused of treachery and suffer a terrible fate." He glared at Anakin with pent-up displeasure and distrust of long standing. "Any slip or betrayal on your part could cost Senator Amidala, and the rest of us, dearly."

Why does everyone assume I am going to fail? Why does no one trust me? Anakin thought angrily, still bristling from having his competence questioned by the Jedi Council.

Before he could answer Padmé took both of Anakin's gloved hands in her own and looked into his eyes, making Captain Typho squirm uncomfortably.

"Anakin has all my faith and all my trust," she said softly to the Captain while never taking her eyes off Anakin's. "He will never let any harm come to me, or to us."

Anakin's bitterness dissolved like ice in a warm rain.

"We will get to the bottom of this," he said, brimming over with gratitude. "I promise you."

"Now are you done?" Balé's voice called out from the vicinity of the kitchen.

Anakin glanced at Padmé, who nodded. "It depends," he called back toward the kitchen, "on whether there's cake."

There was a giggle followed by a muffled flurry of activity.

"Are you all right now?" Padmé asked Anakin. Captain Typho couldn't help noticing that she was still holding both of the Jedi's hands in her own.

Anakin smiled a little. Your touch is healing, he told her in a wave of thanks. The Force is strong with you. It wasn't just his body that felt better with her touch. The hazy feeling that still lingered from last night's dreams was leaving him too. For the first time since waking up he felt centered.

Aloud he said, "I just need cake."

I miss you, Padmé informed him in no uncertain terms. It wasn't just a night's closeness she missed. She longed to include Anakin in every part of her life, all the time. She wanted him by her side in everything.

"Can you stay with Balé this afternoon?" she asked out loud. "Chancellor Palpatine has called an emergency session of the Senate. I have to go. Captain Typho will escort me, and Sabé has other duties."

"Why an emergency session?" Anakin was suddenly alert. He hadn't heard anything about it.

"No one knows. No one seems to have received an agenda."

"Of course I'll stay with her," Anakin said warmly. "But I have to stop by the Senate as well." To get the list, he added privately. Now that the conversation had turned somewhat more mundane Padmé relinquished her hold on Anakin's hands, leaving him feeling disconnected. But he seemed to have recovered from the effects of the Force disruptor. "Perhaps we can meet you later."

Balé emerged from the kitchen triumphantly, carrying a large platter with an equally large cake. Sabé was right behind her carrying smaller plates and keeping a close eye on the wobbling platter in the child's hands. Balé shrieked when the plate suddenly slipped from her hands, rose into the air, and floated safely to the table between the sofas. Under cover of the excitement Anakin carefully wrapped up the Force disruptor weapon in the parchment and stowed it safely away in his belt.

Once she realized she hadn't dropped the cake after all Balé laughed and jumped feet first onto the sofa next to Anakin, more like a back street ruffian than a Nubian lady.

All at once Padmé wondered what kind of mischief was going to take place in her absence. She wished passionately that she could stay with them - not to stop the mischief, but to enjoy it. For some reason the idea of this afternoon's Senate session filled her with dread.

"Yes, why don't you pick me up at the Senate this evening?" she agreed. It gave her something to look forward to.

The cake was ceremonially served and duly praised. Captain Typho sat quietly eating his portion and watching the domestic scene with a troubled mind. He was proud to enjoy the confidence of one Jedi Knight - the one who had given him the packet and to whom he readily had given his solemn vow that he would reveal nothing of the origins of the message, the Knight's presence on Naboo or his role in their investigations. Master Kenobi had accepted his vow and thereby entrusted his life to Typho, an honor the Captain held sacred. But Anakin still troubled him, and the Senator's obvious, almost heedless devotion to this particular Jedi worried and grieved the devoted Security Chief.

Typho was convinced of the Supreme Chancellor's involvement in the activities they had uncovered. He just didn't know where Anakin fit in.

* * * * *

There go two more, Dar Wac thought to himself as another pair of unhappy-looking Delegates scurried past his desk looking as though they couldn't wait to be out the door. His Master had been in a foul mood all day, and it was spilling over into every area, even those in which Palpatine normally kept his legendary outer calm.

Sure enough, he was summoned into the inner office.

"Cancel my appointments until the special session," Chancellor Palpatine said. "I have business elsewhere."

The Rodian knew better to ask where his Master was going. His job was to keep the Chancellor's office running and give no information at all about his Master's whereabouts or activities when he didn't wish to be found. Not that he was privy to any aspect of the Chancellor's life that took place outside of the Senate building itself. Gathering his courage, he did venture one tiny question.

"Will there.will there be an agenda to distribute for the Special Session, My Lord?"

"No!" his Master barked, making his faithful assistant flinch. "It is not required for an emergency session. Let them wait to hear what I have to say." He paused for a moment's thought. "When my guests arrive, have them wait in my inner office until I send for them."

Dar Wac bowed most submissively. "Yes, My Lord. Will you require a guard?"

"I'll take the two that are standing outside," Palpatine growled. "Have my pilot report to my personal transport immediately."

"Yes, My Lord." Dar Wac scurried away before there was an opportunity for him to become the target of his Master's ire.

Without further delay Chancellor Palpatine got up and moved toward the door of his office. The two Elite Senate Guards fell into step with him, one in front, and one at the rear.

"You will escort me to my personal shuttle and then leave me," the Chancellor said, and then fell into a stony silence.

Chapter 18. The Tangled Web - Part I


Left to their own devices Anakin and Balé found unlimited diversions. They went exploring and discovered that the apartment building had a roof garden. Planters became planets, pathways became space lanes, and the Galaxy was threatened and saved many times over. Balé was the delighted recipient of some extremely entertaining lessons in hand-to-hand combat. Anakin's energy and imagination matched her own, but eventually even she tired and they settled down for a rest amid the greenery. Balé idly watched the air traffic while Anakin pulled out the letter from Obi-Wan and worked carefully to unravel all of its secrets. The more he learned, the more he missed his former Master.

Everything Obi-Wan hinted at in the letter, just like all of Anakin's recent experiences, only raised more questions. Throughout Anakin's life in the Order Obi-Wan had supplied answers, helped him solve problems and provided endless lectures on subjects Anakin couldn't have cared less about. Unfortunately all those subjects were the ones that held the keys to the problems that now confronted him. He wished he had paid better attention. It seemed you couldn't solve economic and political woes with a light saber.

Out of nowhere Padmé's thoughts broke into Anakin's with the force of a storm.

Anakin! she cried out in his mind.

Mindful of the child next to him, instead of leaping up as he wanted to he casually folded up the letter and tucked it safely away in his belt. But his entire being went onto alert.

What is it? Has someone hurt you?

Her thoughts were incoherent at first, and then resolved themselves into something like words.

Not in that way. But oh, Anakin, we are moving toward tyranny. The Galaxy is becoming a dictatorship.

Hold on, he sent, not understanding fully and not knowing what else to say or do. We're coming.

Anakin continued to sit quietly, looking deceptively relaxed while his mind worked furiously. Then he reached for his COM link. His call was brief and met with success.

"Time to go, Warrior," he said to Balé as he stood up and helped her to her feet. Anakin had discovered Balé's bloodthirsty streak. She had killed him twice already that afternoon, with great enthusiasm.

"Where?"

"To see Padmé at the Senate. But before that there is someone I want you to meet."

"Who?" she asked curiously. She was ready for any new adventure as long as Anakin was there, but new people made her nervous.

"A young friend of mine. A Jedi," he said conversationally, while directing their steps to the building's landing platform at a pretty fast pace.

"A boy or a girl?" Balé was already beginning to feel shy.

"A boy," Anakin said, using the COM link again to order an air taxi. Padmé had taken her personal transport.

"Boys are stupid," Balé declared, hiding her anxiety in bravado.

Anakin looked down at her. "I'm a boy," he reminded her.

Balé laughed at his silliness. "You're a grownup," she corrected him.

Anakin conceded the point.

"Well, Poulin is in between being a boy and a grownup," he explained.

Balé thought about this while they climbed into the taxi, which was waiting for them by the time they reached the platform.

"Will I like him?" she wondered, snuggling close to Anakin, who was sitting sideways as usual in the confined space.

"I do," Anakin said. That seemed to satisfy her, for she spent the rest of the short journey looking out the window with interest, leaving Anakin the space to think.

The emergency session of the Senate. It had to be something to do with the emergency session. Anakin reached out to Padmé with his thoughts and found that she was traumatized; he felt her anguish and confusion as waves of misery and pain. He didn't realize that he was fingering his light saber while he deliberated.

Poulin was waiting for them on the Senate landing platform when they arrived. The journey had taken only minutes and Anakin was grateful for the boy's quick response.

"Balé, this is Poulin Brith," Anakin said by way of introduction. "Brith, this is my friend Balé. Senator Amidala's daughter."

Poulin managed to raise his eyebrows in Anakin's direction while greeting the child warmly.

Anakin leveled a severe Shut Up look at him, and Poulin grinned.

"Is it all right with Master Medulla that you're here?" Anakin asked as they walked into the building. Balé was predictably uncertain and clung to Anakin's hand while watching the new Jedi out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't as tall as her own Jedi, but he looked like a grownup to her.

Poulin laughed. "He's feeling guilty about having kept me cloistered in those dusty library storage rooms so long, even though I don't mind. He thought it would be good for me to get out for a while."

"He knows it's me, right?" Anakin said dubiously.

"He actually thinks pretty highly of you since my saber qualification improved so much," Poulin said cheerfully. "It saved him the trouble."

Despite his worries Anakin laughed. He was in a tearing hurry, but it was essential that he not appear to be, for Balé's sake.

"We have your information, by the way," Poulin added matter-of-factly.

"I was hoping you would," Anakin admitted. "I need it now. Can you have it for me when I pick up Balé?" He hoped Poulin understood how essential secrecy was.

The boy nodded.

Now came the hard part.

"Balé," Anakin said, dropping down on one knee in front of her, "I need to go take care of some things. Would you mind staying with Poulin for a while?"

"Can't I come with you?" Balé asked in a small voice. "I thought we were meeting Padmé."

"We will, but she's not quite finished yet. I have to get some information she needs and it's something I have to do on my own. I won't be long, I promise."

He looked at Poulin. "Stay down near the training rooms and the barracks."

Poulin got the message. There was something going on, and the little girl needed to be kept out of sight and protected. He nodded.

"I don't want to," Balé protested.

Anakin felt time growing shorter by the second.

"I thought you wanted to learn how to fight?" he asked, blatantly appealing to her fierce side.

Balé's look changed to one of interest.

"Poulin is one of the best swordfighters in the Galaxy," Anakin vowed, to the boy's utter astonishment. "He can teach you like no one else."

Balé looked at Poulin dubiously.

"I taught him," Anakin said, in desperation.

As far as Balé was concerned, that made it all right. She had watched Anakin fight with swords.

"OK," she agreed.

"Training swords," Anakin suggested to the astounded Poulin. "You'll be fine." And before he could hear any more protests, he sprinted away.

Where are you? he called out to Padmé.

All he could feel from her was gut-wrenching grief. He ran as if his life depended on it, reaching out through the Force to locate her as he went, and found himself hurtling straight toward the Senate Chamber.

* * * * *

As he came closer Anakin could hear from the shouting and calling inside that the emergency session was close to being out of order. He let himself into the gallery at the Chamber's highest point, far above the floating pods and the pillar at its heart where the Chancellor stood with several members of his staff. Master Windu and Master Yoda were there, watching the proceedings. They nodded tersely as Anakin came up behind them and then turned their attention back to the bedlam below.

Anakin crept far enough inside so that he had a clear view of the scene.

On the floor of the Chamber, far below the platform from which the Chancellor was attempting to bring order back to the proceedings, stood several rings of silent soldiers in gray uniforms with peaked caps. They stood at attention with their legs in their shining black boots slightly splayed and arms behind their backs, facing outward from the pillar toward the pods. As far as Anakin could tell from this distance, most of them appeared to be human or humanoid. Everywhere throughout the Chamber delegates were standing in their pods, gesticulating according to their custom and species, and shouting. It was chaos.

Padmé, Anakin called out silently. Master Windu looked at him briefly, having sensed a surge in the Force, and then turned his attention back to the scene below.

Anakin silenced his thoughts and searched with his eyes. From his current vantage point he could barely see her pod, but he made out her figure and that of Captain Typho next to her. Instead of a response all Anakin received when he touched her mind with his was a powerful array of emotions ranging from despair to rage.

Chancellor Palpatine continued his efforts to make himself heard over the shouting.

"My friends," he said several times, over the din. Then suddenly his voice, although still not raised, seemed to rise above the noise and the room quieted down.

Anakin felt the hairs rise on his arms and the back of his neck. The whole Chamber seemed charged with some kind of energy, but he couldn't identify what or where it came from no matter how hard he searched. He glanced at the Jedi Masters but didn't notice any change in their quiet, attentive demeanor.

"My friends," Palpatine began again, "this is not a path I would have chosen if there were any alternatives. But our foes confront us with these harsh and evil realities, and if we do not engage them vigorously, with all the resources at our disposal, they will succeed in pushing us back farther and farther until there is nothing left in the Galaxy but anarchy!" As the Chancellor's last words rang out the Chamber was suddenly and eerily silent.

Using the silence to emphasize his words Palpatine went on. "These officers have been carefully trained as directed in the Military Training Act passed by this august body not long ago. Their assignment as military governors in those star systems most threatened by Separatist activity will help to protect what we hold most dear - our freedom and our democracy! Their role is military and remains strictly a part of the war effort. They are not a threat to your sovereignty!"

Shout went up. "Yes they are!" "This is the first step toward dictatorship!" "We will not tolerate it!" A roar rose again as many other delegates joined in the outcry.

Chancellor Palpatine raised both arms in a reassuring gesture.

"Calm yourselves, my friends! Calm yourselves!" Again his voice commanded attention. "This action has been taken with the greatest care and the highest regard for the good of the Republic!"

"Says who?" someone bellowed. Jeers broke out. "How has it been decided which systems should have a military governor?"

Others around the Chamber took up the cry. "Show us how those decisions have been made! And by whom!"

The Supreme Chancellor allowed the din to carry on for a while longer. The rings of silent, motionless soldiers at the heart of the Chamber stood in marked contrast to the activity and commotion everywhere else. Only the Jedi Masters stood as still. Anakin noted how the Force rose and surged between them.

"We have used the best information available, provided by the Galaxy's most trusted protectors, to determine where the greatest threats lie. These determinations have been made by none other than the Jedi Order itself!"

There was a momentary lull in the Chamber that suddenly turned into pandemonium again. Anakin could feel the atmosphere turn dark and threatening. Again he looked to the Jedi Masters for enlightenment, but they were engaged in an intense, hushed conversation.

"That information was never meant to be used publicly, or for a purpose like this," Master Windu remarked quietly to Master Yoda. "Our analysis was intended solely to help us identify and calm potential trouble spots. And it was prepared at the Chancellor's request."

Yoda's gaze sank to the floor. There was a heaviness about him. "Never before in this way, has the Jedi Order been used," he said equally softly. "For political expedience. Terrible consequences, I foresee."

Anakin looked from one to the other. Lon had been working on this information on the Order's behalf, and the Chancellor had obtained it through Tibbs..

The uproar in the Chamber was getting worse, but this time the Chancellor was not making any efforts to quell it.

"Traitors!" "The Jedi have gone too far!" "Who are they to decide our fates?"

Anakin was stunned at the sudden turn of events. In a single moment the thousand-year reputation of the Jedi Order as trusted guardians of the Galaxy had been called into question, leaving doubt and suspicion about the Order's motives in the minds of many.

Suddenly Padmé's thoughts broke into his awareness.

Anakin - I need that list before it disappears. I have to know whether Naboo appears on it. Please.I'm desperate. I need to know what we are facing.

Don't worry, he reassured her, relieved to be able to take action. I'll get it. At least this was something definite he could do.

He glanced at the bowed heads of the Jedi Masters one more time and slipped out of the Chamber, thinking quickly about where best to find what he sought.

Tibbs, he decided. Definitely Tibbs first. Anakin launched himself toward the Deputy Security Chief's office.

* * * * *

Anakin was relieved to find Tibbs in his office. That would make things easier. As far as he could determine, Zangan was nowhere nearby. He made a point of appearing before the Deputy Chief suddenly and silently, like a ghost. Tibbs looked up to find Anakin staring him in the face without warning, and shuddered.

"The Chancellor asked me to get from you a copy of the list you recently obtained from the Intelligence Department," Anakin lied. "The one that details systems likely to harbor Separatists."

Tibbs looked at him with narrowed eyes. "That document is classified. If the Chancellor wanted you to have it, he would give it to you personally."

"Actually," Anakin persisted, stepping even closer and glowering down at the Deputy Chief menacingly, "he expressly asked me to get it from you."

Tibbs scowled back at him with a creditable amount of courage.

"Why?" he demanded.

"It's a test," Anakin lied further, irritated that Tibbs hadn't caved immediately. "One I suggest you pass. I'm getting another copy from a different source. My job is to compare them." It was complete rubbish and Tibbs had no idea what he was talking about. But it sounded just plausible enough, and certainly threatening enough, to make the ever-cautious Deputy Chief doubt his own judgment. He hesitated.

"Give it to me now," Anakin demanded through the Force, moving his hand only slightly. Come on Tibbs, he thought urgently. I don't have the time for this. Be afraid, and give me the list.

Tibbs was giving in, and Anakin felt it, when they were interrupted by Chief Zangan's most unwelcome and deeply hostile presence.

"Skywalker!" he snarled. "What are you doing here?"

Anakin ignored him, keeping his focus on his prey.

"Tibbs?" Anakin said warningly.

"Whatever this snot-nosed lapdog wants, don't give it to him," Zangan barked.

Tibbs hesitated. Anakin lost his patience completely and whirled around to face his infuriating adversary.

"Stay out of my way, Zangan." In the background of his awareness Anakin could feel the tensions in the Senate Chamber rising to a peak, and his sense of urgency doubled. "Why don't you have extra security assigned to the Chamber, anyway? It's a cauldron in there."

"I assigned what was needed, if it's any of your business," the Cixassian said dismissively. "You'll just have to leave implementation to me."

Anakin paused. The impressions he was receiving through the Force spelled trouble with an urgency that overtook his other purpose. It was clear that the Security Chief had not paid any attention to the potential volatility of the emergency session and had no idea what he was dealing with. Unhesitatingly Anakin pulled out his COM link and ordered Pell to reinforce Chamber security on the double, specifying one of their recently designed contingency plans. Pell responded to Anakin unquestioningly, never mind the chain of command.

Zangan blew.

"You have no right! You don't have the authority!" he bellowed.

"Safety considerations override incompetence," Anakin snapped and turned back to Tibbs, who if anything had turned even paler.

"You have ten seconds," Anakin informed him, desperate to get back to the Chamber himself but unwilling to leave Tibbs to figure out that he wasn't obligated to give Anakin anything. It was now or never.

Tibbs inched toward his new and improved console, the result of a recent complete office renovation, but stopped when his Chief ordered him to.

"I said not to give this turdwallowing piece of bantha-offal anything!" Zangan shouted.

Anakin crashed headlong into the outside limits of his patience. Furious, he reached out with the Force and hurled the Chief of Senate Security halfway across the room so that he smashed heavily into the new wall opposite Tibbs' desk. The Deputy Chief watched his superior crumple to the floor at an awkward angle. Anakin didn't even look back. His eyes stayed on target.

"Five seconds," Anakin warned.

Tibbs took a shaky breath and slithered over to the console, having to make two attempts with trembling fingers to retrieve the data Anakin demanded.

Zangan groaned.

No sooner was the data chip in his hand then Anakin sprinted out of the office without a backward glance and threw himself toward the Senate Chamber. In the hallways leading to the Senate's center he encountered troops on rapid deployment coming from all sides, but he outran them all. Good job, Pell, he thought approvingly. It appeared that the plan was being carried out perfectly.

Suddenly Anakin felt a powerful call through the Force; Jedi were being summoned to the Chamber from everywhere in the Senate building and nearby. He silently willed Poulin to stay put with Balé and hurried even faster.

Padmé, Anakin tried again. Tell me what's going on now.

The combative atmosphere in the Chamber evidently had brought her back into focus, and she once again was fully alert and in control of her emotions. Anakin was proud of her. She really had courage.

Several systems have called for a vote of no confidence in the Chancellor. Additional Senate troops are gathering, but so are some of the security forces of individual delegates. It feels as though there will be conflict.

I sense that, too, Anakin answered. I'm almost there.

Chapter 19. The Tangled Web - Part II


Supreme Chancellor Palpatine surveyed the scene below him with contempt.

Fear and hostility rose and swirled through the vast Senate Chamber, infusing it with the eerie, crackling tension that precedes a violent storm. He cast the fine web of his awareness over the scene, noting every upheaval, every tug on the invisible strings, every roil of ill feeling and anchored himself more firmly at its center.

They were all so pathetic. So inefficient. So weak.

Pockets of security forces from various worlds were gathering at many of the entrances to the vast Chamber. The Republic's best and finest - their elected Representatives - stood in their pods trying to out shout one another. The Chancellor glanced at his monitors to observe the behavior of the cluster from the Outer Rim Territories. The sycophants, he called them. The toadies. He perceived their fear as a dense mist that drifted and clung wherever it settled. He scanned the room slowly. The arrogant ones from the strong and wealthy sectors fared no better. Their feeble passions fed his web and only served to strengthen it.

He waited.

The Senator from the Alderaan system took the floor and after several attempts managed to make himself heard.

"I call for a Vote of No Confidence in Chancellor Palpatine!"

You're a fool, Organa. You will never unseat me. Not now. Not ever.

The call was seconded throughout the Chamber, only to be countered by the Chancellor's staunchest supporters. The noise level rose yet again.

He looked at them all - his enemies and his followers, the weak and the strong - with the same eyes, and thought only of the time when he would finally be able to dispense with this mockery.

This is such a tedious waste of time.

Palpatine raised his arms and artfully augmented his voice so that he could be heard.

"Representatives of the Galaxy! Your distress is understandable! I share it in every detail. You may call for such a vote if you wish. It is your right within the freedom that we so fiercely fight to preserve. But you must be aware that another decision is simply not possible under the circumstances! No other Chancellor could do otherwise!"

Armed troops in the uniforms of several different systems began to advance to the center of the chamber in some kind of colorful coalition effort. He wondered where they thought they were going, or what they hoped to accomplish.

"My Lord, shall I call for more security?" Mas Amedda, the Vice-Chancellor, asked nervously by his side.

Palpatine stretched out with his awareness and found what he was looking for.

"That is not necessary. Reinforcements are on the way."

In the process he found something even more interesting. Skywalker was here, despite having been given a leave of absence. He narrowed his eyes and glanced toward the pod occupied by Amidala. She must have called him, and here he was, having rushed to the scene.

Almost at the same moment Senate Security forces in full gray-and-red battle armor poured in through every exit of the Chamber, taking up positions on the ground and in the air high above the pods on single-man repulsorlifts.

There he is, in Jedi robes. No helmet, no armor.

Anakin was far below on the floor of the Chamber, heading toward the pillar on which the Chancellor's dais rose high into the heart of the vast space.

The boy's instincts for loyalty and service were exceptional. His priorities, on the other hand.

But he is coming toward me. Securing my safety first. Excellent.

The rings of officers below him had held their position. They were armed only with side arms, which they drew. Otherwise they stood firm. If any of the delegations'security forces were to approach the pillar, they would be stopped.

Protectors of the central authority. As it should be.

Zangan was nowhere to be seen. Anakin, however, apparently had negotiated his way through the ring of officers and reached the pillar, and was activating the lowering mechanism. Palpatine felt the slight shudder as the machinery engaged

No. I will remain here, where I can survey all.

The lowering mechanism unaccountably stopped operating.

A Senate security repulsorlift left its position and shot down toward Anakin. He changed places with the soldier, hurtled into the air and within seconds leaped onto the central dais next to the Chancellor.

"How fortunate that you happened to be here," Palpatine remarked coolly. I had not specified that you should attend.

Anakin nodded briefly.

"The pillar mechanism isn't responding," he answered. "I'm going to order the Chamber evacuated. You need to close the session, Sir."

Well, young Commander. You appear to be taking charge. You are going to order the Chamber evacuated? And where is Chief Zangan, I wonder?

His web of awareness told him that fights were breaking out at several different points in the Chamber. Sure enough, blaster fire echoed, raising screams and alarm. Anakin was on the COM link immediately. Within minutes the combatants had been surrounded by Senate troops and escorted efficiently out of the space with a minimum use of weapons. The boy's chosen Captain seemed to have perfect control of his forces.

"How will we get down?" Palpatine asked mildly, not intending to do anything of the kind until he was good and ready. The fear radiating from Amedda and his staff behind him on the dais amused him.

Anakin reached out with the Force to an empty pod, unlocked it, and drew it up to the dais.

"It's time to adjourn the session, Chancellor."

Palpatine surveyed the Chamber and observed a marked increase in the Jedi presence. They had taken up positions in front of many of the upper exits, and showed they meant business by engaging their light sabers all at once. Their multicolored blades punctuated the shadowy edges of the chamber like small stars. There was a sudden quiet in the areas closest to the Jedi, as the Force mounted and surged between them into a calming wave and then began to flow downward toward the center of the space. Everywhere it touched, the noise and anxiety levels dropped.

How he despised them. All of them. It was their fault he had been compelled to tighten the noose ahead of schedule. Their operatives had uncovered his assassins and tracked the manufacture and shipments of the Force disrupter weapons. When he found out which of their Knights was behind that little fiasco he would see to it personally that he came to know the true meaning of suffering.

"Chancellor?" Anakin was insistent.

"One moment, my friend," Palpatine said soothingly, and made his voice penetrating once again.

"My friends! My colleagues! We must not allow our differences to tear our union apart! If we do not stand together and speak with the same voice, and act out of our shared convictions, how can we bring the Republic back into peace and harmony? We must stand together as one! Please, calm yourselves! Let us discuss this rationally!"

Anakin shuddered. He felt something odd in the Force, something that lapped him with ripples of disquiet, but he couldn't pinpoint it anywhere. Instinctively he reached out to Padmé with his feelings to make certain that she was all right. She responded reassuringly, and Anakin felt strengthened just by that brief brush with her presence.

Palpatine was suddenly alert.

He senses something. He shouldn't be able to. I have not chosen to reveal myself.

Carefully, in order to minimize the risk of unveiling his presence in the Force even more, he probed Anakin's feelings, and was not happy with what he found.

Amidala. Again, Amidala. He stands by my side but all of his attention is with her.

Adjourning the session immediately would successfully end the vote of no confidence, but Palpatine wasn't particularly worried about that. There were many effective ways to deflect such a clumsy move. He was suddenly much more interested in exploring the allegiance of the young Jedi beside him.

Let us see what you do now, my young friend.

With a shrouded movement like that of a conductor gesturing to the percussion section of an orchestra the central figure on the dais reached out through the Force and Section D12 of the Chamber experienced a sudden catastrophic failure of the pod locking mechanism.

As one a section of pods from middle level of the Chamber broke loose from their anchor locks and began floating into one another like a Coruscant traffic stream gone out of control. The pods on the outside of the wedge managed for the most part to maneuver away from one another, but the ones in the center began to bump and crash together high in the air. Screams and shouts filled the Chamber.

The pods were designed for slow, sedate movement without any crowding. When they were pushed together in this way, their magnetic fields repelled one another, making the lumbering craft gyrate wildly. The closer they got to one another the more pronounced the effect. Pods at the center of the cluster began to spin out of control, tipping so wildly their occupants had to hold on desperately to keep from falling out. Two pods crashed into one another uncontrollably. One held steady, but the other careened toward the floor in a sickening spin, threatening to smash heavily into several pods in the lowest rows. Panic filled the Chamber.

Palpatine could feel the calm and intensity with which all of Anakin's attention was focused on the loose pods. The Force gathered around the boy in a mighty stream and flowed toward the disaster. Palpatine watched as the pods, even the one in the downward spiral, began to stabilize and hold their positions.

Amidala's pod was at the center of the cluster.

Now.

* * * * *

Anakin heard Padmé cry out in his mind.

Get down, he urged. Get down into the bottom of the pod! Cover your head.

No sooner had Anakin's thoughts come to her than Padmé felt herself pushed down to the floor of her careening pod with Typho's solid presence protecting her from above.

Anakin's Jedi training took hold, and all of his intention, every part of his mind was directed exclusively toward the task at hand. The Force obeyed his call unerringly and surged through him and beyond him like a huge wave. The tightly clustered pods at the center began to move gently apart, and little by little as they came free their occupants were able to maneuver them safely toward the chamber floor far below. His approach to the problem was unimpeachable, even though Padmé was in danger.

And then he felt something dark and powerful tug at him, making it harder to concentrate. He could feel his steady grasp slipping, and the pods began to careen again. His heart started to pound, and he experienced the dreadful feeling of failing, of not being strong enough. He fought the dark thing.

It felt like.it felt like spite.

Padmé screamed in his mind.

The pods in the center began to fall in a series of crazy spirals. He was losing his grip and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Anakin suffered a stab of overwhelming fear that ricocheted around the Chamber. He was losing his hold, and he couldn't seem to regain it. He couldn't help her. He couldn't help any of them.

Padmé!

He fought the sickening sense of powerlessness with all his might to try to recover his focus.

From high above the dais in the shadowy edges of the Chamber the Jedi simultaneously reached out through the Force and combined their strength with his, bringing the pods back into a stable pattern. One by one they settled safely onto the Chamber floor, gently and safely. Padmé's was among them.

Anakin felt weak and shaky with relief. He didn't understand what had just happened. The voice of the Chancellor by his side abruptly brought him back to himself.

"You are right, my friend. This is a disaster. I will end the session." He raised his arms and called for a closing, although it was clear that many could not hear him over the din. It didn't seem to matter. Everyone in the Chamber already was trying to get out.

Anakin nodded and got back on the COM link with Pell, ordering assistance for the terrified victims and an immediate, systematic evacuation of the Senate Chamber.

Padmé? Anakin was shaking.

I'm . I'm all right. She was shuddering, too. He could feel it throughout his body. I'm all right. See to the others.

Pulling himself together with a huge effort of will Anakin moved over to the pod he had called to the dais, tested its mechanism, and when he felt it was safe began to help the calm Chancellor and his terrified companions into it. He entered last, and piloted it safely down to the Chamber floor.

Battling a bottomless sense of failure, he was blind to the deeply shrouded thought that hung in the air around him.

I have you now. I have taken the measure of your weakness. In my hands it will become our strength.

* * * * *

It took a long time for the Chamber to be cleared and ramifications of the disaster to be evaluated, and as Acting Security Chief, Anakin had to oversee it all. There was no escape, even though he was aching to find Padmé and reassure himself that, despite his failure, she really was safe. Only when the maintenance crews arrived to check and re-secure the pods was he was able to extricate himself.

As he was leaving Padmé's thoughts caught him. She was back in her office.

Anakin? Where is Balé?

Uh-oh. Now he was going to have to explain to her that he had left Balé the care of a young, inexperienced Jedi Padawan during the Senate's gravest crisis.

She's fine. She's under Jedi protection, he reassured her, saying the first thing that came into his head. I'll bring her to you shortly.

Anakin headed down to the barracks level. On the way he called Poulin on the COM.

"What happened?" the boy was incredulous. "It felt like a disaster."

"Nearly," Anakin confirmed. "But we averted it. Is Balé all right?"

Poulin laughed. "She's a wicked fighter, and lot of fun. But she seems to think that every Jedi in the Galaxy is at her personal disposal. I wonder how she got that idea?"

"Well at the moment, you are at her personal disposal. Stay where you are. I'm on my way."

He got there in record time, only to find the Jedi Padawan and the little girl sitting cross-legged in the corner of a training room, deep in conversation.

Balé smiled and waved when she saw Anakin, but didn't throw herself at him as usual. In fact, she went right back to talking to Poulin. Anakin felt a bit miffed.

"Hello, Warrior," he said to her, plunking himself gratefully down on the floor next to them. It felt good to have something else to think about than the afternoon's disaster. "It's time to go find Padmé. She's waiting for us." He couldn't wait to see Padmé, and didn't care if she was annoyed that he had left Balé with someone else. The longing to see her with his own eyes, to make sure that she was all right, was overwhelming.

Poulin gave Anakin a penetrating glance at his casual use of the Senator's first name. Anakin glared at him.

Balé seemed reluctant to leave, making Anakin wonder what they had found to talk about so animatedly. Poulin looked awfully pleased with himself. Anakin had the distinct feeling that they had been talking about him. Nothing made Poulin happier than new gossip.

Anakin held out his hand for Balé when his COM link sounded. It was the Chancellor's office, summoning him.

He felt somehow crushed.

"I have to go to a meeting," he sighed. "Could you bring Balé up to the Naboo Delegation Offices for me?"

Poulin nodded and got up, holding his own hand out to the little girl. She took it willingly. Anakin stuck his tongue out at her, and she laughed.

"I almost forgot," Poulin said, and handed Anakin a data chip.

"Thank you," Anakin said sincerely. "For everything. I owe you."

Poulin frowned. "No, you don't." He was affronted, and shook his head as he turned to go. "I'm your friend."

I just want to go home, Anakin thought, uncharacteristically, as he watched them leave. The indistinct image of "home" that formed in his mind had something to do with Padmé, and Balé, and laughter. And maybe cake. And a great deal to do with comfort.

He pulled himself together, wondering at his own weakness.

I am a Jedi, he told himself sternly. I serve.

Mostly, he felt like a failure.

* * * * *

Poulin stepped cautiously into the Naboo Delegation's outer office, feeling awkward. Balé seemed to be very familiar there, however, and greeted the flustered-looking young woman at the reception desk happily.

"Hello, Dellia! Is Padmé here?"

"Balé!" Dellia got up from her chair and came around her desk to give the little girl a hug. "We were wondering where you were!" She glanced up at the young Jedi, curious.

"This is Poulin Brith," Balé said politely, remembering her manners.

Dellia nodded and stood up to signal the inner office. Padmé immediately came out, followed by a serious-looking man in a uniform and another beautiful lady who looked a bit like the Senator. Poulin swallowed, a little intimidated.

Padmé recognized the Jedi Padawan whose hand Balé was holding so trustingly right away, although she had only met him once in the quiet halls of the Jedi Temple. It didn't take her long to piece together how Balé had spent the last few hours, or to understand Anakin's thinking in entrusting Balé to the young Jedi. She smiled at him.

"Well, Poulin Brith," she said, remembering his name perfectly and making him blush horribly. "It seems that once again I am greatly in your debt. Thank you for looking after Balé this afternoon."

Poulin nodded, tongue-tied.

"Poulin is the greatest swordfighter in the Galaxy!" Balé announced. "Anakin said so. He's been teaching me, and soon I'll be the greatest, too."

"Really," the other Lady said meaningfully. Poulin didn't think his blush could get any worse, but it did.

Padmé took pity on him.

"I'm sure he is, Sabé," the Senator said pointedly. The other Lady raised her eyebrows, but smiled at Poulin, too.

"Of course he is," she agreed, kindly. Her voice was as enchanting as the Senator's. The boy wondered briefly how Anakin could be so comfortable around these people. He found them. intoxicating.

Padmé reached out for Balé's hand and took possession of the child, relieving Poulin of his duty. He was almost sorry.

"Thank you, Poulin Brith," she said again in that lovely voice. "I am very grateful for your help."

Poulin bowed as well as he could and somehow made his way out of the office without stumbling.

He hadn't said a single word the entire time he was there.

* * * * *

Anakin arrived at the Chancellor's Office quickly, but then, unusually, was asked to wait in the outer office. To pass the time he helped himself to a datapad and began writing the incident report for the afternoon's events. To do it he had to re-live them, and the terrible feeling of weakness and helplessness came back full force. And darkness. He wondered about the overpowering sense of darkness.

Finally he was called for and went inside.

Chancellor Palpatine sat behind his desk and observed Anakin without saying anything for a while. Well trained not to speak before he was spoken to Anakin went back to making entries.

"May I ask, my friend," the Chancellor finally said, "how you came to be in command of our Senate forces this day rather than Security Chief Zangan?"

Anakin continued to make entries into his data pad.

"Unfortunately Chief Zangan suffered an accident shortly before the crisis. Deputy Chief Tibbs is not a military man, and so I stepped in. I had just finished working out contingency plans for such an eventuality with Captain Pell as it was."

There was a brief silence.

Now Anakin looked up to meet his mentor's eyes. "I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. But the situation seemed to require it."

If you had not taken command you would be of little use to me.

Outwardly the Chancellor's expression showed nothing but interest and acknowledgement.

"I have always said it, my friend. It is for your unswerving willingness to go beyond the call of duty for which we owe you our greatest debts of gratitude." He permitted himself a small smile. "You have done well, Anakin."

Anakin ducked his head in awkward thanks and passed the data pad to the Supreme Chancellor. "There is your completed incident report, Sir."

Palpatine looked at him in genuine surprise. "So soon?" Reports of this nature normally took days, if not weeks, to complete.

Anakin nodded. "I'm technically on leave, Chancellor. And I would like to get back to it, with your permission."

Palpatine considered the young man for a long moment, and then accepted the datapad.

Anakin took his mentor's acceptance of the report as tacit permission to depart, bowed to the Chancellor and fled, wanting only to find Padmé and Balé. Palpatine watched him go.

Running back to that little family, boy? Perhaps you should have listened to your Jedi Masters after all. Attachments of this nature can be a dangerous distraction from your true purpose.

Turning abruptly back to his desk the Galaxy's Supreme Chancellor summoned his assistant's holo-image.

"I understand that Security Chief Zangan has met with an accident. I want to know his condition and location immediately."

"At once, My Lord," Dar Wac acknowledged. Within minutes he entered the Chancellor's office personally with the news.

"Chief Zangan is in the staff infirmary. He suffered a broken collarbone and a mild concussion, but is expected to make a full recovery."

Palpatine thought for a dark moment.

At that moment, far below in the Staff Infirmary, Chief of Senate Security Zangan, who had been feeling much better, drew his last breath.

Chapter 20. To Have and to Hold


The night following the nearly fatal incident in the Senate Chamber Padmé awoke in terror out of a deep sleep to find a dark shape looming over her. Instinctively she tried to scream, but was silenced by a gloved hand. It was only when the dark figure leaned over her and whispered her name that she realized it was Anakin. She didn't expect him; he had gone back to the Temple for the night. She sat up quickly to try to shake off her confusion, and saw him gazing at the small body that was curled up next to her in bed.

"She had a nightmare," Padmé whispered, "and crawled in here with me. I can try to move her back to her own bed."

"No," said Anakin softly, reaching out with the Force to the sleeping child. "She feels safe and comfortable now. Don't disturb her." He understood about seeking shelter. It was the reason that he was here, too.

"I just. I just had to see you." He sounded forlorn.

"Come with me," Padmé said softly, climbing carefully out of bed so as not to wake Balé and taking him by the hand. He followed like a child as she led him into the shadowy sitting room. Night on Coruscant was never completely dark, and light filtered into the room in odd shapes. She chose a spot on one of the long sofas and pushed him onto it, then sat down in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Only then did she wonder how he had gotten in.

"Umm. does my door still work?"

There was a brief, guilty pause. In fact Anakin had been so desperate to get to her that he had tackled that final barrier, her front door, with much too heavy a use of the Force and had damaged the locking mechanism.

"Nothing I can't fix in the morning. And for the moment any intruder will have to get past me."

It sounded as though he was here for the night. Padmé hugged him hard, and felt him clinging to her in a way that cried desperation.

"What's wrong?" she breathed into his ear.

Now that he was here he couldn't find a way to tell her. He simply couldn't describe the vivid nightmares in which, because of his failure, her pod fell and smashed onto the floor of the Senate Chamber. In the dreams he had to live through every detail of her injuries and death over and over again, and he was unable to wake up. Language could not convey the terrorizing power of those images. Nor could it express the feeling of being lost, misplaced in the Jedi Temple - disconnectedness that had entered his awareness since his meeting with the Jedi Council. Inside he felt like little Gren, wafting around the Temple without her Master. It was frightening and disorienting to experience himself so disjointedly on the inside, but to perceive no dangers from the outside, no matter how hard he tried.

There were no words for it.

"I.I've started dreaming again," he said, inadequately.

Padmé settled even closer to him.

"What kind of dreams?"

He hesitated. "Nightmares." Just thinking about the horrors that had woken him not long ago and sent him fleeing to the only place of comfort he knew made him press her closer, as though her body could somehow shield his soul. He had to keep reassuring himself that she was really here, and safe.

Padmé held him in silence for a while, and then suddenly shifted and pushed him back.

"Lie down," she commanded.

Bemused, he more or less did as he was told, only to find that she had begun to yank at his utility belt. It took some doing, but she finally managed to tug it off him and drop it on the floor.

"Need help?"

"I'm just getting rid of this annoying thing," she said, and settled back down onto his chest and sighed with comfort. "That's better."

"Anything else you want to get rid of?" he offered helpfully.

"We were talking about your dreams."

Anakin noticed that his terrible dreams seemed further away and not nearly as overwhelming. He enfolded her in his arms again and began to relax a little.

"I've been having them since you exiled me to the Temple," he started again.

"So it's my fault for banishing you from my bed?" Padmé murmured against his neck.

"Probably," he decided, feeling better by the minute. Padmé wrapped her legs around his, and then suddenly sat up again, pushed herself to the other end of the sofa and started yanking at one of his boots.

"Ow! Take it easy!" he yelped. "Are those annoying, too?"

"Yes," she said, determined. "I'm stubbing my toes on them." She pulled so hard he feared for his ankle.

"Wait. Stop. I'll do it," he insisted, removing the second boot carefully so as to preserve his foot for future use, then flopped back down, wondering what was next.

Padmé surveyed him, taking in his leather jerkin with a speculative stare.

"That, too?" he asked hopefully, figuring it couldn't be as dangerous as the boots.

"Why not?" she decided.

He shrugged out of it before she could tackle it.

Padmé settled herself back down onto his chest experimentally and sighed.

"Perfect," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, disappointed.

"I'm sure. We're still talking about your dreams."

Her presence was so vibrant that even in the middle of the night the shadowy room seemed bright and safe.

"So you and Balé are both having nightmares," Padmé said softly.

"She had a real scare that first day when I took her around the Senate building," Anakin remembered. "Did she tell you?"

Padmé propped herself up on her forearms and looked at him.

"No," she said, surprised. "When? What happened?"

"It happened when we met the Chancellor. She said he frightened her. that his eyes went straight inside. I don't know why. I couldn't perceive a thing."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Padmé demanded.

"When?" Anakin said a bit defensively. "We've hardly had a chance to talk."

Padmé slumped down with her chin resting on her hands, thinking. Anakin reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes and then was startled when Padmé frowned and pushed herself up again only to attack his gloves, pulling them off one by one and flinging them onto the floor as well. Instinctively Anakin slipped his metal hand under his back, as though to hide it.

"Stop that," she said, and pulled his right arm around her so that she was once again settled in his full embrace.

Anakin sighed.

"You know, I have the same reaction to Palpatine," she admitted finally. "I get a physical reaction when I'm in his presence. I actually feel sick."

There was a long silence.

"Since when?"

"Ummm." She thought hard. "I think it goes all the way back to my return from Naboo. Yes, I'm sure of it. It has been that long. It's getting worse, too."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Anakin wondered.

"Would you have believed me?"

Now he was really mystified. "Why wouldn't I?"

"No, Anakin, I'm serious. Think about it. The feeling here on Coruscant is getting bleaker by the day. It's worse in the Senate. Some days it takes all my courage just to go in there, and yet you seem perfectly comfortable with it."

"I'm not," Anakin protested. "I hate it, too."

"Well, what about these feelings of . I don't know. foreboding. I've been having for ages? You just laugh them off. Balé and I have the same strong reactions to the man who has deceived us all and as of yesterday, carried out criminal actions, while you - of all people- perceive absolutely nothing. In fact, you seem so close to him that it scares me."

Anakin couldn't think of a response.

"Why is that, Anakin? You are a powerful Jedi. Why don't you perceive the same things we do?"

"I don't know," he whispered, stricken, remembering the spiteful darkness that troubled him since the crisis in the Chamber. His arms tightened around her. "I don't know."

So I'm not only lost, he thought, but I'm blind, too.

"I feel let down and betrayed by Palpatine," Padmé said bitterly, and then slumped back down onto Anakin, letting her hand trail along the floor. "I distrust him and cannot in good conscience support his conduct of this war. And I love you and trust you with everything that is dear to me, as I always have. and yet you are that man's faithful assistant. Is it any wonder I'm terrified all the time that this will tear us apart?"

Anakin panicked. He couldn't believe that something like this might slip between them. Nothing was that important. Nothing.

"What." Anakin's voice didn't work properly the fist time, so he had to try again. "What makes you think that I would let anything come between us?"

Padmé raised her head to look at him, finding only shadows and shapes in the dim room.

"The fact that you don't see what I see. How can you guard against danger if you believe there is none?"

"No!" he burst out, clutching her hard. "I won't let anything happen!"

"Shhhh," she soothed. "You'll wake everyone up."

"Padmé, you have to believe me. You always come first. Always."

She allowed herself to be held but kept seeking reassurance.

"I have to fight him, Anakin. I can't stand by and do nothing. What are you going to do when he opposes me?"

"Protect you," Anakin growled, deep in his throat.

"What if you can't? What if your other duties prevent you?"

What if my weakness prevents me? Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath. Still, from the safety of Padmé's arms he was able for the first time to meet the terrible thought with determination rather than fear.

"Just watch me," he swore. Anakin was ready to do battle with anything and anyone in the Galaxy, furious at the idea that anything could pull them apart.

Anakin's fierce embrace was like armor shielding her, and despite her worries Padmé felt safe. She found it extraordinary that even in the midst of the darkness and confusion she could experience such profound, simple joy in his presence. They lay together in troubled silence until her fingers encountered something unexpected on the floor. She peered over the edge of the sofa into the gloom and picked up a small wooden box that must have fallen out of his belt.

"Is this the puzzle box Balé gave you?"

Anakin looked over.

"Yes," he said. "I was bringing it to you for safekeeping. If you don't mind."

His austere explanation left out the fact that the pain and terror left by his dreams had been so unbearable, and the impulse to find his treasure and flee to safety so desperate that he had left his cot in the Temple upended after a frantic search for the box.

Padmé looked at it with interest. "How does it work?"

Anakin reached around her and with a few adept movements opened the center compartment.

Padmé sat up and shifted closer to a shaft of light that squeezed in through the window coverings to look inside. When she made out the contents she realized with a lurch that she might as well be holding Anakin's heart in her hands. One by one she removed his small treasures and laid them with great gentleness on the polished surface of the table by the sofa. He watched her unveil his secrets, understood the reverence with which she received them, and could not speak.

She unwrapped a tiny parcel and held up the star stone jewel that she had given him as a wedding present. Even in the shadows the smooth stone threw off sparks of inner fire. The parchment that had hidden it turned out to be her own note, written to Anakin months before and sent inside the puzzle box in hopes that he would somehow receive it. She felt tears rising, but did not let them fall. She wanted to see clearly.

Next her fingers found the thin, rough-textured Padawan braid, tightly wrapped into a knot. With the gentlest touch Padmé unraveled it and smoothed it from one end to the other. How many times had she straightened that braid when he wore it? And here it lay in her hand - all his and yet no longer a part of him. She laid it on the table next to the star stone and then reached for the last item in the box - a tiny, tiny folded bit of paper. Carefully she smoothed it out and read it. She made out Balé's words, and then saw the scribble that only Anakin could have added to the child's name - "Skywalker." Now the tears really did fall.

"When did you write this?" she asked, as the words blurred.

Anakin spoke for the first time since opening the box. "In the Temple. Before I saw you again. When I wasn't sure I would ever get my strength back." When I didn't know how I would get back to you he thought. His voice was hoarse.

Padmé laid the slip of paper on the table by the braid.

"Look, Anakin," she said after a while. "Here are all the pieces of your life. Here I am." she pointed to the star stone and her note. "Here is Balé." she laid the slip of paper next to the star stone. "And here is.." she hesitated. "Obi-Wan? The Jedi Order?" She picked up the braid and encircled the other items with it. They looked at her design in silence. "It's the outside of your life, but you hold us inside."

What his words could not express, the picture she created on the tabletop had shown.

"That braid has been cut," Anakin said in a voice that wobbled a little. It occurred to him that something was missing from the picture. There was no visible evidence of Qui-Gon Jinn, who had set Anakin on his path, saved his life, and given him eyes with which to see.

"Is that how you feel about your life in the Order?" Padmé asked. "That it has been severed?" They had not discussed these matters since before their marriage.

"I don't know," Anakin said slowly. Uncertainly. "I just don't know. Sometimes I look at Balé and I'm desperate to tell her who I really am. I want to so much I can hardly stand it." Padmé leaned back into him, fitting herself into the planes and hollows of his familiar and beloved shape. Anakin's arms came around her as they gazed at his treasures in the gloom.

"And then at the same time," he went on, "I know that I want to be a Jedi Knight. But they don't seem to want me."

"I can't help you with that," Padmé said softly. "I can't make that choice for you. But I can tell you this. Any time you decide you want to make our marriage public, I'm ready." His arms tightened around her. "I've been ready for a long time. I would be so proud to announce you as my husband."

"I want to," Anakin whispered. "I want to so much."

"So I'll leave it up to you," she went on. "It's completely up to you."

Part of Anakin wished that he didn't have to make that choice - that she would make it for him, like she would for a child.

"I don't know what to do, Padmé," he said, pleading.

"Then don't do anything until you know," she said more bravely than she felt. "We'll just continue as we are until you decide."

Anakin looked at the display on the table.

"You're the puzzle box, Anakin," Padmé whispered. "I've always thought of you that way. A puzzle."

"All of those things fit inside," he observed.

Padmé took his comment as a sign that he was not yet ready to relinquish any one of the pieces and began tucking them all away again, slowly and tenderly.

"Keep it safe for me," he begged. "Please."

Padmé understood perfectly what he was really asking, and to his deep gratitude she answered the plea that he had not expressed.

"I will keep you, Anakin. I will hold you and keep you and never let you go." I will not leave you. "Whatever you decide, you will always have me."

Resting his cheek against hers and holding her in his arms Anakin felt much of his fear flow out of him. He felt lighter than he had since ... well, since he could remember. A tightness around his heart that he had not even been aware of eased. He breathed deeply.

"Thank you, Padmé," he said, as one would a prayer. "Thank you for loving me."

"I can no more stop loving you than I can change the stars in the sky," Padmé quoted. "Do you remember, Anakin? You said something like that to me a long time ago."

Anakin remembered. It was after the Battle of Geonosis, a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, and yet they were still together. He felt strengthened.

"You know what?" he said suddenly. I'm going to meditate. Do you want to come?"

"Where?"

"The roof garden. It will be dawn soon."

Padmé yawned. "This building has a roof garden? I didn't know. It seems that lately I'm either at work or. in bed." She smiled.

Anakin jumped up, suddenly full of bounce and resolve, and helped her to her feet. "Balé and I found it yesterday." Was it only yesterday? It already seems so long ago.

Padmé yawned again. "Speaking of bed, I think I'll go crawl back in with Balé for a while."

"I'll go, then." Anakin was focused, eager. He had some inner work to do. Master Qui-Gon's image was filling his mind.

Padmé looked at him dubiously, stifling another yawn. "In your socks?"

Anakin grinned and bent down to pull his socks off one by one. He rolled them into a ball and threw them on top of the odd pile of clothing on the floor by the sofa. "Barefoot. I feel. light. Unburdened. I like the feeling. I'd like to keep it for a while."

"Suit yourself." Suddenly Padmé was overwhelmingly sleepy. Clutching the puzzle box in her hand she stumbled back to her bed, slipping gratefully under the covers with the warm, softly breathing child, and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * * * *

On his way out to the roof garden Anakin remembered the broken door lock, so even as he sank gratefully into meditation amid the greenery he kept a small part of his awareness focused on the apartment. In this way he knew in the back of his mind when Balé woke up and he was with her and felt her delight when she found the pile of his familiar belongings in the sitting room. He wasn't surprised when she very soon tracked him to the roof, despite being under strict orders never to leave the apartment unaccompanied. He held her safely in his awareness until she appeared by his side in the pale light of dawn.

"Hello, Warrior," he said, rousing himself from his otherwise deep meditative state.
Balé surveyed him thoughtfully, taking in the relaxed state of his clothing.

"I'm not a Warrior today," she announced. "I'm a Jedi." She was holding his light saber in her hand.

Anakin kicked himself mentally for having left it so casually on the floor clipped to his belt. What was he thinking? He quickly reached out and took it from her and tucked it under his knee.

"It's the same thing," he said, weak with relief that she hadn't figured out how to ignite it. He didn't for a moment believe that she wouldn't have tried.

Balé sat down beside him with her legs crossed, imitating his posture.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Meditating," he said. "It's something Jedi do."

"Oh," she said, watching closely as Anakin closed his eyes again. "Why?"

"We are learning to see."

When no further explanation was forthcoming, Balé closed her eyes as well and sat contentedly with him for quite a long time, wondering all the while what she was supposed to see with her eyes closed.

Chapter 21. Distant Drums (Part I)


The day after the tragedy at the heart of the Republic, Anakin resigned himself to the reality that his leave of absence was over. Too many things had happened for him to stay away from the Senate any longer. He dressed in his deep blue suit and made his way back to work very early in the morning. His first stop was the barracks level to debrief the troops. To his surprise Keinan Pell already was there, and appeared to be waiting for him.

Anakin frowned as Pell motioned to him to follow, and allowed himself to be led into the Captain's office.

"What's going on?" Anakin asked, a little impatiently.

"Yer'd better sit down, Yer Lordship." Pell leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed. There wasn't any humor twinkling in those pale eyes today.

Anakin crossed his arms too and stayed where he was. Even though he towered over the small man, Pell dominated the space with his gravity.

"Zangan's dead," Pell announced without preamble. Then he stopped and watched the Jedi carefully for his reaction. As far as he could tell this was the first Anakin had heard of the news. But then, you never could be sure with a Jedi.

"What happened?" Anakin's mind flashed back with sudden alarm to his last encounter with the Security Chief.

"Word has it yer would know that better than anyone else."

Anakin felt all kinds of realizations come crashing down on him. It was only thanks to his training that he stayed perfectly calm and focused.

They are saying that I killed him. Tibbs is telling everyone that I killed him.

"The last time I saw Chief Zangan, he was very much alive."

"But not happy," Pell said, pushing him.

"No," Anakin conceded. "Not happy."

"Or healthy," Pell persisted.

"Probably not," Anakin acknowledged.

Pell was silent.

"So what happened?" Anakin asked again.

"One minute he had a mild concussion. The next, he were dead."

Anakin tried to sort out the pieces in his mind and found that none of them fit.

"They say head injuries can have delayed effects," Pell added when Anakin didn't respond.

"There isn't a species in the Galaxy with harder skulls than Cixassians," Anakin said sourly, feeling his own head beginning to pound. This was turning into a waking nightmare.

Pell laughed. That much was true. He didn't care in the slightest that Zangan was dead. But he was very interested in the potential implications of the manner of the Security Chief's death on his benefactor, and therefore on himself.

"I wanted to warn yer," Pell said.

Anakin looked him in the eye, relieved as always at his Captain's unadorned straightforwardness.

"You did well." He thought for another moment. "Where is Tibbs now?"

Pell sneered at the thought of the Deputy Chief. "Tellin' his story to as many as will listen. Yer too late to stop it."

"I know that," Anakin said, stubbing the toe of one boot against the floor, as he stood deep in thought.

If I didn't kill Zangan, someone else did.

Once again his world was turning upside down in a single moment. There was nowhere Tibbs' story wouldn't reach within a few hours. Anakin realized there was nothing he could do but decide which part of his life first needed to be salvaged from the inevitable rumors and repercussions, and was amazed how clearly his priority stood out. There was only one person whose opinion truly mattered.

Without another word to Pell he abruptly left the office and headed out of the Senate building and straight to back to Padmé's apartment. If he hurried, he could catch her before she walked into the tempest that his existence was about to become.

Some things needed to be said in person.

* * * * *

For the first time, Master Yoda felt old.

For centuries already he had been known as the Ancient One among Padawans and later among the Knights they grew into - and why wouldn't they think of him that way? Compared to his their existence was sudden, new and fleeting, like a dewdrop that quickly evaporates, or a beautiful, tiny creature that lives only for one glorious day.

He had watched so many beloved beings be born, live and die in his time. So many whom he had cherished. So many whose radiance he still carried with him in his heart.

In their eyes his existence must seem eternal, like the bedrock of a planet, or like the stars themselves.

But he had never felt old before. If youth is characterized by delight in the world, hope and faith, then he had never been old, no matter what his years or visage said. For the Jedi Master always had carried with him a child's capacity for wonder and delight, and with those gifts he shone as brightly as the Younglings he taught.

Until now. Now his thoughts weighed so heavily that even with the unswerving buoyancy of the Force it was difficult to lift them into the realm of harmony and hopefulness. That was the power of the Dark Side, he reflected sadly. Its lightest touch, the merest brush of its presence strangled joy and strove to imprison the soul.

The Senate Chamber had been full of darkness. The boy had served as a bright mirror, reflecting into Yoda's own perceptions that which could not otherwise be seen. And what he had discerned could only have been the heart of the Dark Side. While its ultimate source continued to elude his perception, its manifestations were clear and potent and horrific.

Yoda had watched Anakin carefully in the Senate Chamber. The boy had performed his role admirably - he had been careful and thorough and impartial, and when the pods broke away from their moorings he had the situation well under control. He was powerful in the Force, and would have been able to stabilize and rescue the errant pods without any assistance at all. Until.until.

Until the hand of darkness had reached out and grasped the pods and wrenched them out of the boy's control.

And Anakin had been afraid. That single, soul-deep stab of fear had penetrated the heart of every Jedi in the Chamber. It was the kind of fear that one would feel if everything good, and true, and precious were being ripped away. The kind one would feel if hope vanished, leaving only the inevitability of despair. Skywalker had briefly, searingly felt such fear, and the overpowering memory of it lingered in the Jedi Master's consciousness like a wound.

The Dark Side of the Force had reached out and stabbed and withdrawn again.

For the thousandth time Yoda wondered whether Dooku had spoken the truth when he asserted that the Senate was under the control of a Sith Lord. And if he had spoken the truth, why had he chosen to reveal it to the Jedi?

The more truth a deception contains, the more powerfully it works.

In these times every thought and every deed was a double-edged sword that cut away at the boundaries between Light and Dark, between truth and falsehood. If treading the path between them wearied an old Jedi Master so much, how difficult must it be for the boy?

Unlike young Skywalker, Yoda understood the breadth and depth of what was at stake. The Galaxy was embroiled in a mighty war for peace and freedom from tyranny - that ideal which the Order had served since its inception. The war had many outer manifestations. But at its heart lay the struggle for balance between Light and Dark, between Good and Evil. In this balance, and only in the existence of this balance, lay freedom - the freedom of the individual soul to choose its own path, for better or for worse.

The Jedi had spent a millennium supporting and protecting this freedom - a millennium whose span was only a little longer than his own life. Many Jedi willingly had given their lives in service to the greater good. Most had carried their burden alone. But in all his years Yoda could not remember a time in which a Jedi had been asked to carry that burden unknowingly. Without his or her full agreement. Without a fighting chance to prevail.

Service to the greater good, even in times of grave peril, did not justify the use of the very methods they were fighting against. It was time to bring young Skywalker into the battle openly, with his consciousness and awareness fully engaged.

Qui-Gon had been right. Only when Anakin chose his task in freedom would he have a chance to succeed in it.

Master Yoda looked up wearily as Mace Windu broke into his brooding thoughts and slipped onto the cushion beside him.

"I left you alone as long as I could. But there are many things to discuss."

Yoda had spent all his time since the crisis in the Senate in meditation and contemplation. The other Council members had left him in peace, although all were on some level desperate to seek his wise counsel and the reassurance he always brought to any difficult times. His was the opinion they ultimately sought. His was the wisdom on which they tempered their own reasoning. And his was the power by which they ultimately measured their own strength. His deep withdrawal sent ripples of unspoken disquiet through the Jedi Temple.

"Recalled Kenobi, have you?" the Ancient One asked.

"Yes. At best speed it will take him another full day to get here. He has to stay out of sight."

There were whispers and indications that Obi-Wan's activities on D'lai and Naboo had been noticed, and he was in considerable danger from reprisals.

Yoda looked at the floor in silence.

"I find myself wanting to find him and travel with him," Mace confessed. "To watch his back. I didn't know I still had this kind of impatience in me."

"A common trait it is, in the young," Yoda said mildly.

Mace looked at him, startled. He hadn't thought of himself as young for a very long time.

"Protect him on his journey you cannot, or bring attention to him you will. Always with him, is the Force. Suffice, that must."

Mace suspected the Old Master's thoughts were not centered on Kenobi, but elsewhere.

"Meet as a Council, we must," Yoda acknowledged. "Walk there, I will." He stood up tiredly and found his stick. Little by little, like someone truly ancient, he made his way down the gleaming hallways of the Temple and toward the Council Chamber. His progress was slow, but he wanted to walk. The movement helped clear his thoughts, and the struggle suited him. It felt like a kind of penance.

Mace moved slowly beside the Old One, respecting his silence and lost in his own thoughts. The presence of the Sith as a powerful force in the Galaxy was indisputable. Jedi Knights were being targeted for assassination. And the reputation of the Order as impartial and trustworthy defenders of justice was eroding before their eyes.

Mace was tired of talking. Of waiting. Of being patient. He wanted to take action.

Master Yoda is right, he thought ruefully. I'm acting like a Padawan.

The long, slow journey to the Council Chamber at the Ancient One's side gave him plenty of time to pull himself together and become the Jedi Master once again.

Chapter 21. Distant Drums (Part II)


Sabé and Balé opened the door to Padmé's apartment together. They were equally surprised to see Anakin again so soon, but not equally delighted. Balé wrapped herself around his waist as always but soon moved back and looked up at him. She knew instinctively that this was a different type of visit.

"Hey, Balé," he said softly, but he didn't smile.

"Sabé and Dormé are taking me to see a play," she announced experimentally, as a way of testing where his attention lay. His reaction surprised her. He got down on one knee and pulled her into a hug, which she quickly returned. It was odd. It almost felt like he was going away.

"That's good," he said, when he released her. "Enjoy it." Then he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Warrior, but I have to talk to Padmé and Captain Typho alone."

Sabé watched him through narrowed eyes.

From the look in Anakin's eyes Balé decided that this was no time to argue. Instead she headed obediently toward the bedroom with Sabé, lingering only a little before turning the corner in the hallway to watch as he went straight over to Padmé and Captain Typho, interrupted their conversation, and got down on one knee in front of them so he could speak quietly. She strained to hear what he was saying, but didn't have much luck.

She looked up at Sabé. "Something's going on, isn't it?"

"It looks that way," Sabé agreed. There was no point in hiding things from Balé. She noticed everything.

"He's sad," said Balé.

Sabé steered her to a wardrobe to choose clothes for their outing.

"You think so?" she wondered. Anakin always looked more or less the same to her. She had a hard time getting past her constant irritation at the central role he seemed to be playing in Padmé's life.

The little girl nodded solemnly and pulled over a chair so she could stand on it in front of the wardrobe.

Sabé started pulling out clothes.

"You like him a lot, don't you?" she asked.

"I wish he and Padmé would get married," Balé said.

Sabé stopped what she was doing and stared at the child in dismay.

"Married! Why?"

"Padmé really likes him," Balé said. "She's always happy when he's here. It's like. she's always waiting for him to come. And when he does it feels like a family."

She reached into the wardrobe on tiptoes to retrieve a favorite dress for Sabé's approval, only to find the Handmaiden staring at her with a funny look on her face.

"Sabé? Are you all right?" Sabé had gone completely pale.

"I'm. I'm. yes. Here. That one's fine," she stammered, trying to collect herself.

They can't be.

Balé got down, dragging the dress with her.

Sabé paused in front of the open wardrobe for a moment, wondering why this crazy idea had stuck itself so firmly in her head.

She couldn't have done something like that without telling me. Without telling anyone.

She banged the doors shut harder than she had intended. If it was true, a lot of odd things began to make sense.

He's a Jedi. That means.

She turned around to help Balé put on the dress. Surely not. It couldn't be true. She was imagining things.

Trouble. Lots and lots of trouble.

"So. you think he's sad?" Sabé asked.

"Yes," Balé said from inside the dress as Sabé pulled it over her head. When she emerged the little girl and the Handmaiden looked at one another.

"I guess they'll tell us what's going on when they're ready," Sabé said softly, and impulsively hugged Balé to her.

Balé hugged her back, hard. "You're sad now, too," she whispered.

* * * * *

A sudden stiff breeze ruffled through Padmé's hair and whipped at her thin sleeves, making her shiver. This was her first visit to her building's roof garden, and she was amazed by its size and variety. It made her wish that she had discovered it at a different time and in a different way. Anakin had insisted on coming up here so that they could speak in privacy. The conversation was tearing her heart out, and now she probably always would remember this lovely place with pain.

Anakin took off his soft, deep blue cloak and hung it around her shoulders. Her cheeks were soaking wet, and the breeze just made it feel worse.

"How did it happen, Anakin?"

He stood close behind her, his hands still on her shoulders where he had settled the cloak, and leaned his forehead against her hair.

"I was angry. No, I was furious. And in a hurry. And I shoved him."

"How hard did you shove him?"

He let out a long breath. "Hard. I shoved him hard. But I didn't kill him, Padmé. You have to believe me."

He felt her sob, and gently slid his arms around her shoulders to hold her tightly.

"What if no one else believes you, Anakin? What happens then?"

"I don't know. I don't know how this will play out, because I don't know who is behind it. But right now I only care whether you believe me. It's the only thing that matters."

She was silent, leaning into him.

"Padmé, I have done some terrible things," he said hoarsely. "You know that better than anyone. You were there. But I swear to you, I'm not a monster."

She turned around abruptly with tears streaming down her face. "Don't Anakin. I know you're not."

"And do you know how I know that?" he went on, holding her eyes with his, insistent. "I know I'm not because I would never knowingly let a monster near you. Even myself. If I thought for a moment that I were, I would walk away from you and never come back."

Padmé buried her head in his chest.

"I know you," she said, muffled. "I know who you are."

"So. you believe me?"

She nodded, still buried in his embrace.

"Do you trust me?"

Another nod. His jacket was getting damp.

"Then here is the hardest part. You need to leave Coruscant. Now. You need to distance yourself from me."

There was a long, long silence.

"Padmé?"

There was no answer.

Padmé?

Another long silence. Finally he heard a muted, "Why?"

"It's not safe here for you any more. Not for a minute. It's bad enough that you know so much about the misinformation and the illegal raids. But this thing with Zangan. you can't be associated with me in any way. There's no telling who is behind it, or what the repercussions will be."

Padmé pulled back from her shelter and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. She had an extremely stubborn look on her face.

"That doesn't mean that it will reflect back on me. Most people don't know anything about our connection. Besides, I have work to do. Captain Typho hasn't finished analyzing the data you gave us yet. He worked all night, but there is more to do."

She was stalling, and they both knew it.

"You have to get Balé away from here," Anakin persisted. "Everyone knows how attached I am to her."

"Do you seriously believe that you have enemies who might. who might. want to do us harm? Because of you?"

"Yes."

Padmé was much too experienced a politician to dismiss Anakin's concerns out of hand. She just didn't want to face the truth.

"I don't want to go, Anakin. I want to stay here where you are."

"I don't want you to go," he said, wondering where he was going to find the strength to see this through. "But you have to. If someone is setting a trap for me, I won't be able to protect you. I can't be everywhere at once." He reached out and gently wiped the tears off her other cheek. "This could get really ugly."

Padmé pulled his cloak around her and huddled inside of it.

"Do you have any idea who might have killed Chief Zangan?"

Anakin paused. Reluctantly he let his eyes leave Padmé's face and travel around the garden. Then he looked at the busy skies beyond. Slowly, inexorably, his gaze found the dome of the Senate building not far away. Gradually his eyes returned to meet hers again.

"Let's just say I have an open mind."

Padmé felt cold even inside of the cloak.

"I'll think about it," she said reluctantly. "And I'll talk to Captain Typho. But I'm not going anywhere until that data is analyzed and I know what we're dealing with."

"Then tell him to hurry," Anakin said softly. "I don't have much time."

Chapter 22. The Two Doors (Part I)


Dellia was flushed pink from excitement. Even though she was technically Padmé's Executive Secretary, she'd long had the feeling that she was deliberately left out of a great many events and decisions that took place in and around the Naboo delegation offices. When Sabé was there Padmé tended to deliver her requests to Dellia through the Handmaiden. Once Captain Typho and the little girl had arrived, Dellia hardly had spoken to Padmé in person at all. Whatever went on, Dellia was convinced that she always was the last to know.

Until now.

She had come in early because. well, because Lon had come in early. She blushed at the thought that for the first time he had spent the whole night at her small flat On this precious occasion Lon had woken up suddenly, very early in the morning, and said that he had to go right away because he had sensed something in the Force.

The Force. The Jedi were still a complete mystery to Dellia. She had only nodded mutely and offered to go in to the Senate with him. Getting up together and arriving at work together made it seem as though. as though. Dellia barely dared express the idea even in the privacy of her own thoughts. as though they had a right to be together.

So here she was, bright and early. And for a change, she was among the first to learn that Anakin had murdered the Chief of Security in order to take over command during the crisis in the Chamber.

The day ahead promised to be anything but boring.

By mid-morning Padmé still hadn't arrived at the office, which was highly unusual. Nor had anyone informed Dellia what to expect. She had rescheduled the morning's appointments and was picking up her COM link to call the Residence when the outer doors to the office finally opened and Padmé arrived, wearing a heavy veil, and accompanied by.

Oh, dear. It was Anakin Skywalker. He walked straight into the outer office with Padmé, as openly as you please, and stopped by Dellia's desk to say "good morning."

Dellia stared at him in morbid fascination, but quickly became uneasy when his eyes seemed to penetrate into her thoughts. It was one thing to be privy to the gossip about him, but quite another to have him standing in front of her giving her his full attention. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she was a little bit afraid of him. And after what Lon had said about him.

Padmé pushed up her veil and. and it was Sabé. Dellia hated it when they did that. She almost never knew in advance.

Sabé smiled cheerfully. "Good morning, Dellia! I'm sorry no one called, but there was a last-minute change of plans. I finally was able to convince Padmé to take the day off after yesterday's terrible events and spend the day with Balé instead."

Dellia nodded dumbly, wondering whether Padmé's decision to stay away had anything to do with. her eyes slipped back to Anakin. He was still watching her.

"They're going to see a play, I think," Sabé chatted on. Then she turned to Anakin.

"Thank you so much for accompanying me," she said to him. "I don't mean to keep you, but could I have a word with you in Padmé's office before you go?"

"As you wish," Anakin said politely, and bowed.

Sabé smiled cheerfully at Dellia. "Would you mind clearing Padmé's appointment schedule for today? And after that, why don't you take the rest of the day off? I don't think any of us can settle down to work after yesterday."

Dellia agreed, and watched them retreat into the inner office and close the door. She couldn't wait to finish up and go find Lon. If she were lucky, she still would be able to catch him before he left for the Jedi Temple.

She thought he might be interested to know that Anakin had been here.

* * * * *

Sabé slipped into Padmé's chair with a groan.

"Dellia's going to be a problem," she said. It wasn't a question. It was a conclusion.

Anakin had chosen to stand by the window behind her, looking out over the panorama of the city. From this angle he could just see the spires of the Jedi Temple in the distance.

"She is already a problem. She has heard the rumors, and she believes them." He was quite certain from whom she had heard them. "And it is a very bad idea for me to be here right now."

Sabé accepted his assertion about Dellia without comment. Whatever her personal feelings about Anakin, she never underestimated his abilities.

"Yes, I know. I won't keep you long. I need to ask you something. In private. Just for myself."

Anakin turned around and looked at her levelly, feeling somehow that he needed to prepare himself for what was to come.

Sabé let him have it straight out. "Are you and Padmé married?"

There was a long, long silence, during which Anakin turned back to the window and resumed gazing out of it. Sabé allowed the silence to hang between them as long as necessary. Since she didn't fill it, he eventually had to respond.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I have to know now. If I'm going to protect her, I need to understand everything that I have to deal with."

It was by far the most persuasive line of reasoning she could have presented to Anakin.

"She hasn't said anything to you?" He still was gazing at the city.

"No." Sabé's heart started to sink. He wasn't denying it.

Anakin kept his eyes locked on the spires of the Jedi Temple. Perhaps he had something in his eye, or perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it appeared to be receding further and further into the distance.

"Padmé left it up to me whether to announce it," he finally said.

Sabé felt suddenly deflated, as though all the air had left her lungs in a rush. So it was true. She was grateful that she'd already had a little time to get used to the idea. Hearing something like that out of the blue would have been a savage blow. It was so difficult to understand why Padmé - of all people - might have done something this reckless and ill advised.

"And are you going to?" she asked, taking refuge in pragmatism.

Anakin turned around and looked at her in surprise. "In the middle of all this? Under no circumstances. She needs to stay as far away from me as possible." His voice was calm and steady, but Sabé imagined that she could feel the tension in him.

"I've have told her that she must leave Coruscant with Balé right away," he added.

That time Sabé was sure she heard pain.

"Just for my own satisfaction," she asked, "may I know when all this happened?"

Anakin sighed. It was such a relief to be able to tell someone. But at the same time it seemed as though something was coming to an end. An idyll, perhaps. A dream.

"On Naboo. At the end. When we didn't know whether I would ever get well again."

"At the Lake House," Sabé said, suddenly understanding. "When she refused to allow me to come along."

"Yes."

Sabé took her time about forming a new picture of the past year's events. Anakin left her to it, and went back to looking out the window. Unbidden memories of his wedding to Padmé and the long, desperate months afterward before he found his way back to her surged up from the places he had kept them locked away, tumbling over one another for attention.

Padmé, he called out inadvertently, compelled somehow by the power of the memories.

I'm here, she responded immediately. Are you all right?

Yes. I just. I don't know. I just needed to know that you're there. Either he or Sabé would tell her about this conversation later. Now was not the time.

What's wrong? She was worried. She had detected the coloration of his thoughts. Nothing having to do with him got past her.

Nothing, he replied, trying hard to be reassuring. I was just.I was just thinking about you.

Anakin turned around to face Sabé. "What did we do to give it away?"

Roused out of her reverie, she looked up absently. "Nothing, really. It was something Balé said. She said.that it feels like a family when you're around."

Anakin felt a lump rise in his throat.

"I don't know why," Sabé went on, "but something clicked."

When Anakin's eyes returned to the window, the Temple was a distant point.

"I get the picture," Sabé was saying. "I may not like it, but at least I know what we're all facing. What I don't know is how far you are prepared to go to protect her." She paused. "How committed you are."

If he squinted Anakin could make the Jedi Temple disappear from the horizon altogether. He forced himself to think about Sabé's question carefully, visualizing as many different scenarios as his fertile imagination could conjure up.

"I will do anything that is required to safeguard her and Balé," he finally said. Sabé didn't respond right away. Pushing himself away from the window with a huge effort, Anakin strode around to the front of Padmé's desk, leaned on it with both hands, and looked Sabé full in the face. "Absolutely anything," he said again. "Their safety is the only thing that matters."

Sabé believed him. For the first time she found herself seeing Anakin through different eyes. The risks he had taken for Padmé were staggering. The arrogance that always had bothered her was looking less like bravado and more like courage. His annoying persistence could, from a different point of view, take on the character of devotion. And most startling of all, his brooding fierceness - that dangerous edge that she had feared and distrusted from the beginning was taking on the appearance of a bristling defensive perimeter that encircled Padmé, and indeed, that protected them all.

"All right," Sabé said practically. "Thank you for being honest with me." She didn't think she ever truly would understand Padmé's passion for this volatile, unsuitable and dangerous. Jedi, of all things. but the choice had been made. Her unswerving devotion to her mistress made it clear where her loyalties must lie.

She stood up and headed toward the office door. "For what it's worth," she added, lowering the veil in preparation for entering the dangerous and uncertain terrain outside, "we're on the same side."

Anakin actually managed a tiny smile.

"That's a relief," he said. "You would make a formidable enemy." He reached over her shoulder to open the door for her

"So would you," she admitted, quickly putting her hand on his arm to stop him from opening the door just yet.

"On second thought, I'll stay here for a while. We shouldn't leave together."

Sabé pushed up the veil again so that she could look into Anakin's eyes as they stood face to face at the threshold of the unavoidable turmoil that lay beyond the door of Padmé's peaceful office.

"I wish you well," she found herself saying sincerely. "I hope you find your way through all of this."

Anakin bowed to her without any mockery at all.

"I intend to," he said, more confidently than he felt. And then he opened the door and was gone.

Chapter 22. The Two Doors (Part II)

For a long time Anakin stood on the wide, windy landing platform of the Galactic Senate building and struggled to know where he should go next. Padmé had listened to him and had heard what was in his heart. He didn't honestly expect either of his Masters - the Jedi Order or the Chancellor - to do the same.

He found himself remembering a story that Obi-Wan had been fond of telling him. It was a teaching tale, a parable from far beyond the Moons of Rexla. In the story a criminal faced the blind, inexorable judgment of destiny by being placed in an arena before two doors. Behind one was a terrible beast that would devour him immediately. Behind the other was a Lady whom he did not know, to whom he would be bound and beholden for the rest of his days. The one choice offered a quick but terrible death; the other, a life not of his choosing. The crux of the story was that above the doors in the arena sat the criminal's true love, who had managed to discover what lay behind each door. She signaled him, indicating one of the doors. But which one had she chosen for him - a quick if savage death or a life without her? The lesson had to do with logic and the nature of choice.

Anakin never had liked the story, and categorically had refused to grapple with its lesson. He always had preferred to believe that there were never only two choices. And until now he pretty much had been able to create new options when he needed them.

And yet here he was, facing the dilemma of the two doors. On one hand he could go back down to the Chancellor's office and explain himself. He didn't hold out much hope of receiving any help there. Chancellor Palpatine had made it clear that Anakin's methods had consequence only if they reflected badly on his office and on himself. Judging by Dellia's reaction to him, and the looks and feelings he had encountered on the short journey from the Naboo delegation offices to the landing platform, he had violated that rule.

On the other hand he could get into an air taxi and go to the Jedi Temple and explain himself there. Considering his already shaky status as a Jedi, Anakin held out as little hope for a fair hearing among those who ostensibly were his peers.

But that wasn't his only hesitation about returning to the Temple. Every Jedi in the Senate Chamber had watched him fail. Without their assistance yesterday's crisis would have turned into a devastating tragedy that sat squarely on his shoulders. As it was, Anakin was convinced that he had demonstrated his weakness - his unworthiness - for all the Jedi to see.

Neither the Chancellor nor the Jedi had summoned him for questioning yet. But he was sure it was just a matter of time. He had to make a move, and quickly, before events caught up with him.

I don't know what to do, he said silently to no one in particular, looking at the busy sky above.

His mind drifted back to the story of the two doors. Who would sit above the doors giving him a signal? He visualized Padmé there.

I can't make that choice for you.

No, of all the people in his life, Padmé believed in him. She was counting on him to know what to do, and to do the right thing for both of them - for all of them. Above all things, he mustn't let her down. He was on his own in this one.

He changed the picture to Obi-Wan. In his inner image, his former Master lounged on the railing of the arena, refusing to indicate either door. Watching him. Waiting for him to make his choice.

You are already a great warrior, Anakin. Now be a great man.

That was no help. He was evidently neither one. That was the whole point.

Time was growing short. Anakin stood alone with his cloak whipping around his ankles as a shuttle roared onto the platform and discharged its passengers. He watched them disperse into the transport lounge, and tried to visualize Chancellor Palpatine standing above the doors.

This is a world in which, sadly or not, results count for more than methods. Outcomes are the standard by which our work is judged, he said frostily.

Anakin shuddered and erased the image. No, his first assessment had been correct. But that left him with the Jedi after all.

Anakin tried one more time, placing Qui-Gon Jinn's image in that dreaded place of judgment.

Master Jinn stood stolidly with his arms crossed, glaring at Anakin.

You promised to return to the Temple.

Anakin stared back. They don't want me.

Master Jinn continued to glare.

Anakin sighed. You don't give up, do you?

Master Jinn didn't budge.

You promised.

Irritated, Anakin grabbed his COM link and called for an air taxi.

Fine, he thought. You win. I hope you enjoy my humiliation and final eviction from the Jedi Order.

Even when he had erased the image from his mind the feeling of Master Jinn's glare remained with Anakin all the way to the Temple, making him feel downright sulky. But he went.

* * * * *

Anakin arrived at the Temple without a clear idea as to how to proceed. His best guess was to seek out Master Yoda and lay the situation out before him. But as soon as he entered the Temple doors - no, even sooner that that: as soon as he entered the Temple compound - Anakin sensed a familiar presence that made his spirit leap, and went searching for its source. He was so intent on his purpose that he hardly noticed the odd looks and uneasy feelings that his passage provoked in the halls, private quarters, library and training rooms of the Temple complex as he systematically widened his search.

Finally his hunt led him to the anteroom of the Council Chamber itself, where his eyes sought in vain for that which he could sense so clearly through the Force.

"Master?" he called out, softly.

There was no response.

He wandered around the anteroom. It appeared to be empty, but the Force told him in no uncertain terms that it wasn't.

"Master Kenobi?" he said again, a little bit louder. There was still no response.

At last he noticed a tattered brown bundle in a far corner, draped over a low chair. When he moved closer Anakin realized that the bundle was actually a worn and damaged cloak that completely covered what could only be the curled-up figure whose Force signature had registered so strongly in his awareness. He moved closer, and stretched out a tentative hand to a part of the shabby-looking heap that might be taken for a shoulder.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin persisted, shaking the shoulder a little.

The figure under the cloak jerked spasmodically and lurched into a partial sitting position, revealing Obi-Wan's head and shoulders. He looked gaunt, and pale, and exhausted. There were deep circles of weariness under his eyes, the side of his face was badly cut and bruised, and his shoulders were hunched.

"I'm happy to see you again," Anakin said. He meant it.

Obi-Wan had clearly been torn out of a deep sleep and was struggling to focus. He looked Anakin up and down.

"I would say the same thing," he finally said in a voice that rasped slightly, "if I understood what it was that I was seeing."

Puzzled, Anakin looked down at himself.

Oh, no. The suit. He was still wearing his deep blue suit and cloak. No wonder people had looked at him so oddly.

"It wasn't my idea," he protested. "Chancellor Palpatine suggested it."

Obi-Wan looked at him appraisingly. His concentration clearly had improved.

"And you agreed?"

The question startled Anakin. It never had occurred to him that he could refuse the Chancellor's suggestion. Since he didn't have a good answer, he changed the subject.

"Are you all right? You look done in."

As battered as Obi-Wan looked, there was nothing wrong with his focus now, and Anakin felt the Jedi Master's gaze go through him like a laser.

"I could ask you the same thing. What's wrong?"

Anakin sat down suddenly on the chair next to the corner where Obi-Wan remained huddled. All of his defenses seemed to have fallen away at once.

"I'm in trouble," he admitted, surprised at how relieved he felt to be able to say it out loud.

"You usually are," Obi-Wan observed in his long-suffering Master voice.

Anakin unaccountably felt comforted. For a brief, precious moment it felt as though his situation was no worse than usual, and that with Obi-Wan by his side, he would get through it the way he always had before. Anakin wanted to hug him.

The feeling didn't last long, though. The massive doors to the Council Chamber swung open silently behind Obi-Wan. The Council was apparently in session. Anakin glanced inside to see Lon Erian standing its center.

"Not like this," Anakin said bitterly, and steeled himself for what would happen next.

_____ _______ ______ ________

Author's note: My always-observant readers will have recognized the parable of the two doors as our very own story of "The Lady and the Tiger." Like Anakin, I never liked that story much. But it semed to fit. So here it is, transposed into that Galaxy far, far away.

Chapter 23. The Invisible Hand


Anakin instinctively stood as the doors to the Jedi Council chamber swung open, but did not go inside. He had not been summoned; presumably Obi-Wan had. He glanced at his former Master, who showed no signs of moving.

"The Council is ready for you," he whispered. Obi-Wan shifted his position and then stopped, groaning softly.

Anakin frowned. Lon stalked toward him out of the Chamber, looking pale and shaken. As he passed the Padawan threw a look of pure disgust Anakin's way.

"Traitor," he hissed.

"Be careful," Anakin shot back in a lowered voice.

Lon stopped in front of Obi-Wan. "The Council is ready for you now, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan nodded and curled forward as if to rise, then collapsed back into himself.

Anakin stepped closer and bent down to him.

"Are you all right?"

"Can't stand right now," Obi-Wan growled. "Tell Master Windu."

Anakin glanced up at Lon, nodding toward the Chamber doors to indicate that he should go inside and make the announcement. Lon pointedly turned away from him and headed down the corridor, leaving Anakin with his huddled former Master and the open doors to the waiting Council.

"What's wrong?" Anakin whispered, reaching out to him through the Force. He was almost knocked back by a wave of pain.

"A couple of cracked ribs, I think," Obi-Wan gritted between clenched teeth. "Made it this far, but rested too long. Stiff." Now that Anakin leaned closer he could hear that Obi-Wan's breathing was shallow, and occasionally hitched spasmodically.

"You should be in the healing center," Anakin said.

"No!" Obi-Wan said sharply. "Get Master Windu."

Anakin had no choice but to walk into the Council Chamber uninvited. His throat was tight as he strode resolutely to Master Windu and bowed, and he imagined disapproval stinging him all over like sand in a desert storm. His blue suit felt like nothing more than a carnival costume.

"Forgive me, Master Windu," Anakin said quietly into the Master's ear. "Master Kenobi is outside but feels he is unable to stand. He seems to have some broken ribs."

Mace bowed his head while he listened. "Very well." Then he raised his eyes and pinned Anakin with a hard look. "Stay with me."

Mace stood up and spoke to the assembled Council. "Master Kenobi is injured and needs immediate attention. I will receive his briefing in the healing center and report back to you as soon as possible."

Anakin tried briefly and failed to imagine the Jedi Council ever making the same accommodation for him. The stars would burn out first.

"Join you, I will," said a familiar voice, and Master Yoda hobbled up beside Anakin. Out of nowhere a Padawan hurried to his side with his hover chair.

Great. Anakin took a deep breath but it didn't help. He still felt strangled.

The trio approached the brown heap in the chair of the anteroom.

"You're here sooner than expected," Mace said gruffly to Obi-Wan.

"I took the direct route," Obi-Wan muttered. "I was in a hurry. Caught a little unfriendly fire."

"We're going to the healing center," Mace said, looming closer to the prone Knight.

"No," Obi-Wan protested. "Later. I have much to report." Before he could say anything more the powerful Master picked him up like a bundle of twigs and marched purposefully down the hallway toward the healing center. Anakin glanced at Master Yoda, who merely nodded after Master Windu to indicate that they should follow. Anakin obeyed.

"Here without being summoned, are you?" Master Yoda said quietly on the way down the hall.

"Yes, Master." Anakin conceded sullenly.

"Well done, that is," Yoda said. "Much to discuss, we have."

Anakin took no pleasure at all in the Ancient One's oblique approval.

* * * * *

The small room at the heart of the healing center was windowless and Anakin was beginning to feel trapped. He wanted to pace, to prowl, but there was no space for it with the four of them there. He was reduced to leaning against the wall in a corner of the room with his arms crossed tightly so that he would have something to hold on to. Himself, probably.

Obi-Wan lay curled up on the single cot. Master Liaat had seen him briefly, but further healing had to wait until this conversation was done.

Anakin scowled. Master Liaat hadn't done much for the pain because Obi-Wan had insisted on keeping his full faculties, and the burning, stabbing waves of it kept searing into Anakin's awareness. It was beginning to feel as though his own ribs were on fire. He wished they would do something about it. Any one of them could have stopped it by now if they chose.

But all three Jedi Masters were completely focused on only one thing - Obi-Wan's report from the field. As he laid it out piece-by-piece, frequently pausing for breath, the atmosphere in the small room seemed to grow dimmer and more airless. Anakin started to feel as though he was suffocating. The more restless and impatient he became, the more he shielded himself from the scrutiny of the Jedi Masters.

The picture Obi-Wan painted for them verged on the unbelievable.

Count Dooku had been on D'lai and was arranging for the manufacture of Force-disruptor weapons that could be used by anyone. He also was recruiting and training small groups of D'laians to assassinate Jedi Knights.

"I did not imagine that was possible," Master Windu said heavily at one point in the tale, but for the remainder of the time he listened silently.

The weapons were being shipped out of D'lai and distributed throughout the sector in diplomatic packets. Obi-Wan had verified this by liberating and opening some samples. A large quantity of the weapons was being shipped through Naboo.

That must be where Obi-Wan got the one he sent me, Anakin thought. He still kept it in his utility belt at all times, like a talisman.

Ever vigilant about protecting its sovereignty, Naboo had instituted strict Rules of Inspection with regard to materiel and personnel of the Republic's Army forces that occupied the planet. Although most of the inspections turned up nothing suspicious, Naboo's security services were in communication with nearby systems that had suffered incursions from Separatist factions. There was surprising concordance between the timing of these so-called Separatist attacks and the movement of Army vehicles and personnel to and from Naboo. The Naboo were struggling to find hard evidence to back up their suspicions.

Anakin wondered whether Tibbs' list had given it to them.

Master Windu must have been considering the same thing, for when Obi-Wan stopped speaking to catch his breath the Jedi Master suddenly turned to Anakin.

"Why were you attempting to obtain the list of star systems suspected of harboring separatist activity from Deputy Security Chief Tibbs?"

I wasn't attempting; I was succeeding, Anakin thought resentfully as it became quite clear to him what Lon had been discussing with the Jedi Council. Well, that was no surprise. That was, after all, why he was here. He wondered when the questions about Chief Zangan's death would begin.

"Senator Amidala asked me to obtain it for her when it became clear that the list might be used as a basis for accusations of disloyalty to the Republic. She wanted to know whether Naboo was on the list."

"We already had that list, Anakin," Master Windu growled. "Padawan Erian was working on it."

"Yes," Anakin agreed, annoyed. "I know. But that wouldn't tell us whether any changes had been made - whether someone had distorted the original information produced by the Jedi analysis. Only a comparison of the two lists could do that."

"I distinctly remember directing you to leave the intelligence problems alone," Master Windu countered. "Senator Amidala could have come to us with her request."

Will you never trust me? Anakin thought furiously. As a reflex action he tried to fight down his outrage, but he was getting tired of acting as though everything was normal when it most certainly wasn't. He remembered his last appearance before the Council and wondered whether his feelings were shielded now as they had been then. At this point it hardly seemed to matter any more even if they weren't.

"I thought we were all working together," Anakin retorted pointedly. "Why would it matter whether she come to me, or Master Medulla, or the Council? Master Kenobi is working with the Naboo. Why shouldn't I?" He a let a moment pass and then added, with emphasis, "They trust me."

There was a sudden groan from the cot as Obi-Wan shifted and shot a warning glance at him. Anakin's ribs throbbed.

"Where is that data now?" Master Windu persisted, evidently choosing for the moment to disregard Anakin's belligerent tone.

"Senator Amidala's people are analyzing it."

Obi-Wan's stare was growing more intense. Anakin ignored it. He had spent months getting others to do his bidding and didn't feel like pretending to be a submissive Padawan any longer.

"Then the information is in their hands and not ours," Master Windu persisted.

"They will provide the list and their analysis to me whenever I ask for it," Anakin said obstinately. He decided that if the Jedi Masters didn't like his tone they could add it to the catalogue of his crimes.

Obi-Wan's voice suddenly sliced through the intense pause that ensued.

"Stop it, Anakin!"

Anakin flinched, and then immediately hated the fact that he had flinched.

"Stop what?" he snapped.

Master Windu and Master Yoda remained silent, but watched the interaction closely.

"Your new parlor trick. Whatever it is you're doing that allows you to completely mask your feelings."

Anakin felt the corner of his mouth begin to twitch upward. So it was working. Even Obi-Wan couldn't see through him.

"I'm no longer your Padawan," he pointed out. "I haven't been for a long time." You can't tell me what to do.

Pain and exhaustion were evidently wreaking havoc with Obi-Wan's self-control. He tried to sit up, making Anakin want to clutch at his ribs, and raised his voice.

"We can't afford to hide anything from one another, Anakin - especially not now! Don't you understand what we are facing? If we aren't completely honest and open among ourselves then there may be nothing left at all in the end - we could see the end of the Jedi Order within our lifetimes." He slumped back onto the cot, breathless. "We have to work together, whether you like it or not."

"Really?" Anakin said, pushing hard at the boundary between directness and insolence, "Master Windu doesn't seem to think so."

He could feel Master Windu gathering himself for a reply, but Anakin's attention was being diverted by his perception of Obi-Wan's private struggle to calm the fire in his chest.

All at once he'd had enough of Jedi forbearance.

Without any warning Anakin shot a burst of Force energy toward his former Master, momentarily pinning him to the cot. Obi-Wan cried out in pain and shock. Master Windu moved toward Anakin like lightening, only to be stopped by an equally swift raised hand from Master Yoda.

There was an endless moment during which the only sound in the room was that of Obi-Wan's gasping breath. When he finally could speak he exploded into a string of expletives like nothing that had ever passed his lips before. Anakin was deeply impressed. There was no indication whether the other Jedi Masters shared his admiration.

"With that blasted new shielding of yours I didn't see that coming," Obi-Wan snarled when the outburst was over. Gingerly he felt his ribs, where the pain was subsiding rapidly. "What in blazes do you think you're doing?"

Anakin remained hunched in his corner with his arms crossed, thoroughly pleased to have drawn such an extreme reaction out of his former Master.

"Unfortunately, the blocking effect only works one way," he retorted. "You were driving me crazy."

Everyone in the room could perceive a mounting sense of intention coming from Master Windu, like a massive storm cloud gathering on the horizon. Anakin braced himself for whatever the Jedi Master had in store for him. He was almost glad. At least at the end of it he would know where he stood.

He never found out what Master Windu was about to say because Master Yoda chose this precise moment to push the destiny of the Galaxy one step forward.

"This ability to shroud your feelings - a gift from the dark side, it is," the ancient Jedi Master said quietly to Anakin.

The room dampened down into a profound silence. This time it was an airless, heart stopping silence that charged the small space with tension.

"What do you mean?" Anakin's boldness took a nose-dive. He could feel a wave of alarm coming from the cot, where Obi-Wan still was struggling to collect himself after Anakin's aggressive healing.

"Long has the darkness sought you out, young Skywalker. Found you, it has."

Anakin could perceive clearly that Obi-Wan's ribs were feeling considerably better, yet even so the look his former Master shot him was filled with pain. Anakin held his eyes for a long time, puzzled.

"I don't understand, Master," Anakin said after turning back to face Master Yoda. His belligerent tone and attitude had vanished.

"Shrouds the vision of all Jedi, does this darkness. Makes it difficult to perceive even that which is right in front of us. Yet everywhere is the evidence of its working." His eyes bored into Anakin's. "This shroud you wear to hide your mind and heart - its source is the dark side of the Force."

Anakin stared at the diminutive Master in appalled fascination. This was not what he had expected to hear, and Yoda's words effectively knocked all his defenses out from under him. He sensed Master Windu and Obi-Wan keeping their distance, physically and emotionally; leaving him to grapple alone with what he was being told.

"Ascendant in the Galaxy, the Sith once again are." Master Yoda went on. "War and suffering is their domain. Domination, their goal." Yoda paused to make certain his meaning could not be misconstrued. "Want you, they do."

"The Sith want me?" Anakin whispered. Fascination began to give way to something closer to revulsion. His arms dropped to his sides and hung there helplessly. Everything else was forgotten. "Want me for what?"

"Powerful you are, with the Force." Master Yoda pointed his stick first at Anakin and then toward Obi-Wan, who still lay frozen on the cot, watching the scene intently. "Heal and kill you can, with the same ease."

"So can you!" Anakin burst out defensively. "So can every Jedi."

"Heal, we can," Master Yoda continued relentlessly. "Kill we can. Take these actions, we do, with the greatest caution and care." The Ancient One floated a bit closer to Anakin and looked penetratingly into his eyes. "Feeds on our deepest, most powerful feelings, does the dark side. Increases, its potency does, as we allow our sympathies and antipathies to rule our actions."

That was close. It was too close. Anakin's mind skittered around, looking for a way out.

"I'm not powerful," he protested. "Look what happened in the Senate. I failed. If it hadn't been for you."

"Fail, you did not!" Master Yoda's voice became piercing. "Successful, you were! Successful until the invisible hand of the dark side revealed itself and tore the pods in the Senate Chamber from your grasp!"

The Force rose and surged around Master Windu, but he did not speak. Obi-Wan might have been a statue where he lay listening with all of his being.

The invisible hand of the dark side. Anakin remembered his odd perceptions of the Force. The hairs rising on his arms and neck. The feeling of darkness. The spite.

But why?

"Why?" Anakin could barely form the word. Shock had drained the last of the fight out of him.

"Your resolve, to test. The strength of your attachments, to probe." Master Yoda was close enough to poke Anakin in the chest with his stick. "The depth of your fear to expose. Your fear of losing those close to you."

This was not, not, NOT what Anakin had expected to hear.

If this is true I am a danger to everyone I love.

Anakin's mind and heart began violently to reject what he was being told.

"I didn't kill Chief Zangan," he hissed.

Obi-Wan wasn't doing a good job of controlling his distress. Anakin could feel it surge.

Master Yoda focused solely on Anakin.

"True, that may be," he continued relentlessly. "Yet the desire alone may have been enough, when perceived by others. Perhaps, another gift to you from the dark side, was the death of this man."

Another gift from the dark side.

Beginning with Yoda's first words Anakin had felt as though he was falling into some deep, deep pit. Now it seemed he might be nearing the bottom. Something shadowy was beginning to stir in him. A tremor of familiarity. A flicker of recognition.

"Why?" Anakin asked again, sharply. "Why me?"

Mace Windu's voice rumbled through the room like faraway thunder.

"The Sith know who you are, Anakin. They know who you are as well as we do. They have probably known, and have been watching you, since we first became aware of you."

"They know who I am? What do you mean? Who am I?" Anakin asked the questions, but began to feel as though he already knew the answer. A void opened up between him and the Jedi Master, waiting to be filled not so much by an answer as by a confirmation.

"The Chosen One. The one who will bring balance to the Force."

Obi-Wan heaved himself up on the cot, his ribs evidently forgotten.

"Anakin," he gasped, "I know how much you hate that name . but just listen ."

Anakin crashed into the bottom of the shaft. There was nowhere else to go. He began to laugh.

"So. I'm not good enough for the Jedi Order. You never wanted me. But the Sith have sought me all along?" The bitterness in his laughter twisted every heart in the room. "No wonder you hold me at a distance." No wonder you watch me all the time.

"That isn't true, Anakin," Mace growled. "This path has been placed before you. We have made every effort to give you the tools you need to meet your destiny with wisdom and courage."

This path has been placed before you. To hear his mother's words coming from the Jedi Master's lips was almost more than Anakin could bear. Flung back unwillingly in memory to the beginnings of all this, Anakin saw the face of the one soul he had trusted the most. The one he thought knew what was best for him.

Why did you bring me to this place, Master Jinn?

If there was an answer, he did not hear it.

"Dooku tried to kill me," Anakin said grimly after a while, when no one else had spoken. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"The Sith Master, Dooku is not," Yoda said quietly. "There is another - the one whom Dooku now serves. He does not reveal himself, but great, his power is."

The invisible hand, Anakin thought as his mind raced and skidded and bumped and crashed around Master Yoda's words. Around his own perceptions. Around his fears. The hand that brings gifts.

"You obviously need me for something," Anakin decided as his lurching thoughts finally found their way back to some kind of a beginning. "What is it?" I assume you have no gifts for me. Only burdens.

"Remain near the heart of the Senate, you must. That is where the Master of the dark power toils - at the heart of the splintering Galaxy. Reveal himself to you he will, if we are patient."

"Because he wants me," Anakin said, with loathing.

"Yes."

"What am I supposed to do there?"

"The job you have done so well. Draw the darkness out into the light."

"Bait for a Sith Lord," Anakin said, as he finally grasped the full extent of the Jedi Order's betrayal. "That's what I have been all along. Sithbait. And everyone knew it but me." He looked into Obi-Wan's grief-stricken eyes from an enormous, unbridgeable distance. How could you?

"Even as a slave I was worth more than that."

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Mace said with sudden gentleness. "We had to do it this way. If you knew, if you were aware in any way, the Sith Master would also know. He would know and he would have withdrawn completely."

Anakin crossed his arms once more, not looking at any of them. His heart had constricted. His veins were ice.

"And now?"

"He will reveal himself. Begun, our battle has."

Anakin laughed again, a single burst of mocking recognition that reverberated in the small room.

"And I am the prize."

"Don't give in to bitterness, Anakin," Obi-Wan urged him. "You are the only one who can do this. We need you. The Galaxy needs you."

Anakin refused to dignify his former Master's words with a comment.

"Easier to fight an enemy who can be seen, it is." Master Yoda insisted. "Support you, we will, as we did in the Senate Chamber. Strong, you must be, young one. Much is at stake."

"This shielding - this shroud you complain about," Anakin said impersonally, to no one in particular. "Is it still in effect?"

"Yes." It was Mace Windu who answered.

"Good," Anakin spat, and walked out the door.

Chapter 24. A Night without Stars


While Master Yoda had returned to the Council Chamber to report on their behalf, Mace Windu had remained by Obi-Wan's bedside in the healing center for a long time following Anakin's abrupt departure. Their conversation had been wide-ranging and troubling. Most of it had been about Anakin.

"What do you think he will do now?" Mace asked, finally. Their discussion had been building up to this crucial question for a long time.

Obi-Wan thought carefully. So much depended on his answer. To give himself time to think at greater length he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot. He was feeling better. So much better, in fact, that he refused to remain in the healing center any longer. He reached up and peeled the bacta patch off the side of his face.

Curse Anakin for his wrong-headedness. The thought of his former Padawan's frustrated, heartfelt, reckless, powerful healing made his heart contract with grief. And curse me for not being what he needed. He reached up and felt his face gingerly. It would do.

"He is suffering," Obi-Wan said. "And in my experience, he does not take well to suffering - his own or that of people close to him." He waved a hand in the general direction of his own ribs to illustrate the point. Mace nodded in acknowledgement and remained silent, allowing his companion to continue his train of thought uninterrupted.

"Typically, he lashes out at the source of his misery." Obi-Wan interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms out in front of his chest experimentally. Not bad. "He finds something or someone to blame."

"He will surely blame us," Mace said flatly.

"Without a doubt," Obi-Wan agreed, wishing that he could draw Anakin's wrath to himself alone, and spare the Order. He pushed off from the cot and stood up.

Mace followed his lead and stood as well. "Do you have any idea where he might go next?"

Obi-Wan turned the problem over in his mind while they walked slowly out into the hallway. "I would expect him to seek out Senator Amidala." He looked sideways at Mace. "I think I should go looking for him. I might have the best chance of finding him."

"No," Mace said firmly. "We will track his movements, but will not make contact for the moment." He frowned. "He would not listen to anything we have to say."

Obi-Wan agreed. This should have been done differently.

"I have another assignment for you, if you are ready," Mace said, breaking into his thoughts.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "May I get cleaned up first?"

Mace sighed, reaching over to open a door for him as they left the healing center. "I wish Anakin had more of your unfailing willingness to serve."

A deep silence settled between them as they continued their walk though the polished hallways.

"Let me go find him," Obi-Wan said after a while. "Let me talk to him."

Mace stopped walking and turned to his companion. "You chased him to Naboo and back after he severed his Master/Padawan bond with you," he reminded Obi-Wan. "And he still did exactly as he pleased. And now look where we are with him."

"Mace ."Obi-Wan began again, only to be cut off.

"I think we have made quite enough concessions for Anakin," Mace said with finality, and began walking again. Obi-Wan followed along.

"Now," Mace continued after a few more measured strides, "about your new assignment. It's not a field assignment - that would be far too dangerous right now. You must remain close to the Temple for the time being."

Their unhurried walk had brought them to one of the Temple's small refectories. Mace ushered Obi-Wan inside and insisted he have something to eat. He refused any more discussion until the battered Knight had complied and they sat peacefully with cups of piping hot tea in their hands.

"We lost another of our most experienced Knights last night," Mace said grimly. "Master Regor. It was probably one more deliberate attack."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and gripped his steaming cup. Every hour of every day brought more grief and suffering. He wondered whether there would ever be an end to it.

"Has his Padawan been told?"

Mace nodded. "He sensed it in the Force, of course. The Council confirmed it and gave him the details this morning."

"Lon will be devastated," Obi-Wan said. "They had not seen one another in many months." Master Regor and Lon Erian had been one of the most successful and energetic Master/Padawan pairings in the Temple.

"It is another terrible blow for the Order," Mace said bleakly. "Our numbers are being depleted rapidly. And the skills of an experienced Jedi Master can never be fully replaced. We are each unique." He looked up, catching Obi-Wan's weary gaze with a certain amount of focused intent. "Having said that, we need every Knight we can get. And Lon is only weeks away from his trials."

There was a long silence.

"Mace, this is a very, very bad idea." Obi-Wan couldn't believe it was even being suggested. "It's a terrible idea!"

"There is no one else. He will need dedicated support and guidance in these last few critical weeks. Especially now. Telman Regor was on his way home to guide Lon through his trials when he was assassinated."

"I don't dispute that someone needs to take responsibility for Lon, Mace. But not me. Not now. Not with what Anakin just went through. What he is going through."

"We can't spare anyone else. And Padawan Erian has been left on his own too long as it is."

Obi-Wan gripped his teacup so tightly that the tremor in his hands made it rattle slightly against the table. He quickly removed his hands from it. "I gather that my recommendation for this position arises from my stellar success with my last Padawan," he said with black irony.

"Don't be absurd," Mace snapped. "You did as well with Anakin as anyone could."

"You don't know what you are asking," Obi-Wan said grimly. "Anakin already feels betrayed. Assigning me another Padawan would." he paused, while ancient wounds re-opened more painfully even than his recent injuries, "it would hurt him." He would never wish on Anakin the experience of being pushed away, even though it was Anakin who had replaced him at Master Qui-Gon's side.

Mace was unmoved. "He is not your Padawan any more. And as he pointed out so unpleasantly earlier today, he hasn't been for along time. I would say that it is not his concern."

"Is it . anger .at him that makes you care so little for his feelings?"

"Anger? " Mace looked up. "No, I think not. But I am realistic. Anakin has done everything in his power to separate himself from us and to disregard our guidance. At this point his very existence is a threat of unimaginable proportions."

There was a deep silence.

"He is just a boy," Obi-Wan said, sorrowfully, to the tabletop.

"Your compassion for him is a credit to you," Mace said more gently, while Obi-Wan continued to commune with the tabletop in silence, "but you must make certain that it does not interfere with your duty. He must not allowed to become a Sith."

"We would not be facing this problem if we hadn't blindfolded him and dangled him off that cliff," Obi-Wan said pointedly to the damp ring on the table that had been left by his teacup.

Mace paused, as if surprised at his companion's continued resistance. As if he had not expected it.

"That is where I disagree with you, as does the rest of the Council. The problem we face is that of Anakin's nature. If any other Jedi had been. dangled off that cliff, as you put it . they would not be threatening to separate themselves willfully from the Order.

"We pushed him too far," Obi-Wan muttered. "Some day you will see that."

For the second time Mace closed that particular discussion by changing the subject.

"Take Lon," he said with finality to Obi-Wan. "Help him through his grief. You know what that is like." Mace tried again to meet his companion's eyes, but they remained cast down. He gave up and continued. "Guide him through his Trials. We will need every resource at our disposal for the battles to come."

Who will guide Anakin through his grief? Obi-Wan wondered. But he knew his duty, and so he nodded once, briefly.

"And now," Mace said, much more gently, "you need to get some sleep."

Wordlessly Obi-Wan stood up from the table and left the refectory alone, leaving his cooling tea behind.

A Night Without Stars Part II


"This can't be true." Padmé rubbed her face with her hands in a gesture of overwhelming weariness. "It's just not possible."

"I'm afraid it's worse that that, My Lady," Captain Typho said, just as tiredly.

"Worse? How can it be worse?" Padmé peered at him from between her fingers.

"The corruption most likely extends to every part of the Galaxy. If we had the same type of information for every Sector, I think we would find the same falsification of official data. And I wouldn't be surprised if illegal raids like this are going on elsewhere. It is unlikely that we are the only unwitting victims."

Padmé dropped her hands into her lap and looked down at them.

"And with the new Military Governors in place the sovereign governments will no longer have access to any of this information," she reasoned. "We will only know what we are given to know."

"Exactly."

"Genius," Padmé whispered with growing horror. "Absolute genius."

There was a silence while the Senator and her Security Chief tried to absorb the information that lay before them.

"My Lady," Typho said into the pause, "I cannot overemphasize the danger in which you find yourself. You might as well be holding a thermal detonator in your hands that is being controlled by someone else. You'll never know when it is set to go off."

"It's not just me, Captain," Padmé corrected him. "It is the whole Galaxy. Freedom itself is in the gravest danger."

There was another long silence.

"You know who this points to, don't you?" Padmé said at last.

"Yes." The Security Chief didn't want to say the name out loud. It seemed too far-fetched. How could the duly elected Supreme Chancellor of the Republic be behind a vast scheme like this? All the evidence pointed in his direction, but the mind balked at making the leap.

"What I don't understand," Padmé said, "is why? Why deal in lies? Why weaken everything that has value?"

Captain Typho let the question hang. Apparently he too had no answers.

"We have some hard decisions to make, My Lady. For one thing, what to do with this data. It's clear that we cannot trust anyone any more. Even those we thought were our staunchest allies. A great many Senators have been compromised."

Padmé gave him a hard look. "Are you suggesting that we do nothing? That we just leave it alone?"

"More than that, My Lady," Captain Typho said somewhat stiffly, "I am suggesting that with the best of will there is nothing we can do. If you and Naboo are to have a chance of remaining safe, you must not act on this information."

"I have fought injustice all of my life," she said mutinously. "I don't see how I can be expected to cower in safety now, in the face of all this."

When Captain Typho leaned forward to speak again it was with a defiant look Padmé had never seen on his face before - a look that was not tempered in the slightest by the unfailing courtesy with which he expressed himself.

"Please, My Lady. Be reasonable. If you try to make this public, you and all those associated with you will be killed, and this knowledge will vanish anyway."

Padmé held his gaze without wavering.

"Then I must find another way," she said stubbornly. "If necessary, I will work in secret."

The expression on Typho's face grew even steelier but he did not answer.

"Know this, Captain," Padmé informed him. "I will take action."

Typho's stony silence continued. Padmé could sense the turmoil in the man who had served her so loyally and so long, but made no move to persuade him. She would never force him to follow her on this dangerous path. If were to continue to serve her it must do so freely.

"Take great care, My Lady," he said finally. "If you don't care about your own life, think about Balé. Think about all the others. The repercussions against the Naboo would be horrific."

"That is all I ever think about," Padmé growled. She stood up abruptly and went to stand by the window of her sitting room. The vivid colors of the Coruscant night had just begun to fill the panorama outside with their glow.

Anakin?

As she had feared, there was no response.

Anakin? she tried again, and once again he did not answer. His warm, unfailing presence in her mind and thoughts was always her anchor, her safety; but he had not responded to her call since much earlier in the day. I was just.I was just thinking about you, he had said out of nowhere with such powerful longing that Padmé had wanted to reach out for him, to find him. And then his presence in her thoughts had inexplicably disappeared, leaving her feeling adrift and increasingly frightened.

Anakin, where are you?

There was no answer. Padmé felt hot, stinging tears rising, but fought them back. She had spent too much time crying lately. It didn't help. She wished she had a dependable ally and supporter in place of every tear she had shed. Then she wouldn't feel so powerless.

Taking a deep breath to steady her voice, she turned back to Typho and said, "What about the Jedi? Surely we can trust them."

"Perhaps."

Padmé heard his hesitation, and knew exactly where it came from. He probably did have faith in the Jedi Order as a whole; but he was worried about her going to them through Anakin. She knew how little her Security Chief trusted him, or his association with Palpatine.

Padmé turned back to the window. She had been about to ask Captain Typho whether he knew of Anakin's whereabouts, but decided against it.

Anakin?

It wasn't just that he wasn't answering her. It felt as though . as though . he wasn't there at all. As though he had vanished.

Please.she begged.

There was no answer. Padmé stared out into the dazzling night in mute desperation. If she truly was alone, then she would have to act alone. There was no other choice.

"Captain?" she said into the Coruscant night. "Are you with me? If not, I completely understand."

"I am with you, My Lady," Captain Typho's voice rumbled behind her. "Now and always. You should know that by now."

No crying, Padmé reminded herself, weak with relief. I will not cry.

"Then I have a job for you," she said firmly, turning her back on the window with an act of will. "I need to meet with Bail Organa. Tonight. In absolute secrecy. Can you arrange it?"

Captain Typho stood up. "At once," he said, without offering further comment on her actions.

Padmé smiled at him gratefully. "And then please tell Sabé that I need her to hand-carry a message to the Jedi Temple right away."

This time the loyal Security chief gave Padmé a look that would have flattened anyone else. But she was buoyed up by resolve. She was a flame of determination. Moral outrage gave her strength where she had been sure she had none.

"The message," she said calmly, "is for Master Kenobi."

Captain Typho bowed slightly to demonstrate his surrender.

"At once, My Lady," he said. There was no further discussion.

* * * * *

Anakin shifted restlessly, trying to stretch out his cramped limbs. He was cold, and his left hand hurt abominably now that he was calmer. He pulled off his torn glove to check out the damage as well as he could in the dark, and noted indifferently that two knuckles were grossly distorted by swelling and bruising. He pulled his glove back on and turned his mind to his new dilemma.

He had nowhere to go.

He couldn't very well stay here. The dim warehouse had hidden him well enough until the worst waves of rage had passed. It had the virtue of being completely empty - a rare thing on the teeming planet of Coruscant. But Anakin was tired of huddling in the dark, battling his own thoughts. He was tired of Coruscant and everything it represented. And he was sick and tired of the shackles that held him here. He just wanted to be free now.

They don't own me.

He unfolded himself and stood up, bending backwards briefly for another stretch. It was time to move on. Somewhere. Anywhere. With leftover animosity he kicked away the remains of the door he had smashed to gain entrance to the isolated industrial building. He could have removed it easily enough using the Force, or his weapon, but his fists just wouldn't be contained. The right one did the most damage, but the left one - well, the pain in his body had helped to numb the pain in his mind, if only for a while.

Anakin was surprised to see that the sagging speeder was still outside. This was evidently a part of Coruscant that didn't see much activity at night. He looked over its crumpled nose, and kicked it once or twice for good measure. It held together despite the beating he had given it. He jumped in, and even though it started up right away, he wasn't sure he cared much one way or the other.

Because he had no place to go.

He navigated carelessly out of the narrow alleyway and then shot straight up toward the lowest of the traffic lanes. It was the middle of the night by now, and as he sped out of the darkened industrial district the lights became blinding.

He hated the artificial lights.

As child Anakin had spent as much time as he was allowed outdoors at night under the vast desert sky. There had been so many stars that he never tired of trying to see them all, of counting them, of dreaming about them. The night had never seemed dark and forbidding. The stars had been like lanterns lighting his way, beckoning him. His imaginings had been his companions; his dreams, a pathway to that sparkling sky. The stars beyond his world had been his comfort. As long as there were stars, there was hope for the path that lay ahead.

Coruscant's night was bereft of stars.

All the powerful and multicolored lights of the civilized center of the Galaxy served to block out any reminders of the Galaxy itself. Coruscant turned in on itself as though it were singular, independent, and unconnected to the infinity beyond. To see stars on Coruscant, one had to create an artful projection. There were many available through out the city - but none of them were real.

Anakin wanted to see the real stars again.

He pushed the speeder upward through successive layers of traffic, dodging and weaving as though he were chasing someone. Or maybe he was being chased. It didn't matter. He decided to go as high as he could before the atmosphere thinned too much to continue. Anakin pushed the speeder to its limits and then pushed it some more, making it whine and skitter as all the equations that defined the parameters of flight began to need new variables.

Out of nowhere Anakin remembered a rhyme from his childhood.

The stars like dust encircle me
In living mists of light
And all of space I seem to see
In one vast burst of sight.

He might be able to do it.

Physical laws prohibited it, but the Force was a law unto itself. He was powerful with the Force, wasn't he? He was the Chosen One. It was just one more barrier to hammer down - one more set of rules to challenge. He could try to force the speeder through those all but impenetrable barriers at the edge of this world. And then maybe - just maybe - there would be one last, vast burst of sight in which he would see all of the stars, and his dreams would come true. He would be gone, and the Galaxy could take care of itself as it always had. It was better that way.

They can't control me.

He needed to move fast. It was getting harder to keep this furious focus. The un-wished-for memories of his childhood were threatening to open up other parts of his mind and feelings that he had so violently slammed shut - and that could not, under any circumstances, be allowed to happen. This darkness must not be allowed to come anywhere near . her.

I am a danger to everyone I love.

He turned the nose of the speeder up, and gathered himself in the Force. Obey me, he said to it, and felt the fragile shell begin to vibrate uncontrollably as the sky began little by little to darken. The doomed speeder was becoming close to impossible to control. Only the Force could help him now. He concentrated, and gathered it to him. One mighty push, he thought. One last push and I will have defeated them all.

Anakin could feel the power of the Force gather around him and within him. He dove into it like a sea. The speeder's vibrations were violent enough to rattle his teeth and it was becoming difficult to breathe. This is it, he thought. I just want to see the stars.

No.

The single uncompromising word burned itself into Anakin's thoughts, making him lose focus.

I forbid it.

The speeder screamed as though it was shearing against a metal wall, flipped backwards and began to plummet back down into the thickening atmosphere, heating up ferociously as it went. Helpless to make a different decision, Anakin reacted instinctively and instantaneously by harnessing all of his power in the Force to cool the tiny craft and hold it together, not really knowing how he was going to do it or whether is was even possible. He had not, after all, planned on a return trip. It took every shred of his strength and skill to guide the last remnants of metal and plastisteel through the high-speed obstacle course that comprised Coruscant's upper reaches as it plummeted down . down . down .

In the end Anakin did not remember how he found that isolated landing platform. He did not remember crashing the speeder so hard that the twisted remains of the wreckage were little more than a smoking mass. And above all, he didn't have the slightest idea how he came to be face down on the platform, well clear of the wreckage, alive, and relatively undamaged.

Worse still, that irrefutable voice was still in his head. It filled his mind to the point that he could barely think on his own.

You will serve me, it said unequivocally.

Anakin heaved himself into sitting position and looked around at the blinking, blinding lights of the Coruscant night. Then he buried his face in his hands, and wept.

__________ ______ ____ _____________

Note: A long time ago, in a different lifetime, a groundbreaking and prolific writer of science fiction named Isaac Asimov wrote many, many books. One of them was entitled The Stars Like Dust, and the rhyme used in this post appeared in it. For some reason I have remembered it since my own childhood, and so here it is, being put to a completely different use. No copyright infringement is intended ----geo3

Chapter 25. Ghost I (Part I)


Anakin waited several lifetimes for daylight to come. He needed this night to be over. At long last the gritty gray sky began to leach the color out of the lurid lights around him. He watched, still unmoving, as they faded into insignificance.

The arrival of dawn meant that his long wait was over. Gone. Behind him. Like everything else. His past was gone. He could no longer visualize his future.

They will never make me a Jedi Knight.

The arrival of the new day meant that he had to do something. He had to make a decision. And once it was made, he had to carry it out.

Unwillingly, but with the discipline born of training, Anakin moved from observation to action and took stock of his situation.

His clothes were charred and torn.

He had no transportation. His COM had all but disintegrated in the crash.

No one knew where he was.

He hurt all over but his head was clear enough. He had no difficulty thinking. His mental shielding was in place.

A lot of good that did me.

He was in an unfamiliar part of the city-planet where no one knew him. Painfully flexing his severely swollen hand, Anakin checked his belt for his weapon. Miraculously it was still clipped to his belt and intact. But for that, he was completely unidentifiable as a Jedi. That was a good thing, because it seemed to him that this would be the way of the future. His future. The one he couldn't seem to relinquish.

He might as well be a ghost.

As an afterthought he unclipped his lightsaber and tested it. The blue blade surged into being instantly. Suddenly achingly unsure how to go about imagining a life without it, a life without everything that it represented, Anakin disengaged the weapon and stowed it away.

Then he stood up, surprised at how excruciating a process it was.

Every journey began with a leave-taking. Today was the day for his.

* * * * *

Far away in another part of Coruscant, Padmé greeted the new day with relief. She too had spent a wakeful night worrying and plotting and planning after her hastily arranged meeting with Bail. Toward dawn all of those concerns were gradually driven out by only one.

Anakin?

His absence was like vast empty space inside that left her feeling cold and brittle. He only had been away for - what, hours? They had been separated much longer periods of time before. It shouldn't feel like this. But those separations somehow had been filled with his presence, with the knowledge that he was there and waiting. She always had been certain that, no matter what happened, they would find the way back to one another.

This felt different.

Anakin?

At this point calling out to him had become a reflex - she had not received an answer since midday the day before and no longer really expected one. She just . hoped for one. Of course there was no reply.

The arrival of the day meant that she didn't have to remain alone with her thoughts any more. She could bury them in the company of others and in the million tasks that lay before her now that she had set foot on her new path. A path full of treachery and deceit. A path that meant she must embrace so many things she hated in order to preserve the things she loved and believed in.

Well, she thought, if that was the case then she had better make the best of it. She heaved herself out of bed to wake her sleepy staff and make a beginning on what lay before her.

I just want to see him again. If I could just see him.talk to him .

Wearily she pushed the thoughts aside. They dragged at her, and made it almost impossible to focus. And if she needed anything right now, it was clarity of thought and purpose.

What if something has happened to him?

Stop it, Padmé told herself. Just stop it. This is as futile as crying.

But it was impossible to stop thinking about him. And more than that, she didn't want to.

Carefully, painfully, Padmé wrapped the cold and empty space that Anakin's absence had left inside of her in as much love and warmth as she could muster and tucked it close to her heart. And then she began her preparations for the day.

* * * * *

Having neither credits nor the willingness or ability to contact anyone, Anakin moved through the City of Coruscant the way he would have moved through a forest or jungle - silently, making as little impression as possible, and helping himself to its resources for his survival as he went.

Although he wasn't hungry he found food. The living had a responsibility to carry on, he had been taught. He soon replaced the tattered deep blue suit and cloak from his days in the Senate with some nondescript black leggings and a dark tunic that, together with his black boots, gave him a vaguely sinister air while blending in perfectly with the teeming crowds around him. He had taken the trouble to rub the elite shine off his boots with a few handfuls of grit. Keeping his weapon hidden was a problem, and so he soon had possession of a heavy leather over-tunic that covered him so well he could safely keep his lightsaber clipped to his belt where it belonged.

Next he got his bearings and calculated how best to get back to Coruscant's center. Heavy traffic meant that it would take many hours to navigate an individual speeder the huge distance. He opted instead to insinuate himself onto an express public transport straight to the planet's Administrative District, which had the Senate building at its heart. The Jedi Temple was not far from that.

For the two hours that Anakin was on the transport he practiced the Jedi technique of invisibility. People saw him but did not notice or remember him. Imposing though he was, he left no impressions or memories behind in those around him. He guarded his thoughts, held his tongue, and waited like a shadow until the transport discharged its passengers in the vast Sector Three Transport Station. Moving silently he merged into the crowd and disappeared completely.

To an outside observer Anakin's movements would have seemed effortless. In reality, the closer he drew to what had been his home, the more difficult it was for him to maintain the inner neutrality that true invisibility required. He fought hard to still his thudding heart and rising pulse, and to keep his concentration pure and sharp. But the fiercest battle of all was the struggle to resist the temptation to lift his shielding and reach out . just once . just a little . to hear Padmé's voice and feel her warmth in his mind. The longing was enough to make him tremble.

He knew she would be there waiting. He knew she would respond the second he called out. He knew that she would be worried and unhappy. But he did not dare.

Padmé inhabited his mind and soul like a constant flame, warming him and stirring him in everything he did. And now some dark, unrelenting thing had found its way inside of him. Inside the place where until now only she had lived.

What if it found her? What if it reached out for her? What if it tried . to harm her?

At the very thought Anakin locked down his feelings and mental shielding even more tightly. He was a stone. A fortress. He had to be. His armor had to be impenetrable.

Transportation was Anakin's next problem, and flexibility his primary requirement. He soon had custody of another speeder - a fairly new one, but of a common make and model that attracted no attention from anyone. Jumping into it he paused for a moment, took a deep breath as though he was about to plunge into a sandstorm, and took off.

* * * * *

When Padmé and Sabé arrived at the Senate office Dellia was nowhere to be found. No message had been left and she did not answer her COM when called. After last night Padmé saw danger everywhere, and every oddity was a threat. Dellia might have been scatty, but she had always been reliable. This didn't feel right.

"I'll go find, her," Sabé volunteered before Padmé could say anything. "Will you be all right on your own for a while?"

"I'll have to be," Padmé said. They both understood without having to say it that borrowing staff from the Senate clerical pool was too risky. And the office had not been swept for listening devices yet today.

Sabé nodded. "I'll be as quick as I can."

Dashing out of the office she ran squarely into the Senator from the Alderaan system. Padmé's heart started to thud when she watched Bail glance quickly and almost imperceptibly around the office before he walked up to her and bowed.

"Bail!" Padmé said brightly to her only friend and secret ally as though she had not seen him for ages. "This is a surprise!" She knew exactly why he was here.

"I am sorry to impose on you like this, Padmé," he said formally, with his usual grace, "and so early, too. But I was on my way in and thought I might as well drop these documents off with you myself." He looked exhausted. He must have spent a sleepless night as well.

Padmé saw him look at her intently while he spoke the innocuous, formal words. She shook her head "no." She saw him register her signal, and continue on in the same formal vein in case they were being overheard.

"I would be grateful if you would look them over before tomorrow's vote and give me the benefit of your thinking," he went on. "My notes and questions are there. They should be self-explanatory." Padmé glanced down at the stack of data pads and discs. On the very top was stuck a small piece of parchment with the words "ALDERAAN. 5 DAYS."

If they had not been taking such a huge risk, she might have smiled. Simple methods were often the best, and safest. She slipped her thumb over the piece of parchment to hold it in place.

"Thank you, Bail," she said, looking intently into his eyes again. "I'll be glad to. By the way - how many bills are you sponsoring at the moment?"

"Five," he said. "All of them solid, I think."

Five, thought Padmé in dismay. Seven of us all together. So few to stand against Galaxy-wide deception and tyranny.

"That is a great deal of work for you, Bail," she said. "I will make certain that I get my comments back to you on time." I will be there.

He bowed again. "Thank you Padmé. I will let you get on with your work. The Gods know I have enough of my own."

Padmé waited until he left and then went into her inner office. The first thing she did was to disintegrate the parchment in the rubbish disposal.

Alderaan in five days. She could do that, if she hurried.

Out of all the Senate there were only seven souls who felt they could trust one another enough to meet in this way. And even that was a risk.

She sighed. What she wouldn't give for some Jedi protection. And comfort.

Resolutely she turned her attention to the day's work.

Chapter 25. Ghost I (Part II)



While invisibility was Anakin's tactic of choice in the wider world, within the walls of the Jedi Temple complex he needed to do the opposite. Rather than making an effort to hide, other than behind his powerful shielding, he walked with purposeful steps through the familiar hallways. As he had expected, those he passed minded their own business and took little notice of him, even in his street clothes. Most of them were probably used to seeing him oddly dressed by now. There were a few glances and surges of interest that manifested through the Force, but Anakin ignored them as he had the day before when he had been dressed in his Senate garb. He reminded himself that as far as anyone in the Temple was concerned he had every right to be here. The Council had given him a job to do, after all.

Draw the darkness out into the light.

The darkness had found him, Master Yoda had said. Well, something had. And he didn't like it one bit.

Anakin walked steadily, making his way into the residential section of the Temple. He cast his awareness about carefully, looking for a particular Force signature in the thousands of others. It had spoken to him so strongly yesterday, but today he could not find it.

He went straight to Obi-Wan's quarters and let himself in. No one was there, of course - he had known that before he entered. The two small rooms were tidy and spare, and even though they were not the quarters he and Obi-Wan had shared as Master and Padawan, everything in them was very, very familiar. The sense of his old Master, the feel of him, was everywhere. Despite the powerful grip Anakin thought he had on himself he felt his eyes begin to sting and his throat ached. Never in his wildest thoughts and dreams had he imagined that it would all end like this.

He paused and looked around the small sitting room, taking in every detail. Two chairs. A low table. A desk with a neat stack of data pads. No luxuries or ornaments at all. To look at it you wouldn't know who lived here. It was a place to sleep between missions, that was all. It wasn't a home. Not like Padmé's.

Anakin wandered into the bedchamber. The room was nearly as spare as the sitting room, but there was more evidence of his former Master here. The bed covering was a soft, thick tapestry weaving that they had bought together in some distant marketplace long ago. Anakin remembered it because it was the first time he had seen Obi-Wan buy anything for himself - and it was still one of the very few such indulgences. He remembered secretly having looked at the fabric over and over again in his Master's absence, wondering what he loved about it, and why he had made an exception for this particular thing.

Anakin went to the bed and ran his hand gently over the cover. The funny thing was, he still didn't know why his former Master loved it. And now he never would.

He stepped back quickly and caught himself. He should finish and be done. There was no point in lingering. He had spent the entire night thinking about this act. The decision was made. And the hardest part of it had to be done now.

Anakin reached for his light saber and unclipped it for the last time. As he drew the cylinder up and held it in front of him he noticed a small recessed shelf above Obi-Wan's cot, and froze.

There were three small, finely detailed models of starships on the shelf. Nothing else. Anakin closed his eyes. He knew every component, every line of those models. He had built them years ago, as a very young Padawan. He had made them, and Obi-Wan had kept them. Even now.

Anakin let out a deep, shuddering breath.

This hurt so much. But he would not change his mind.

With slightly trembling hands Anakin laid his lightsaber on Obi-Wan's pristine cot. The weapon of a Jedi. The symbol of everything he had wanted to be, and everything he must now give up.

They will never trust me enough to make me a Knight.

"I resign," he whispered under his breath. "I refuse to be your sacrifice. I will not be bartered and sold." Anakin stepped back, and then as a sudden afterthought, reached up for the models and placed them on the cot next to the weapon. He wanted Obi-Wan to know that he had seen them.

He was just gathering himself to turn away and leave the Temple for the last time when the Force told him that someone was approaching. Obi-Wan. Why hadn't he noticed him earlier? Stupid mistake. Never let your guard down. He slammed back into focus and did a quick distance calculation. Two halls down. Coming this way. And he wasn't alone; there was someone with him. The Force signature was familiar .

Anakin slipped down the hall like a blur, moving toward Obi-Wan rather than away from him. In the process he remembered - what had Obi-Wan called it? His new parlor trick? So be it. With full awareness he thought about using it to shield himself, and imagined that he could almost feel something dark slide over and around him like a second skin. Well, why not. He was on his own, and had to use the resources that were available to him.

He located the pair where they stopped to talk in a small foyer just outside the residential wing. Anakin secreted himself nearby and froze, listening. It was suddenly very important to him to hear their conversation.

"Look, Lon," Obi-Wan was saying, "We have a great deal of work ahead of us. This isn't going to be easy, especially because we don't know each other well. There is little precious little time before your trials."

"Yes, Master Kenobi," Lon said. "I will work hard, I promise. I will do anything you ask. Master Regor said that I was ready."

From his vantage point Anakin could see Lon's face clearly. He had a sudden and overwhelming urge to smash it.

"You understand that, as your Master now, I am empowered to make that determination for myself," Obi-Wan said quietly.

Anakin started to see red.

"I understand, Master," Lon said meekly. "And . Master Kenobi? There is something important I need to talk to you about right away," Lon went on. "Something that is weighing on my mind."

"We will talk," Obi-Wan said. "But not now. I would like for you to spend the rest of the day in meditation. I have a meeting tonight and some other duties. We will begin your formal preparation for the Trials tomorrow."

Anakin realized that he had made a very big mistake.

"I will, Master," Lon said humbly.

By the time the pair moved on, Lon toward his new single room, and Obi-Wan toward his own quarters, Anakin had vanished. Neither one had seen or perceived him.

* * * * *

Sabé was back from her fact-finding mission within the hour.

"I found Dellia," she said grimly. "And she is in no shape to come in to work."

Padmé looked up warily. "What is it?"

"You know that Jedi Padawan she was mooning over?"

Padmé nodded, "Lon Erian."

"Well, as it turns out it was a lot more than an infatuation. Apparently they had quite a thing going."

Padmé sighed deeply and had the grace to color a little. Surprisingly enough, Sabé allowed the perfect opportunity to harass her about Anakin to slip by.

"He broke off their affair last night. Apparently his Master was killed and he is devastated, and feels terribly guilty. He wants to make everything right and be the perfect Jedi from now on."

Padmé felt a wrench that went all the way through her body. Her darkest fears started to creep out of the cracks into which she had banished them. What if Anakin has left me?

"I . know how she must feel," Padmé said in a shaky voice. She couldn't read the look that Sabé gave her.

"The girl is in pieces. I told her to stay home."

Padmé nodded. What was she going to do now?

"Sabé, I hate to ask, but could you play Secretary today? I'm overwhelmed with work."

Sabé grinned. "I'm way ahead of you. I've canceled everything else."

"Thank you," Padmé breathed. "For everything."

Sabé shrugged. "There's something else. I don't know what to make of it, but you should know about it." She looked at Padmé intently. "Apparently Lon blames Anakin for his Master's death. He has some idea that Anakin is largely responsible for the tide of distrust that is turning against the Jedi Order."

Padmé sat silently, lost in thought.

"I don't know what to make of it either," she finally said. It was time to confess. "Anakin hasn't been in touch since you saw him yesterday. He has vanished. I have no idea where he is or whether ." No crying, she reminded herself, and then was startled when Sabé put a comforting hand over hers.

"He'll be back," Sabé said quietly. "He wouldn't just walk away."

Padmé looked at her in wonder. Who was this new version of her oldest friend? But before she could ask, Sabé had disappeared into the outer office and started to work.

* * * * *

When Obi-Wan entered his quarters he didn't sense anything unusual, and therefore was startled when he entered his bedchamber and saw the models lying on the cot. He moved closer and scrutinized the scene carefully, looking for clues. Finally he noticed a very faint indentation in the bedcovering next to the models. It was narrow and long, and about the size of . he stopped.

Blast!

He didn't have to research further. He knew. But to be thorough he unclipped his light saber and laid the cylinder against the indentation. Yes.

He knew Anakin had been there. And he knew that he had placed his lightsaber on the cot, and then removed it. And it didn't take much to deduce why he had placed it there in the first place, and why he had taken it back.

Blast He thought again, violently, and shot out of his quarters.

He had to find Anakin at all costs

Chapter 26. Ghost II


"Yer craftier than a desert rat. Yer know that?" If it hadn't been for this single laconic comment, Anakin never would have known that Keinan Pell was the least bit startled by his sudden appearance in the Captain's office - a room that had no hiding places. The little man's eyes didn't even blink, as the apparition of Anakin appeared to materialize out of thin air.

"I'm supposed to be," Anakin said.

"Oh, aye," Pell agreed mildly enough, instantly taking in Anakin's street clothes and evident wish to remain unnoticed. "That's a new look fer ye."

"Suits me for now," Anakin said shortly.

"Princeling no more, eh, yer Lordship?" Pell ventured, and got a dark scowl from Anakin in return. "Have a seat, then," the Captain of the Senate Guard offered, pointing at a low chair in his otherwise sparse office.

As usual Anakin preferred to stand, which he did with his arms crossed. He always enjoyed looming over Pell, probably because Pell simply couldn't be intimidated. At the moment the Captain remained comfortably seated with his gleaming boots planted firmly on the edge of his desk.

"I need an update," Anakin demanded. "Everything that has gone on since I was here last. Start with Zangan."

"He's been replaced," Pell said.

"So soon?" Anakin was surprised. Zangan had been killed two days ago. "They didn't give you the job?"

Pell laughed loud and long. "Not in this Galaxy!" he roared. "Where've you been?"

Anakin contented himself with staring at the man with a gaze like a stone-cutting laser until Pell subsided.

"No," Pell said, wiping his eyes, "they've put one of those Academy graduates in his place. And in Tibbs', too."

"Tibbs is gone?' Anakin asked.

"Aye," Pell said, serious once again.

"Where?"

"Vanished," Pell said. "One day he were here, the next, he weren't."

Anakin frowned. "Dead?" he asked.

"Who knows?" Pell shrugged. "An' more importantly, who cares?"

Anakin looked at him sideways but didn't say anything.

"Yer not gettin' it, Big Man," Pell said. "Around here, nobody cares about anybody unless they're on top, and then they hate 'em. And they're happy for a day or so when they fall - and then they forget 'em. Forever. It's not the person that counts. It's the position. It's the power."

"What are they saying about me?"

"After the fun dies down, if you disappear like Zangan and Tibbs, they forget you. If yer don't come back and show 'em yer in charge, yer gone as far as they're concerned. Yer a ghost."

Anakin looked at his boots. Yes, I am.

"Are ye a ghost?" Pell persisted, "or are ye comin' back?"

"I don't know," Anakin said to his boots. "A lot of things have changed." Then he looked up sharply. "Has the Chancellor asked about me?"

Pell gave him a 'you ought to know better than that' look. "If he has, I wouldn't know."

Anakin's gaze didn't stray from Pell's face. "But you could find out."

Pell grinned. "Oh, aye. I could find out a lot of things if I put my mind to it." Then his expression became serious. "But ye'll have to make up yer mind pretty quick. I may not be here fer long."

"Why?"

Pell shrugged. "It's time," he said simply. Everything is changin.' Not much room in the new order fer the likes of me." He laughed again. "The new Academy fellas and the new recruits are all humanoid. And tall." He made comical face. "I'm human enough. But I sure don't fit the mold"

No one had a better sense for subtle shifts in power and influence than Keinan Pell. Anakin paid attention. "New order?"

The atmosphere in Pell's small office shifted suddenly, as though a shadow had passed though it. Pell took his feet off the desk and sat forward, leaning his elbows there instead.

"Sit down, Big Man," he said to Anakin. "Take a load off."

For once, Anakin sat.

"He runs everything." Pell pointed upward. It was clear that he meant the Chancellor. "He's not a figurehead, or just a politician. Every decision, every allocation, every piece of gossip ends up goin' through his office. He hand picks his people." Pell looked at Anakin balefully. "Like ye."

Anakin shrugged dismissively. Pell gave him a knowing look, as though the gesture had revealed a great deal.

"If yer not one of his any more," Pell offered warningly, "I suggest ye clear out. Now. He won't tolerate any others."

Anakin looked at Pell thoughtfully. "What will you do?"

Pell leaned back and grinned. "Disappear," he said. "It's a big Galaxy. There's a war on. There's always work for a soldier."

"A mercenary," Anakin said, with a new light starting to flicker somewhere deep inside of him.

"Maybe."

"You'll work for yourself." He is a free man, Anakin thought.

"Aye. It's the best way." He grinned. "Now I've been a Captain once, I'm worth more. I owe ye."

"Yes, you do," Anakin said, smiling a little, but without warmth. "Remember that when we cross paths again."

"Funny thing for a Jedi to say," Pell said appraisingly, probing. There was a growing question in his eyes.

"Maybe a Jedi wouldn't say it." Anakin hoped he had kept the bitterness out of his voice.

Pell paused and stared at Anakin with unreserved fascination. "Flamin' turdshine," he breathed, after a while, "did you go rogue?"

Rogue, Anakin thought, as a shock of recognition shot throughout his body. Is that what I am now? A rogue Jedi? For the first time he understood his true position, and the realization crashed over him like an avalanche. He had left the Order without formally being released from it, and he had taken his weapon with him rather than surrendering it as required. He was a fully armed and skilled Jedi who had severed all connections with the Order, and who therefore was not bound by the Jedi Code.

A rogue. I didn't think .I wasn't trying .

Rogue Jedi. Force-sensitive, Jedi-trained Masters who operated outside of the moral framework implicit in the Code. They were rare; Anakin could only remember having heard about a few. But they were considered so dangerous that the Order took pains to hunt them down and destroy them. Anakin wasn't formally a Master, but it was unlikely that anyone in the Order was in doubt about his capabilities. For a single, overpowering moment, he honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Then he pulled himself together. Hard.

"What if I did?" he said coldly, to cancel out his earlier rush of dismay.

"Then yer a braver man than I've ever seen," Pell said with frank admiration.

Anakin didn't feel quite so heroic at the moment, but was glad that he appeared to. At least he still had the wit to play on his advantage.

"I want you to do something for me, Pell," he said, with just enough of a sharp edge to match his new image.

"Aye," Pell said, cautiously. He would have been happy to help before. Now he didn't dare refuse.

"I need information. And I need it yesterday." Pell listened carefully while Anakin laid out everything he wanted.

"I'll do my best, Big Man," the Captain of the Guard assured him. He still seemed comfortable in Anakin's presence, but there was a new barrier of caution between them that hadn't been there before. It irritated Anakin, but it also aroused his interest.

"Get over it, Pell," he snapped, "as long as you don't betray me you have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."

Pell grinned, covering up the tense look that had been on his face before. "Oh, aye? That's good to know. I'll get ye what ye need."

Anakin stood up, fascinated by the ease with which he had inspired fear in someone like Pell. Nothing had changed except the man's belief about him - about what he might be capable of - and yet everything had changed. Anakin had no doubt that Pell would do exactly what he had promised.

"You never saw me," he ordered.

"Course not," Pell chuckled. "I'm not daft."

Anakin noticed a new feeling flowing through him. A new strength. A surge of relief. It was almost as though he was turning the tables on the fear he had carried with him for so long. By sending it elsewhere, by passing it on to others, he could finally begin to let it go. Despite his desperate situation he felt much better than he had in a long time. Without another word to Pell, he vanished out the door and down the hallway as quickly as he had arrived, leaving the little Captain staring thoughtfully at the empty space where Anakin had been.

* * * * *

Padmé found herself taking several deep calming breaths as Anakin had taught her while she waited in the anteroom of the Chancellor's office. She had been summoned for an immediate meeting and didn't have the slightest idea why.

Padmé couldn't believe her bad luck. She had successfully avoided any interactions with Palpatine for a long time - and now this. The timing of today's meeting could not have been worse.

Despite the urgency of the summons he kept her waiting for a long time. Finally she was ushered into his office.

"Senator Amidala. Please come in." Chancellor Palpatine was all geniality. It put her teeth on edge.

Padmé seated herself carefully on the very edge of the proffered chair and tried to imagine that this was many months ago, when she still believed in the Senate and the power of the democratic process. Before she suspected the treachery of the man in front of her. When she still trusted him.

She kept her chin high and her eyes steady, knowing that the slightest slip would exact an unthinkable cost.

"You wished to see me, Chancellor?" Her voice was low and calm.

"Yes, Senator. Thank you for taking the time. I know the press of business has almost doubled recently."

"Tell me how I can be of assistance," Padmé said, checking to make sure that nothing in her body was tense and that her body language was open and relaxed.

"I believe it is I who can be of assistance to you, Senator," Chancellor Palpatine said pleasantly. I understand that you are returning to Naboo shortly with your daughter."

How did that son of the seventh pit know about that? Padmé thought fiercely. And what else does he know?

"Yes, that's right," she said calmly, nodding.

"It can be a dangerous journey in these times," the Chancellor said, looking terribly concerned.

"I know," Padmé said. "I have arranged for a security complement to accompany me. We are taking every precaution."

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic leaned back a little and beamed at her. "That is where I believe I can be of help to you."

Now what? thought Padmé while raising her eyebrows in an interested expression. "Really? In what way?"

"As it happens, a convoy of military vessels is leaving for Naboo tomorrow. If you can arrange to leave that quickly, you and your daughter and staff could travel as part of that task force. It is very well armed, and you would be as safe as possible in these wartime conditions. I will see to it that you are all made very comfortable."

Padmé hoped he couldn't hear her heart thudding from across the desk.

He must know something, she thought.He knows and he has just blocked me in. There is no way I can refuse.

"What an extraordinary piece of luck!" Padmé said, somehow pulling a little animation out of reserves she had thought were empty. "But is this Task Force actually needed on Naboo? I wouldn't want to be responsible for pulling it away from another mission."

"You wouldn't be," Palpatine assured her. "Naboo is its destination. It is bringing the new Military Governor for the Sector to his headquarters."

It was an elegant slap in the face. Sudden anger gave Padmé new strength to continue with this miserable little game.

"On Naboo?" she asked mildly. "A Military Governor will be headquartered on Naboo?"

"You don't seem surprised," Palpatine said pleasantly despite his narrowed eyes. "And yet the decisions about the deployment of the first Military Governors were only finalized very recently. The announcement has not yet been made."

If you have ever thought fast, do it now.

Padmé laughed, startling herself and, apparently, Palpatine.

"No," she said, "but I had a bet with my staff that the Naboo Sector would be among the first. I know better than they do how concerned you are for our safety. Needless to say, I won."

There was a quick little silence.

"You surprise me, Senator," the Chancellor said penetratingly. "I'm very aware of your opposition to the deployment of Military Governors. I would not have expected you to welcome this news."

Padmé stood up. She had suddenly made up her mind how to handle this. The decision gave her the energy for a strong finish for the charade they were playing.

"I don't, of course, Chancellor," she said. "But I'm not a fool. I know that this move is inevitable for the moment. I rely of course upon your repeated assurances that this is a temporary measure made necessary by the war, and that when the fighting is over we will return to the ideals of the Republic for which so much blood is being shed."

And then she smiled. Really smiled.

"After all, Chancellor Palpatine, if we can't trust you, whom can we trust?"

He said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He confined himself to inclining his head graciously in acknowledgement of her complement.

"Thank you for the offer of safe passage to Naboo, Chancellor," Padmé finished gracefully. "I accept. Perhaps you would ask your staff to contact mine to make the arrangements? There is much to do if we are to leave so quickly."

"Of course, Senator, " he said. "I wish you a safe journey."

Padmé felt his gaze burning into her back for the duration of the long minute it took her to walk regally across his office and out the door.

Chapter 26 Ghost II (Part II)

"Padmé?"

Padmé almost jumped out of her skin with hope and anticipation when she heard her name whispered from somewhere in the darkness. She whirled around to find . not Anakin. A Jedi . but not Anakin. She took a breath to coax her heart back to its normal rhythm.

"Obi-Wan." She breathed again, deliberately, while the shadowy figure in the long brown cloak stepped out of the shadows of an arrangement of large shrubs and bowed to her. "I didn't know whether my message would find you .I mean, I hoped you were here on Coruscant." She stopped, and then said simply, "It has been far too long."

He grinned. "That always seems to be our greeting, doesn't it? Too long between visits from old friends."

"You weren't very happy with me the last time we saw each other," she pointed out, remembering the look on his face when he found Anakin in her office rather than at his post.

Obi-Wan flashed another smile. "It wasn't you I was unhappy with, believe me." He glanced around the roof terrace. It was large enough that the edges seemed to disappear into the darkness. The plants and pathways had taken on the odd colors of the Coruscant night, giving the garden an otherworldly feel. "We are alone for the moment, in case you are concerned."

Padmé felt some of the tension leave her. His presence was the most reassuring thing she had experienced in two days.

"I am," she confirmed.

He stepped closer, so that she could see his face in the semi-darkness. Even in the purplish light from the neighboring building she could see the large bruise on the side of his face, and the hollows under his eyes. She knew there was no point in asking how it had happened.

"How can I be of help?" he asked.

Padmé crossed her arms tightly and looked down at the ground, wondering how to begin.

"I find myself in the position of not knowing whether there is anyone in all the Galaxy whom I can trust," she said, frowning at the path, at the hem of her gown, at everything except the man in front of her. "Everything I thought was true has turned out to be a lie. People I thought were friends are now revealed as enemies. Everything, but everything, in my known universe has changed."

Now she looked up and found his eyes readily looking into hers. Steadily. Openly. Unguarded, as far as she could see in the dim light.

"I trust you, Obi-Wan. I trust you with my life and more importantly, the lives of those close to me. Now I need to know from you whether I can trust the Jedi Order."

He cocked his head to the side quizzically.

"I don't understand. Why would you not be able to trust the Order?"

Padmé bit her lip. Well, she had come this far. She had sent for him, and he had come. It was time to take the plunge.

"Let me ask another way. How .devotedly" - she almost had said blindly - "does the Order serve the Senate?"

"We serve the Republic," Obi-Wan said carefully, after the briefest pause. "We serve the Senate as its instrument."

"Suppose .suppose there were problems with that instrument," Padmé suggested carefully. "Suppose it were not serving the Republic as it ought."

"We know there are problems in the Senate," he said. "We have known for a long time."

"Yet you serve it."

"Yes."

There was a silence.

"What else would you have us serve?" Obi-Wan asked.

"The Republic," she said quickly. "Certainly the Republic. But .perhaps in a different way."

"The Jedi Order has served the Republic for a millennium in many different ways," he reminded her quietly.

Padmé suddenly held up both hands, as if in surrender.

"Enough," she pleaded. "We're talking around in circles. I called you as a friend. I want to speak to you as one."

He took another step toward her. "You can," he said. "You know you can."

"I have information about corruption and misconduct at the highest levels of the Senate. It is so damning that my staff are begging me to destroy it and pretend I never saw it. But I can't do that."

"No," he said. "I don't expect you would."

"I want to give it to someone who can help me to decide how best to proceed. The logical choice is the Jedi Order. But I need to know whether by doing so I am signing the death warrants of a great many people whom I love."

"What kind of information is it?" Obi-Wan asked, very quietly. Padmé got the distinct impression that he was listening in several directions at once. Even knowing that he would instantly become aware of any intruders, she instinctively lowered her voice to match his.

"It supplements data prepared by the Jedi Order about Separatist activities. Augments it. Changes it." Padmé paused before forging on. "It points at a deliberate campaign of misinformation about the conduct of the War that comes from the highest levels of the Senate." She paused, and then plunged on. "We also have corroborating information that points at illegal activities on the part of Republican Army forces. We're pretty certain they are carrying out raids disguised as Separatists."

Obi-Wan took a sharp breath. It was quiet, but Padmé heard it. "Anakin obtained this information for you, didn't he?" he asked.

It hurt even to hear Anakin's name said out loud. Padmé winced.

"Yes. Some of it."

"I don't know how to ask you this, but. how certain are you that it is accurate?"

"What?" Padmé hissed.

"You heard me." The words were harsh, but the voice that delivered them was gentle. Padmé didn't care. She suddenly hated Obi-Wan for the question.

"I'm certain that it is." She swallowed. "It cost him a great deal to obtain it."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long time. Padmé waited for what he would say next with her blood pounding in her ears. She didn't realize that she was biting her lip again.

When he still didn't speak Padmé asked, her voice choked, "Should I be sorry that I asked for your help?"

"No," he said quickly, reaching out to hold her arm as though to reassure her with the physical contact. Or maybe to keep her from bolting? "Not at all. I'm just thinking."

"It's a list, isn't it?" he asked after a while. "A list Anakin obtained from the Deputy Security Chief?"

Padmé nodded. "In part. In fact we have compared the information from several different sources."

"Anakin spoke about it. What he said did make sense."

"You .you saw him?" Padmé asked in a rush. "When?"

Obi-Wan looked at her keenly. "Yesterday. At about midday," he said.

Midday. That must have been right after her last contact with him.

Something happened, she thought. Something happened in the Temple.

"Do you know where he is now?" she asked, trying to sound casual, and failing miserably.

Obi-Wan looked at her intently. "Actually, I thought . I hoped .he might be with you," he admitted. "He hasn't contacted you since then?"

Padmé shook her head hopelessly, crestfallen that Obi-Wan obviously didn't know where Anakin was, either.

"What happened?" she asked hoarsely.

Obi-Wan just shook his head. Padmé got the message. Jedi business. Keep away.

"I need to know," she insisted, unwilling to be put off over something so important.

"He .is angry. About a lot of things," Obi-Wan admitted, clearly choosing his words carefully. "There was .a falling out. A serious one." He shook his head. "I shouldn't be telling you any of these things, but I have to find him. I need you to let me know if you see him or hear from him."

Padmé's mind spiraled as she tried to think through the implications of Obi-Wan's admission. What could be so crucial that Anakin would cut himself off from everyone - not just from her - so thoroughly?

"What if he doesn't want to be found?" she asked suddenly.

Obi-Wan looked grimmer than she had ever seen him. "His life may be at stake, Padmé. I'm trying to help." The Jedi Knight's hand squeezed her arm gently. However it was meant, the gesture was far from reassuring. Padmé stared at him in distress. Anakin was alive, but his life was in danger. Was that why he had not contacted her? To keep her safe? She could almost hear his voice saying, I will always protect you.

Then I will protect you, she resolved. She would be patient, and wait for Anakin to contact her. She would not reveal his whereabouts unless he wanted her to. And for now, she would finish her business with Obi-Wan.

"The data," Padmé said abruptly, to change the subject. "What do you advise me to do with it?"

"We are natural allies," Obi-Wan said carefully, accepting that she didn't want to talk about Anakin further. "I think our goals are the same. The Order is being attacked on every front as well. The truth will be our strongest weapon. We will not give you away."

Padmé hesitated. "There is so much at stake."

Obi-Wan pointed to the bruise on his face. "As it happens," he said mildly, "I have spent quite a bit of time searching for evidence of these so-called 'Separatist attacks.' Ask your Security Chief. He helped me on Naboo."

"Yes," Padmé nodded. "I know." Her decision made, she reached into her pocket for the tiny, fragile data chips that in the wrong hands could mean the difference between life and death. Obi-Wan took them quickly, and in the blink of an eye his hands were empty again. "On your word," she said. It came out like a prayer.

"On my word," he vowed.

"You should know also that there are others with me on this," Padmé said quietly. "Not many. But it is a beginning."

"Let me know if you need help," Obi-Wan said simply, respecting her desire for secrecy. Padmé nodded. "And Padmé ." he went on; "I must see Anakin, even if he doesn't want to see me. It's vital."

Padmé nodded again. It was an acknowledgment, not a commitment. He squeezed her arm again gently, and then disappeared into the shadows.

Padmé looked after him into the darkness while her thoughts surged back to Anakin. Always to Anakin. He is in trouble and he didn't come to me, she thought crossly. Aggravation was starting to displace grief and worry, and she was amazed at how good it felt. She deliberately fanned its flames to burn away the pain she had carried since he disappeared.

He had better have a good reason for all this, she thought, building up to a heartening head of fury, or I'll kill him myself and save everyone else the trouble.

As long as she didn't allow herself to think about how much she longed for him, she could hold on.

Chapter 27. Our Separate Ways (Part I)


"I don't want to go!" Balé screamed. "I don't want to! You're always sending me away!"

Padmé hadn't seen Balé this distraught since the terrible incident during which she had been taken hostage on the Queen's Yacht. She was normally a cheerful, reasonably well-behaved child. But the news that she was returning to Naboo the next day had thrown her into a rare wild tantrum that seemed completely out of proportion to the news.

Even Dormé's calm attempts to reason with her had failed.

"You're not being sent away, child," the handmaiden crooned soothingly, reaching out to smooth Balé's tumbled hair. "We're all going together. I'm going, and Sabé is, and Captain Typho is, and even Dellia is coming along. We're just going home, that's all. It's time for us to go home."

Balé wasn't having it. She pushed herself out of Dormé's grasp and ran to Padmé, who was sitting on the edge of her bed for the simple reason that she couldn't stand up if she tried. She was too distressed. "If we're all going home, why aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm not sending you away, sweetheart," Padmé vowed. "I'm coming home to Naboo, too. I just have to go somewhere else first."

"Where?" Balé was so furious that she actually stamped her foot.

"I can't tell you," Padmé said faintly, knowing that anything she said was going to make this worse. And yet it was essential that they get Bale's cooperation. She was the key to making the entire deception work. And besides, this was breaking her already terribly fragile heart. Padmé understood better than anyone why Balé really was angry. She straightened her shoulders and looked her raging daughter in the eye. Might as well have it all out right now. Better now than tomorrow, when they would desperately need Balé's complete cooperation.

"I don't know where Anakin is, Balé," she said simply. "I don't know why he hasn't been around to visit us. And I really don't know whether you will be able to see him before we go."

Balé burst into tears.

"Did you send him away, too?" she sobbed. "Is he mad at us?"

Just let me hold up through this, Padmé prayed silently.

"I didn't send him away," Padmé said as calmly as she could. "I would never do that. I miss him too, and I want to see him before we go as much as you do." You can't imagine how much. "But he didn't tell me where he was going, and so I don't know how to reach him to tell him that we are going away."

"Is he mad at me?" Balé hiccupped. "Did I do something bad?"

By all the Gods, Padmé raged silently as she lurched up to pull the little girl into her arms. How could he do this to her?

"Of course you didn't do anything bad," she said passionately. "He probably has work to do and couldn't tell us before he had to leave." She took a deep breath and dove into treacherous waters, forcing herself to believe that she was not telling the child a lie. "Anakin loves us. The only reason he isn't here is because right now he can't be. Something is preventing him."

Balé wrapped her arms around Padmé's neck in a stranglehold, still sobbing. "Why can't you come with us? I want you to come with us."

Sabé, who had been keeping herself quietly busy in a far corner of the bedroom, caught Dormé's eye and pointed out toward the sitting room. Dormé nodded, and followed her quietly out of the bedroom.

"I have to go somewhere for just a few days. Then I will come straight to Naboo and we will all be together," Padmé reassured the sobbing child in her arms. "I can't wait to get home. It has been so long since I have seen everyone."

Balé buried her face in Padmé's neck. Her small shoulders were still heaving. "Will we ever see him again?" she asked miserably.

Padmé was good and ready to hunt Anakin down to the ends of the Galaxy. She just hadn't decided what she would do with him when she found him. "Yes," she said firmly. "We will."

She cuddled Balé for a long time until the child's sobs gradually died down.

"Can we look for Anakin before we go?" Balé asked in a small voice.

Padmé had been thinking along the same lines. "I'll ask Sabé to go look for him," she said. "But you have to understand that she may not find him. Even if he doesn't come to say goodbye, you have to leave on that transport tomorrow. Do you understand?"

Balé nodded unhappily.

Padmé took a long breath. As Anakin might say, the next part was the hard part. "Now, Balé," she said gently, "there is something very important you have to do for me. It's important for us all."

Balé loosened her hold on Padmé and sat back, wiping her soaking cheeks with the back of her arm. Padmé gave her a handkerchief, and waited until the little girl had dealt with her face and nose before continuing.

"Ready?" Padmé asked gently.

Balé nodded.

"The whole time you are on this trip, and even back on Naboo, until I arrive, you have to pretend that Sabé is me."

"A decoy," Balé said solemnly, and Padmé smiled. The child hadn't been raised by handmaidens for nothing.

"A decoy," she confirmed. "Exactly. I need Sabé to be my decoy because no one must know that I am somewhere else. And if my daughter acts like I'm really on the transport - well, then everyone will believe it. It's a simple as that."

Balé looked up at her through damp eyelashes.

"That's how Aunt Cordé was killed," she said. "She was pretending to be you."

Padmé's heart wrenched yet again, this time from guilt. She died for me. "I'm sorry, Balé." It was all she could think of to say. "I'm so sorry. If there were another way to do this, I would."

"Why does Sabé have to be a decoy?" Balé persisted stubbornly. "Why can't you just come?"

"I have to do something else first," Padmé said softly, grieving that she had arrived at a point where she was actually willing to tangle the child up in her own deceptions. "Something that other people might want to stop me from doing. But if you and Sabé and everyone else pretend that I'm on the transport with you, everything will be fine."

"Is Sabé going to die, too?" Balé asked, without looking at her.

"No!" Padmé heard herself almost shouting, and quickly took control again. "No one is going to die."

Of course there was fear in the child's eyes. Of course nothing she said could make it better now. What has this war brought me to? Padmé wondered. How much worse will this get?

"If Anakin was here, everything would be all right," Balé said sullenly. She still believed in him heart and soul, with a child's magical thinking.

Padmé slid down to her knees on the floor and wrapped her daughter in a heartfelt embrace.

"I know how you feel," she whispered. "I wish he were here, too."

* * * * *

Padmé stayed with Balé until the child finally drifted off to sleep. By the time she emerged from the bedroom Dormé was in a deep conversation with Captain Typho on one of the long sofas in the sitting room. They stopped talking the moment she entered. Sabé was nowhere to be seen.

"Confess your conspiracy," Padmé said tiredly, sinking into the nearest chair. "I'm in no mood for guessing games."

"My Lady," Captain Typho said, after glancing at Dormé, "I cannot permit you to travel to Alderaan on your own. It is the most dangerous thing you could do. It's unthinkable."

Padmé rubbed her eyes and changed the subject. "Where is Sabé?" she asked.

Captain Typho glowered. "My Lady," he began again, undeterred, "I must insist.."

He trailed off at Padmé's warning look. Dormé jumped in. "Sabé has gone to look for." she looked nervously at Captain Typho, "to look for Anakin."

"She's always two steps ahead of me," Padmé sighed, looking at a faraway point known only to her.

Typho stood up. He looked furious. "My Lady, you must listen to me. If the Chancellor arranged for you to be on this transport, he will have spies aboard to make certain of it. It is madness for you to try to deceive him."

"We will not try, Captain," Padmé said. "We will succeed."

"My Lady!" Typho burst out, almost shouting. Padmé had never seen him lose his composure like this in all the years he had served her. "I forbid it!"

Dormé flinched, and glanced nervously at Padmé.

Padmé stood up as well. "I'm going to take that as an expression of care and concern, Captain. I understand your position. Perhaps you don't understand mine. I am going to Alderaan because I must. I am going alone because I must. I am involving my daughter in this deception because I must." And here she stopped because her voice was starting to break. She paused to collect herself, and then gave the necessary orders. "Captain, please make all the arrangements with the Chancellor's staff for our party's transportation to Naboo. Dormé, come with me. It's time to pack."

Captain Typho bowed, a distant, stiff, formal bow that said more than any words could have. He would do as she asked, but he would not forgive her. Dormé hurried to Padmé's side, pale with distress and worry.

Padmé shot another quick prayer for strength to all the Gods of the Galaxy, even the ones she didn't know about, and went to work.

Chapter 27. Our Separate Ways (Part II)


Since leaving the Temple Anakin had done an inordinate amount of skulking. Gone, apparently, were the days when, head high, he could stride into any situation and dominate the scene. He had enjoyed the authority his role in the Senate had given him. Pell's words kept bothering him: if you disappear . they forget you. If yer don't come back and show 'em yer in charge, yer gone as far as they're concerned. Yer a ghost."

The feeling of being a ghost had grown worse since Anakin spent most of his time trying not to be noticed. It seemed that he was succeeding. He no longer had a home. And since most of his actions since walking out on Master Yoda, Master Windu and Obi-Wan in the Temple's healing center had been based on impulse rather than reason, he also didn't have a plan. It was clear that his time as a Jedi was behind him, but if the Order began to believe that he was a renegade, whatever life he had now wasn't worth much.

He didn't dare to present himself to the Chancellor. For all he knew Palpatine had written him off, if not for Zangan's death, then certainly for shirking his duty and not having come forward to face the consequences. "If yer not one of his any more," Pell had warned him,"I suggest ye clear out. Now. He won't tolerate any others."

Anakin wanted to find out where he stood, but not directly. That was where Pell came in. Anakin had spent the hours while he waited for Pell to report back to him - a whole night and the better part of another day - hiding in the Senate building itself. After months of designing and reinforcing the building's security systems he knew the vast edifice better than anyone, and hiding among the thousands of other Force signatures took some of the strain off him, even given the occasional Jedi presence in the building.

But he wouldn't be able to go on like this much longer.

And then there was Padmé, of course. As much as he had convinced himself to stay away from her she was never out of his thoughts. He couldn't even begin to fight it any more. He was exhausted from not having slept for some interminable period of time, and from having to keep his senses on alert constantly. He couldn't keep fighting in every direction at once indefinitely, and so as he tired his inner shielding faltered and she was once again right there, filling up his mind and his heart the way light instantly fills a room when a door is opened.

His priority was to find out whether Padmé had made plans to leave Coruscant yet, as he had warned her she must. The only plan he could formulate was to somehow follow her and watch over her from a distance. Beyond that he had no idea how to proceed.

Skulking was an exhausting way to live, and Anakin reckoned that if he didn't find some kind of shelter soon where he could let down his guard and get some sleep, he would be in trouble. It was time to find Pell. The man had been given enough time to find out what the Chancellor and the Naboo Delegation were up to.

Anakin emerged from his hiding place in the bowels of the Senate building behind the library, and began the long and perilous journey to the barracks level to find the Captain of the Senate Guard. He made his way systematically through each of the corridors and each of the spaces that he knew so well, using every trick he had ever mastered to remain unseen and unnoticed. He could feel his concentration slipping, though, which made everything twice as difficult. He needed to get out of here. His senses were turning into mud.

And then he felt a particular Force presence, and all of his strength and focus came back instantly. Perhaps it was battle-fever; perhaps it was the anger that shot through him like a wave, pushing and clearing away everything else but what it needed. Anakin had made it as far as the barracks level and wasn't far from Pell's office at the back of the large training room. But he had to get through that training room, and at the moment it was occupied by a few soldiers, Obi-Wan, and Lon Erian. The Jedi were speaking to a cluster of soldiers who had gathered around them. Anakin had no doubt that they were looking for him.

Master and Padawan, Anakin sneered to himself. How charming that they are here together.

If Obi-Wan was looking for him, then he obviously wanted to talk. He always wanted to talk. And if he wanted to talk it meant he was unsure of Anakin's intentions - he wouldn't have any way of knowing whether he was back here simply doing the job the Council had assigned him, or whether he was planning to bolt. But the fact that he had come looking for Anakin indicated that he feared the latter.

Anakin didn't have to stretch his imagination far to know what his former Master would say; he could practically have the conversation without him. He might have been willing to go through with the charade. But Lon's presence at Obi-Wan's side changed everything. Anakin figured that options boiled down to two: hide until they left, or bluff his way past them. He needed to see Pell. He had the nagging feeling that time was growing as short as his patience.

If he had been more honest with himself, Anakin might have understood that the choice he finally made to stride - yes, stride - into that training room was motivated by something other than the urgency to see Pell. Deep down he wanted to confront Obi-Wan, Lon or no Lon. And so he chose to make his presence known.

As his first move Anakin went straight over to the soldiers and ordered them out of the room. Accustomed as they were to obeying his commands, they disappeared quickly in the direction of Pell's office. For the briefest moment he enjoyed displaying his authority in front of his former Master, but Obi-Wan looked deeply unimpressed, so Anakin's pleasure was short-lived. Lon merely scowled.

"I have been looking for you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "I have to talk to you."

Anakin did not answer, but leveled his gaze at Lon. His expression was not a pleasant one. It said, without the need for any words, "Not with him here."

Lon bristled in every part of his being. His animosity was so overpowering that his new Master shot him a very familiar look of dismay and disapproval. Anakin almost laughed.

"At least you have the sense not to wear Jedi robes," Lon burst out. "You don't deserve them."

Anakin's brief urge toward laughter subsided instantly.

"Get your boy out of here, Kenobi. Now. Or I will remove him myself."

A look of hurt flashed across his former Master's face at the impersonal use of the name "Kenobi." It disappeared again almost instantly but Anakin had seen it, and felt satisfied. If this were to go any further he would depersonalize him completely and refer to him only as "Jedi." That was the way he was beginning to feel.

"Leave us, Lon," Obi-Wan ordered.

Lon didn't move. He kept staring at Anakin as though he wanted to attack him. Anakin found the offer tempting, but decided that it would be wiser to refrain from taking him up on it at the moment, given that he obviously knew better than Lon did what Kenobi's reaction would be. And Anakin, for one, didn't think that Lon was worth the time and effort the ensuing battle would cost him. He told himself that he had more important things to do. He did not entertain the thought that perhaps he did not want to face off against Kenobi, for a lot of reasons. And certainly not over Lon.

"Out," said Anakin to Lon.

"Go now," Obi-Wan ordered his Padawan for the second time.

With a bitter glance at Anakin, Lon turned on his heel without a further word. The trail of dark feelings he left in his wake was palpable.

"And that," said Anakin contemptuously, "is going to stand the Trials and become the next Jedi Knight?"

"Only if I decide he is ready," Obi- Wan said calmly. "The responsibility for making that determination has been placed in my hands."

"Why would you even take him on?" Anakin spat. "He is a hypocrite, and a coward."

"It is my duty," Obi-Wan said evenly. "I will do my duty and I will make my recommendations as I see fit."

"You'd better ask him about his attachments," Anakin said nastily. "Apparently your Padawans all have a weakness for the women of Naboo."

Obi-Wan looked unflinchingly into Anakin's eyes. "That comment is not worthy of you, Anakin. You are better than that."

A kick or a saber attack wouldn't have thrown Anakin off-balance as much as those words had. He had expected a confrontation, not . a connection. He rolled his eyes to cover up his sudden discomfort. "So why are you bothering with me? I'm not your duty any more."

"Because you are in trouble," Obi-Wan said simply. "Because you are in pain. And because I care what happens to you, even if you don't."

Blast you, Obi-Wan, Anakin thought inarticulately. Out loud he said, "Don't bother. You're wasting your time."

Obi-Wan ignored him. Just like always. "Don't do it, Anakin," he said, not allowing himself to diverted from his purpose. "Don't leave the Order like this. No one else knows - yet - what your intentions are. It's not too late to make everything right."

"You must be joking," Anakin retorted, knowing full well how serious his former Master was. Knowing how much he believed in what he was saying. "What do I have to go back to?"

"It depends on you, Anakin. Everything depends on you - on your willingness to do your duty. If you serve the Order, the Order will serve you. It's that simple."

"It is not that simple!" Anakin raged out of pent-up frustration. "Nothing is that simple! They don't trust me. They never have and they never will. It is pointless to go back!"

"You're wrong, Anakin!" Obi-Wan snapped. "I haven't given up on you. Master Yoda hasn't. Just come back and everything can be worked out." Then he softened. "Please, Anakin. Don't run away. And for your own sake, don't become a rogue. If you do that, not even I can help you."

The silence that formed between them was alive with feeling.

"You don't understand," Anakin finally said softly. "He already has found me."

Obi-Wan looked at him in dismay. He didn't have to ask whom Anakin meant. An almost visible darkness had appeared between them and around them as soon as Anakin spoke the words.

"You can't help me," Anakin went on in the same soft voice. "None of you can. The only thing I can do is disappear."

"Oh, Anakin, no," Obi-Wan whispered. He was about to say more when another voice sliced into their awareness from the far side of the training room.

"Skywalker!" The pair turned as one toward the voice, the fragile connection between them broken. It was Pell. The little Captain hurried across the room to Anakin.

"Yer'd better hurry," he barked without preamble or further explanation. "Landing Platform Six. Right about now. The whole Delegation."

Without a moment's hesitation Anakin bolted, leaving Obi-Wan and Pell alone together in the training room.

"Wait!" Pell called after him. "There's more!" But Anakin was long gone. One moment he was there, the next he had blasted past Lon where he was loitering just outside the training room door and disappeared down the corridor.

* * * * *

The bearded Jedi's hand shot out and caught Pell's arm in an unbreakable hold.

"Who?" he growled.

Pell hesitated. Betraying Skywalker was not on his agenda at the moment.

"Who is leaving?" the Jedi demanded again, igniting his lightsaber at the same time. He evidently was not in the mood for diplomacy.

"The Naboo delegation," Pell said reluctantly, eyeing the weapon. "All of 'em. Leavin' Coruscant right now."

"What else were you going to tell him?"

Pell assessed the Jedi in the plain brown cloak. It was dead certain from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to be argued with. Still, there would be Skywalker to account to.

"None of yer business," he said, bravely enough. "That's between him and me."

The Jedi's weapon was suddenly so close to his throat that Pell could feel its searing heat.

"Think again," the Jedi said. Pell decided instantly that it was time to move on. Even the Jedi were touchier than he had ever seen them. And maybe if he moved on quickly enough, Skywalker wouldn't find out that he'd given away his information to someone else.

That lightsaber blade was hot.

"The Chancellor," Pell said very reluctantly, as though the words were being singed out of him one by one. "He's goin' ter be on that same transport, but in secret. His office here is coverin' fer him."

The Jedi dropped Pell's arm but left his weapon ignited. It sizzled and hissed in the ensuing silence. It looked as though the Jedi had forgotten about him. Pell backed away slowly, then turned and headed back to his office as quickly as dignity combined with expedience would allow.

He looked back to see that the Jedi finally had disengaged his weapon and left in the direction that Skywalker had gone. The other one who had been lurking outside the training room had gone, too.

Good riddance, Pell thought, rubbing his neck

Chapter 28. Reunion


Anakin was too late. By the time he reached Landing Platform Six there wasn't a shuttle in sight. Throwing caution aside he rushed into the platform dispatcher's office and helped himself to the day's log and passenger manifests over the uniformed officer's startled protests.

The shuttle's destination was the Central Coruscant Republic Army Base.

The passenger list included Senator Amidala, her daughter, the entire Naboo delegation and all staff. They must have activated the Naboo Delegation office's automated information and communications systems and closed the offices. Even Dellia's name appeared on the passenger manifest.

They had gone. They were all gone. He had hoped - no, he had expected - to at least watch them leave. To see Padmé and Balé one more time, if only from afar. And he definitely had expected to learn their destination and itinerary so he could follow them. It was safe to assume that they were returning to Naboo, but if they were traveling by Army transport it would take a considerable amount of time and energy to find out the details of their journey. They were moving further and further away from him with every passing minute; they were already so far away that he could not reach out to them or sense them in any way.

Anakin threw down the logs and manifest and left the dispatcher's office without saying a word, without trying to cover his tracks, and without caring any longer whether anyone remembered that he had been there. A bottomless well of loss and loneliness had opened up inside of him, and all of a sudden he lacked the strength or the will to think, to plan, or to hope. He was ready to give up then and there.

And then a single clear thought penetrated his awareness; a thought born of his survival instinct, perhaps, or even of something deeper - a thought born in his soul. There was one place on Coruscant where he might find some respite, just for a while. It would be empty. It would be peaceful. And it would be the closest he could get to his heart's desire. He would go home. Just for while.

Gathering the very last shreds of this strength and his will Anakin headed out into the Coruscant dusk and toward the apartment that Padmé had left behind.

* * * * *

Padmé slumped in the back of the air taxi feeling completely and utterly alone.

The experience was a new one for her. She tried and failed to remember a single time when she had not been surrounded by family or staff. For years she often had dreamed of spending time completely by herself - at the lake, or at home on a quiet rainy afternoon. But this was nothing like her imaginings.

The moment Balé and the others had departed for the shuttle loneliness had crept over her like a cold chill that no cloak could remedy. Then she had struggled to search out transportation to Alderaan without anyone's assistance, a process that made her realize just how truly defenseless she was. Her only protection was the fact that no one knew where she was, and that could change in a moment. If Balé broke down during the journey to Naboo, or if it turned out that the owner of the vessel she had chartered was corrupt, her deception would be finished. She had never felt so vulnerable.

She wasn't looking forward to going home to her empty apartment.

* * * * *

Anakin broke into Padmé's apartment with ease, remembering not to damage the lock this time. He probably wouldn't be back to fix it. He stepped inside confidently, knowing no one was there.

With nowhere to go and no one to go to, it was the only place he could think of that he wanted to be. But it was more than that. He felt drawn here like filings to a magnet; he couldn't have stayed away if he had tried. Even in Padmé's absence he knew that he would be able to feel her in the shadows, to sense her in the place where she had been. Maybe, just maybe, he would finally be able to rest and sleep.

Closing and locking the door carefully behind him, he stepped into the shadowy spaces that had been the only place he had thought of as home for a long, long time. Anakin stopped in the middle of the spacious sitting room and listened into the silence for a while, allowing the quiet and the semi-darkness to create a sense of distance between himself and the chaos of the world beyond the door. When at last he felt sheltered enough and strong enough to bear it, he reached out through the Force to touch the essences that had been left behind.

Impressions of Padmé surrounded him. He almost felt as though he could touch her. Traces of her were everywhere, traces that were so familiar that he could form inner pictures from the wisps and eddies that lingered in the Force. He imagined her walking and talking and laughing. His mental picture of her standing by the window and looking outside was so vivid that he almost expected her to shimmer into being before his eyes. There were other impressions as well - of Sabé and Typho and Dormé. They were all clear, but not as vivid or as powerful as the ones Padmé had left behind. And mingling everywhere, running in and out of every part of the space like a bubbling stream were bright, sparkling traces of Balé.

Anakin couldn't get enough. Now that he was here, now that he felt the tiniest bit safe, at least for the moment, he let down his inner barriers a little more to drink in all the feelings and sensations he had denied himself outside. Like a sleepwalker he drifted into Padmé's bedroom, where the remnants of her presence in the Force were strong enough to buckle his knees, had he allowed it. Instinctively he reached out with his hand to touch her, only to meet with empty air.

This was where he wanted to be. It was the only place he wanted to be. If this was as close as he could get to her, then he would stay here and wrap himself in the last lingering traces of her Force presence for as long as he could hold on to them.

Idly Anakin wandered toward her wardrobes, and on impulse, opened one. She had left quite a bit of clothing behind. Some of the garments he recognized; others, he didn't. But each colorful piece of cloth resonated with her presence. They smelled of her scent. He ran his fingers over them lightly, caressingly; drawing what impressions he could from each one.

He opened another wardrobe door and found a series of shelves behind it. They were still half-full with shawls and scarves and headdresses and boxes of jewelry. He let his fingers trace the objects and their shapes one by one, until he reached something familiar that made him stop cold. He pulled it out and looked at it. Even without the benefit of a single glowlamp he knew what it was.

She didn't take it with her.

The puzzle box sat forlornly in his hand, a small dark shape in the dim room.

She promised she would take care of it for me, but she left it behind.

Anakin could feel his heart constrict and his loosened inner armor begin to tighten again. His hard metallic hand closed around the box in a fierce grip; he could break it if he squeezed hard enough. It would splinter in his fist. He closed his eyes as a wave of hurt washed over him.

She was gone. He had urged her to go. But he had never expected her to leave him behind completely.

Dulled as he was by exhaustion and misery Anakin failed to sense the presence of someone outside the apartment. His fine-tuned awareness only returned when he heard a noise at the door. Idiot, he berated himself for the thousandth time. He froze, listening and reaching out with the Force. He very much wanted to know who would invade Padmé's private apartment in her absence and that of her staff. The way he was feeling now, whoever it was would probably have just enough time to regret having come.

The sound of the door opening was drowned out in his mind by shock when he recognized the Force signature of the person who entered the apartment. It can't be, he thought. I will never survive this. Some objective part of his mind took note of the fact that he was shaking all over.

He was still trembling like a leaf when Padmé walked into her bedroom and activated the glowlamps.

* * * * *

Padmé tried not to think about how quiet and empty her apartment would be without Balé, without Sabé - without anyone. Letting herself inside, she ignored the sitting room and headed straight to her bedroom. If she just went to bed and managed to get to sleep, she could avoid thinking about anything more for tonight. Just for tonight.

Padmé didn't notice Anakin at first. She saw the open wardrobe door, but it didn't register as odd. All the packing had been done in a great hurry and it wasn't surprising that a door had been left ajar. She took a few steps toward the wardrobe to close it before something stopped her in her tracks. It was a feeling. A sensation. Unerringly she followed it and turned her head and there he was, looking at her with an unreadable gaze of such intensity that she probably could have started a fire with it. But he didn't speak.

"Anakin," she said through a constriction in her throat.

He still didn't say anything, but he moved closer to her. That was how she knew she wasn't imagining him. He was staring at her. Devouring her with his eyes. After all the terrible ups and downs of grief and worry and rage of the last two days Padmé suddenly couldn't put a name to how she felt.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, so softly that she barely heard him. He looked as though he thought she was an apparition.

"I could ask you the same thing," she answered almost as faintly, while her thoughts began to shout. Where were you? Why didn't you contact me?

"I thought you were gone," he said, stepping closer again until he stood right in front of her. His eyes never left hers. Padmé remained rooted to the spot. "My information was that you and your staff had left for Naboo. Even your office has been temporarily closed down."

"You were here." Padmé felt a sudden flush of heat rise into her face. Her voice wasn't faint any more. "You were somewhere around all the time but didn't once let me know that you were all right."

Anakin nodded. But he didn't say anything to defend himself. He just stood there looking at her as though he would never look away again.

"I take it that you no longer see eye-to-eye with the Jedi Order," Padmé said, tight-lipped, into his silence.

"Something like that," Anakin said, finding his voice again. His eyes still had not left her face.

"And that this happened just after the last time I saw you."

"Yes."

"And then rather than coming to me you chose to cut yourself off from me and disappear completely."

She watched him take a deep, controlled breath. His chest rose and fell slowly and she could feel him holding himself back.

"Yes," he said simply, without offering an explanation or an apology.

"You only came here because you thought I had gone." Padmé felt the heat within her intensify. She had been so alone, and yet he had been close by the whole time.

"Yes," he agreed again.

There was a fraught silence while Anakin stood quietly before her. But he still didn't offer any explanation or apologize.

"How could you!" she exploded, and suddenly shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. "Do you have any ." - another shove - "idea ." - another shove - "how worried I was?" - shove.

Anakin took the blows meekly. They barely made him sway.

"I was terrified!" Padmé shouted, shoving him once more, hard, for good measure. Then anger gave way to real fear and her eyes stung, despite her solemn vow not to cry any more.

"I thought you had left me!" she raged, and went to pound him with clenched fists. This time he caught her hands before they could connect with his chest and pulled her into an overpowering embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said into her hair. Finally, an apology. Padmé felt the despised tears well up and hid her face in his chest. "I'm very, very sorry that I made you suffer. But I am not sorry that I withdrew from you. Believe me when I say that I didn't belong anywhere near you."

"Balé didn't want to go," Padmé sobbed, clinging to him with all her strength. "She waited and waited for you and believed until the last second before leaving that you would come to say goodbye. and then you didn't. and I couldn't explain to her why you never came . she thinks you don't love her any more ."

They held on to one another desperately.

"I was too late," Anakin said hoarsely. "By the time I found out when you were leaving the shuttle had left."

"Why isn't your voice in my mind any more, Anakin? Why can't you hear me?" Padmé moaned. "If you had just answered me I could have told you everything. and I would have known that you were all right ."

""I .can't. I just can't allow it. Not right now.there are reasons." He sounded as though it hurt to say it. It certainly hurt to hear it.

Padmé couldn't resist trying once more. I missed you, she thought fiercely, hoping Anakin could hear her. I missed you and Balé missed you and it felt as though you had abandoned us. If she couldn't beat him with her fists she would do it with her thoughts.

He gave no indication that he had heard her, but she felt his arms slide up her back and encircle her shoulders. If he held her any closer she would be crushed.

"What about you?" he asked, his breath warm on her cheek. "Why are you still here? Why didn't you leave with them?" Padmé wanted nothing more than to turn her mouth toward his and blank out the misery of the past few days once and for all. It would be so easy to forget everything with one kiss, and another, and another . but she was still uncertain of him. His unexplained absence had shaken her profoundly, and his sudden reappearance hadn't put her at ease. Not yet.

Padmé pushed him away so she could look into his face. It wasn't easy to get him to loosen his hold on her, but she needed to see his eyes. She still wasn't sure what she would find there. Anakin stepped back awkwardly when it became apparent that she didn't want to be held any more.

"It's a decoy," she said. "I'm not going to Naboo right away. I have to go somewhere else first."

"By yourself? I thought your whole staff went to Naboo." He was frowning. Intent. He clearly disapproved. It was so like him to focus on her immediate safety first rather than on her reasons for going, or more importantly, on her need for an explanation for his behavior.

"No one. They have all gone." She swallowed. "I'm alone. I'm completely alone." She watched, startled, as concern turned into a flash of what looked like anger.

"They left you? Even Captain Typho? How could they?"

You did, she thought suddenly. Harshly. But she didn't say it. Instead she said, "I made them. They didn't want to - Captain Typho fought me every step of the way. But if someone stayed behind the decoy wouldn't work."

The anger in Anakin's eyes startled her. It was even more disconcerting when he turned away from her and began to pace up and down the room. She noticed for the first time that he was holding something in his hand - something that he turned around and around in his fingers as he walked.

The puzzle box.

Padmé watched the way he unconsciously held and handled the box as he paced. It suddenly occurred to her that he had come here believing that she was gone, and had found his treasure left behind. He must have been as shocked to see her, as she had been to find him there. And maybe, just maybe, he had felt abandoned, too. She felt her hurt begin to ebb away.

Well, at least one thing could be put right.

"Anakin," she said, and waited until he stopped and looked at her - until she was sure that she had his full attention. "The box is here because I am still here. I would never leave it behind."

He looked down at the precious thing in his hands. He was tense and closed off. The anger had gone, but Padmé could feel so clearly how he was holding himself back from her. He looked as lonely as she felt. They were standing only a few steps away from one another and yet they both were wrapped in painful isolation.

"Anakin," she said again, as the last of the hurt slipped away only to be replaced by a powerful longing that swept though every part of her. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me, no matter what happened. I can't bear it."

The puzzle box was shaking. After glimpsing the look of raw pain that had crossed his face Padmé found it much easier to look down at the box. Blindly she reached out to him with her hand and felt weak with relief when he immediately grasped it and pulled her gently toward him. His arms came around her again with a tenderness that had not been there before and his lips found hers with a kiss that felt exactly like the first one he had ever given her. Exactly. He was tentative. Cautious. Exploring. Full of longing, and yet asking permission.

She gave it, body and soul. She had never before wanted or needed anyone as much.

* * * * *

Anakin reached over for a long lock of Padmé's hair and began to weave it through his fingers. It was a bit difficult since most of his hand was wrapped in a bulky bacta-soaked bandage, but his fingers stuck out from the binding enough to provide the warp for his work of art. He concentrated on his task, wrapping the silky strands over and between his fingers in a complex pattern.

A great deal of healing had taken place throughout a single, passionate night together. Both finally had been able to sleep. And now, in the morning of a new day, decisions had to be made.

"You're not going anywhere alone," Anakin declared, admiring his work.

"I don't have a choice," Padmé murmured. She shifted her legs so that they wrapped around his, and settled back against him, cocooning him in comfort. It was a sensation he had all but forgotten.

"I'm going with you." Anakin had come to the end of the strand. He held his hand up to survey his weaving one last time, and then began unwrap it as slowly and systematically as he had created it in the first place.

"Are you serious?" Padmé couldn't turn to look at him because he was holding the strand of her hair captive.

"I will take you anywhere you want to go," he said. He would take her to the far reaches of the Galaxy and back a thousand times, if necessary. Anakin was still reeling from the realization that his absence had left her entirely alone and defenseless. It had never occurred to him that it would. It had changed his thinking completely.

Deep down Anakin always had felt marginal to Padmé's life. It wasn't that he hadn't felt loved - far from it. But there were always legions of people around her whom she relied upon to care for her and arrange things for her and whose claims on her time and attention took precedence over his. It was only when they were alone together, when he was protecting her that he felt really central to her life, or needed.

He felt needed now.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you." Anakin smoothed out her hair between his fingers, to let her know she was free again, and Padmé rolled over and looked into his eyes.

"I like the sound of that." She was smiling. He hadn't seen her really smile in ages. That all by itself told him that he was doing the right thing. He traced the smile with his fingers. Even in the most troubled times it was within his power to make her smile. His mere presence could give her ease. He mattered. It was a revelation.

"So where are we going?" he asked, not really caring.

"I have to be on Alderaan for a meeting in four .no, three days." Her smile turned into a frown while she calculated, and Anakin's fingers smoothed the frown. "I have to get there in complete secrecy, without leaving a trace of my journey. After my meeting I need to get to Naboo as quickly as possible, with the same secrecy. Then I have to somehow slip onto Naboo and make it look as though I have been there the whole time."

Anakin grinned, loving the challenge. "Child's play."

"Are you sure?" The look on her face was hopeful, beseeching. It astonished Anakin how much worry and pain he had been able to lift from her by simply being there. She had always been essential to him. He might just be equally important to her. He vowed to himself that from now on, he would try to make everything better for her. He had no idea how he would keep her safe. But he would do it.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said with confidence. "As it happens, I have to disappear from the Galaxy without a trace, too." He smiled. "We will vanish together."

"Isn't it about time you told me what happened to you?" Padmé suggested gently.

In one precious night Anakin had climbed out of the cloudy darkness into a space that was filled with light. He really didn't want to revisit those dark places right now. Not even in memory.

"No," he said. "Not now. Another time, I promise. But please, not now."

"Then in a way we're both fugitives," she said, accepting that he didn't want to talk about it for the moment. Anakin was relieved that she did not pursue it further, and happily started burrowing his way into the hollows at the base of her throat.

"I guess that means we're better off staying together," he said, his voice muffled.

"I could have told you that," Padmé grumbled. "But you were just too thick-headed and stubborn to see it."

"Forgive me," Anakin said, and kissed her.

Chapter 29. New Directions


They were waiting again. Ever since he had been assigned to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Lon's life had consisted of waiting - mostly waiting for his new Master to get around to paying attention to him.

First he had waited for an opportunity to discuss his affair with Dellia with his new Master - to come clean, and to purge himself of his guilt. When they finally did have that conversation, Kenobi had not said much, and worse yet, had given no indication whether it would be held against him in his evaluation. Lon was beginning to regret even having bothered trying to do the right thing. He missed the time he had spent with Dellia - it was so different than any of his other experiences. Her sweet attentions were probably the only thing that could have eased the pain of having lost Master Trebor, and now he had given it up. And for what?

Then he had waited in vain for Master Kenobi to tell him how they would proceed with the preparation for his Trials. Lon knew that the Council expected him to face them soon, but Kenobi seemed to be ignoring the whole thing. All he ever seemed to think about was that contemptible Skywalker. They had finally tracked the reprobate down in the Senate building and .

Lon forced himself to end his train of thought. It was making him angry, and since he was sitting right next to Master Kenobi he really couldn't afford that. Still, the vivid image of being ordered away by Skywalker, with Kenobi - his own Master! - permitting and supporting it, refused to go away.

And here they were again, waiting. Kenobi had spent a long time in the Council Chamber, and now they were waiting in the anteroom for - what? A decision? Orders? Lon didn't even know. His Master had spent the whole time sitting next to him like one of the busts in the Library, staring some point on the floor.

"Master Kenobi," Lon finally asked, daring to break into the interminable silence, "what about my Trials? When will I start preparing for them?"

"Life is a trial, Padawan," Kenobi said absently. "Everything we do is ultimately a trial." He didn't look up. "The formal Trials are but a pale shadow of what we face now."

"But why is Skywalker so important? What has he done?" Lon had a few ideas of his own about that, but none of the Masters were talking.

"Anakin is the key to many of the things that are happening now, politically and - in other ways." Kenobi said. He still didn't look up.

Lon wasn't satisfied with his Master's reluctant answer in the least. He decided that, since that point on the floor couldn't possibly be that fascinating, Kenobi was deliberately avoiding looking at him. Cautiously he dared to venture a little further into unknown territory.

"Is that the only reason, Master? Forgive me for saying so, but your concern seems .very personal."

Kenobi finally raised his head, but it was only to look at a different, random point on the far wall. Lon had the distinct impression that the man in whose hands his fate had been placed wasn't really there. Not for him, anyway.

"He was my Padawan for ten years," Kenobi said softly. It sounded as though he had only answered out of politeness. There was no sense of conversation or real interaction in this exchange of words.

As he did so often lately, Lon longed for the bond he had shared with Master Regor. Master Kenobi was highly respected in the Temple, and Lon had at first considered himself lucky to be assigned to him. But he was distant and inaccessible and they had spent precious days concerned only with that unworthy renegade. Lon wished that Master Kenobi would accord him even a small portion of the attention that he lavished on Skywalker.

"Master Kenobi ." Lon tried again. He couldn't leave it alone. "is Anakin Skywalker the Chosen One?"

Kenobi did not answer. He was still much more interested in that spot on the wall than in talking to his Padawan.

"I mean," Lon persisted, "he has violated so many rules and yet the Council has made so many exceptions for him . there is so much discussion about him . how important is he, really? Why must we spend all this time chasing him?"

Lon thought he had stayed well within the boundaries of politeness and propriety with his questions. He had asked them respectfully. He had tested the waters and then proceeded cautiously with this stranger who was nevertheless now his own Master. Just as he owed Master Kenobi respect and obedience, surely the Knight owed him some consideration and involvement in return? Master Trebor had always included Lon in everything he did.

But when Obi-Wan Kenobi withdrew his attention from the wall and turned to meet his eyes, Lon had the opportunity to experience for himself just how hard - how uncompromising - a look could be. Kenobi's unmitigated stare went through him like a saber blade.

"Yours is the duty of obedience, Padawan," Kenobi said, with an unmistakable tone of reproach.

Lon felt his face flush with humiliation. He had never expected to be put in his place in this way - not now. Not ever again. He was about to be made a Knight. It was unjust that he should be treated this way. He had only been asking questions because Kenobi volunteered nothing and shared nothing.

"I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," he said stiffly, needing to justify himself and to explain. "I did not mean to trespass. But if we are going to use up my preparation time on Skywalker, surely I am allowed to know why? I'm not a child."

Kenobi's eyes remained locked on Lon's, making him uncomfortable enough to wish that his Master were still looking at the wall or the floor. Still, Lon refused to look away. He would not concede.

"No, Lon," Kenobi said, "you are not a child. But your questions are not those of a dispassionate adult. In the same way that you suspect me of allowing personal motivations to guide my actions, I cannot help observing that your very noticeable antipathy toward Anakin motivates yours."

Lon felt the flush on his face turn into a burn of embarrassment and unease. He had not thought his ever-worsening antipathy toward Skywalker would be held against him in this way. Many others in the Temple felt the same way - Skywalker's insubordination and his conflicts with the Order were well known, and many resented him. It was sheer bad luck that he had been paired with the one Knight who had a deep personal connection with the traitor.

This would never do. He tried to backtrack.

"I'm sorry, Master Kenobi," he said obstinately. "It's just that he's dangerous. Surely you can see that!"

Kenobi cut him off firmly before he could say another word.

"If you are uncertain about your ability to work with me or to effectively control your negative feelings you must acknowledge it now, and I will arrange for you to be taken on by someone else. I give you that choice because the circumstances of our "relationship" - he did not say "bond", Lon noted - as Master and Padawan are highly unusual to say the least. I am fully aware that this arrangement may not suit your needs or best interests, and I will not hold it against you if you prefer to make that change. But if you do choose to remain with me I will expect your full cooperation and obedience. Do you understand?"

Lon understood, all right. He understood that he meant nothing to Kenobi - that he was nothing but a burden and a hindrance - whereas Skywalker had some kind of uncanny hold over his Master. Skywalker was known for his disobedience, and yet he got away with it over and over again, whereas he himself was allowed no flexibility at all. Lon also understood that if he stepped back now Kenobi would very likely dismiss him out of hand and not recommend him for the Trials. And finally, Lon understood that only by remaining close to Kenobi would he have the chance to comprehend the disturbing influence that Skywalker continued to exert not only over him, but also over the Council itself.

What was it about Skywalker? Deep down Lon knew that his morbid fascination with Anakin was wrong, but he could no more stay away than he could walk away if he saw innocent people being threatened with harm. He couldn't let it go. Perhaps . perhaps he could even help Master Kenobi to see the truth about Skywalker. He didn't know how, but there was no doubt in his mind that Skywalker was a threat to them all. It was incomprehensible to him that Kenobi and the Council did not see it the same way.

A new thought stirred him. What if it was the will of the Force that he was here, now, with Kenobi? What if, in some way not yet known to him, his own presence might make a difference? He saw Skywalker for what he was - perhaps he could help the others to do the same. For the first time, Lon began to feel a growing sense of purpose that extended beyond his Trials. Perhaps it was his destiny to forge a path to the truth. It was a noble undertaking.

He was, after all, a Jedi.

"Of course, Master Kenobi," Lon said penitently. "I understand. I would like to remain with you. I apologize if I overstepped my boundaries earlier . it won't happen again."

Master Kenobi nodded briefly in acknowledgement and acceptance and returned to his private contemplation of the antechamber's diverse structural elements. This time, Lon was relieved when Kenobi's attention turned away.

Chapter 29. New Directions (Part II)


Anakin was happy - too happy even to go over his usual litany of wonder at how quickly life can change. He simply immersed himself in the here and now; that single narrow window of time and space that, as far as he was concerned, was practically perfect. Maneuvering his way from charter company to charter company in Coruscant's space transportation district, Anakin was taking great delight in everything he did.

He felt well rested, for once. Astonishingly enough, he had slept peacefully and well by Padmé's side without a trace of his usual dark and suffocating dreams. Anakin tried hard to remember when he last had slept undisturbed. It must have been before Balé had arrived - and invariably when he was with Padmé.

Anakin had begun by visiting the company at which Padmé had hastily arranged a charter to Alderaan. He had cancelled it and made certain no one had a memory of her having been there, and that all records of the transaction had vanished. Then he had carried out similar erasures at all the other companies at which she had made enquiries. When he was finished with the charter companies Anakin made his way into the vast industrial areas than housed the shipyards and scrap yards. He had something a bit different in mind.

Hurtling along in his hastily acquired speeder, Anakin reveled in the fact that he was no longer alone. He was no longer a ghost. Well, he was, in a way; he still had to remain unseen and unnoticed and leave no trace of his passing. But he was a ghost with a purpose, and it was, to his way of thinking, the greatest purpose of all: to stay with Padmé and to keep her happy and safe.

She had wanted to come with him to arrange for their transportation and had put up a huge fuss when he had insisted on going by himself - it would be so much easier and faster to do what he needed to do without having to cover for her as well. Then she had demanded that he take with him a COM link that was keyed into her own, and check in with her regularly. He refused, since the communications were traceable.

Anakin grinned to himself as he replayed their last conversation in his mind.

"You think I'm going to disappear again, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Trust me."

"No." Her brown eyes had been dark and dangerous by this point.

"How about putting me on a leash? Then you can pull me back whenever you want to."

"Don't think I won't," she had growled.

Anakin sighed with contentment and gunned the speeder's engine for the sheer joy of it. He loved it when Padmé got fierce.

His next stop was a second-hand shipyard known for its "ask no questions, expect no answers" approach to doing business. Anakin had made sure that own appearance was suitably anonymous - he was still wearing the street clothes he had appropriated a few days before. His weapon was well hidden. And in his pocket, thanks to the foresight of the ever-reliable Captain Typho, were enough unlinked and untraceable credits to purchase what he needed - particularly if the proprietor happened to be weak-minded.

Anakin throttled down the speeder and entered the shipyard. The larger space-going vessels were of course in space dock, but their holographic images populated a grubby office that seemed to contain everything one might imagine. Strolling casually, Anakin began his search, soaking up information about size, specifications, tonnage and price.

He loved being in charge. He was about to get off this wretched planet. He was going to choose the ship and then pilot it. And he was having fun. He was using all the same skills that he had used and very nearly perfected for skulking and hiding, alone, but this time it felt like a game, one at which he excelled.

It didn't take Anakin long to find what he was looking for. The Defiance was small - at 25 meters she was half the length of the Naboo starship that had taken him and Padmé to Tatooine and then to Geonosis. She was equipped with a class two hyperdrive. She was maneuverable and capable of atmospheric entry. And best of all, as one of several prototypes of something called a blastboat, she was bristling with armament. Newer models were being built as patrol ships for the Army of the Republic, Anakin was informed; this one had been in private hands since its first sale.

The ship was perfect. And it was docked nearby.

Anakin made his deal, embellishing or obfuscating the transaction where needed, and arranged for a falsified title and a registry that somehow failed to place the ship in the proper class for a heavily armed vessel. Satisfied, he jumped into the speeder and headed back to Padmé before she became really furious with him for his long absence.

They were leaving Coruscant together. Anakin's mind and thoughts felt like his own again. Everything else could wait. Life was good.

* * * * *

At long last the Council Chamber doors swung open and Master Windu emerged, nodded politely to master Kenobi and to Lon, and came to sit beside Master Kenobi.

"The Council is pretty much divided on this one, Obi-Wan," he rumbled in his deep, well modulated voice. "Many think the evidence is circumstantial and that we should not act on it yet."

Lon watched his Master's face with interest. Kenobi was evidently struggling to control some strong feelings.

"The evidence," Kenobi said carefully," is in the Force itself. It is as though we are heading for a vergence of some kind. Naboo is key, and the source that told me that the Chancellor himself is on his way there is a reliable one."

"What do you think is going to happen?" Master Windu said quietly.

Lon listened hard.

"It could take the form of any number of events. An attack on the convoy, or a staged attack of some kind once it arrives on Naboo, designed to ignite anti-Separatist sentiments, perhaps. A ceremony planned on Naboo for the induction of the new Military Governor might be a target." Lon noticed that Obi-Wan hesitated and threw a glance at Master Windu before proceeding. "It is very likely," he continued, "that there may be another attempt on Senator Amidala's life. My informant tells me that she was practically ordered onto that transport."

Master Windu nodded, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's. Lon realized that there was something they did not want to discuss in front of him. Something having to do with Senator Amidala. He tempered his feelings, gathered his wits, and listened for all he was worth while maintaining the appearance of a submissive Padawan.

"Do you think he will follow her to Naboo?" Master Windu asked.

"I'm certain of it," Obi-Wan said.

Master Windu frowned while thinking hard.

"We are perilously close to losing him, Mace," Master Kenobi said into the silence. "He is on the brink. He knows he needs help, but he is too proud and too angry to ask for it."

Skywalker, Lon thought. He is talking about Skywalker.

"He is deliberately using the dark side to shroud himself," Master Windu agreed heavily. "We are unable to track him when he doesn't want to be found."

Lon very quickly practiced a variety of calming techniques. The dark side? Skywalker?

"I know," Master Kenobi said quickly. "I only found him by luck - by being in the right place at the right time. We need to do better than that. And Mace - we need to protect Senator Amidala at all costs. If anything happens to her . if she dies . he will lash out in anger and revenge. And that will finish it."

Mace sighed and stood up. "Then perhaps there is a darker purpose behind this political maneuvering - to do away with the Senator and her influence, and at the same time to draw Anakin into the dark side of the Force forever."

Lon's heart started pounding painfully. They believe that Skywalker may turn to the Sith. That's what this is all about!

"I have to go to Naboo, Mace." Obi-Wan stood up as well. "And I need to move fast."

Master Windu stood thoughtfully in the quiet anteroom, his hands clasped behind him, his eyes focused on something far beyond. "Naboo," he mused. "Once again, Naboo."

Lon didn't think he had ever heard Master Windu talking out loud to himself before. Although it was his place to stand when his Masters stood, Lon remained seated just long enough for his knees to stop shaking. Then he carefully rose to his feet as well. Everything was starting to make a great deal of sense.

"I will speak with the Council again now," Master Windu decided after a prolonged, thoughtful silence. "I am going to recommend that we send a larger party. We need to be ready for any eventuality. Any duty." His eyes locked onto Master Kenobi's, and there was a momentary surge in the Force.

Any duty. The words gave Lon a thrill of anticipation. Still, that thrill was nothing compared the shock he received when Master Windu turned and spoke directly to him.

"Times of war require change and adaptation, Padawan Erian. You may consider that your Trials have begun." His mouth formed something that might have looked like a smile on anyone other than Master Windu. "Field Trials."

Excited as he was, Lon still couldn't help noticing that a hard look passed from Master Kenobi to Master Windu. Well, too bad. It had already been decided, and now Master Kenobi couldn't hold him back. Unless, of course, he failed. Lon had no intention of failing.

"Yes, Master Windu," Lon said, unable to keep his delight from coloring his voice. "Thank you."

"Go with Master Kenobi. Support him and work with him in every way. And above all, comport yourself as a Jedi in all things."

"Yes, Master Windu," Lon said again, and bowed deeply.

Master Windu acknowledged his bow and turned back to Master Kenobi, whose face was a perfect mask of composure.

"Be ready to leave at a moment's notice, but wait for my signal. I want to put my proposal to the Council and to find you some companions. There is too much at stake for the two of you to go alone."

Master Kenobi bowed, and Master Windu turned and waved open the massive doors of the Council Chamber.

Lon looked curiously at Master Kenobi, who merely indicated that they should walk. Lon stayed by his side as Kenobi headed down the corridor. As before, Kenobi said nothing, but Lon didn't mind at all any more. His head and heart were full of the revelations that he had just heard, and the knowledge that he was to play an important role in whatever came next. He, Lon Erian, would be instrumental in defeating the Sith, and he would earn his Knighthood by it - by carrying out the most worthy mission possible for a Jedi.

All of a sudden, life was good.

Chapter 30. Into the Unknown ( Part I)


When Anakin showed off his newly purchased ship to Padmé he did it with the air of a proud father. She couldn't help being amused. He had chosen well - it looked built for business. The interior spaces were minimal and anything but luxurious, but the ship's specifications were surprising.

"Three laser canons and two ion cannons in something this size?" Padmé asked in disbelief.

Anakin beamed. "Wait until you see how she handles ."

Padmé shook her head. "How are we going to get off Coruscant without filing a flight plan?"

"I filed a flight plan," Anakin said innocently, loading the rest of her luggage into the storage compartments. "Of course I filed a flight plan."

"I don't want to know," Padmé decided.

"No," Anakin agreed, "you don't."

"It's cold in here," Padmé said, rubbing her hands together. "We need to re-set the environmental controls."

"Ummm." Anakin's hesitation was noticeable. "There's just one small problem."

Padmé gave him The Look.*

"The last owner was a smuggler," he confessed. "I wasn't told what his cargo was, but he kept it cold. Really cold. I didn't have time to modify the temperature controls to suit humans."

Padmé stared at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me that it doesn't get any warmer than this?"

"Colder, actually, once we get into space," Anakin said cheerfully.

"Why doesn't that seem to bother you?" Padmé asked suspiciously. "You're not known for liking the cold."

"Because" Anakin said, sinking into the pilot's seat and beginning his takeoff checklist, "there is really only one way we can stay warm on this trip."

He was up to something. Padmé crossed her arms and remained standing beside him. "And what might that be?"

"We'll have to stay in bed the whole time," he grinned, and went happily on with his work.

* * * * *

Padmé sighed and shifted restlessly. There was no doubt that it was warm and cozy with the two of them huddled together in the single bunk in the main cabin of the Defiance under the many arctic-quality blankets that Anakin had thoughtfully provided. Still, she couldn't help wondering how much time it really would have taken to retool the environmental controls.

It was wonderful to see Anakin so carefree and enthusiastic, and it was deeply reassuring not to be able to move in any direction without feeling him right there beside her. In fact, when one moved the other one generally had to as well because the bunk was not exceptionally large, and Anakin managed to take up amazing amounts of room.

Still, Anakin's unbelievable ability to focus only on what he wanted to and to block out everything else was beginning to exasperate her. They had talked for hours, but never once had he brought up the things that still worried her - his as yet unexplained disappearance, for one thing; and the fact that he was clearly a fugitive, for another. Padmé reflected on the fact that he had not mentioned the Jedi Order, or anyone in it, since they had found one another again. And most notably of all, he had not asked her a single question about their journey or what she planned to do on Alderaan. He was acting as though they were on a pleasure cruise.

Padmé smiled to herself. Well, there was that . but she was not prepared to go on as though nothing had happened. She knew he would continue to evade her questions if she persisted in cross-examining him. Something had to be done to get his attention.

"Anakin?" Padmé said into the idle and pleasant silence that had followed a long conversation about anything and everything except the things that were bothering her most.

"Yes?"

"I've been wondering about something. In hand-to hand combat, if I were pinned down by a superior foe, what would be the best move for freeing myself?

Anakin looked over at her in some surprise, evidently bemused by the change of subject. But he did his best to answer the question adequately, and showed her a few holds.

Right, Padmé thought, and rolling onto her side, took up one of the positions that he had suggested and flipped her unsuspecting husband, companion and protector off the small cabin's bunk. The dull clang of his metal hand smashing into the bulkhead was followed immediately by the thud of a large body hitting the floor. Quickly she snatched back the blankets that had gone with him, leaving a stunned Anakin unprotected on the cold cabin floor.

Padmé crept to the edge of the bunk and peered over it, then rested her chin on her hands to watch him, genuinely surprised at her own success. Perhaps comfort and trust had dulled his Jedi perceptions. She felt a twinge of guilt, but brushed it aside.

"Ow," said Anakin, as an afterthought.

"You were right," Padmé said coolly. "It worked perfectly."

Anakin, who had landed awkwardly on his right side, rolled onto his back and looked at her in amazement.

"What was that for?"

"Consider yourself evicted from my bed."

"I got that. I'm just wondering why?"

"I'm fed up with your making decisions without consulting me, about things that concern both of us. I'm your wife, Skywalker. You need to learn what that means. It means that we make major decisions together, in consultation. You don't get to decide by yourself."

Anakin sat up, rotated his right shoulder once or twice to loosen it up, and shook his head. "Fine," he said, grabbing the edge of the bunk to pull himself up onto it. "Have it your way."

"No," Padmé said, slapping his hands away. "You're still evicted."

"Why?" he demanded, plopping back down onto the icy floor.

"You don't get off that easily. You still owe me a proper apology for disappearing and for disappointing Balé."

Anakin sat back and rolled his eyes. "You're still mad about that?"

"Now and forever," Padmé said. "You'll have to work really hard to make it up to me."

"And to make it back into your bed," Anakin pointed out, looking longingly at it.

"Exactly," she agreed.

He stared into her eyes. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to apologize. You have to come up with the most magnificent apology the Galaxy has ever known, and then you have to deliver it to me with true penitence and sincerity."

"All right," Anakin agreed, pouring all the intensity he could muster into a smoldering gaze that was doubtless intended to distract from the fact that he was sidling toward the bunk bit by bit.

"And you have to swear by anything that is sacred to you that you will never do it again, and that from now on we will make all major decisions together. Even the hard ones. Especially the hard ones."

"That would be you," Anakin said. "You are more sacred to me than anything." He continued to creep closer, as unobtrusively as possible. His eyes never left Padmé's.

"Flattery is unacceptable," Padmé said, holding his burning gaze with perfect ease. "Only sincere penitence and sacred oaths will do."

"Agreed," he said, undaunted. He was almost in the perfect position to spring.

"Anakin?" his wife said.

"Yes?"

"Any attempts to overpower me or dominate this situation will result in a banishment the likes of which you can't imagine." Padmé hadn't moved at all, or dropped her gaze. Now she leaned forward, bringing her face temptingly into the range of his. "Is that what you really want? Because I can arrange it."

He stopped where he was, and sighed.

"Are you aware," he said meekly, "that you are more powerful than the whole Jedi Order put together?"

A corner of her mouth started to twitch. "Why do you say that?"

"Because unlike the Jedi Order, you can get me to do anything you ask. Anything."

Interesting, Padmé thought. His cryptic comment was his first mention of the Jedi, and it raised a good many questions in her mind. But curiosity must not be allowed to divert from her immediate purpose.

"Just to get back into my bed?" Padmé asked sweetly.

"No." Anakin leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers. "Not just for that. Because I can't bear to let you down." He slid further until his cheek was against hers. "Because I don't want to disappoint you." He turned his head so that his mouth was close to hers. "Because life without you just isn't worthwhile."

With a major effort of will Padmé remained where she was and reminded him of the conditions. "You have to promise not to make any more decisions like that on your own."

"I promise." His face didn't move away from hers.

"I think you had better come up here," Padmé whispered. "You're getting cold."

Anakin crept back into the bunk and she pulled the blankets over him. He didn't show the slightest sign of holding her rough treatment of him against her, but simply huddled gratefully into her warmth. Padmé wondered despairingly how much harshness he had already endured in his life, to accept it so unquestioningly - even from her, even in play - and hugged him guiltily.

"What about the apology?" Anakin murmured. "Something like that will take some time to come up with."

"I'll let you think about it for a while," Padmé said into his neck. "But it had better be good."

She held him tightly in an outpouring of love, forgiveness, and gratitude. She had no doubt that Anakin would strive to honor her demand, even if it had been primarily made to provoke him. He was good and honorable. He hadn't meant to hurt her. And Padmé knew with absolute certainty that as long as he breathed, he would keep her safe.

Chapter 30. Into the Unknown (Part II)


Padmé thought she must have dozed off without realizing it, because all of a sudden Anakin was leaning over her and tucking the thick blankets around her securely. He had thrown on a few layers of clothes against the interminable chill in the spacecraft.

"Padmé," he said softly. "Come with me."

"Come where?" Padmé blinked, making sure she knew where she was. Yes, they were definitely on the ship. It was tiny. There was no place to go. Before she could protest she felt herself now entirely bundled up warmly in the blankets and being lifted into his arms. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said. "I just want you to see something."

"Where ." she began, and then decided simply to wait and see what he was up to. You never could tell, with Anakin. He carried her carefully into the tiny cockpit, maneuvering her skillfully through the narrow blast door without bumping her against anything, and sank down into the pilots' seat with her in his lap. Keeping the arm that was holding up the blankets firmly around her, he reached over his head to the flight computer with the other. Outside the viewscreen Padmé could only see the streaks of gray that meant they were in hyperspace. She couldn't imagine what Anakin was doing, but contented herself with watching him with interest. She was grateful for the blankets - the cabin air was cold on her uncovered neck and face.

Anakin finished making his entries into the flight computer and then leaned over her to adjust the controls. Immediately the streaks of gray began to shorten and widen and the ship slowed, and suddenly the viewscreen was full of stars. The contrast was so startling that Padmé glanced at the readouts to assure herself that they were not at a complete standstill.

"Why did you drop out of light speed?" she asked, very curious by now.

Anakin leaned back comfortably and settled Padmé and her blankets in both arms.

"I just wanted to see the stars," he said. "I've been wanting to for a long time." Then he thought to reassure her about the journey. "Don't worry. It won't take much time out of our flight plan."

Padmé settled back against him and joined him in contemplating the panorama of dark and light outside their tiny ship. She tried to see what he was seeing, and to understand why he wanted her to see them, too.

Taking time out to see the stars. Life with Anakin was nothing if not interesting. Padmé's mind drifted into imagining what other surprises might await her if only they could spend more time together . just being. Her thoughts wandered over the past year, adding up the duties and obligations and priorities and demands that had kept them apart. From her perspective now, huddled in Anakin's lap in a freezing starship, looking out at the seemingly infinite Galaxy, all those vital obligations and events seemed to merge together, their details and their importance forgotten. Her brightest and most treasured memories dwelt on the precious little time she had spent in Anakin's company.

"There are so many of them," she said, inadequately, after a while. She wasn't really thinking about the multitudes of stars. She was thinking about the multitudes of choices that she had taken that took her away from her heart's desire, and wondering why they all had seemed so important at the time - important enough to keep the joys of life waiting indefinitely.

"Once I imagined that I would eventually visit every one of them," Anakin said. He was still wholly engaged in looking at the stars. "I wanted to know them all. I've missed seeing them."

"I don't know this sector well," Padmé said, idly. "I don't even know what we are looking at."

"Does it matter?" Anakin asked. "Every one of them is a new possibility." There was something in his voice - a tone, or a quality - that caught Padmé's attention.

"I suppose not," she agreed carefully, not wanting to say too much. She had the feeling that Anakin was on his way somewhere with a particular thought, and she wanted to know where he was going.

"There are even more stars beyond the Galaxy," Anakin said after a while. "They just go on and on forever."

Padmé nestled closer to him and waited.

"Out there somewhere is a place that is beyond anyone's reach," Anakin said.

Padmé's heart began to beat a little faster. She wondered whether he was finally getting ready to tell her what he was fleeing.

"Suppose ." he began again, and then paused. Padmé waited. "Suppose we just kept going until we left the Galaxy behind. Until we left everything behind and found a place to live where no one knows us or cares where we came from - a place that's just for us."

Padmé swallowed hard. "You mean . run away? Just the two of us?"

He hugged her close. "Yes."

The idea shocked Padmé. She tried to picture herself leaving behind all the people she cared about and all of the responsibilities she had taken on - more than that, all of her ideals. Aspirations. Tasks. Suddenly they all seemed terribly important again. Did he really expect her to abandon everything that was known and familiar?

"By ourselves? With no one else?" Abandon everyone . "Without Balé?"

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, as though from a sudden jolt.

"With Balé," he said decidedly. "We could go back to Naboo and get her, and then just leave - take her some place where she can be safe. We could raise her in freedom, away from the war, away from . everything."

He still wasn't giving his fear a name.

Horrified as she initially had been by the idea, Padmé found to her surprise that something about it touched a spark inside of her. Her mind kept forming images of Balé and Anakin and herself, safe somewhere. Working. Playing. Laughing. Happy.

"I wouldn't have to put her in danger any more ." she whispered. The guilt gnawed at her relentlessly.

"We could raise a family," Anakin said dreamily. "Somewhere safe. We could have more children - lots of them."

Padmé saw bright images in the vision, but she also saw shadows. "Our children would never know who they were," she said wistfully. Her identity as a Naboo was central to her life. "They would never know where they came from."

Anakin, who had never really belonged anywhere, saw it with different eyes. "We would teach them," he said firmly. "We could give them a life where they have choices - and some day they could choose to come back here. We all could."

"When the war is over," Padmé said sadly. "When true democracy is restored ."

"When he is gone ." Anakin said so softly that Padmé wasn't sure she had heard him correctly over the low thrumming of the engines.

"Who, Anakin? When who is gone?"

He shook his head slightly and fell silent. They huddled together, surrounded by millions of stars.

"Come away with me," Anakin said into the darkness.

Padmé was having a hard time envisioning her way out of her attachments and her responsibilities. In so many ways they defined her. She could hardly imagine who she might be without them.

"If I don't go, will you?" she asked forlornly.

"No. If you don't want to go, I will stay here with you, whatever comes."

"But you're running from something, Anakin. You won't tell me what it is, but I know that it terrifies you. If you have to go - then maybe you should."

"Don't you see?" he sighed. "That's what I have been doing - that's why I disappeared. But I just can't do it any more. When you walked into your apartment while I was there I knew I just couldn't stay away any more." He grinned down at her - a somewhat pained, definitely lopsided grin. "It's hopeless."

Alderaan was out there somewhere, not far away, Padmé realized. Alderaan and all it represented. Could she really run away from that? She turned away from the stars and buried her face in Anakin's shoulder. Would her presence at the meeting really matter? Bail was so solid, so reliable. Surely he and the others could carry on without her.

"Anakin," she said, her voice muffled. "Do you know why I'm going to Alderaan?"

"I don't want to know."

"What?" Padmé turned her head and looked up at him. "Why?'

"I'm serious," Anakin said. "The less I know, the better. Don't tell me anything, and I won't ask."

He is so afraid, Padmé thought. He is afraid for us all.

Padmé fell silent again. Maybe it was time she stopped thinking that she was the only one who could accomplish anything. Was it true? Or was she merely blinded by some kind of pride?

I can't let Bail down, though, she thought. I told him that I would be there, and I must.

And after that? What then? More meetings. The stars knew what action would need to be taken. There would be more dangers for everyone close to her. More battles to be fought. More to lose.

"Once I am finished on Alderaan," Padmé asked finally, hesitantly, "how long will it take us to get to Naboo?"

Anakin reached above his head again to enter some calculations into the flight computer.

"Pretty close to two days. Maybe a bit less. Alderaan is in still in the Core."

"We could arrive soon after the convoy," Padmé speculated.

Anakin thought about it. "Before, if I push it. This ship is pretty fast."

"Once we got Balé, where would we go?" Padmé wondered.

She felt Anakin startle, as though he had not really expected her to say anything but an unequivocal "no," and then his Wookiee-hug nearly crushed her. "Are you serious?" he asked gruffly. "Are you really considering giving up everything and coming away with me?"

"Not forever," Padmé gasped. "I couldn't do that. But for now . for the duration of the War . I still feel duty bound. I always will. But that duty is putting everyone I love in danger - Balé, my family, you . it's killing me. It's not like me to run away. But I can't keep endangering everyone."

She looked up at Anakin and was stunned to see silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Ignoring the cold, she untangled her arms from the blankets and wrapped them around his neck. She held him wordlessly for a long time, marveling at her power to make him happy, to give him some kind of ease. She had always felt that she stood between him and his dream of becoming a Jedi Knight. I matter to him, she thought in wonder. I matter as much to him as he does to me.

"Anakin," she whispered after a while, "do you think it is wrong to give up duty for personal happiness?"

"I don't know," he said, wiping his face with the back of his free hand. "All I know is that when I try to do the right thing - the noble thing - it ends up hurting you, and hurting me, and hurting Balé. Maybe if for once we tried to do something because it makes up happy - because we do it for love - then we will end up doing the right thing."

That's it, Padmé thought. That is exactly it.

Out loud she said, "This is crazy."

"Name one thing that makes sense any more." Anakin said, tucking her frozen arms back into the blankets and settling them more firmly around her.

"Family," Padmé said after giving it serious thought. "Family makes sense."

Anakin sighed and rested his cheek against hers, only to pull back suddenly. "You're cold," he said. "Let me take you back to bed."

He scooped her up again. Over his shoulder as he carried her out of the cockpit Padmé took another long, speculative look at the stars outside, and wondered.

Chapter 31. Predator and Prey


When the door chime in the cabin assigned to the Naboo Delegation sounded Sabé quickly lowered her veil and glanced around to see where Balé was. She wasn't in sight, so she must be in one of the two sleeping cabins.

Stay there, little one, Sabé thought beseechingly. Just stay there.

Then she called out for Dormé, who hurried to answer the door.

Both Handmaidens sighed audibly with relief when their visitor turned out to be Captain Typho.

"Well, Captain?" Sabé asked, raising her veil again once Typho had been settled in a nearby chair. Dormé sat close by with her hands clasped tightly together. Sabé hoped that she wouldn't start wringing them again.

"I couldn't find out too much without raising suspicion since there is no provision for movement between ships in our convoy, and the communication lines aren't secure." Typho frowned thoughtfully. "But the way the ships are arranged, it does appear that special protection is being given to one at the very center."

"No special protection for us?" Sabé asked wryly.

Captain Typho just snorted.

"It could be the Military Governor's ship," Dormé suggested.

"Probably," Typho conceded. He didn't mention the fact that, if the convoy were attacked, the small starship that had been carrying the Naboo Delegation would be among the first victims. So much for the Chancellor's special protection.

"How long are they taking for this journey?" Sabé wanted to know.

"We're cruising along at a pretty sedate speed," the Captain observed. "Depending where they plan to make the jump into hyperspace, and where in the Naboo system they want to come out of it, I reckon we will arrive in three days' time." No one said anything for a while, and then Typho asked, "How is the child holding up?"

Sabé and Dormé exchanged glances.

"She's very unhappy," Dormé said. "And it certainly doesn't help that Dellia spends all her time in tears or moping."

The tight quarters allocated to Naboo's admittedly small group meant that sleeping chambers were shared, and there was precious little diversion or amusement to be had on board. Dellia and Dormé shared one of the cabins, and Sabé and Balé the other. Captain Typho and his men were quartered aft of the Senator's suite, and the few other administrative staff near the security team. The ship's crew, all regular soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic, occupied the remainder of the ship's berths. Fortunately, there was no socializing with the crew, so the Naboo Delegation didn't have to account for the fact that there was technically one person missing. Sabé had to fill both her role and Padmé's because it had been decided that Padmé's absence was to be hidden even from the members of her own delegation, except for her intimate circle. They had announced right at the beginning of the journey that the Senator was feeling unwell and would remain confined to her cabin.

Three days, Sabé thought miserably. We'll all go crazy.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Typho asked.

"Do you know how to fight with swords?" asked a small voice from the vicinity of the door to one of the sleeping cabins. Balé had come out to greet their visitor. Her hair was tousled because she had mutinously refused to allow Dormé to brush it, and her clothes were crumpled from hours of sitting on her bed trying to amuse herself with books and drawings.

Typho smiled at the child. "I've been known to heft a blade or two in my day," he said.

"Could you practice with me?"

Typho looked at Sabé, who shrugged. Anything to keep her entertained.

Padmé's Captain of Security looked at Balé thoughtfully. "There's not much room on this ship, but I suspect that we could clear a space in the mess hall." Balé brightened up a little. "I'm willing if you are," the Captain offered, standing up and holding out his hand to the child while glancing over at Sabé for approval. Balé ran to him and took his hand happily.

Dormé jumped up and reached for a nearby hairbrush, but Sabé caught her eye and shook her head. Untidy hair wasn't the end of the world. It was more important that Balé had some fun.

"Do you remember that swordfight Anakin once fought in the dining salon of the Queen's Yacht?" Captain Typho asked Bale on the way out.

It was an inspired question. Balé's face brightened completely at hearing Anakin's name.

"Yes," she said eagerly. "He fought with that shiny man! The one that didn't like Jedi . It was amazing!"

"Remind me about it while we go find some sticks to fight with," the stalwart Captain said. The sound of Balé's enthusiastic chatter followed them out the door and far down the narrow corridor to the mess hall.

"Remind me to recommend him for an enormous raise," Sabé said to Dormé after they had left.

Dormé smiled, the hairbrush all but forgotten in her hand. "I will. He's wonderful."

Sabé found the change in Balé at the mention of Anakin heartbreaking to watch. Then she had an idea - a brilliant, daring idea. She had a story of her own to tell Balé at bedtime tonight - a story that starred Anakin and Padmé - a story that might just might help the child to understand that she had not been abandoned by the adults she loved most. Sabé thought it was a story that Balé would like very much, and under the circumstances, she didn't see why she shouldn't tell it. It might just give the child some ease.

"While I'm at it," she grinned, feeling suddenly more cheerful, "I think I'll ask for one myself."

* * * * *

The crew of the Starcruiser Mephisto was under strict orders to leave their passenger undisturbed. They did not know the identity of the man in the plain black cloak, but it was clear from the positioning of their ship at the center of the task force and from the comfort with which his quarters had been outfitted that he was a dignitary of no small rank. Once he had boarded, with the company of only a small staff, none of the crew had spotted him again, nor did they try. Even the Military Governor for whom they were providing passage on the same ship, and who outranked even the Mephisto's Captain, respected the privacy of the dark-cloaked passenger. It was as though they were meant to forget about him; and yet they must not. Their orders were clear. In case of an attack, the Mephisto must be protected at any cost, even that of all the other vessels.

Their passenger, on the other hand, was aware of everything. To all outward appearances he had remained silent and unmoving in his spacious cabin since the beginning of the journey to Naboo, attended only by his equally silent and discrete staff. But inwardly he was alive with knowledge, with perception and with a conscious awareness whose reach stretched far beyond the puny range of the ship's sensors. It was a consciousness that dwelt within the darkest and most occult aspects of the Force, and that was limited neither by distance nor by dimension. It did not fear discovery. And it was enormously powerful.

The passenger took great pleasure in his isolation. The Chancellor's office on Coruscant continued to operate as though he were there, functioning without interruption to process the vast numbers of communications that crossed his path daily and the untold distractions that required his disciplined attention. But here, now, he experienced the kind of inner space that normally he could permit himself only in small doses and through strict scheduling. He would have this freedom from routine activity for three days, and he would make very good use of it.

It was during these times of meditation that he surveyed his realms and worked on his plans - those beautifully wrought patterns that continued to weave themselves once he had set them in motion. He had only to revisit them occasionally, lightly teasing here or nudging there to assure their continued momentum. It was his genius to find the keystone to every event and strand of mortal activity that he cared to affect. It was his power to activate and maintain each one according to his will.

He was on his way to Naboo, his home planet. It meant nothing to him. For one who could possess everything he reached for, the idea of home was irrelevant. He dwelt at the center of all things. Naboo was merely the place where the strands of activity that he had been spinning for some time must now come together, as he had foreseen.

It was quite convenient that he would be able to accomplish so much in a single visit. There were some loose ends to tie up, and some others to unravel and send on their way into the future - his future - the one that he had devised. It was one thing to divine the movement and intention of the Force; it was quite another to harness it to his own designs. He did both, as necessary - what he could not change he worked around. In that way the future was indeed his to fashion according to his own will.

He had a good idea now by whose hand the Jedi interference in his production and distribution of the Life-Force disruptor weapons between D'lai and Naboo had been carried out, but Kenobi would not be a thorn in his side much longer. It also was high time to bring the Naboo Sector under his personal control. The installation of the Military Governor would both prevent further problems and solve many others, at a single stroke. Then let anyone try to shut down the operation again.

He was careful to monitor how the Jedi Order responded to the continued attrition in their numbers. They were becoming more erratic and less predictable in some ways, likely in reaction to their growing blindness and the increasing hopelessness of their position. He didn't much care in what order they were eradicated, so long as their pernicious influence and interference were forever ended. He would very soon need a free rein for his much larger, and more significant plans.

Then there was Naboo's freethinking Senator. He had never considered her a real political threat - an annoyance, perhaps, but not a threat. But lately he had taken to keeping a watch on Senator Amidala because of young Skywalker's continued and persistent connection with her. She had been quite useful so far in undermining the boy's relationship with the Jedi. If the attachment were as strong as he had divined it to be, her destruction - at the moment of his choosing - would be even more useful in empowering the boy to begin his true apprenticeship. And that moment would be have to be chosen carefully.

It was necessary to keep her close. Skywalker's proper training could not begin until he had loosened the last shreds of conscience and control the Jedi had struggled so hard to instill in him. The boy would re-learn control; he would learn it well. But he would learn it in a very different way.

The Sith Master's careful, systematic train of thought carried him closer and closer to the present situation and to his immediate strategy. Narrowing his focus solely to the variables that directly affected his short-term actions, he cast out threads of awareness to check on the positions of each of his players.

The Separatist Forces were standing by for his final decision on where and how to attack. The most successful campaigns always were fluid and flexible, and left wide avenues in which to maneuver.

Amidala simply needed to be kept close by until he decided how to use her. She was tucked away on a vulnerable starship at the edge of the formation, awaiting his decision. And where the Senator went, Anakin was certain to follow. He probed the Naboo Delegation's ship again to confirm her presence.

Amidala's Force signature was not there. The Senator was not there. It was not a thing he would have noticed had he not been searching purposely for her. The next thought in the sequence presented itself logically.

Skywalker. He already had established a permanent link to the boy's mind that he could activate at will. He probed.

They were together. They were on their way to . Alderaan. Skywalker did not know why they were going there.

Clever boy. He still thinks he can elude me.

Slowly and deliberately the Sith Lord withdrew from his meditative state and opened eyes that glinted like polished volcanic stone. In the role of Chancellor, he called for his aide.

"I want an immediate check on the whereabouts of every Senator of the Republic, over the last three days. Identify and locate those who have made sudden changes in plans, missed meetings, or otherwise disappeared."

"Yes, My Lord." The aide bowed and fled silently without a whisper of complaint about the gargantuan task. Chancellor Palpatine had no doubt it would be completed shortly.

His eyes narrowed while he continued to sit in perfect stillness.

Perhaps the time for direct action was nearer than he had thought.

Chapter 31. Predator and Prey (Part II)


The Defiance slipped into her assigned docking bay on the outskirts of Aldera with an efficient roar of her landing thrusters, and quickly subsided into silence. Her two occupants were disembarking when a representative of the Royal Ports Authority of Alderaan appeared with an astromech droid and an official message from the Office of Export Duties and Licenses.

Padmé looked at Anakin in confusion. They were not expecting to be met.

Anakin didn't return her look because he was fully focused on the official. Since waking suddenly several hours ago with an ache in his head and an unattributable sense of personal violation, he had kept all of his senses on highest alert. It had made him a silent and distracted companion, but Padmé had not said anything about it. She had seemed lost in her own thoughts about the task ahead.

The official waved a data pad in Anakin's general direction with the gruff order, "You have been granted permission to land long enough to retrieve your cargo and to take on supplies as necessary, but the permit does not allow for an extended stay. Please load your cargo immediately and resume your journey. This landing bay is reserved for another incoming vessel."

Anakin thought fast, but the Force told him more than his mind about what to do next. He could feel Padmé's shock and consternation, but ignored her completely. This was not the time to look or sound baffled.

"This droid is the cargo?" he asked.

The official scowled suspiciously. "Don't you know what your cargo is?"

Anakin reached out a firm hand for the data pad. "I want to confirm the serial number. I didn't come all this way to load the wrong one."

The man subsided and Anakin made a show of checking that the droid's specifications matched the ones on the bill of lading. He could feel that Padmé was about to say something and quickly placed his hand on her arm to silence her.

"It's all in order," Anakin said to the official. The man nodded and turned to go, leaving the droid behind. "Let's go," Anakin said quickly, indicating that the droid should follow. He kept a light pressure on Padmé's arm, drawing her back up the ramp with him. Only when they were all back inside of the Defiance with hatches secured did Anakin relax his hold on her.

"What was that all about?" Padmé said in alarm.

"Let's find out." Anakin turned to the droid. "Who do you belong to?"

A series of beeps and whistles followed.

"Apparently it belongs to you," Anakin interpreted, "and it has a message for you."

"Play it," Padmé said to the droid in complete bewilderment. Immediately a holographic image of Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan appeared.

"Padmé," the image said, "we have been discovered." Padmé glanced quickly at Anakin, who was scowling slightly at Senator Organa's familiar form of address, but her attention was drawn back to the image as the message went on.

"I don't know how he found out about our meeting, but the others have already been notified and have scattered. If we located you, others will be able to as well. You must leave immediately. Be careful - there is no telling what he has found out. This droid contains our latest information about the location of the task force." The image hesitated, and then said sadly, "My sources believe that there might be an attack against the convoy. I'm sorry, Padmé. Look to your own safety. I will contact you when I can."

"Anakin," Padmé began after a moment's stunned silence. When he didn't respond she turned to look for him and found that he had already hurled himself into the pilot's seat to prepare for departure. Padmé followed almost blindly, as though she were feeling her way in the dark, and sank down into the copilot's seat. Anakin moved with silent, concentrated speed.

"Anakin." Padmé said again, not knowing how to express the unthinkable.

"It's all right," he said shortly. "We're on our way."

The Defiance roared into life and within short order had left the docking bay and was hurtling back toward the stars.

Padmé closed her eyes and began to pray.

* * * * *

Master Yoda, I have failed.

Inside the depths of meditation the Ancient Master opened his awareness even more, allowing the presence to touch his consciousness fully.

I cannot reach him. He does not hear me.

The familiar consciousness touched his own, allowing Yoda to form inner images to accompany it. Gradually Qui-Gon Jinn, as Yoda had last seen him, stood before him in his mind's eye with his head bowed and a look of profound sorrow on his rugged face.

"Failed, you have not," Yoda said, in his heart. "Hear no one, he does. Listening, he is not. Closed, he is."

He hears, Master Yoda, said the powerful presence in his consciousness. iHe hears the words that are whispered to him out of the darkness. Only our urgings go unnoticed.

"He struggles against the darkness," Yoda pointed out. "Fighting it, he is, in his own way."

I brought him to you, Qui-Gon's being persisted. I brought him to you so that he would not have to battle alone. I brought him to you, and yet we could not hold him.

"Hold water in our fingers, can we, hmmmm?" Yoda countered. "Grasp light in a fist? Place a spirit in a harness and drive it, can we?"

Yoda had a sense of roiling and surging in the energies that surrounded him.

Perhaps we cannot. But the Lord of Darkness holds him with ease.

"Finished, it is not," Yoda insisted. "In flux, are the powers in the Galaxy. Encompasses both the light and the darkness does the Force - contains them and transcends them."

Is it the will of the Force that the Chosen One be cast into the darkness?

Yoda felt the beginnings of an inner constriction, like a tightening in his soul, and quickly countered it by releasing fully his feelings, thoughts, constructs and beliefs into the Force. He let go of everything that was solid or confined or had a boundary, merging into the living energy that binds the universe together. His consciousness touched that of Qui-Gon's. They harmonized. They augmented one another. Their energies combined and surged around and through one another.

Always changing, is the Force, they observed together. Time is meaningless. Control is meaningless. There is only life, and movement, and endless, eternal renewal.

"There is no failure," Master Yoda repeated to himself, as he slipped back into his own awareness. "Only the ceaseless Force, there is; timeless, unfailing, and wise."

As he slid gradually out of his profound state of meditation, Master Yoda found himself searching for the strength to merge with and accept the eternal, impersonal will of the Force.

I will not leave him, the now wavering and insubstantial image of Qui-Gon Jinn vowed.

"The Force be with you," Master Yoda's heart replied, "and with us all."

Chapter 32. Point of No Return (Part I)


Obi-Wan Kenobi looked around at the faces of the Jedi on his team, and then looked down at the floor of the Temple's main landing bay to give himself a short while to collect his thoughts and feelings into a coherent, manageable form. It had never been this difficult before. The Jedi stood before him in peaceful silence, waiting patiently for him to complete his train of thought.

He wished he could be anywhere but here. Never before in his life had he shirked a duty, nor would he now. But then, never before had he experienced such a profound sense of disjointedness, of discontinuity - of disharmony with the Force.

Everything felt wrong.

Once again, to his dismay, he doubted the wisdom of the Council's decision. Ever since the Council had decided to use Anakin as bait to draw out the Sith, doubt had nagged and worried him relentlessly. He felt an irrational urge to stub the toe of his boot on the floor, but stopped himself. Anakin had always done that.

His mission - the team's mission - was to find and shadow the convoy that carried the Naboo Delegation and the Chancellor, and to prevent any harm coming to Senator Amidala. That was all right. It was a proper mission for a single Jedi Knight, or for a Master and Padawan pair. It didn't warrant more than that.

Obi-Wan looked up and allowed his eyes to range over the three faces before him. They continued to wait patiently for him to speak. They would wait indefinitely, if asked. They were Jedi. And there were far too many of them.

Including himself they were four on the platform, and Tec Andros was already on Naboo undercover. It didn't take five Jedi to protect a Senator and her Delegation. Obi-Wan thought back and tried to remember the last time he had participated in a team so large. Five Jedi were sent to settle an interplanetary civil war. Six or more were dispatched when a ground battle was expected. But there was no evidence that Naboo would be the location of the next large military engagement in the war.

No, the second part of their mission really had to do with only one person - Anakin. They were to ensure that he did not turn rogue; or if he already had, to.. Obi-Wan scowled. Surely the Council didn't think Anakin was dangerous enough to necessitate .this?

On the other hand, no one, not even Master Yoda, could anticipate what awaited his team on Naboo. Separatist activity had increased markedly in that Sector recently, but neither the Temple nor the Senate analysts had been able to determine why. There was no rational pattern to their attacks; no known goal. It was guerilla warfare without an apparent purpose other than provocation.

In the same way that there were holes in their intelligence, there were holes in their perceptions. Big, dark, empty spaces appeared where there should have been light and understanding. The Jedi's personal capabilities and skills did not seem to be affected, but their ability to see through the Force, to divine the larger patterns in events and occurrences, was compromised so badly that by now their decision-making was probably no better than that of the non-Force-sensitive.

And so he doubted.

Obi-Wan studied the faces in front of him. Lon's blue eyes were sparkling with energy and anticipation. Obi-Wan felt a sudden, unreasonable stab of longing - of wishing that he shared the young man's youth and enthusiasm. Most of all, he wished that he shared Lon's unswerving faith that what they were doing was right and just.

Master Medulla, on the other hand, carried himself with an unfailing serenity that reminded Obi-Wan of Master Yoda's. His scholarly demeanor made it easy to forget that he was as reliable in combat as any other Jedi Master. Obi-Wan wished there had been more opportunity to discuss his doubts and concerns with Master Medulla, but their mission had been pulled together in record time. And now they must go.

His eyes moved on to the young, round face directly in front of him, and lingered.

The final straw had been the Council's insistence that he bring this child with him on this mission. At sixteen, Poulin Brith was no crčcheling, but he was not yet capable of handling himself alone in a combat situation. Unlike Anakin at that age, he also was not qualified as a fighter pilot, so his presence completely changed the mission's logistics. Even though Master Medulla was part of the team as well and would be there to look after him, Obi-Wan saw the boy's presence as a liability rather than an asset.

"Why, Mace?" Obi-Wan had demanded. "Why must I include Master Medulla and his Padawan - above all, why the child? Lon and I can handle this alone. And with Tec already there we will have everyone we need. Tec is a team all by himself."

Mace's face had been stony and unreadable. "Together Master Medulla and young Brith are the Temple's leading experts on the Sith," he had said evenly. When Obi-Wan had continued to glare at him in silence, he had added, "The boy is Anakin's friend. You may find his presence to be an advantage after all."

Obi-Wan fought against frustration and despair. The Jedi Council was sending half a regiment after Anakin, without knowing with any certainty what his status was. They were willing to destroy him on the strength of a threat; and he, Anakin's former Master, had been given the task not only of passing sentence on Anakin if it should become necessary, but of carrying it out. In the midst of all that, how did the Council imagine that this child's presence might make a difference? Obi-Wan didn't even know whether the boy had been told the full details of this unsavory undertaking.

Everything felt wrong. In a bizarre way, Obi-Wan was glad that this mission had been given to him rather than to anyone else. Maybe he could keep it from going out of control - from spinning itself toward its darkest possible end. It was the only solace that he could find at the moment.

"Master Kenobi?" A voice like gravel and silk broke into his thoughts and Mace Windu appeared from the shadows of the landing bay. "I will join your team."

Obi-Wan's last shred of optimism disappeared like a wisp of smoke. This is insane. It took everything he had not to flinch, to protest, to shout his objections to the skies. What is the Council doing? Five were already assigned. Why this? "Is this strictly necessary, Master Windu?" he said calmly, holding himself together with fierce control. "The team is too large as it is."

"My presence is thought to be required," Mace said unequivocally. "The team remains under your command. Carry on."

Obi-Wan had the sudden, sickening feeling that Mace was there not so much for Anakin, but for him - to support him, whatever came. To ensure that he did his duty. They don't trust me where Anakin is concerned, came a wild, unbidden thought. He throttled it at once.

Everything felt wrong.

Keeping an iron grip on his conflicting feelings, Obi-Wan finally addressed the group with their orders. "Military logs tell us that the Task Force is scheduled to arrive in the Naboo Sector in twenty hours, but its exact exit coordinates from hyperspace are not known to us. Our fastest possible course to the Sector will get us there in fifteen hours - that gives us a short time after our arrival to locate the convoy. When we do, we are to shadow it to Naboo."

He paused for breath and made his final decision. Looking straight at Master Medulla, Obi-Wan stipulated, "Poulin will fly with me in the small armed transport. You, Lon and Master Windu will man the starfighters. Agreed?"

Obi-Wan saw Master Medulla glance toward his Padawan with a brief, reassuring smile before nodding gravely. The boy smiled back at his Master in a way that aroused in Obi-Wan an overwhelming and very unhelpful pang of grief and loss.

Lon also nodded tersely, all eagerness and anticipation.

Mace towered silently behind the group and merely inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Very well, then," Obi-Wan concluded, successfully hiding his pitched battle with his feelings, "May the Force be with us."

May it, indeed

Chapter 32. Point of No Return (Part II)

Balé stared at Sabé with huge eyes. "And then what happened?"

"Well," Sabé said carefully, "because someone was trying to kill Padmé, and no one knew who it was or when they might try again, she was given special protection by the Jedi." Sabé grinned at her charge. "If you need protection, that's definitely the best kind to have."

"Was it Anakin?" Balé asked eagerly.

"Yes," Sabé said. "Yes, it was. He accompanied her back to Naboo until the" .she searched for a word that would not sound too horrible... "until the bad people could be found and stopped." Sabé paused and made a snap decision to leave out certain twists and turns in the story that didn't directly connect with her purpose. It was better not to add too much confusion. "They grew to like each other a lot."

Balé nodded eagerly, hanging on every word.

"Then they found out that Anakin's Master was in trouble on a planet called Geonosis. They hurried there to see if they could help him. They did, but then there was a huge battle, and Padmé and Anakin were right in the middle of it, fighting together."

"Anakin used his lightsaber," Balé said eagerly. She jumped up in bed and demonstrated a few hair-raising leaps and thrusts, making Sabé laugh.

"Yes, he did," she agreed, and waited for the demonstration to subside before she went on. "And Padmé is very good with a blaster. But it was during that great battle that Anakin lost his arm."

Balé's face grew serious. "Did it hurt?"

"I imagine it did," Sabé said gently. "But he was very brave. And then he was given his golden arm, and learned to use that just as well as the one he lost." She quickly moved the story along to brighter moments. "And then it was time for Padmé - and for you - to go back to Naboo, and again, Anakin was there for protection."

Balé looked down, and Sabé quickly reached for her hands, knowing full well what the child must be remembering.

"He did protect me," Balé whispered. "From that shiny man."

Sabé mind flashed back to the dimly lit bridge of the Queen's Yacht. Once again she saw the tall D'laian holding the little girl hostage with a dagger to her throat, taunting Anakin . she heard Balé scream . and then suddenly Wolan wasn't holding on to the child any longer because he was choking. Impulsively she gathered Balé onto her lap and hugged her. "Yes, he did," she agreed fervently. "He wouldn't ever let anything happen to you."

"He protected everybody," Balé said.

Sabé sighed. This story was forever running out of bright moments. It was time to move it along again. "And then we all came back to Naboo, and Anakin stayed for a while. Do you remember?"

"He showed me how to climb trees," Balé said, a little more cheerfully. "And he used to make me fly . and we made the food in the Palace kitchen dance to scare the cooks."

Sabé raised her eyebrows and wondered what other mischief had taken place, but resolutely kept on with her story.

"Yes. And he and Padmé fell in love."

Balé was silent, mulling it all over. Sabé wondered briefly what the concept of "falling in love" might mean to a child, but persevered. "But Jedi are not allowed to love."

Balé looked up at her with a frown. "Why?"

"It's one of their rules. They help everyone, but they don't have any special people of their own. It's just their way."

"But he does love Padmé," Balé insisted. "I know he does."

"Yes," Sabé agreed. "And he loves you, too. So.he did something he wasn't supposed to do. Something strictly forbidden. They both did, really."

The child's eyes got even bigger.

"Padmé did something.something forbidden?" Balé breathed, completely fascinated. Apparently it wasn't as difficult to believe it of Anakin. "What did they do?" She was clearly bursting with excitement.

Here it comes, Sabé thought. "They got married," she announced solemnly. "Secretly. They weren't allowed to, but they did it anyway. It's still a secret. Nobody else knows except me . and now you know it, too."

A strangled gasp behind her made Sabé whirl around to see Dormé standing in the doorway with a look of shock on her face, clutching the door frame as though it was the only thing holding her up.

"Well," Sabé added, looking pointedly in Dormé's direction, "Dormé knows, too. But we are the only ones, and no one else must know. Not even Captain Typho."

"They got married?" Balé squealed, having finally taken it in.

"Yes," Sabé confirmed. "They got married. They have been married since we were all on Naboo together."

"But he went away," Balé protested, confused. "He went back to Coruscant and he was gone for ages and Padmé never saw him."

"I know," Sabé soothed. "That's not because he wanted to be away. It's because he had to. But he came back as soon as he could."

"Why can't he just stay with us?" Balé asked, frowning again.

Sabé glanced at Dormé again to see how she was doing. The poor woman looked as if she were going to faint. Sabé decided to hurry the story along yet again.

"Parents can't always be with their children, Balé, even though they want to very, very much. But parents don't leave their children willingly. Sometimes things happen that take them away for a while, but they always come back as soon as they can." Sabé paused, holding the child gently. "Your birth parents died in a terrible accident, so they couldn't come back to you. But you have new parents who love you, and they are alive. They will come back - especially people like Padmé and Anakin, who fight huge battles and take big risks for the people they love. They haven't abandoned you, sweetheart. They are coming back to you. You have to believe that."

"Parents?" Balé said, hesitantly. She obviously had been grappling with that single concept throughout Sabé's long speech.

"Yes, Balé, parents," Sabé said decidedly. "They were already married when Padmé adopted you, so Anakin is . well, he's your father."

There was a soft thud behind her as Dormé's knees gave way and she slid suddenly to the floor in a dead faint

The Point of No Return (Part III)

Anakin stared at the gray streaks outside the viewscreen and tried to block out of his consciousness what he knew to be true. He told himself that he was close to winning. He had found a way out and only needed to do this one thing before he and Padmé and Balé could leave all of this behind. He tried hard to disregard the fact that he could feel the dark presence out there in the Galaxy beyond as clearly as he could sense Padmé's Force signature by his side on the Defiance. That sinister .consciousness.was pulling at him, and he was positive that it was somehow linked with the task force. Why else would he know with absolute certainty where they were headed? The ever-changing coordinates of the convoy were like a data stream in his head.

Once again, as he had every few minutes for the past four hours, Anakin glanced over at Padmé, who still sat in the co-pilot's seat as rigidly as a thickly stuffed doll. Her back was straight, her knuckles were white, and she stared straight ahead, although there was nothing to see out of the viewscreen but gray streaks. He had tried talking to her, reassuring her, although he had no real reassurances to offer; but she had hardly responded. She still looked cold, even though he had brought a blanket to tuck around her. It was very hard for him to see her like this, but experiencing her mental and emotional pain through the Force was much worse. It was not much different from the pain he had experienced from Obi-Wan's broken ribs. Unfortunately, grief and guilt were more difficult to heal than mere bone.

He was sorely tempted to physically grab Padmé and shake her to get her attention. If their roles were reversed, she probably would have dumped him back onto the cold floor by now. but he wouldn't do that. It would be easy to cut himself off from the experience of her pain by shielding himself from her in the Force, but he wouldn't do that either. He could only hover nearby and make sure she was warm, and try to support her with his own prodigious energies, and wait.

He hated waiting.

Eight more hours to the Naboo Sector. The astromech droid that Bail Organa had sent stood silently behind Anakin in the tiny cockpit, a constant reminder of the tangled mess Padmé had gotten herself into, and of many unknown dangers they faced ahead.

Padmé, the message had said, we have been discovered.

He had known that Padmé would do something to oppose Chancellor Palpatine. She had as much as told him. And he had vowed that he would protect her no matter what choices she made. Anakin found that the more he learned about the Galaxy's politics, the less he cared about them. His long months in the Senate had taught him that the Republic was nothing but a collection of corrupt individuals locked in a power struggle, where only the strong could afford to have principles. If he thought about it at all, he was beginning to despise the whole mess.

Anakin glanced over at Padmé again. She still hadn't moved.

Padmé cared about politics. She cared about the Republic. She cared so much about defending what she thought was right that she would throw her life away if she thought it would do some good, and he was evidently helpless to stop her. But she was devastated by the danger in which she had placed her loved ones.

Well, Anakin wasn't going to let anything happen to her. And he wasn't going to let anything happen to Balé, even if it meant he had to go toward the darkness rather than away from it. He reflexively checked the flight computer again, although it was completely unnecessary. He could picture their trajectory and their destination with perfect clarity. Thanks to the powerful pull from beyond he could sense in every part of his being the constant closing of the distance between the Defiance and the convoy. There was nothing to do but think.

Anakin hated being alone with his thoughts. They were like demons, writhing out of his soul and circling him with malicious intent.

He once had been much like Padmé when it came to the Jedi Order and all that it stood for. He had trusted the Jedi and believed with all his heart that they knew the right way - that the Order represented the best of the Galaxy and stood for justice and freedom. The idea of dying in the course of duty for something that noble, that .right.made sense. And yet at Geonosis they had walked into a trap and suffered horrific losses against a powerful enemy, and in his mind the Order no longer had seemed as invincible as he had thought it to be.

There was something out there that was more powerful than the Jedi. Something they feared. Anakin looked out the viewscreen and didn't even see the gray streaks any more. He saw only darkness.

There is no fear, there is only serenity.

That was a lie. The Jedi were afraid, all right, and as far as he was concerned, they had reason to be. He had been touched by that dark thing that they feared. In his bitter experience it did not allow itself to be opposed. If the whole Jedi Order couldn't even find it, much less prevail against it, what exactly did they want from him?

Draw the darkness out into the light, Master Yoda had said. You are the only one who can do this, Obi-Wan had said.

The Jedi had no idea what they were doing. They were weak, and growing weaker by the day. That dark consciousness wasn't afraid of anything, and it was powerful beyond imagining.

"Padmé," Anakin said urgently. Being alone with his thoughts had suddenly become unbearable. "Padmé!" he said again, and when she did not respond, he shook her shoulder insistently. He needed to bring her attention back where it belonged.

This time she turned her face toward him. He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?" She shook her head faintly. He didn't believe her. She was freezing. She just didn't care. Anakin understood exactly how she felt - only days ago he had felt the same way. But that was then.

"Listen," he finally said, firmly, "you didn't do anything wrong. That convoy was targeted for attack whether you were on it or not. At least this way we can fight back." Padmé's eyes were as black as the spaces between the stars, and full of despair and longing.

"The convoy was meant to be safe," she finally whispered. "I was the only one taking risks."

At least she was talking to him. That was progress. "You have to get warm," Anakin insisted, feeling more energized the more he took charge. "You have to eat something, and then we're going to get some sleep. We'll be there in less than eight hours, and we have to be ready to protect what is ours." He looked at her intently. "By any means."

After a long pause Padmé finally nodded and allowed Anakin to pull her up out of the copilot's seat and guide her back to the cabin, to hot food, and to bed.

Once again, Anakin looked forward with relief to a battle with any enemy that could be seen. Anything was better than his ongoing struggle against the dark presence that lurked in the shadows of his mind.

Chapter 33. Crossing the Threshold (Part I)


Peaceful, Obi-Wan thought. That's what the child was - peaceful. He surreptitiously watched Master Medulla's Padawan sigh and shift slightly in his seat in the six-passenger transport as he changed the settings on his datapad and continued to read. The boy had not exchanged a word for hours, and yet he seemed completely content. He had not begun a conversation or asked a question or requested any kind of attention at all. He merely had accepted the proffered seat, made certain that he was not needed for anything, and buried himself in his reading. His Force presence showed clearly that the boy was as harmonious on the inside as he appeared on the outside. It was remarkable.

Obi-Wan brought his focus back to his responsibilities. There was no point in reflecting too far on the past - on comparing his outings with Anakin to this journey with Poulin Brith. Anakin had forever been restless, curious, and talkative. He had questioned everything. He had demanded attention all the time. Poulin couldn't have been more different. Obi-Wan became concerned that, if he didn't offer to feed the boy who was now under his care, he would never ask to eat.

"Are you hungry, Poulin?" he asked gently, breaking into a silence of several hours.

The boy looked up. "A little, Master Kenobi."

"Let's have something to eat now. It's a good time. We'll be leaving hyperspace soon."

"As you wish, Master Kenobi," Poulin agreed, putting down his datapad.

Obi-Wan pulled out their rations and divided them unequally, giving the larger portion to the boy. They ate in companionable silence while Obi-Wan pondered how best to start a conversation. He had to find out how much Poulin knew about their mission. But where to begin?

"I understand that you are quite close to Anakin," he finally ventured. "How long have you been friends?" It was an awkward beginning, but he would wager that out of politeness and caution the boy would meet him halfway. He was right.

"Since he returned to the Temple from Naboo," Poulin answered respectfully after finishing a morsel of food. He glanced quickly up at Obi-Wan through thick dark eyelashes, adding, "He befriended me, actually."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan asked neutrally, hoping the single syllable showed enough interest to encourage the boy to continue in his own way. Apparently, it did.

"He helped me in a saber class," Poulin went on easily. "He's really good."

Obi-Wan smiled. "That he is." Poulin smiled back, just a little. The atmosphere eased.

After a short pause Obi-Wan probed further. "I'm curious. What did you find in common? I mean, Anakin is a few years older than you are."

Poulin looked down. "I don't think he had many friends in the Temple then," he said with perfect honesty. "There were a lot of people who were angry that he had been allowed to come back after.well, you know." Obi-Wan nodded his acknowledgement. Poulin seemed to take it as a sign that it was all right to continue. "I didn't have too many friends, either," he admitted. "Anakin always treated me like - well, like someone closer to his age. He talked to me, you know? He told me about things."

Anakin hardly spoke to me at all during that time, Obi-Wan reflected, and found some small comfort in the fact that Anakin had found at least one friend. He was about to make another innocuous, conversational remark when something in the boy's Force signature gave him pause. Poulin was holding back. The indications were quite clear. If this conversation had taken place in a Temple refectory or some other neutral place that had nothing to do with their current mission, Obi-Wan would have respected the boy's privacy and let it go. But given that they were only hours from a horrific decision point, Obi-Wan felt it necessary to probe further.

"Have you seen him recently, Poulin?" he asked. His voice was still mild, but it contained a different tone that was not lost on the Padawan.

"N - No, Master Kenobi." The boy became nervous, and his habitual stammer became evident.

Obi-Wan decided to take a different tack. "Poulin, do you know why you were asked to join this mission?"

The boy frowned a little. "Because Master Medulla is on the team," he said. Not surprisingly, he had assumed that he was merely accompanying his Master, as always. Obi-Wan tried something else.

"Do you understand our purpose?"

"T - To protect S - Senator Amidala from a possible attack." Poulin stammered.

Obi-Wan closed in, hating every minute of it. "Were you aware that Anakin has left the Temple and his Senate assignment without permission, and has not been seen or heard from for some time?"

Poulin stared at him. "N - No."

Obi-Wan surveyed the boy objectively. "But you are not particularly surprised."

Poulin dropped his eyes. "N - No."

"May I ask why?" Obi-Wan asked gently.

Poulin took a deep breath, and then another, before meeting Obi-Wan's eyes again. "H - He wasn't happy in the Temple. He knew th - that a lot of people didn't want him there. He was waiting." He stopped completely.

"Yes? Go on."

"H - He was waiting every day to be expelled," Poulin said in a rush. "H - He didn't think he would ever be m - made a Knight."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, needing a moment of privacy with his tumbling thoughts. Proud, fierce Anakin, he thought. Proud, fierce and without hope for a bright future. Where would he go? What would he do? He opened his eyes again and focused all of his attention on the boy.

"Anakin must have had friends or associates outside the Temple, then. Was he close to anyone while he was working in the Senate?"

Poulin looked uncomfortable, but was unable to refuse a direct question from a Jedi Master. "H - He wasn't close to many people in the Senate. M - Most people were a bit frightened of him." The Padawan must have taken Obi-Wan's sharp look as an indication that he had not answered the question satisfactorily, because he quickly volunteered, "He was very close to S - Senator Amidala and her f - family, though."

Obi-Wan decided to deal with the first assertion first. Something in the Force was beginning to tug at him.

"People were frightened of Anakin? How do you mean?"

The boy was beginning to look distinctly miserable. "H - He had quite a lot of power, you see. People n - never knew what he would make them do next."

"Power?" Obi-Wan frowned. "What do you mean by power?"

The boy shrugged. "People had to do whatever Anakin said. In pretty much all D - Departments."

Obi-Wan knew, as did the Council, that Anakin had been given a substantial responsibility for advising on the restructuring of the Senate's Security systems, under the Chancellor's mentorship. But. Anakin having a free hand in every Department of the Senate bureaucracy? The boy must be mistaken.

"Surely not all departments," Obi-Wan said severely. "You mean in Senate Security."

"N - No, Master Kenobi. Anakin told the Chief of Security what to do, but he also m - more or less controlled what happened everywhere else, because Security was involved in every area. Even the Delegations' p - private Security teams had to follow his rules. Every Department did. Nobody d - dared cross him."

"Where did he get that kind of authority?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud, with growing dismay. Little tremors in the Force were making him shiver.

Poulin took it as a direct question. "From the Supreme Chancellor, Master Kenobi. Everyone knew that Anakin spoke directly for Chancellor P - Palpatine, and that the Chancellor approved of everything he d - did. He even got people p - promoted and fired. Th - The Senate Security Forces were all l - loyal to him."

Anakin must have loved that, Obi-Wan thought, appalled.

There are deeply uncomfortable moments in life when one's previously held ideas and concepts are ripped away and instantaneously replaced by new experiences or new information. Obi-Wan was having one of those moments. To make it worse, the hairs on the back of his neck and all the way down his arms were beginning to stand up.

Why would Chancellor Palpatine give that much authority to an unproven Padawan? And more to the point, why weren't we aware of the extent and nature of Anakin's role?

"Were you ever afraid of Anakin?" he asked the boy suddenly.

Poulin didn't seem surprised by the question, but shook his head emphatically. "No. He is my friend." Then he admitted, "But I w - wouldn't want to be on his bad side."

It seems we have managed to place the whole Order on Anakin's bad side, Obi-Wan thought, painfully. He studied the stalwart Jedi Padawan in front of him. The boy clearly was uncomfortable being questioned about Anakin, but there was no doubt that he was telling the whole truth, as he understood it. He pressed on.

"How close was Anakin to Senator Amidala and her .family?"

"H - He spent a lot of time with Balé," Poulin offered reluctantly. He must have thought that Obi-Wan's frown indicated confusion, and hurried to explain. "That's Senator Amidala's daughter. H - He took care of her sometimes, when the Senator was away."

Obi-Wan knew who Balé was. His frown had been the result of a vivid memory of having seen Anakin holding the child in his arms, standing next to Padmé, the evening that Obi-Wan had arrived to retrieve his Padawan from Naboo. The intimacy among the three had shone through the Force with an intensity that still stunned him when he thought about it. "How do you know all this?" he asked the Padawan bluntly. "Anakin told you?"

"I - I helped him once. During the Senate Crisis. I - I took care of Balé so Anakin could go there. Balé talked to me quite a lot." He added quickly, "Master Medulla gave me permission."

Obi-Wan's eyes held Poulin's. "Balé talked to you about Anakin?"

"Y - Yes," Poulin managed. "Sh - She is very fond of him. I think.she thinks of him as p - part of the family." Poulin suddenly blushed so violently that it startled Obi-Wan. "Balé said.she said she w - wished Anakin and Senator Amidala would ." He stopped and gulped. Obi-Wan stared at him. "She w - wished they would get m - married," the boy finished. His embarrassment was painful to see.

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly, but made a point of reassuring the mortified Padawan. This was evidently what Poulin had been worried about revealing, but it didn't strike Obi-Wan the way the boy's other disclosures had. The odd pressure from the Force had abated.

"It's all right," he said. "We know about that.connection." Poulin shot him a curious glance. Yes, Obi-Wan thought wryly, you might well wonder why we allowed it to go on. "Do you still consider yourself to be a close friend of Anakin's?" he asked after a short pause, changing the subject slightly.

"Yes," Poulin answered stoutly, without a trace of a stammer.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Then it is important that you understand the larger ramifications of this mission. Poulin, we believe that Anakin might have abandoned the Order and turned rogue. But we don't know what his intentions are, or whether he poses a danger. Part of our job here is to find out." Then he put the boy on the spot. "What do you think he will do, Padawan Brith?"

Poulin stared, and then blinked rapidly several times. Obi-Wan appreciated the Padawan's self-control.

"I think he will stay close to Senator Amidala and her daughter," Poulin said seriously. For some reason his stammer had all but disappeared. "I think Anakin cares about them more than anything." Then he looked straight into Obi-Wan's eyes, and said, bravely, "I don't think he will do anything dangerous as long as he is with them. He's unhappy, that's all. But not everyone might understand that."

"You understand a great deal," Obi-Wan said approvingly. His mind drifted back to his last conversation with Padmé on the roof terrace in Coruscant. She was playing a very dangerous game, and the boy was right - Anakin would be there with her, or at least close to her, no matter what happened. In fact, without any other reins on him, Anakin was likely to become directly involved in her activities. Still, his thoughts kept veering back to the disturbing image of his former Padawan's rapid transformation into a commanding and intimidating figure in the administrative structure of the Galactic Senate. If the Supreme Chancellor had been such a close supporter, why was Anakin now at large? Why hadn't Anakin gone straight to Palpatine after he stormed out of the Temple? Was Padmé the reason?

No, that didn't feel right. It had to be more than that. There was something else. The Force surged into motion around him again at the thought, confirming it.

He has found me, Anakin had said of the darkest power in the Galaxy.

Obi-Wan felt a familiar chill of dread.

Everyone knew that Anakin spoke directly for Chancellor Palpatine, and that the Chancellor approved of everything he did, Poulin had said.

The chill became worse. He glanced at Poulin to see whether he had noticed anything, and saw the beginnings of concern in the boy's eyes. He had better get himself in hand. Anakin, too, had been had been a mere Padawan.hardly more than a child himself.to be given such authority.to taste power, when he was not ready for that burden. and yet Palpatine was no fool.

What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith? Dooku had said.

"Are you cold?" Obi-Wan asked Poulin abruptly.

"No, Master Kenobi," the boy said, startled.

It's me, then. This warning is for me. The sense of cold was moving into Obi-Wan's heart.

Anakin had left both the Temple and the Senate and disappeared.

Anakin had disappeared.

Anakin.

Overwhelmed, Obi-Wan hid his face in his hands. What if Master Yoda had been wrong? What if the method of the Dark Side was not merely to mislead and deceive? Surely the truth, told to those who were not willing or able to hear it, could become the most effective lie of all.

Palpatine. By all the gods in the Galaxy.

It was not a new thought. Like all the other avenues Jedi analysts had explored, the possibility that Palpatine was connected with the Sith had been discussed over and over again. But the idea never had resonated through the Force with any kind of power or sense of truth. It always had excused itself from consideration, somehow.

Until now.

"Master Kenobi?" Poulin's worried voice seemed to be coming from far away. "Are you all right?"

If it was true. if it was. there were two possibilities. Either Anakin had fled to the Dark Lord, and was hidden, or he had gone in the opposite direction. he was running away.

You can't help me, Anakin had said. None of you can. The only thing I can do is disappear.

But he wouldn't remain in hiding. Not if Padmé were in danger.

Palpatine is on the transport with Padmé.

It was the most elegant of traps. If it was true. if it was. then Padmé was merely a means of obtaining a greater prize, and had been all along. A completely disposable means.

Oh, Anakin, Obi-Wan mourned. We all played our parts so predictably. You fell in love with her, and we gave you to him.

"Master Kenobi!" The boy was shaking him now. It was time to come back to his duty.

"I'm all right," Obi-Wan said, forcing himself to lower his hands and take a deep, careful breath. He wasn't all right, not really, but he would function. That would have to do. He would learn to live with the knowledge that the Order had let Anakin down so badly that he didn't trust them to help him. He would somehow find a way to carry the burden of knowing that it was his fault - that it was his personal failure to deal with Anakin correctly that had brought events to this pass. Somehow he would carry on. And he would quite probably have the opportunity to watch his failure become complete as events unraveled before his eyes. Involuntarily he reached up and rubbed them. This had to stop - it wasn't like him to give in to despair.

That is the power of the Dark Side - its lightest touch, the merest brush of its presence strangles joy and imprisons the soul.

"If you don't mind, Poulin, I would like you to spend the remainder of our time in hyperspace telling me about the research you and your Master have been doing on the Sith."

The Padawan was watching him dubiously. "Do you need something before I begin, Master Kenobi? Water, or tea?"

"Tea, if you would, Poulin." Obi-Wan forced himself to smile a little. "Please." The boy nodded gravely and hurried off to make it.

Mace, you and the Council might be right. The boy is an asset, and we will certainly need all the help we can get

Chapter 33. Crossing the Threshold I (Part II)

Rowen Farr, ancient and trusted chief of Staff to several Queens of the Naboo, didn't recall ever having seen one quite this angry. The stylized protocol of the Royal office didn't allow it. But Queen Jamillia was blazing with unrestrained fury. Rowen looked surreptitiously at Sio Bibble for confirmation, and sure enough, the venerable former Governor and Chairman of the Naboo Royal Advisory Council looked just as disconcerted as he felt. It was a relief, in a way. Both elderly gentlemen turned their attention back to the young Queen, not quite knowing how to help.

The elegantly painted and gowned Regent continued pacing behind her desk and then abruptly turned and walked toward the soaring window behind her. She remained there, gazing outside at the grand plaza below with her back to her advisors, long enough for them to exchange quite a few more concerned looks.

"Look out there," the Queen finally said, bitterly. "Look what they are doing to the Plaza."

Both men crept closer until they, too could survey the activity that filled the spacious square. A series of tall poles had been erected on all four sides, standing in perfect lines like phalanxes of soldiers. A long banner emblazoned with the symbol of the Republic was being hung on each pole. The banners were identical, and contrasted sharply in color and style with the gracious architecture and mellow colors of the heart of the ancient city of Theed.

"It looks like an arena," Queen Jamillia growled. "Like a military parade ground." She whirled around suddenly, disconcerting Rowan Farr, who had been standing right behind her. Uncomfortable standing nose to nose with his sovereign ruler, he stepped back hastily. "Have we been asked to participate in the preparations for this farce in any way?" the Queen snapped.

"No, Your Highness," the old gentleman said sturdily. "Even some of the required permissions have been disregarded. The preparations for the Military Governor's installation ceremony tomorrow have been handled exclusively by the Army itself."

"And now this," the Queen practically spat, pointing an imperious finger at a document on her desk. "Did we receive any reports about this at all?"

"No, Your Highness," Sio Bibble confirmed, taking his turn. "Not the slightest indication. Our latest information is that Senator Amidala is returning home on the same convoy with the new Military Governor. We have never heard the slightest hint about other.ah.activities on her part."

"I would like to know," the Queen said, in a dangerous tone of voice, "how a sovereign planet, a member in good standing of a democratic republic, with an active and honorable representation in the Senate, can be ground beneath the heel of what is for all intents and purposes a military government. How does that happen?" The last words were practically a shout, making her advisors jump.

Neither man had an answer.

"The Governor and Senator Amidala and the delegation will arrive early tomorrow morning, Your Highness," Sio Bibble pointed out. "We must make a plan."

"Ah, yes," Jamillia said, her painted lips tight with fury. "A plan. Which option shall we choose? The death of Padmé Amidala or the death of our last vestiges of freedom and sovereignty as a democratic society?"

"Your Highness," Bibble countered, uncomfortably, "perhaps the situation is not as desperate as that."

"You, of all people, Sio Bibble!" the Queen cut him off. "You of all people ought to realize that the situation is that desperate! Ten years ago we were nearly enslaved as a result of a commercial dispute that took place within, and in spite of, a lawful system of government. Now we are in the throes of a vast war where the rule of law has effectively been suspended. What do you think will happen to us this time?"

"Your Highness," Rowen Farr broke in, "do I understand you to suggest that we actually comply with this demand from the Office of the Chancellor? He has no right to insist on Senator Amidala's arrest!"

"No right, Rowen?" the Queen demanded. "No right? Look out there.there is all the right he needs any more. His armies give him the right."

"Senator Amidala has been saying it all along," Bibble reflected gloomily. "Palpatine is not to be trusted. Even by the Naboo."

"We can't just hand her over to the Republic!" Rowen said in horror. "She has done nothing illegal, she would never."

For the first time Queen Jamillia's wrath subsided, and she spoke to her trusted advisor not as a Queen, but as a comrade. "I know, old friend, I know. Padmé has been a thorn in the side of any and every faction that promotes tyranny throughout her entire career. Now the Republic itself is becoming tyrant." She paused sorrowfully. "On the basis of the evidence they claim to have, the military could arrest her for treason without our participation or approval. Don't you see, Rowen? Palpatine is making an example of her, and he is making sure that we take part in it. He is using us to send a message to every planet in the Republic that if we tolerate traitors, we will be made to suffer."

"And he is the one who decides who is a traitor, and who is not," Sio Bibble said venomously. The Queen and her Chief of Staff shared a quick glance of relief at the former Governor's passionate hostility. Clearly, he was no longer denying the full extent of their peril.

"Exactly so," Queen Jamillia continued, "and if we do not comply, if we do not arrest her, as he has demanded, the cost to Naboo will be unimaginable."

"He is giving us a choice," Rowen added softly. "Padmé Amidala, or Naboo."

"There must be another way," Sio Bibble insisted. "Padmé taught us that. She showed us how to fight back. Surely we must apply that lesson now - now more than ever." Once the conversation had returned to the real issue, all three parties dropped the required formalities and spoke of their Senator in the most intimate terms. She was more than a colleague. She was a hero - an iconic figure for both of the great races that inhabited the planet of Naboo. And above all, she was a friend.

"I have been trying for hours to speak with Chancellor Palpatine directly about this matter," Queen Jamillia said. "Yet his office puts me off each time. He will not even do me the courtesy of accepting my personal call."

A knock on the door startled all three, so deeply engaged were they in their discussion.

"Enter," the Queen commanded tersely.

The Captain of the Queen's Own Guard stuck his head, complete with peaked cap and plume, around the door. "Everyone you have asked to meet with is assembled in the conference room, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Captain," Queen Jamillia said, graciously enough. "We will be there shortly." The Captain nodded and withdrew. "Well, Gentlemen," she said to her companions. "In a few minutes we will no longer be the only ones who have heard this news. The time for bold, radical and strictly off-the-record suggestions will soon be over."

I am old, Rowen Farr thought to himself, suddenly and painfully. I am old and everything I know and love has changed beyond recognition and I will probably never again see the world I used to know. He involuntarily looked up and caught the eye of the equally aged Sio Bibble. For a brief moment he thought he perceived a glimmer of the same thought in his colleague's eyes. What have we to offer the young in this frightening new world?

"I have only one small contribution to make, Your Highness," he said sadly. "Only last week I received a private encoded message from Padmé, directing me to contact Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi in case.in case anything happened to her. I suspect this unfortunate eventuality may be what she had in mind."

"In case anything happened .what did she mean, Rowen Farr?" Queen Jamilla asked in surprise.

"I don't know, Your Highness," the old man admitted. "The message simply instructed me to keep its contents private unless a problem arose. Of course I did just as she asked."

"So she may have been up to something," Sio Bibble pointed out sharply. "There may be more to this than we know."

"Do as Padmé asked, Rowen," Queen Jamilla said at once, ignoring Bibble's outburst. "Do it right now. Before our meeting."

The Chief of Staff bowed. "Of course, Your Highness. Will you begin the meeting in the meantime?"

"I'll have to," the Queen said thoughtfully. "But I'll try to drag it out. Hurry, Rowen."

Obediently the old man made haste to try to make some small difference in the face of the impervious, unfeeling and seemingly unstoppable new order of things.

Chapter 34. Crossing the Threshold II

The moment the Jedi transport slipped out of hyperspace the message warning on the communications panel flashed repeatedly. Obi-Wan first assured himself that the starfighters had arrived alongside, and then turned his attention to the message. It was odd to receive one the instant of everting to realspace, unless an automated signal had been set up to catch him as soon as he arrived in the Sector.

"Let's see who needs us so urgently, Padawan," he said to Poulin, who was manning the controls.

"It's sent as a strictly private message for you," Poulin said, after moment. He stood up to leave the cockpit.

Obi-Wan thought intently for a moment. "Stay," he said to the boy. "You are part of this team. Just play the message."

Poulin ducked his head at the unexpected pleasure of being included in this way, and did as he had been asked. He engaged the message and then swiveled his chair around to face the other way so he could view the projection. Obi-Wan stood on the other side of the cockpit, legs slightly splayed and his arms crossed. After having spent several hours in a profound period of meditation he was once again centered, balanced, and ready for action. Even so, he was caught by surprise when the image that appeared was that of Rowen Farr, Chief of Staff to the Queen of the Naboo.

The message was short and to the point. It left Obi-Wan frowning and Poulin staring with his mouth slightly open at the empty space left when the projection ended.

"Re-transmit the audio portion to all three starfighters, Poulin," Obi-Wan said grimly, and waited. Two minutes later Mace Windu's voice was heard over the COM link, saying the four simple words that Obi-Wan most wanted to hear.

"I don't think so."

Obi-Wan didn't realize until he caught Poulin staring at him in complete astonishment that he was grinning broadly. Judging from the wave of unease that flowed from the boy, his expression must have seemed completely inappropriate. For the boy's sake he fought back the urge to let out a war whoop. At last he had the mandate to take action, and he intended to make the most of it.

"Tight formation, this heading," Obi-Wan ordered over the COM. The starfighters surrounded the transport - Lon flew to port, Master Medulla to starboard, and Master Windu directly overhead and forward. "Padawan Brith and I will establish the search parameters, " Obi-Wan went on. "Stand by." Then he turned to Poulin with an expression that had returned to suitably sober. "How is the map coming?"

The search for the task force was made simpler by knowing its destination; the nearer it came to Naboo, the easier it was to find. Obi-Wan, however, wanted to locate it as soon as possible and shadow it all the way through the Naboo Sector. That meant mapping a whole series of possible exit points from hyperspace based on the best available information from the military about the transport's last logged position and trajectory, and making a best guess as to which exit had been used.

"It's ready, Master Kenobi." Poulin pointed at the console, and Obi-Wan stepped closer to see. Near their current position was a tangle of red lines, each indicating a possible course. Eventually the lines merged into a heavy red arrowhead pointing straight at the planet of Naboo.

There were too many possibilities, and five hours was not enough time to explore them all, even with the use of long-range sensors. Remembering his discussion with Padawan Brith, Obi-Wan decided to try a new approach to improving the odds.

"Master Medulla," he said, over the open COM link to all three starfighters, "your Padawan has given me some interesting insights into your recent research. With his help, I intend to apply your methodology to locating the Task Force."

Before Master Medulla could reply, Mace Windu's voice broke in over the COM. "Would you like to explain why you believe that using a method of tracking the movements of the Sith will help us find a military transport?"

Obi-Wan was still standing with his arms crossed, rocking ever so slightly from heel to toe, a poised bundle of focused energy. "Call it a hunch," he said firmly.

Master Medulla's voice slipped calmly into the absolute silence that ensued. "Understood, Master Kenobi. Carry on. We will hold you in our thoughts."

At a nod from Obi-Wan Poulin disengaged the COM.

"Well, Poulin," Obi-Wan said, "it's your methodology. Guide me through it."

The boy nodded earnestly.

"As you know, Master Kenobi, it takes two. One isn't enough, and more than two muddy the perceptions. And," he added shyly, "it helps if we hold hands. Somehow it makes a better connection."

Obi-Wan nodded reassuringly. "Understood." He gestured toward the floor while sinking gracefully down onto it in a cross-legged position. "Have a seat, Padawan."

Poulin sat down in front of the Jedi Knight in the same posture, knees touching, and held out his hands. Obi-Wan grasped the boy's cool, smooth fingers in his own warm, callused ones, and they both closed their eyes for the meditation. Since they did not know one another well it was a new experience for both of them, and they began cautiously, politely until they were both so deeply sunk within the Force that all other distinctions became meaningless. All bodily awareness fell away and their thoughts and senses became fluid, mobile, and unbound.

As always, there were dark blotches within their meditative awareness - places that seemed to have been inked out of existence. Obi-Wan felt Poulin's presence take hold as the boy began to guide their awareness straight into one of those non-existent places.

They aren't holes, Master Kenobi. They're veils. We have to penetrate them.

Obi-Wan shivered involuntarily as his consciousness surged straight into the blackest place he had ever been. The feeling of nothingness - of profound absence - was deeply disturbing. The longer it went on, the more disorienting it became. Always before, meditation had been an experience of expansion, of opening the self into a much greater experience of being. This felt like - well, like an absolute reduction into nothingness of everything he was, of everything he knew. It felt like death. Obi-Wan involuntarily shrank back from it, and as he did his waking consciousness returned just enough for him to feel the young hands confidently grasping his own. The sensation was reassuring and allowed him to plunge heedlessly back into the darkness. Even in that empty, non-existent place, he could sense the boy's presence linked with his own.

No wonder it takes two. Obi-Wan doubted that a single consciousness could stand up to this darkness alone.

It must have been something in the power of their resolve - the courageous surging forward rather than shrinking backward - that took them through the veil. Suddenly the suffocating darkness around them dissolved and their normal meditative awareness returned more keenly than ever. As though they had crossed a threshold of some kind, their perceptions widened vastly, their thoughts became fluid and responsive to their slightest intentions, and Obi-Wan could perceive clearly the shimmering energies of the other Jedi in their group surrounding them, bolstering them, and adding strength to strength.

There, Master Kenobi.

In the Force there is no time or distance. There is only the moment, and instantaneous arrival at the place that is sought. An image of space opened before Obi-Wan's inner eyes, laced with stars and centered on the solid forms of a convoy of vessels clustered close together in formation.

Master Kenobi, look!

Linked as they were, Obi-Wan knew exactly what had disturbed the boy. The center of the convoy appeared to be missing. In its place was an inky blackness like the one they had just moved through. Obi-Wan reflected that, to other Jedi, it might just look as though the convoy had taken on a wheel-shaped formation. But he knew better. So, apparently, did the boy.

Yes, Poulin. The center is veiled.

Obi-Wan withdrew his attention from the image of the formation of ships and pulled back to get his bearings. Images of nearby stars and planets flashed before his mind's eye and moved on until he was satisfied that he had a picture of the larger environs.

He had never seen this clearly before. And he knew exactly where to look for the convoy.

Slowly Obi-Wan began to let go of the images, withdrawing little by little back into his normal waking consciousness. At every step, with every deep, slow breath he made certain that the boy's Force presence remained with him. It did. They opened their eyes at exactly the same moment and their hands parted.

"How did you learn to do that?" Obi-Wan asked, after the requisite moment for gathering and restoring a different kind of consciousness.

"From you, Master Kenobi," the boy said ingenuously.

Obi-Wan looked at him skeptically.

"From the reports you made after your visit to Naboo last year. You said that you had learned to follow a sense of the 'absence' of something that nevertheless kept to a consistent pattern. I think your exact words in the report were that 'it was analogous less to a footprint in the snow than to a leftover gravity silhouette.' You said that the stark absence of something was as telling as its presence."

Obi-Wan wanted to smile at the boy's enthusiasm and almost stilted phrasing when he talked about his work. He sounded just like Master Medulla.

"You developed this method from those few words?"

Poulin nodded eagerly. "Yes, Master Kenobi. You see, we added some of the insights from research that had been done on Rebus Prime."

Obi-Wan raised his hands in surrender. "Thank you, Padawan Brith. Good work. But we have a task force to find."

Poulin blushed, and swallowed. "Yes, Master Kenobi." He scrambled to the console and began to overlay map segments. Within minutes both he and Obi-Wan had agreed about the most likely set of coordinates and had transmitted them to the starfighters.

"Best speed," Master Windu's voice ordered over the COM.

Obi-Wan grinned in amusement. Mace just couldn't stop being in charge. He leaned back in the pilot's seat and turned to the Padawan next to him.

"So, Poulin," he said genially, "have you ever taken part in a kidnapping?"

Chapter 34. Crossing the Threshold II (PartII)


Anakin felt a stab of regret as he watched the remainder of his wife's satiny skin disappear into a white flight suit until only her face and neck showed. Involuntarily he reached over to stroke her warm cheek with the tips of his living fingers, and was rewarded with the tiniest of smiles. Combat-ready though he was, in his deepest soul he was having trouble letting go of the contented pleasure of having spent two days with her undivided attention. Well, until they had reached Alderaan, anyway.

But she had agreed to go away with him. It meant everything, and it had changed everything.

Mine, he thought, as he reluctantly dropped his hand. All mine, at last.

He watched longingly as she brushed out her hair and began to plait it into a single heavy braid.

"Here, let me do that." Anakin reached out for the silky strands and ran them through his fingers one more time, and then carefully braided her hair the way he had often done for his mother, soaking up every last sensation that he could from the touch. Padmé looked better. He had gotten some food into her, and she had slept. She still had dark smudges of weariness under her eyes, but her face had some color.

"How do you know where to find the task force?" Padmé asked suddenly, as she wound the plait into a knot and pinned it.

Yes, she definitely was better, and focusing totally on the task ahead. The data in the droid had been sketchy and unhelpful, and yet the course Anakin had set was taking them unerringly to a rendezvous with the security-cloaked task force.

"I can sense it," Anakin admitted, reluctantly and evasively. He watched her lips tighten, and had a pretty good idea why. After having relied for so many years on Captain Typho's thorough and methodical planning, she was always disconcerted by his own tendency to allow events to unfold and to rely on his ability to respond instantly as they changed.

"Don't tell me," Padmé said dryly, "it's the Jedi way."

"You could say that," Anakin agreed, just as evasively, and handed her a pair of fully charged blasters.

She glanced at the weapons, and then at Anakin. "Did you get any sleep? You must have been up long before me if you're this prepared."

"I got enough," Anakin said, warmed by her concern. He watched her holster the blasters.

"What is the plan?" Padmé asked directly, looking him straight in the eye. "These are no good in a confined ship."

Anakin crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. "There's nothing we can do while we're in space, but I intend to keep a watch over the task force all the way to Naboo. Once there, we'll see."

Padmé sighed once, sharply.

"I don't like it either," Anakin said. "If there were any way to kidnap Balé off the transport, I would."

"We would, you mean," Padmé growled.

Anakin grinned. She definitely was back to her old self. "If you're feeling that bloodthirsty, I suggest you go over the specs for the laser canons."

"Bloodthirsty doesn't begin to describe it," vowed his wife in the same growl, and pushed past him to get to the cockpit. Anakin lingered where he was, enjoying the view of her retreating form, until she had settled herself in the copilot's seat.

This is the way it will be from now on, he thought possessively as he eased himself into the pilot's seat beside her. No Senate duties. No Jedi duties. No handmaidens or security details. No more hiding. Just us.

Now there was a future worth fighting for.

* * * * *

"My Lord," the aide ventured, bowing deeply, "the Captain of the Mephisto has received an .ah.unusual request."

There was no answer from the dark-cloaked figure, only a nod to indicate that he should go on.

"The Jedi Council has asked for permission for one of their Knights to approach and dock with one of our vessels while we are still en route. He requests a consultation with the Senator from Naboo now, even before we arrive on the planet. The Captain asks whether he should allow it."

In the shadows of his deep cowl the passenger's sudden smile was one that would have unsettled anyone who saw it.

"Which Knight seeks this meeting?" came the calm, cultured voice from within the robes.

"A Master Kenobi, My Lord."

The smile widened.

"We must respect the wishes of the venerable Jedi Council. Direct the Captain to grant permission."

"Yes, Sir," the aide said quickly, bowing deeply once again. As the cabin doors hissed together behind him the passenger reached for a private communicator that always lay close to hand. He said only one word into the device.

"Now."

* * * * *

Dormé answered the door chime to the Naboo Delegation's main cabin with reasonable confidence that it was Captain Typho. No one else had visited them for the duration of the journey. She hardly knew how to react when the door opened to reveal a Jedi Knight in a heavy brown cloak. Directly behind him, looking at her over the Jedi's shoulder, was Captain Typho. The grim look on the Captain's face was unusual even for him.

"Master Kenobi!" Dormé said in utter surprise.

Obi-Wan bowed politely. "Dormé," he said, remembering her name perfectly. "How nice to see you again."

A scowl and a quick head-toss from Typho made Dormé collect herself enough to scramble backwards to allow them to enter the narrow doorway. She had a second shock when yet another Jedi appeared behind Typho as the Captain entered. She didn't know this one. He was a boy - a Padawan, judging from the braid he wore just behind his right ear.

Master Kenobi's glance immediately went to the veiled figure standing behind Dormé in the small sitting room. His face remained impassive, but Dormé could have sworn that he was displeased.

Captain Typho opened his mouth to say something, presumably to explain the Jedi's sudden appearance, but before he could get a word out Kenobi snapped, "Sabé. Where is Padmé?" There was none of his usual courtesy, and he didn't even bother to use Padmé's formal title. He had known without being told who was under the veil. Dormé was beginning to get frightened. Something was terribly wrong.

Sabé pushed back her veil. "It's nice to see you, too, Master Kenobi," she said warily. "And such a surprise." She shook out her hair. "Padmé isn't here. She isn't on the transport."

"I'm aware of that.now. I need to know where she is."

Captain Typho broke into the tense exchange. "Master Kenobi, Senator Amidala refused to give us any information on her whereabouts. We only know that she expects to meet us on Naboo."

"Blast!" Kenobi hissed, visibly startling everyone in the room, even the Padawan. Especially the Padawan.

Dormé's stomach lurched with anxiety.

The ominous silence that followed Kenobi's frustrated outburst was suddenly shattered by a high-pitched squeal, and a small body shot across the room and smashed into the Padawan like a projectile.

"Poulin!" Balé yelled happily, and threw her arms around him. The boy turned an unusually bright shade of red.

"Hello, Balé," he greeted her manfully, as his arms slid around her shoulders almost involuntarily to give her a little hug. He was clearly happy to see her, too, although he seemed very subdued around Master Kenobi. The Knight turned to the boy quickly.

"Poulin, perhaps you and your young friend would like to go into the other room to renew your acquaintance?"

Poulin nodded and held his hand out to Balé, who grabbed it eagerly amid a torrent of questions. "Why are you here? Did you come to see me? Is Anakin here?" Gently but firmly, without interrupting the flow of her chatter, the Padawan drew her into the other cabin. Her voice could still be heard, so the adults lowered theirs.

"You had better tell us what this is all about, Master Kenobi," Sabé demanded.

Once again the good Captain stepped into the middle of the tension. "Master Kenobi, they don't know about the warrant for the Senator's arrest." He quickly explained the situation to the two handmaidens, while Sabé's expression grew harder and harder and Dormé grew paler by the second.

"So why are you here?" Sabé asked the Jedi point-blank.

"What I had planned to do and what we will do now are two different things," Obi-Wan replied matter-of-factly. "I had intended to remove the Senator to a place of safety."

"In direct defiance of a legal warrant for her arrest?" Sabé asked, fascinated. "That's an interesting position for the Jedi to take."

Kenobi leveled a flinty gaze at her. "Perhaps you would prefer that we merely stood by and did nothing?"

Sabé backed down hastily. "No! I didn't mean that. No."

"So what now?" Captain Typho asked.

Kenobi was grim. "When we reach Naboo we will have to find her before the military do." He paused, his lips compressed, before continuing carefully. "You should be made aware that Chancellor Palpatine is also traveling to Naboo on this same task force, in complete secrecy." His eyes traveled around the stunned faces before him. "I have of course informed Queen Jamillia of this. We must be prepared for events to unfold quickly upon our arrival."

Dormé and Sabé startled violently as a loud claxon suddenly began to sound throughout the starship. The battle-seasoned men locked eyes in instant understanding.

"It seems we won't have to wait that long," Captain Typho said bleakly. "I'm very glad you're here, Master Kenobi."

Outside the cabin the narrow corridors echoed with the sounds of shouts and the pounding of heavily booted feet as the Republican Army troops rushed to their battle stations.

[Chapter 35. The Limits of Engagement


As the call to battle stations sounded, Sabé's eyes automatically turned to the Jedi Knight. So did those of the others in the Naboo Delegation's cabin. Simply by virtue of his presence, in the sudden crisis command had instantly devolved to Obi-Wan Kenobi, who took over quietly, firmly, and without hesitation. Sabé observed that Captain Typho deferred to him immediately, as he would to a superior officer, when the Jedi began to issue instructions.

"Dormé, collect the remaining members of the Delegation, including the security team, and bring them together in this cabin. Sabé, you must remain here and continue your decoy role." Dormé nodded in acknowledgement. Sabé's narrowed her eyes. She wanted very much to know what Kenobi had in mind.

"Poulin," Obi-Wan ordered, turning to the boy, who had appeared in the sitting room with the little girl as soon as the alarm had sounded, "remain here and watch over the Delegation."

A Padawan? Was he joking? The boy couldn't have been more than sixteen. What good could a trainee do them? If the ship ended up being boarded, they would need seasoned, devious fighters. Like herself. Sabé started to protest, but Kenobi ignored her.

"Captain," the Jedi ordered further, "come with me."

"Wait," Sabé snapped as the Jedi and the Captain turned to go. "You're leaving us with a mere boy? "I'm one of the best fighters here, and if we're boarded I'm going to be needed. Maybe Dormé should take over the decoy role."

Obi-Wan turned back to her, with slightly raised eyebrows and an uncompromising stare.

"Poulin is a Jedi," he said simply.

Balé had watched the exchange from the safety of her young Jedi friend's side. "Poulin is the best swordfighter in the Galaxy," she announced out of the blue. "Anakin said so." Although clearly in a hurry, Kenobi took a moment very briefly to consider the child, and then the Padawan, who had begun to blush again. Gods, Sabé thought, that's all we need - a blushing youth. I'll end up having to protect him.

"If not for other circumstances, you would not have our assistance at all," Kenobi said pointedly to Sabé. "Unfortunately, the pretense that you are Padmé must continue for now. I suggest you make certain it does." Without waiting for a reply he waved the door open and left, with Captain Typho on his heels. Dormé hurried after them, leaving Sabé alone with the Jedi Padawan and the child. Balé was clinging to Poulin's hand tightly.

Arrogant Jedi, Sabé thought as Kenobi disappeared. She glared at the Padawan, conveniently ignoring the fact that she had served Padmé as a bodyguard and decoy since she was much younger than the boy in front of her. But she needed an outlet for her simmering rage about their predicament - about what was being done to Padmé - and the shy young Jedi was the nearest target.

Poulin's flaming face grew paler. Without letting go of Bale's hand he bowed formally to the Sabé and said politely, "I have completed my combat training. I will serve you to the best of my abilities."

Sabé snorted rather ungraciously.

"We'll see," she said shortly, and lowered the veil.

"I'm glad you're here," she heard Balé whisper to the boy, and saw him squeeze the child's hand.

* * * * *

Padmé swiveled her seat slightly so she could watch Anakin more closely. For a short while now she had sensed the normally companionable and intertwined silence between them turning colder and somehow more distant. He had not said a word, but she found herself searching his profile for clues to her feeling of unease.

Seen from the side his face was completely still, as though chiseled out of the sandy stone of his home world. She let her eyes follow the curve of his face from the lashes just above his cheekbone down to the edge of his jaw line, and then back up. That's what it was - his lashes. He wasn't even blinking. He wasn't moving at all. He was staring straight ahead and holding his shoulders so rigidly that the tension coming off of them was almost palpable. Padmé tried to say Anakin's name, to attract his attention in hopes of seeing him soften, but somehow couldn't bring herself to make a sound.

Gods, it was cold on this wretched ship.

She checked the controls. Not much longer before they shifted to realspace. Her eyes drifted inevitably back to Anakin. There was no doubt that he was sitting unnaturally still.

The shock of his sudden, violent movement beside her ripped a scream from her throat. Without any warning at all, Anakin abruptly came to life and smashed both fists down on the console in front of him. The sound of his ungloved metal fist shattering molded plastisteel went through her like a physical shock, and she leaped to her feet.

"Anakin!"

His back was heaving as he lowered his head to the console, where his fists still rested on bent surfaces and exposed circuits. Padmé threw herself on him, dragging him up by his shoulders and sliding around him so that she could see his face. His eyes looked dark and haunted, but he was evidently back from wherever he had been because he threw his arms around her waist and pulled her to him in a crushing grip.

"I won't," he gasped against her stomach. "I won't."

"Won't what?" Padmé whispered, stroking his hair and his neck, trying everything she knew to soothe him while her own heart still thudded painfully and erratically in her chest. She wanted to reach down for his face but it was impossible to remove him from his stranglehold on her body.

Anakin moaned. "I won't.choose," Padmé thought she heard him say, and then he fell silent. She continued caressing and stroking him until the proximity alarm succeeded in rousing them both.

At least that still works, Padmé thought, wondering how much damage he had done.

Anakin raised his head, blinking, and quickly sized up the situation. Releasing his hold on Padmé as quickly as he had taken it, he checked the flight computer and brushed debris off the indicators that were still intact.

"Anakin, what happened?" Padmé asked sharply, not yet willing to leave his side and sit down. She put her hands firmly on his shoulders and kept them there while he went systematically over the controls. "Anakin?" she prompted, when he didn't answer right away.

He still had not answered her when moments later the gray streaks of hyperspace were replaced in the view screen by the panorama of the stars of the Naboo Sector. With a quick tap on the magnification control the monitors jumped to the image of a cluster of ships in a close formation.

The task force. Anakin had indeed found it. Padmé studied the magnification for a moment and then increased it again, hoping that her eyes were deceiving her. The closer image showed five ships converging on the convoy at speed from a heading that angled toward their own.

"Anakin, look!" She pointed at the screen. Her other hand was still resting on Anakin's shoulder, as though she could steady him with her touch.

"Yes," he said. "That's an attack formation." He adjusted the Defiance's heading slightly and nudged up her speed. His voice was quiet and controlled, but something about it seemed absolutely deadly

Padmé stood still for a moment, watching the monitor with horrified fascination in midst of the throbbing of the Defiance's engines, the thuds of her beating heart and the rush of the blood that pounded in her ears.

"It's a very small attack force to tackle a convoy that size," she finally said.

"Yes," Anakin agreed, while staring straight ahead. Even that one syllable was chilling. The images on the monitor visibly grew larger as the speed he was coaxing out of the blastboat brought them rapidly closer.

"What is it, then?" Padmé persisted, sharply. Anakin's incomprehensible outburst and his monosyllabic responses had pushed her nerves to the edge.

"It looks like a single strike," he said unwillingly. "A hit and run strike against one ship, rather than the whole convoy."

"Surely the task force commanders see what we see." Padmé was becoming desperate for some reassurance from him.

"Let's hope so," Anakin said shortly.

Padmé fought down an overwhelming urge to shake him, to shout at him, to do anything to snap him out of that peculiar and frightening mood. What was the matter with him? He suddenly had changed completely. What could have happened? What could have hardened him like that? Why.?

Oh. It hit her like a kick in the stomach.

"You knew already," Padmé observed tonelessly. Anakin didn't answer.

"Tell me which ship they are going to attack," Padmé said, just as flatly.

"You know as well as I do," Anakin said, and fell silent again. But his living hand came up to grasp hers where it still rested on his shoulder. He kept it there, holding on tightly as though he were drawing strength from her touch, as the Defiance hurtled toward the battle ahead.

Chapter 35. The Limits of Engagement (Part II)

By the time the claxon had finished sounding, Obi-Wan and Captain Typho had arrived on the bridge of the small starcruiser that was hosting the Naboo Delegation. The Commander of the Penumbra only permitted them access to the busy bridge because of the presence of the Jedi, but made it plain that they were to stand clear. That was fine with Obi-Wan. He was there for his own purposes.

The Penumbra's position toward the front and at the edge of the convoy's formation made it first in line for the attack by the ships that were vectoring toward them, so close that they already showed up clearly on the various monitors. The Penumbra nominally was protected by one fighter assigned exclusively to her, and two others within close reach behind her that covered other ships as well. That would not be enough. Obi-Wan reached for his private communicator.

"Mace?"

"We're on it," came the brief answer.

"Commander," Obi-Wan said to the starship's chief officer, "there are three Jedi starfighters alongside. Notify your escorts."

The Commander, a tall, lean human in the gray uniform that identified him as an Academy graduate, looked surprised. Perhaps his astonishment was due to the fact that the Jedi ships had escaped detection until now, or that there were as many as three of them. Either way, he quickly recovered his composure, nodded, and transmitted the appropriate directives to the fighter escorts and to his crew.

Obi-Wan fell silent, reaching out with every visible and invisible sense to form a picture of the events as they were happening, or more accurately, as they were about to happen. The small enemy force's intercept course had brought them almost within attack range of the convoy's escort fighters, and yet no counterattack had been launched.

"What are they waiting for?" Typho hissed beside him.

"That's a good question," Obi-Wan muttered. He was beginning to get a clear picture of something, and it wasn't to his liking.

"Commander!" he began, in a ringing voice, but stopped because at that same moment the enemy formation made its move, as he had known it would. They were fast. One of the ships at the rear of the formation had circled around their primary escort and approached the Penubra's single defender from the side. The firefight lit up the monitor screen with flashing, colored tracers. Within seconds the escort ship exploded into a huge fireball. There was a moment's silence, during which the Commander continued to do nothing. The Penumbra was armed, but no order to engage was given.

Obi-Wan sensed the Jedi starfighters moving into position before the tiny ships even appeared on the screen. Lon faced off against the single ship that had destroyed the escort fighter; Mace and Master Medulla headed toward the remaining four.

With two determined steps Obi-Wan closed the distance between himself and the Penumbra's Commander and gripped the man's shoulder in an unbreakable hold. "Tell me, Commander, he said in a voice that was all the more threatening for its softness," what are your orders regarding your limits of engagement?"

The Commander winced in pain, but held himself stubbornly upright. "That is classified information," he said through gritted teeth.

"Not to a Jedi," Obi-Wan said, very quietly. To outside observers it would have looked as though the Commander and the Jedi were standing close together in companionable conversation, which in itself would seem quite odd. When the Commander gasped once, in spite of himself, the rest of the bridge crew began to throw surreptitious glances their way.

"The fighter escort's original position was the outside limit of our authority to engage the enemy," the Commander finally spat out in a vicious whisper. Obi-Wan released his iron grip and stepped back to where the Naboo Delegation's Security Chief had remained standing, watching in fascination.

"A setup by any other name," Typho murmured. "I feared as much when I saw the position of our vessel. Let's hope your Jedi fighters can do some damage."

As they spoke, Lon had become engaged in a dogfight with the enemy fighter. The skirmish was a fierce one, and ranged over a wide swathe of space to the side of the Penumbra. Obi-Wan lifted his communicator to his lips.

"Stop grandstanding, Lon," he said shortly, "and finish him off."

"Yes, Master," came the words, and almost simultaneously the first of the enemy ships exploded violently.

"Maintain patrol in that section," Obi-Wan said into the communicator, without so much as a 'well done.' "They might try that move again."

"Understood, Master," came Lon's voice.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and stared at the monitors, but his awareness went far beyond them. Two of the enemy ships were being engaged simultaneously by the Jedi fighters, while the remaining two continued unerringly to close in on the Penumbra.

"Get ready for a strafing run," Typho growled beside him. "Looks like these sons of the seventh pit don't plan to do anything about it."

"They'll fire at the last possible minute," Obi-Wan countered. He had confirmed his worst suspicions. The Commander of the Penumbra was operating under some kind of mind control. He would fly the starcruiser into certain destruction without hesitation, fighting back only enough to make it look as though he had made an effort. Everything was up to the Jedi now.

Suddenly Obi-Wan's attention was wholly drawn elsewhere, as his expanded awareness revealed a very familiar presence. Somehow it didn't surprise him.

Anakin, he thought to himself, as the enemy ships opened fire.

* * * * *

On the Defiance Anakin felt a burst of relief so powerful that his knees would have buckled, had he been standing. He released his grip of Padmé's hand to lean forward, braced both hands on the damaged console in front of him to steady himself, and closed his eyes.

"Anakin?"

Padmé's worried voice came from beside him. He had terrified her, and he felt awful about it. He couldn't hide anything from her - she picked up every tone, every look, every feeling. But she was his salvation. Only her presence had saved him from sinking into that familiar dark despair. The Force is strong with her. He grinned, now that he was able to again. With Padmé by his side he could do anything. He would prevail.

"Anakin!"

His eyes flew open. She sounded as though she had reached her limit, as well she ought. He turned around to look up at her in pure gratitude and adoration. Her face, on the other hand, was a picture of confusion and fury. Anakin impulsively stood up, took her face in both hands, and leaned forward to give her a hard, lingering kiss.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm truly sorry for frightening you."

"What is going on?" she demanded furiously, once she could breathe again.

"Jedi," Anakin said, kissing her again. "Lots of them." Another kiss. "Guarding the Delegation's ship." His next attempt at a kiss missed its mark completely because Padmé had squirmed out of his grasp, moved back a step or two, and stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

"Stop this now," she shouted, "and tell me what just happened to you!"

Anakin glanced over his shoulder to double-check their course and speed.

"I had a premonition about the attack," he explained, simplifying wildly. "I knew we wouldn't get there in time. It hit me hard." Her eyes widened in shock and he hurried to reassure her. "Now I know that a team of Jedi are there. If anyone can protect that ship, they can." He stood up and moved closer to her, but Padmé took another determined step backward. She was clearly still confused, and definitely furious. He waited meekly, his heart full to bursting. He knew without a doubt that her presence had pulled him back from the brink of .something.

"I thought you and the Jedi were at odds," Padmé said, scowling.

Anakin sighed. "We are," he explained. "I can't go to them, nor can I let them get their hands on me. But they can safeguard that ship better than anyone else. I'm glad that they are there."

Padmé crossed her arms. Her body language said, "keep your distance" in no uncertain terms. Anakin glanced back at the console again, checked the monitor, and then turned his attention back to her. Obediently, he stayed where he was, with his hands clasped behind his back. "We've got about three more minutes in which to have this fight," he said helpfully.

If the Jedi are enough to safeguard the Delegation's ship," Padmé persisted, ignoring his attempt to make light of her concerns, "why are we still heading toward the task force? Why don't we just go straight to Naboo and wait for them there?"

A dark shadow passed through Anakin. Padmé must have noticed it, for Anakin saw it reflected in her eyes.

"We're needed," he explained, but it only seemed to add to her confusion. It didn't help when he added, "you had better strap in. This might get tricky."

Padmé did as he had asked. There was a short, dense silence while she seated herself and fastened the restraining straps. But Anakin didn't doubt that she had more to say. He was right, of course.

"If you can sense the Jedi, Anakin, then surely they know where you are as well?"

He stared into the starry blackness outside, wishing that it was only the Jedi he was trying to elude. "Knowing were I am and catching me are two different things." He felt her eyes resting on him, full of questions and challenges.

"Anakin," she said, as he turned the small ship sharply to align it with the cluster of ships that could now be seen with the naked eye, "tell me that everything is going to be all right."

Anakin turned to look directly at her, meeting her troubled look with pure determination. "As long as you're with me, Padmé, nothing can stop us. You give me strength I didn't know I had."

She looked at him steadily for a long time, and then finally sighed, and said, "I won't leave you."

Anakin felt the last of the dark shadows slip away.

* * * * *

Things began to move fast. As Obi-Wan had predicted, the Penumbra flared to life and began firing on the enemy ships at the last possible moment, but not soon enough to avoid being strafed by both attackers simultaneously at close quarters. The impact of multiple hits rocked the starcruiser violently, but her shields held. This time. Of all the personnel on the bridge only the Jedi maintained his balance and continued to stand upright as if he were welded to the shuddering floor of the bridge.

All eyes on the bridge turned to the monitors to watch the two enemy ships double back, presumably to get into position for their second run. One of the two attack ships that had been engaged by the Jedi exploded. The other appeared to be playing a game of avoidance, but then it risked an attack from behind by swinging around to destroy the second task force fighter that had finally arrived. That maneuver gave the two Jedi starfighters all the opportunity they needed. Pouring all their firepower into the larger attacker, the Jedi converged on it and reduced it to a vast ball of flaming splinters.

But the other two ships had looped around for their second run on the Penumbra.

Obi-Wan dove for his communicator. "Lon, move to attack position with the others."

"Yes, Master." Without hesitation he hurled the small fighter into an end run around the Penumbra and straight toward the incoming enemy ships.

Almost surprisingly, the third nearby task force escort fighter actually showed up to join the fray.

"These people are asleep on the job!" Captain Typho hissed furiously.

You have no idea, Obi-Wan thought wryly, but didn't reply to the Captain's comment. He was busy trying to determine why his body and mind suddenly had gone on red alert.

His hand snapped to his communicator again. "Mace, Medulla, Lon! Second wave, coming in fast!

The three Jedi fighters and the army escort fighter engaged the two charging ships just as they began their second run on the Penumbra. The battle was fierce, and moving rapidly toward the starcruiser. As Obi-Wan had foreseen, five new attackers appeared out of nowhere and were closing fast. In a matter of seconds they would establish a perimeter around the dogfight. If that outer ring were able to circle and close, it would be a death trap.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to increase the power of his focus. In his mind he reached out beyond the task force perimeter, beyond the new fighters, into the depths of space where he had sensed his former Padawan, and then beyond.

Again he raised his communicator to his lips.

"Evasive maneuvers. Don't get caught. Reinforcements are on the way."

Chapter 36. Endgame I (Part I)

After a long and heated debate among the Queen's cabinet, the decision had been made to send an escort for Senator Amidala, and to bring her home in the custody of, and under the flag of, her own sovereign government. There was no will among Naboo's leaders to openly defy the warrant for their Senator's arrest, particularly as the entire system was about to be taken over by a military government. But it was hoped that the formal gesture of acknowledgement and participation in the gruesome farce of taking their Senator into custody would open a pathway to discussion and negotiations. It was, of course, also a delaying tactic.

It was Queen Jamillia's own decision, arrived at after a brief communication with Jedi Master Kenobi, to ensure that Senator Amidala's escort included two squadrons of fighters. She had made that decision without consulting her cabinet. Rowen Farr had made the arrangements, quietly and swiftly. She checked the chrono on her desk. The escort group would rendezvous with the task force at any moment. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine still had not replied to her numerous urgent messages - and now, thanks to Kenobi, she knew why.

He was on the convoy.

The Jedi would oversee the transfer of the Naboo Delegation to the escort ships, on behalf of the sovereign government of Naboo. The Queen had wanted to speak with Padmé personally, to explain about the warrants and her ceremonial transfer, together with the Delegation, to a Naboo ship, but Kenobi had insisted on being the one to inform the Senator and her Delegation. It was highly irregular not to provide the group with notification directly from the Queen's office, but under the circumstances, it seemed wise to let the Jedi take charge. It was, after all, his plan.

Palpatine himself was arriving on Naboo with the task force.

The devious old charlatan was up to something. Queen Jamillia wished she knew what it was. If Supreme Chancellor Palpatine didn't mind selling out his own planet, his own people, the Gods only knew what he was likely to do next. Once again the Queen's gaze traveled out the window to the plaza below, which was by now fully prepared for tomorrow's ceremony of investiture for the new Military Governor.

At last her COM signal sounded. She snatched it before it could sound a second time.

"Yes?" she snapped, and then listened.

"Proceed as ordered," was her only reply. She put away the COM much more slowly that she had retrieved it. The Jedi had been right. The convoy had come under attack.

Godspeed, Kenobi, she thought. Godspeed, Padmé.

* * * * *

The instant Obi-Wan ordered the Jedi starfighters to carry out evasive maneuvers, all three ships peeled away from their fight with the two remaining attackers as though an explosion had sent them arcing into different directions simultaneously, defeating the enemy's attempts to encircle them. They quickly disappeared from the Penumbra's viewscreen, but the monitors showed them as points of light circling far into space under and over the second line of attack ships, and then looping around behind them. They would not be alone in that position for long. A swarm of additional lights suddenly appeared on the monitors behind the three Jedi starfighters, closing fast. The Naboo had arrived.

No longer under fire from the Jedi, the two nearest attack ships returned to their original course and trajectory, bearing down on the Penumbra at speed. The second wave of attackers abandoned their encirclement tactic and returned to their previous formation strung out in a defensive line. Even as the first wave of Naboo fighters drew close enough to fire on the five, the two forward attack ships had again reached the undefended starcruiser. The first ship began its strafing run before the Penumbra's sluggish Commander gave the order to fire, and the starcruiser was hit again with another series of close-quarters explosions that rocked the entire ship and damaged its shielding to starboard. The second attacker immediately launched its barrage and further weakened the starcruiser's shields.

"Can't you make him do something?" Captain Typho barked to Obi-Wan, indicating the Commander.

"Normally, yes," the Jedi responded tersely. "But there are extenuating circumstances." He stopped talking to focus on the action in front of him. The Naboo and the Jedi had engaged the second wave of attackers and were successfully keeping them away from the Penumbra. The two attack ships, on the other hand, had completed their pass and were looping around to strike again. The Commander gave another order to fire as the enemy starfighters passed by, but the ships easily evaded the volley.

"Lon, double back here," Obi-wan snapped into his communicator. "Medulla, Mace, follow when the second line has been engaged fully by the Naboo." At his command, one tiny dot on the screen came hurtling back toward the rapidly closing pair of attack ships and toward the Penumbra. Lon quickly reached a position from which he could fire on the rear of the second ship at close range.

The first ship fired on the Penumbra. Damage indicator alarms sounded.

"What in the seventh pit do you think you're doing?" Typho yelled at the enumbra's Commander, forgetting his place and his discipline in the heat of the moment. "Fire on them!" The other bridge officers glanced at the Naboo Security Captain nervously, but the Commander didn't even turn around. Blasts from Lon's laser canon had diverted the second attack ship, but the first was preparing for yet another full-on attack. Typho looked ready to throw himself at the Commander, but Kenobi grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he said shortly.

* * * * *

The Defiance appeared on everyone's monitor screens as an unidentified ship, but in the heat of battle, and given her small size, she was initially ignored by all parties. It was as Anakin had expected, and he would take full advantage of it. But that wasn't what concerned him. As he approached the convoy of Republic Army ships, he understood instantly what was happening. The pieces were laid out before his eyes and on the monitors like the carved stones in a game of Chak'la, making move and counter-move. The problem was that some of the moves didn't make sense - particularly those of the starcruiser that seemed to be the focus of the attack. What were they waiting for? She was maneuverable and presumably well armed, yet she was behaving like a lumbering bantha caught in a narrow ravine.

Unless she is meant to be destroyed.

Balé was on that ship. Anakin reached out with all of his senses, even the ones he had locked down after that last, taunting visit by the dark presence that seemed to enjoy torturing him lately. But he risked opening himself up even to that, because he needed to approach this situation with everything he had. When he did, the game turned quite suddenly and clearly into a version of 3-D Chak'la. And some of the pieces were invisible.

Flying toward the fray at top speed with all of his senses open and alert, Anakin felt as though he were being absorbed into the confrontation. He could sense the positions of all the ships without looking. He perceived the different players and their motivations. The attackers seemed familiar somehow - he had encountered that set of energies, that mind-set before. The Naboo were closing in fast.

In one part of his mind Anakin wondered why the Naboo were meeting the convoy, and why they seemed prepared for battle, but he stored the questions away for the moment. He had other things to worry about.

The presences of the Jedi stood out like bright beacons. Obi-Wan was there, as Anakin already had perceived, and seemed to be in charge. Well, that meant the Jedi defense would be impeccable - provided that they weren't undermined, anyway. For behind it all was something else. Something familiar. Something that surrounded and shrouded some of the game pieces invisibly, while allowing the game to go on.

Anakin's focus zeroed in on the enemy's attack formation, and saw the enemy ships close in around the Jedi. He knew, before it happened, that Obi-Wan would order the Jedi starfighters out of the trap, even risking another close-quarters strike on the starcruiser. His former Master was nothing if not prudent. And in this case he could afford to be, because he knew perfectly well that Anakin was on his way.

In spite of himself, Anakin grinned.

I hear and obey, Master, he thought ironically. His grin faded as he felt, rather than saw, Lon Erian engage the second of the two attackers from the rear. Weren't you sure whether you could count on me, Kenobi? Anakin was indignant until he realized that Obi-Wan didn't know what he was flying, or what his ship's capabilities might be. Cautious and sensible as always. Well, it was time to find out just what the Defiance could do.

"Prepare to fire," he said to Padmé, who was tensed beside him in silent concentration. "Fire when I say, no matter what you see."

"I know, I know," Padmé said quickly. "You can see things before they happen."

Leaving Lon to fight with the second ship, Anakin concentrated on the one that was closest to the starcruiser, and had begun a new attack.

"Fire," he said to Padmé, calling up a final burst of speed, calculating changing trajectories, and anticipating the attacker's movements all at once. Padmé responded instantly, and the single burst of the repeater cannon sent the attacking ship to perdition in a fireball.

Bullseye

Anakin brought the blastboat around in a tight loop to face the second attacker. Lon seemed to be having trouble landing a killing shot.

Allow me, Anakin thought smugly. "Fire!" he said to Padmé. She did.

The moment before that ship, too, disintegrated into flames, Anakin figured out why something about the Force presence inside of it had seemed familiar. "D'laians," he commented to Padmé, as the Defiance peeled off toward the rearguard action being fought by the Naboo. She looked at him sharply.

"Are you sure? As far as I know they are still nominally our allies in this Sector."

Anakin shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't stop to look at the ships' markings or registry." He turned to look at her, and caught her eye. "I didn't much like them, anyway," he said significantly. Padmé rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the viewscreen.

* * * * *

Everyone on the bridge of the Penumbra, except of course the Jedi, flinched when the ship that had been firing on them exploded suddenly and violently, and so close by that the shock waves rocked the Penumbra yet again. When the explosion died down the second attack ship could be seen, actively engaged in a dogfight with Lon's Jedi starfighter.

"What just happened?" Typho wondered out loud. The monitors had shown another tiny ship, an unidentified one, rapidly closing in on Lon and the remaining forward attack ship. Within moments, the second enemy ship vanished into an inferno as well.

"That wasn't me, Master," came Lon's voice over the private communicator that Obi-Wan was already holding to his lips again. "That was."

"I know," Obi-Wan cut him off. "Re-group with the others. Let's finish this." He looked at Typho to see the Captain's eyes on him in a long, hard, probing stare.

"I don't suppose," the Captain said, bitterly, "that I'm ever going to be given a proper explanation about what just happened... or who just saved our hides." He glanced pointedly at the apparently dull-witted Commander of the Penumbra, and then at the monitors, where their unidentified savior had vanished as suddenly as he had arrived, and then back at the uncommunicative Jedi Knight.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Possibly," he said. "Let's see how events unfold now."

Typho shook his head in annoyance. "I'll go tell the Delegation to prepare for transfer to Naboo's ship." Further out in space, the battle against the second wave of attack ships was nearly won, but both men knew that it was merely a matter of moments until the Naboo prevailed. Underneath his bad-tempered exterior, Typho's relief was palpable.

Obi-Wan nodded and turned his attention back to the battle. Three of the attack ships had been destroyed, and the Naboo had surrounded the last two. The Jedi starfighters were no longer needed there.

"Lon, Medulla, Mace," he ordered. "Return to your positions alongside the Penumbra."

Gazing through the starcruiser's viewscreen to the stars beyond, Obi-Wan's mind was no longer solely focused on the flashes and bright explosions that lit up the darkness at the battle site. He was visualizing the way ahead and the myriad possible paths that lay before them now.

Thank you, Anakin, he thought to himself. I imagine I will see you on Naboo.

Chapter 36. Endgame I (Part II)


The re-appearance of his aide, despite strict orders that he was not to be disturbed, roused the mysterious passenger out of his contemplations of the exquisite, living, shifting patterns that assembled, transformed, and then re-assembled themselves ceaselessly in the Force. Each aspect, each part of every complex pattern in the Force had a physical counterpart in the Galaxy. His Galaxy. It was only a matter of finding out where the pieces were and how they linked to the others. Viewed through the shadows and recesses of the Force, the vast set of systems within systems revealed a terrible and sinister beauty.

"My Lord," the aide said nervously, "the attack on the task force has been repelled. The Naboo have arrived to take custody of Senator Amidala. They wish to transfer her and her Delegation to one of their own ships for the remainder of the journey."

The dark figure reluctantly turned his mind away from the splendor of the Force and to the petty details of the moment.

His aide trembled visibly.

"Allow it," he snapped. "And do not disturb me further."

The aide bowed and fled.

This is yet another of the paths that I have foreseen, the passenger thought. The beauty of this construct is such, that, whichever path opens before, me, I will prevail.

Before long he would once again be captive to the tedious role he must play until the complex, interlinked machinery of his larger plans could be moved forward again. There would be precious little time later to nourish himself at the source of his power. Eagerly he dove back into the Force and immersed himself in its incomparable grandeur.

* * * * *

Anakin and Padmé watched from afar as the Naboo fighters systematically destroyed the final two remaining attack ships.

"Do you think there are any more on the way?" Padmé asked, watching the Naboo re-group around a large transport ship and move close to the Army convoy.

"No," Anakin said with assurance, "I think our next worry is something else. Do you have any idea why the Naboo are here, or why they seem to be preparing to dock with that starcruiser?" Padmé met his blue eyes steadily. He didn't say more, but it seemed to her that he had been doing as much thinking as she had since arriving at the scene. He probably had more information that she did, too, with those uncanny perceptions of his. What had made him suspect that the attackers were D'laian, for instance? Things like that drove her crazy. Well, she had a question for him. She wasn't sure how he would take it. She answered his question by asking another.

"You knew the Jedi were there before we arrived. Do you happen to know whether one of them is Obi-Wan?"

Anakin's look hardened almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, he's there. In fact, he's in charge." Anakin's eyes bored straight into hers. "Why?"

Padmé took a deep breath. Anakin really was at odds with the Jedi Order, and apparently with Obi-Wan personally as well. But they were in this together. Anakin was going to have to deal with it.

Outside of Bail and the others whom I was going to meet, Obi-Wan is the only person who knows why I was going to Alderaan." Anakin's expression hadn't changed. It struck Padmé as crystalline. Brittle. "A few days before we left, I sent a message to Rowen Farr saying that if anything happened to me, Obi-Wan should be contacted."

"I see," Anakin said.

Padmé didn't know why she felt defensive, but she hastened to add, "At the time you were nowhere to be found."

The brittleness lingered for a moment, and then his look seemed to revert subtly to one with warmth in it. Padmé was unaccountably relieved.

"Then," Anakin said, "something must have happened. And while Obi-Wan surely knows that you're not on that starcruiser, the Naboo either don't know it, or they're playing along. Either way, I don't intend to make contact with any of them from here. We'll have to find another way to figure it out."

Padmé was pensive. "Do you .do you think they'll be safe?" she asked.

"With Obi-Wan there? Definitely." He looked deeply thoughtful for a moment. "I suggest we get out of here and head for Naboo."

Padmé nodded, and watched him handle the flight computer and the ships' controls like a master musician playing an instrument. She was still turning the events over in her mind when they were well underway and the convoy and the Naboo ships no longer appeared on the monitors.

"Why is it that you won't go near the Jedi yourself, but you trust them implicitly with Balé's safety, and everyone else's?" she finally asked.

"Have you ever played 3-D Chak'la?" Anakin asked. If the conversation hadn't been so serious, Padmé would have laughed. He had neatly turned the tables and was now answering her question with another question.

"No," she said curiously. "I play Chak'la, but the 3-D version is too much for me. It's a game within a game within a game."

"Well," Anakin said, with his eyes on the stars outside, "the only person who has ever beaten me at 3-D Chak'la is Obi-Wan. And he's the one who is in charge of that Jedi mission."

Padmé thought about this for a while. "We don't really know what we are getting into, do we?"

"No," Anakin agreed. He settled back into the pilot's seat and reached out for Padmé's hand as their tiny ship sped through the void toward an uncertain future. "But the Force is with us, you know. Just like always."

Padmé grasped his gloved fingers and wrapped hers around them. It was still freezing on the small ship. Whatever awaited them on Naboo, at least she would be glad finally to be someplace warm.

The Force is with us, you know. Just like always.

Considering how many terrifying situations they had already been through together, Padmé didn't find that observation particularly comforting.

* * * * *

When Obi-Wan returned to the Naboo Delegation's cabins, Captain Typho had begun the process of preparing the group for an orderly transfer to another ship. The luggage had been assembled, and everyone was dressed formally. He could sense their collective relief that the enemy attack had been averted in space and that the ship had not been boarded.

The small sitting room of Padmé's cabin was crowded with the entire Delegation, the administrative staff, and the security people all there. Obi-Wan surveyed the scene with a practiced eye, and settled his attention on Poulin Brith. The little girl - Padmé's daughter - was holding the Padawan's hand. Again. Or was it still? The boy radiated his usual calm and patience. Sabé, on the other hand, was edgy. Between the two of them, the child and the Handmaiden were the keys to maintaining Padmé's deception for a while longer. Obi-Wan went straight over to them, maneuvering his way between clusters of staff.

"Ready?" he said to Sabé's veil. As far as the staff knew, he was speaking with the Senator herself. To reinforce the impression, and to provide an explanation for Sabé's absence, he said clearly, "With your permission, Senator, I have asked Sabé to remain behind until the entire group has boarded and been settled. We have some items to discuss." Sabé, as Padmé, nodded under the veil, but Bale's eyes grew huge with distress.

Obi-Wan looked at Poulin sharply, but the boy was already on top of the situation. He dropped down on one knee in front of the child and spoke softly

We're still pretending. It's important." Balé paused for a moment, and then nodded.

"Can I go with you?" she asked, and then added, hopefully, "piggyback?"

Poulin shook his head. "You need to be with Sabé," he whispered meaningfully. "Mother and daughter, remember?" Looking at the child's unhappy face, he added, "But I'll stay right here next to both of you. Will that do?" Balé nodded, while Poulin glanced at the Jedi Master for confirmation. Obi-Wan turned back to Sabé to offer some reassurance. "Captain Typho and I will go first and deflect any questions or ceremonial plans they may have."

"When are you going to tell the Naboo that Padmé is missing?" Sabé whispered too quietly for anyone but a Jedi to hear.

"In the privacy of the Queen's office, if I can manage it," Obi-Wan answered almost as quietly. "The Naboo are acting in good faith. I don't want to put them at unnecessary risk. You and the child will have to continue with the deception until then."

"Then just make sure the boy stays," Sabé whispered back. "He can handle Balé like nobody else, except..." She stopped.

Obi-Wan nodded tersely, shrugging off the uneasiness he felt at any reference to Anakin. Having observed the Padawan's interaction with the little girl, he had already made that decision. "Poulin may stay with you," he agreed formally, as Captain Typho began to move the group out the narrow door and toward the docking bay.

Chapter 37. Endgame II (Part I)

It was still hours before dawn in Theed when the Royal transport ship that had evacuated the Naboo Delegation from the Penumbra arrived in orbit around their home planet with its escort of fighters. The sky over the ancient capital city had barely begun to lighten when the last of the shuttles landed, discharging its passengers directly into Theed's main hangar.

All the Delegation members and staff were tired and short-tempered, and knowing that they had a full schedule of work obligations ahead of them didn't help anyone's mood. The long day would begin with the investiture of the Military Governor first thing in the morning, and afterward there would be an endless round of meetings, briefings, and a final ceremonial meal.

The adults had for the most part managed to remain awake on the last leg of the long journey home, but Balé had slept soundly in her Jedi friend's lap. Sabé glanced over at the pair now and then, wondering about the Padawan and about Balé's complete trust in him. Poulin Brith hadn't turned out to be what she expected. He was patient and calm, and seemingly indefatigable. Now and then he closed his eyes, but never slumped into sleep. He seemed to be elsewhere during those times, and yet his awareness, his.presence, for lack of a better word, was almost tangible.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Sabé had asked the boy once, out of the blue.

"Only when I'm allowed," he had answered mildly, with a perfectly straight face.

Sabé had stared at him. Was it possible that he had a sense of humor?

Out of respect for the early hour and the exhaustion of the Delegation's members, transportation had been provided for the short journey from the hangar to the Palace. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Captain Typho joined Sabé, Balé and Poulin in the vehicle that had been assigned to the Senator. Kenobi looked unnervingly watchful and alert.

"We're almost there," Sabé pointed out after a short silence. "What could possibly happen now?"

"I don't know," Kenobi said briefly. "And even so, the difficult part is only beginning."

Sabé glanced at Balé to see whether the Jedi's comment had disturbed her, but the child seemed to be dozing against the Padawan's shoulder again. She desperately wanted this to be over, for all their sakes, but mostly for the child's. Balé needed to be safely at home with her grandparents, shielded from this grim world of lies and mistrust.

Moments later the group of armored speeders arrived at Theed Palace, and Sabé understood the Jedi Knight's extreme caution. The Republic Army had arrived before them. Several army troop transports cluttered the gracious plaza in front of the Palace steps, and uniformed Republic soldiers stood in front of the Palace doors.

"Do you think the Supreme Chancellor got here first?" Sabé asked Kenobi. Oddly, he closed his eyes briefly before answering her, almost as though he were listening for something. Even more oddly, she saw him glance intently at the Padawan before answering.

"No," he said finally.

Sabé looked at Poulin curiously.

"Soon," the boy said, looking at Kenobi.

Typical Jedi, Sabé thought irritably, to cover a mounting feeling of unease.

* * * * *

"Please tell me that I can get off this ship now," Padmé grumbled. She was stiff from having sat in the cockpit of the Defiance for hours, huddled in blankets to keep warm, despite the fact that they were docked in a little-used cargo hangar on the periphery of Theed's spaceport. Anakin had refused to allow her to disembark while he had crept out to survey the spaceport and find out what he could about the Delegation's planned arrival. He had been gone for ages.

Now that he finally had returned to her, Anakin's face was grim.

"Not yet," he said firmly. "Maybe not at all."

Padmé glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Anakin sat down next to her and took both of her hands in his own.

"The Delegation arrived at the main hangar and was transported directly to the Palace," he reported. "The Military presence has more than doubled during the last week, and the Army is on high alert. There are checkpoints everywhere."

"The Military Governor's investiture is scheduled for this morning," Padmé said irritably. "Of course they're all on alert. If you hadn't taken so long, we could have made it to the Palace by now, I could have changed places with Sabé, and no one would be the wiser."

"There is a bigger problem," he said gently. "I found out why the Naboo came out to meet the task force. They were sent there to retrieve you before the convoy ships got here."

"But why?" Padmé asked, bewildered.

"The Republic has issued a warrant for your arrest on charges of treason. If anyone from the Republic Military finds you, you will be taken into custody immediately."

Padmé shook her head. He must have gotten it wrong. "For what? For stopping briefly on Alderaan? I don't believe it!"

Anakin kept hold of her hands. "Believe it, Padmé. Even Senator Organa said in the message that the meeting had been discovered."

"That's ridiculous!" Padmé snapped. "Treason is a charge of last resort, reserved for the highest crimes against the government! It wouldn't apply to me. There must be a mistake."

"I'm afraid not, My Lady," a new voice said from behind Anakin. Padmé looked up in complete surprise to see Captain Typho squeeze himself into the tiny cockpit.

And by the way, we have company," Anakin added.

"The warrant was issued on the authority of the Supreme Chancellor, My Lady," Typho said unhappily. "There is no mistake."

There was a short, sharp silence. Anakin still was scowling. "How did you find us here?" Padmé asked her security chief suddenly.

"We've had the Spaceport under surveillance since we arrived," Captain Typho explained briefly. "Master Kenobi seemed to think that the two of you would show up together. He told us what to look for - a small vessel under a neutral registry, arriving between the hours of midnight and 0500."

"Well, here we are," Anakin said bluntly. "What is Kenobi planning now?"

"We're just trying to keep her safe," Typho shot back, with rare heat.

"That's what I'm doing," Anakin growled. "No thanks to you." Evidently he hadn't forgiven Typho for leaving Padmé to her own devices, orders or no orders.

Captain Typho looked from Anakin to Padmé and then back to Anakin. "If we had known where you were, it might all have been arranged differently," he said stiffly.

"You should be grateful," Anakin snapped. "She was far safer with me than the Delegation was with you on that convoy."

"Enough!" Padmé ordered. Both men settled down, but it was obvious that it was only a temporary truce. "What's the current situation, Captain?" Padmé was all business. She wanted this charade to be over.

By the time Captain Typho had explained in detail the Queen's response to the warrant for Padmé's arrest and the intervention of the Jedi, Anakin's scowl had become downright dangerous. "No way," he spat. "Under no circumstances will I allow her to be arrested, or even to appear to be arrested. We're leaving now."

Padmé jumped out of the seat where she had sat listening to her security captain's explanation with growing dread, and thinking furiously. She put a restraining hand on Anakin's arm.

"No! Anakin, we can't just leave now. I have created this mess, and I have to help solve it. Queen Jamillia has already risked a great deal for me. If I don't turn up the consequences for Naboo could be disastrous."

"You can't do this!" Anakin exploded, stopping Padmé in her tracks.

"What?"

"You can't stay here." Anakin's eyes burned into hers, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "It isn't safe. And that wasn't the plan." His expression made Padmé feel as though something was tearing inside of her. She saw fury, and disappointment, and disbelief. But most of all, she saw desperation.

You promised, she could almost hear him saying. You promised you would go away with me. You promised you wouldn't leave me.

"Captain," Padmé ordered her dumbfounded security chief without taking her eyes off Anakin, "give us a moment alone, please."

"But My Lady." Typho protested.

Padmé cut him off. "Now, Captain!"

As soon as she was certain they were alone again Padmé reached up to Anakin and cupped his face in her hands. He stood stiffly, without making a move to embrace her.

"I will go with you," she said urgently. "I promised, and I will. But if we leave right now it will be worse for everyone concerned."

"How, Padmé?" Anakin flared. "How will it be worse? I can get you completely out of everyone's reach within a few days. If you're not here they can't arrest you. It's as simple as that."

Padmé dropped her hands at his tone. "It's not that simple!" she insisted. "There are so many other people involved!"

"But it can be! You're the one that's complicating this, Padmé. I can double back when the political situation calms down and get Balé. She'll be fine with your parents until then."

"If I don't respond to this warrant, openly and legally, Naboo will suffer for it," Padmé explained urgently. "The Queen's government will most likely be accused of conspiring to obstruct justice. The consequences will go on and on. it will affect everyone, including my family, and including Balé." She was desperate for Anakin to understand her position, so that he wouldn't feel that she was reneging on her promise. His reaction was beginning to frighten her.

"So what are you suggesting?" Anakin asked icily, crossing his arms in front of him. The sudden change in his mood from hot to icy cold made Padmé swallow nervously. He had never used that tone of voice with her before.

"That I make my appearance before the Queen, and allow myself to be placed under token arrest in the custody of the Naboo government while they negotiate for my freedom. They won't hand me over to the Army - I know they won't."

"And where does that leave me?" Anakin demanded angrily. He looked down at his scuffed boots, and added, "Where does that leave us?"

Padmé's eyes followed his down to his boots. She found herself comparing Anakin's current scruffy, anonymous appearance with his former well-scrubbed perfection as a Jedi Padawan, and even more so with his elegant appearance in the corridors of the Senate. Padmé understood the symbolic uses and value of clothing better than most people. The man who stood before her had, as far as she understood it, given up two different but equally powerful roles, along with everything they represented, to be with her. Apart from the lightsaber than never left his hip, the clothes Anakin now wore indicated neither status nor affiliation. As far as the wider Galaxy was concerned Anakin was a shadow, and answered only to himself.

Not like me. I carry the responsibility for so many.

Anakin also appeared to be in some kind of unnamed danger, and yet he had chosen to come here with her and to protect her. They were in this together. Give and take. If they couldn't work side by side.

"I need your help to do this, Anakin, " Padmé pleaded. "I can't pull it off without you. At some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, I'll have to arrange to disappear from custody. Vanish. Escape. Especially if the negotiations don't go as we had hoped. And if it can be done so that it looks as though the Naboo had nothing to do with it, they won't be blamed. And then I'm going with you. Just as we had planned. And we'll take Balé with us."

"I can't let you take this risk." Anakin was still looking down at his boots. He didn't mention the risk to himself.

"You can't let me?" Padmé demanded. "I thought we were making these decisions together from now on."

Anakin's head snapped up. "As far as I can see, Padmé, you've made this one all by yourself. You won't even listen to me!"

"I have to do this, Anakin. Can't you see that? Please don't ask me to choose between you and this duty. I would choose you." Padmé's voice cracked. She took a breath, and continued. "I would choose you, but at a terrible price."

And then, all at once, Anakin crumpled. It was a sudden, startling change, and Padmé couldn't figure out what had brought it about. In a single moment he changed from hard and obstinate to beseeching. The anger in his eyes had given way to pain .and something else. Could it have been fear?

"Please, Padmé." Anakin's voice had changed completely. It was soft. He was begging. "Come with me now. Right now. I'll come back for Balé as soon as you're safe. Let's not stay here."

Padmé's eyes suddenly, shockingly, filled with tears. She wanted to. Desperately. But she couldn't. "Anakin, I can't leave Balé behind again." Blinking hard, Padmé reached up to rest her hand on his chest, over his heart. "What if someone decides to hold her hostage against my return?"

Anakin's living hand came up and clasped hers against his body. His shoulders slumped slightly. He looked defeated.

"This is 3-D Chak'la, Padmé. A game within a game within a game. You've started something that you can't win."

"That's why I need you, Anakin. We can do this together." Padmé managed a watery smile. "You never play by the rules, anyway."

Anakin swayed back and forth slightly, still clutching her hand against his chest, sunk deeply inside of himself. Padmé waited.

"All right," he conceded reluctantly. "I'll go along with your scheme. But the minute I believe it's about to get out of hand I'm taking you out of there. And I will make that decision by myself, without any discussion."

Padmé nodded. "Agreed."

"And, Padmé. I don't have much time."

She nodded again, clutching his shabby black tunic tightly with her captured hand. "I'll talk to the Queen first. Right away. And I'll try to arrange it so that Balé and I can stay together. It will be easier that way." She wiped her eyes with her other hand. "I'm sorry I'm making this so difficult for you. I know this is putting you in danger from the Jedi ."she looked up into Anakin's troubled eyes, ".and from whatever it is you're not telling me about."

"Padmé," he said softly, leaning his forehead forward to touch hers, "you are my only hope."

Padmé started to cry in earnest. "I could say the same thing about you."

Chapter 37. Endgame II (PartII)


Despite the early hour, Queen Jamillia's appearance was elegant, polished and perfect. Not for the first time during her tenure as Queen was she grateful for her elaborate costume and makeup. It was so much easier to operate from behind a mask. Back straight and shoulders squared, she stood by the grand window in her office as dawn began to touch the rooftops and plazas of Theed with the soft vermilion of the early morning sun. She observed the gathering of Army troops on the steps to the Palace, and watched the vehicles that were bringing Padmé and the Delegation to her doorstep.

At least they are all safe, she thought gratefully. Then the bright thought dulled. For now.

An exhausted-looking Rowen Farr let himself into her office. The poor man obviously hadn't slept any better than she had, but the worry and lack of rest had taken a much greater toll on him than her. Queens needed to be constructed of plastisteel and blast-proof resin. She resolved that, once this crisis was over, the old man would be given a good long time off work to rest.

"Good Morning, Your Highness," Rowen Farr said formally. "Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is here with Senator Amidala and her Delegation. The ranking Army commander is also here with the Military Governor. Both are asking to see you at once."

The Queen looked out the window. "I want to see Padmé and Master Kenobi first. By themselves. Tell the Governor" - Jamillia still could not bring herself to say the title without bitterness - "to wait." Her Chief of Staff bowed and hurried out again. She remained by the window, watching the sunrise, until she heard the old man's voice again announcing the Senator and the Jedi. The moment she turned around and saw the veiled woman, Queen Jamillia understood, without a doubt, that Padmé was not with the Delegation; nor had she been for the entire journey. The Queen of the Naboo knew a decoy when she saw one.

"Where is Padmé?" Queen Jamillia demanded without preamble, even before the formalities could be performed.

Sabé raised her veil. The two women's eyes locked in mutual acknowledgement and comprehension. "We don't know, Your Highness. She refused to tell us."

"Who else knows about this?" the Queen demanded.

Kenobi spoke up for the first time, at the same time offering the bow that the Queen had not waited for when he first had entered the room. "I do, Your Highness, as do the other Jedi on my team. Captain Typho. The other Handmaiden. And - the Senator's daughter."

The Queen pursed her painted lips. "Padmé has placed us in an untenable position. Our strategy for the negotiations with the Army about her fate is based on good faith and cooperation on our part. What are we to do now?"

"Her daughter is here," the Jedi said calmly. "I imagine Senator Amidala will show herself soon. She might be on the planet already."

The Queen looked at him sharply, wondering whether his statement was based on speculation, foreknowledge, or hard information. You never could tell, with Jedi. "The new Military Governor is waiting in my anteroom, Master Jedi," she said pointedly. "What do you suggest I tell him?"

Before Kenobi could answer, the door to the Queen's office burst open unceremoniously to reveal the very distressed Captain of the Queen's Own Guard. "I'm sorry, Your Highness," the man stammered, "I'm sorry .I was unable to prevent."

He was pushed aside abruptly by a towering figure in scarlet robes and helmet, who entered the Queen's private office uninvited. Another identical soldier quickly followed him.

The Chancellor's elite guards.

By all the Moons and Stars, Queen Jamillia thought furiously as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic walked boldly into her office behind his two personal guards, followed by yet two more deadly red figures, he is here to crush us. Walking into her office to interrupt a meeting unannounced was by itself a supremely aggressive move. Doing so accompanied by an armed escort was the act of a conqueror.

The silence in the spacious room was oppressive when the Chancellor came to a stop at its center, boxed in by his protectors. Palpatine was the first to speak. "It is delightful to see you again, Your Highness," he said gracefully, as though he and Queen Jamillia just had met at a reception. "How sad that we must meet under such difficult circumstances."

"Difficult, Supreme Chancellor?" Jamillia replied evenly, without returning his greeting. "How do you mean?"

"I am referring to this unfortunate business with our dear Senator Amidala, Your Highness. It has come to my attention that she did not arrive on Naboo with the task force, as she had given us all to believe she would."

Queen Jamillia wondered how he had known about Padmé's absence from the task force, and for how long.

"This is a day for surprises, Supreme Chancellor," she countered evenly. "We are only now learning of the Senator's disappearance. Until this moment we were acting in the faithful belief that she had traveled with the remainder of her Delegation." She paused, and then added pointedly, "Senator Amidala was scheduled to arrive with the task force, and yet she did not; while your passage and your visit to Naboo were not announced, and yet here you are."

For a moment, the Queen and the Chancellor locked eyes. Jamillia felt her heart pounding when she realized that there wasn't the tiniest trace of warmth in Palpatine's. They were engaged in a battle, and she was at a disadvantage because she did not understand his motivations.

"These are difficult times, Your Highness," Palpatine replied smoothly. "Unfortunately those of us in prominent positions can no longer travel openly with any degree of safety."

"So true, Chancellor Palpatine," the Queen conceded, holding Palpatine's cold gaze steadily despite her pounding heart. "So true. I can only imagine that our very prominent Senator has taken the same precautions."

Every person present in the room stood frozen, listening to the exchange. No one made a sound. The red-robed guards who surrounded the Chancellor might have been statues. Suddenly Palpatine gestured once, and the four instantly came to life, stepped back, and arranged themselves along the wall in the background, leaving the Supreme Chancellor directly facing the Queen. She held her ground.

"Senator Amidala's actions have placed your government in a delicate position, Your Highness. I would like to offer my personal assistance in resolving this matter." For the first time since entering the Queen's office, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic bowed to her. It felt like a mockery. "I will gladly place all the resources of the Republic at your disposal to assist you in locating the missing Senator, and in bringing this matter to a successful resolution."

I imagine you would, Jamillia thought bitterly, while nodding her head graciously in acknowledgement.

"We are grateful for your concern and your assistance, Supreme Chancellor," she said formally, "but given that Senator Amidala is our planet's representative in the Galactic Senate, you will appreciate that we see it as our duty to bring her into custody and to arrive at the truth behind the accusations that have been made against her." She squared her shoulders. "Rest assured that the resources of the sovereign government of Naboo will suffice to resolve this situation quickly and appropriately."

Palpatine smiled. "This is a momentous day, Your Highness. Given the special protection that the new military government will provide for our beloved planet, it is only appropriate that we work together in this matter, as a symbol of the cooperation to come."

The door to the Queen's office opened yet again without an announcement. This time Queen Jamillia was grateful for any interruption that would distract her from her from the overpowering urge to slap His Excellency the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic across his smiling face. When she saw the group whom the Captain of the Queen's Own ushered onto the room, she received a very different kind of satisfaction.

The missing Senator strode straight into the office, accompanied by her Chief of Security. She was dressed informally, in a simple white flight suit that emphasized her small slim stature, and yet her presence instantly commanded everyone's rapt attention.

"I am very sorry that my alternate travel plans resulted in a late arrival," Padmé said politely, walking straight over to where Queen Jamillia stood with the Chancellor Palpatine. Padmé bowed, first to her Queen and only then to the Chancellor. "You wished to see me, Your Highness?"

Queen Jamillia's eyes glittered in triumph as she looked at the Chancellor and noticed that his attention was focused fully on the three Jedi who quietly had followed Padmé and Typho into her office. The Queen already knew Master Windu. Two others whom she did not know - a slender, bearded Jedi Knight of about middle age, and a tall young man with dark hair and a long Padawan braid behind his right ear - accompanied him.

Jamillia glanced at Palpatine again. His expression had changed subtly. And he never took his eyes off the Jedi. Standing regally behind her costume and mask, the Queen felt a very un-royal surge of glee. Palpatine would have to watch his step in the presence of so many Jedi - particularly a member of the Jedi Council.

And now, you slithering pond dweller, she thought, we will place this problem in the proper hands

Chapter 38. Full Circle (Part I)


It was unbelievable. Padmé and her everlastingly disapproving security chief had left Anakin behind in the frigid, cramped cockpit of the Defiance, to stew alone in his resentment about the change in their plans and the choice that Padmé had made not to leave Naboo with him right away. Incredibly, she had gone to reveal her presence to the Queen, and to allow herself to be arrested. And most astoundingly of all, she fully and confidently expected him to wait patiently for her signal to come and rescue her.

Anakin felt as though he was going to explode. If he waited here, by the time Padmé's signal came, there would be nothing left of him but brittle shards of super cooled fury scattered around the small ship. It had been home and sanctuary for the space of nearly three glorious days. Now it felt like a prison cell.

Anakin rubbed his face violently with his gloved hands, as though he could rub away his simmering rage. He wanted to smash something - anything. He had been unprepared for this. The gnawing despair that had begun the instant of Padmé's departure was consuming him from the inside out. He was empty. Hollow. He felt like nothing more than a shell holding in the seeds of an inferno.

Using every last ounce of patience he could muster, Anakin forced himself to make the ship ready for departure. That was still the plan, wasn't it? They were going to leave this place together. Padmé had promised. His job was to ensure that everything was ready for a quick exit.

Irritably Anakin forced himself through a methodical multipoint systems check followed by a detailed inventory of the ship's supplies. He had done well on Coruscant - there was enough of everything to last them for weeks. Then, with another violent effort of will, he compelled himself to tidy the small cabin and to store the remnants of the morning's activity. He made up the bunk, trying hard not to think about how empty it was. He put away Padmé's hairbrush and some stray hairpins. He stowed the many extra blankets. The blankets reminded him about the environmental controls. A second cursory look confirmed his original assessment that it would take at least half a day to reconfigure the entire system. This was the perfect time to do it.

Instead, Anakin violently slammed shut the door to the control panel. He had to get out of here.

It took him only a few moments more to rig a few small booby traps to discourage anyone who might want to explore the blastboat in his absence. Taking a last look around to make sure that everything was in order and that any intruders would bitterly regret that choice, Anakin grabbed the shabby leather over jacket that hid his weapon so well and made his way through the dark, dingy cargo hanger into the bright and beautiful light of a Naboo morning.

It was time to judge the current state of affairs for himself. He already had searched the spaceport thoroughly earlier, and had found nothing of note. Slipping into his best version of invisibility, Anakin set out for the heart of Theed, and the Palace - until something in the Force brought him up short. He paused, searching with his senses.

There was another game piece in play. One he had not been aware of before.

Without further hesitation, Anakin directed his steps to a different, larger cargo facility at the edge of the spaceport.

* * * * *

"I want to see my daughter," Padmé said to Obi-Wan in a low voice, as they walked side by side down the long pillared corridor to the residential wing of Theed Palace. She had not been handcuffed or placed in other restraints; the Jedi did not require such elementary forms of control over their charges. But she was their prisoner all the same. It had been agreed between the Queen and the Chancellor that the Jedi would decide how and where Padmé was to be secured. They would decide whom she could see during the time that she was being detained. Master Windu would even maintain a presence at the negotiations for her release. In fact, Padmé had been placed entirely in the hands of the Jedi. She was theirs to watch over until others decided her fate.

Padmé needed to have Balé with her. And under the circumstances, Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one who would make that decision.

"That's not a good idea right now," the Jedi Knight answered, placing a hand lightly on her arm to guide her into a secondary corridor, and then dropping it again discretely. Padmé looked at him, but his face revealed nothing.

"I insist," she demanded. "It's obvious from the route we are taking that you plan to secure me in my own quarters. There is no reason why I shouldn't see her, or why she shouldn't stay with me." When Obi-Wan didn't answer, Padmé glanced cautiously at the Jedi Knight who walked quietly by her other side. She did not know him, but he had introduced himself as Master Medulla. Behind them strode a young man whom she did know. Lon Erian, Padmé thought with a tinge of bitterness. Dellia's young man. The one who decided to leave her to become the perfect Jedi.

Padmé's observation that they were taking her to her own apartment in the Palace turned out to be accurate. They had rounded the last bend in the corridor, and yet Obi-Wan still had not replied.

"Well?" Padmé said sharply.

Again, he didn't answer. They had arrived at her door. When Obi-Wan waved it open and indicated that she should enter, Padmé remained stubbornly where she was.

"Surely you don't expect me to remain here without the services of my Handmaidens," she flared, in front of the other Jedi. "I am not accustomed to functioning without my personal staff."

This time she could have sworn she glimpsed a flicker of amusement in Obi-Wan's eyes. Padmé held on to her indignant expression and waited to see what he would do next.

"Would you give us a moment alone, please?" Obi-Wan said politely to his Jedi companions, not really giving them an option. Both the Knight and the Padawan nodded and stepped back to stand on opposite sides of Padmé's door. Their presence and purpose instantly turned her apartment into a fortress. Padmé nodded imperiously to Obi-Wan and deigned to enter her residence. Obi-Wan followed, and made certain the door closed behind them.

"Impersonating haughty royalty, Senator?" he commented dryly, turning to face his charge with his hands clasped serenely in front of him. "Who would believe that of you?"

Padmé shrugged. "You would be surprised. But never mind that. I need Balé and my Handmaidens here with me. And I would like to see Captain Typho."

Obi-Wan's lips compressed into a line. "As I said, Padmé, that's not a good idea right now."

Padmé glared at him. "Don't be absurd. You're not buying into any of this, are you?"

Obi-Wan gave her a very penetrating look.

"If by that you mean to ask whether we intend to turn you over to the Army, no matter how the negotiations proceed, the answer is: no, we don't."

"Well, then," Padmé persevered, "bring me my daughter and my staff and let me get on with what I need to do."

"No, Padmé."

"What?" She was incensed. "I promised Balé that she will see me as soon as we arrive on Naboo. She is most probably frightened and upset, and any delays will make it worse."

Obi-Wan allowed a moment of silence to fall between them before he quietly tore a gouge into her already guilt-ridden heart. "The choice to travel separately from your daughter was your own, Padmé."

Padmé flinched. My choice, she thought. My choice to go to Alderaan. My choice to use Bale as a decoy. My choice to place Anakin in more danger. Caught in a fierce battle against despair and rage, she managed to retort hoarsely, "Then for the sake of all that is worth fighting for, Obi-Wan, let's not make her suffer more for my choices."

Obi-Wan looked sad. He also wouldn't budge. "I'm sorry, Padmé, but I cannot allow it. I have arranged for Balé to remain with your staff. A young Jedi with whom your daughter is acquainted - Poulin Brith - accompanies them. She is safe, Padmé. That will have to do for now."

"But why?" Padmé demanded furiously. "I don't understand why!"

"Because we have a plan for safeguarding you from the Army and from the Chancellor, and in order to carry it out we need you on your own and ready to go at a moment's notice. The fewer complications the better."

Padmé stared at him until the puzzle pieces came together in a comprehensible pattern.

"You're preparing to kidnap me!" she announced in utter surprise.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I was prepared to take you straight off the task force ship. Unfortunately, you weren't there."

Perhaps it was the shock of disbelief. Perhaps it was an overpowering sense of the bitter irony of the situation. Or perhaps she had finally lost her fierce battle to maintain some semblance of composure. But Padmé suddenly collapsed into helpless and not altogether mirthful laughter, momentarily startling even Obi-Wan out of his Jedi calm.

"I don't believe it," she gasped, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Believe it," Ob-Wan said sternly, having quickly regained his self-possession.

"Oh," Padmé sobbed, on the edge of hysteria, "we do live in evil times when the Jedi concoct an operation like this in defiance of their beloved Republic."

"Padmé," Obi-Wan ordered, "take hold of yourself."

Padmé's shoulders were still heaving when she started to hiccup. "I appreciate your concern, Master Jedi," she said, between spasms, "but I am not in need of your help. I have my own plan, which I prefer by far. Please, just bring me my daughter and my staff. You can be of enormous help, and achieve the same ends, by simply looking the other way when I go."

Obi-Wan still had his hands clasped in front of him, but stretched thin as Padmé's nerves were; she noticed that they were tightly clamped together. She let her eyes drift to his face. It wasn't immediately apparent, but Padmé could have sworn the Jedi Knight was clenching his jaw. For a few long moments, neither one of them spoke.

"Please tell me that this plan of yours doesn't include Anakin," Obi-Wan finally said severely.

Padmé wiped her eyes for the last time and raised her chin challengingly. "It does."

Obi-Wan's jaw definitely was clenched. "I can't allow it," he said firmly, sounding every bit as overbearing as Anakin had earlier in the morning. Padmé's wavering hysterical edge vanished instantly.

"It isn't up to you," she snapped.

"Oh, but it is, Padmé," he replied without a trace of irony. "It is entirely up to me."

Padmé's glower was almost worthy of Anakin, as was her unrepentant stubbornness. "I'm not asking you, Obi-Wan. I'm telling you."

"Then let me tell you something," Obi-Wan hissed, moving closer to her without unclasping his hands. "Our original mission was indeed to keep you safe - but not from this. Not at first. That warrant for your arrest was issued around the same time that we arrived on the convoy."

Padmé stared at him with growing alarm.

Obi-Wan pressed on. "Anakin has fled the Order. He has fled his duties in the Senate. He is at this point, by any definition of the term, a rogue Jedi."

Padmé shook her head. Obi-Wan didn't know what he was talking about. Anakin may have rejected the Order, but he wanted nothing more than to go away with her. To raise a family. There was no crime in that.

"In the best of times a rogue Jedi is a cause for grave concern," Obi-Wan persisted, even though Padmé suddenly didn't want to hear any more. "A rogue Jedi with Anakin's skills, and more than that, with Anakin's" - here he hesitated, choosing his words with great care - "with Anakin's particular history, amounts to a crisis."

"Anakin is no danger to me, if that is what you are trying to imply so obliquely," Padmé growled. "He is no danger to anyone."

"Anakin is a danger to us all!" Obi-Wan burst out. "He is under the influence of - of forces - whose nature I can barely explain to you. Things of which you have no concept, in your frame of reference."

"Try me," Padmé said in a low and dangerous voice, trying hard not to remember Anakin's outburst on the Defiance. His fear. The haunted look that crept into his eyes when he thought she would not notice.

Obi-Wan's eyes darkened with feeling. "All right, Padmé," he said softly, forgoing any attempt to soften the blow. "I will. Do you remember that .that thing that killed Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Padmé nodded in an agony of apprehension. "The one you destroyed," she whispered hoarsely.

"Its Master wants a replacement," Obi-Wan said pitilessly. "And he appears to have settled on Anakin."

Chapter 38. Full Circle (Part II)


Anakin's pre-dawn search of Theed's spaceport had taken place while the transport hub slept. Now, a few hours later, the sprawling installation had come to life. In fact, the spaces around the buildings and hangars, and the roads leading into the capital city, were crawling with vehicles and people, most of them connected with the Republic Army. Foot traffic had increased as well, and streams of people appeared to be moving in the direction of the city center.

The ceremony of investiture, Anakin thought suddenly. It was scheduled to begin in less than an hour. But that was not the direction in which his inner awareness was steering him. Anakin quickly skirted the edges of the cargo area, heading unerringly toward a large low building that stood by itself. Creeping closer he worked out that it was a customs warehouse. And inside, his senses told him, was a Jedi who did not wish to be known.

Tiny needles of warning prickled their way up his body. If he could perceive, so could he be perceived. Without thinking twice, Anakin availed himself of the comfortable cloak of darkness he had grown accustomed to relying on - the one Obi-Wan had referred to as his "shroud." Instantly he felt more confident. The Jedi's Force signature was one he knew well. Anakin had no intention of encountering that individual openly - certainly not now that the Order was sure to have labeled him as a rogue.

It didn't take Anakin long to find a way to enter the building unseen. Behind the row of small administrative offices were a number of large storage areas housing different types of cargo. One of the areas was a hub of activity, where several laborers wearing the standard garb of the cargo jockey - drab blue leggings and a matching long padded jacket - were opening crates, checking the contents, and re-sealing them. One of the laborers was a tall, brawny man with a battered face, thick cords of muscle in his neck, and large hands. Anakin was quite certain that the long jacket concealed a lightsaber that when ignited, glowed a memorable shade of deep blue-green. He had scrambled to evade that blade often enough in practice sessions with his former teacher.

Master Tec Andros. Jedi Knight, legendary fighter and tactician, and Obi-Wan's friend.

Certainly not my friend, Anakin thought resentfully. Master Andros had never been terribly impressed with Anakin's performance in his lessons - particularly when he had gotten .well.creative in his solutions to the set problems. And the Jedi Knight's already poor opinion of Anakin had crystallized the year before, when he had helped Obi-Wan to retrieve his errant Padawan after Anakin had lingered too long on Naboo with Padmé. The time he had almost died after the life-Force transference. The time he had married Padmé before returning to the Temple.

Come to think of it, Master Andros had developed a fairly low opinion of Padmé after that incident, as well, even without knowing about the marriage. And he had treated her disrespectfully. Anakin's eyes narrowed coldly as he remembered the Jedi Knight's threat to hunt him down and finish him off personally if Anakin didn't return to the Temple as he had promised to do. The memory effectively annihilated any lingering instincts Anakin might have harbored to support and facilitate the Jedi's mission, whatever it was. Now his only concern was to decide just how much he needed to learn about Andros' presence here, and his intentions, to further - and safeguard - his own goals. Cooperation with the Jedi was definitely a thing of the past.

It was odd. it was almost as though events had come full circle. That last time here on Naboo Anakin had been the prey. Now he was the huntsman.

Anakin's feeling of superiority was short-lived. Tec Andros suddenly put down the crate he had been carrying and walked abruptly toward the warehouse exit opposite. To an ordinary observer there would have been nothing startling about his actions. To Anakin it was obvious that his presence had somehow, unaccountably, been detected. Whatever Master Andros had thought of his pupil, Anakin had studied his teacher's techniques and style with rapt attention, and he knew that he needed to be gone - now. Remaining as invisible as possible, given his haste, Anakin dashed from his hiding place and from the building to disappear into the adjacent hangar.

Almost impossibly, Master Andros was already there; twenty yards away, and looking in his direction, although Anakin was fairly certain he could not actually be seen. To a Jedi, though, that didn't matter - the Force was a far more reliable instrument of perception than mere eyes.

Turdshine. He really does know I'm here - and he even figured out which way I would run.

While rapidly calculating his next move, Anakin puzzled about how Andros had detected him - and so quickly. Even Obi-Wan's senses had not been able to penetrate his shielding when he was cloaked in this way. Yet Andros behaved as though Anakin were plainly visible - worse still, as though he were telegraphing his intentions. And more to the point, having noticed Anakin's presence, why had he responded instantly and aggressively?

The few seconds this thought process took up cost Anakin. His next move, although it put him another twenty yards away behind a hulking transport vehicle in the space of a heartbeat, brought Anakin no further away from his uncanny enemy. Around the other side of the transport he heard the distinctive droning hum of a lightsaber igniting.

Flaming spawn of a Ta'an! He's right next to me! How is he doing this?

"Skywalker," he heard Andros' gravelly voice say, "turn yourself over to me and you won't be harmed."

Anakin had expected that the Jedi Council would consider him an armed and dangerous threat by now, and would order that he be brought in. There were actually ways to capture a Jedi - even one who didn't want to be captured. It generally took several other Jedi to do it. Of course, if they just wanted the rogue dead, one Jedi might be enough for the task. Particularly one like Master Andros. For the first time it occurred to Anakin that the Jedi Council might not care whether he was in one piece or in several when he was brought back before them.

Andros was circling the vehicle. All Anakin could sense from him was pure, focused intention.

Anakin's own weapon snapped into his hand as he weighed his odds, but he did not ignite it. He didn't answer, either. Instead he shot straight up from a standing start and used a double somersault to catapult himself onto a maintenance catwalk that hung just below the soaring ceiling of the large hangar. This time there was no hiding place, and Tec Andros observed Anakin's move directly. Anakin looked down at the Jedi below. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second, until Tec sprang unhesitatingly, just as Anakin had done, landed on the catwalk, and lunged with his weapon, all in one smooth movement.

Instantaneously Anakin's blade came up to block the thrust. The two lightsabers clashed together with a grating whine. "What do you want?" Anakin hissed.

"Turn your weapon over to me, as required by the Code, and come quietly," Andros ordered.

It was not an idea that Anakin entertained for even a moment. He was much more interested in knowing how Andros was able to perceive and track him so easily.

"You are wondering how it is I can perceive you despite your cloaking," Andros said evenly, with unnerving prescience. All the while he continued to press forward with his weapon, creating a fulcrum of tension between the humming blades so powerful that sparks flew. His eyes never left Anakin's. "Let's just say that we learn quickly."

Huttslime! Anakin thought, his stomach lurching wildly. This changed everything. If the Jedi could once again perceive him with ease, he had lost his advantage. He would never be able to protect himself as long as they were intent on finding him, and therefore he would not be able to safeguard Padmé. He had to get out of there.

Unhesitatingly Anakin broke the impasse and attacked. His former teacher countered each move easily. Of course. Tec Andros was not one to be underestimated. The distinctive hum and whine of their lightsabers was disrupted again and again by the screech of crashing blades. They were evenly matched, and both combatants knew it. Anakin fought viciously, using all of his skills, while he planned his escape. His mind clicked efficiently and systematically through all the known variables in the situation, searching for one he could use to his advantage. When he found it, it was so simple he would have laughed, had he not been in the middle of a roundhouse leap to avoid a blade that had thrust within inches of his face.

Master Andros was undercover. For reasons of his own he did not want to be revealed as a Jedi. The hangar was empty of people for the moment - but that could change.

Andros' unrelenting counterattacks had pushed Anakin backward along the catwalk, and he was nearing its end. With cold calculation Anakin shifted his defense until he was in the position he wanted, and then he leaped over the railing and downward, using his lightsaber to slice through the struts that secured the walkway to the hangar wall as he went. With the screams and moans of twisting metal, the mutilated structure began to collapse toward the floor far below.

Tec Andros reacted by leaping in the direction that Anakin had taken - but Anakin was no longer there. By the time Master Andros' feet touched the ground Anakin was thirty yards beyond, rolling swiftly under a docked cargo transporter. He didn't stop for an instant on the other side of the ship, but in two long bounds he cleared the vast hangar door and slithered though the crowd of people who were racing toward the hangar in response to the violent crashes caused by the buckling, plummeting catwalk. By the time his pursuer arrived in the same place, looking like nothing more than a shabby cargo jockey and no longer visibly bearing a weapon, Anakin was nowhere to be found.

Clinging to the underside of an Army troop transport as it lumbered steadily out of the spaceport and toward Theed, Anakin struggled to bring his breathing back to normal, and to think. He was fairly certain that Master Andros would not follow him for the moment, but he resolved to remain in the middle of the crowds, just in case. In the meantime, he needed to work out his strategy - and those of the other players in this game within a game within a game. As the transport bumped along the service road that led out of the spaceport, Anakin counted up the number of Jedi who were probably on Naboo at the moment. Master Andros. Obi-Wan. Master Windu, Master Medulla, and Lon had been flying the starfighters - they were probably here, too. All of them must know of his presence here by now. And, as Master Andros had said, they learned fast.

There were more than enough Jedi to bring him in, if that was what they were here to do. Was it?

3-D Chak'la was hard enough to play when you could survey all of the pieces. This was becoming impossible.

When the troop transport merged into a long line of traffic on the outskirts of Theed, Anakin jumped off and disappeared into a crowd of pedestrians that streamed steadily toward the Palace. He no longer cared what plans Padmé had. It was definitely time for them to go.

Chapter 39. Into Our Own Hands (Part I)


The grand plaza in front of the Palace at Theed was teeming with people. Formally and colorfully dressed Naboo mingled with Gungans and some off-worlders. Phalanxes of white-armored soldiers stood at attention around the edges of the vast space, interspersed with groups of regular Republic Army troops in their distinctive severe gray uniforms. Both groups of soldiers were heavily armed. Tall flagpoles had squared off the curved edges of the ancient architecture, and their long banners snapped loudly in the stiff breeze far above the heads of the crowd. A substantial dais had been constructed in front of one of the Palace entrances, on which dignitaries were assembling in clusters.

Anakin allowed the crowd to push him along into the heart of the plaza, all the while studying his surroundings with all of his senses, estimating numbers, calculating distances, testing moods and intentions, assessing threats and opportunities alike. The side streets leading to the plaza were lined with Army vehicles of various kinds. The Naboo were uniformly anxious, and resentment coiled its way through the crowd like a writhing vine, touching almost everyone. The Army officers were wary and cautious. The armored troopers were - well, they were clones. There wasn't much to sense.

Anakin's attention snapped to the dais. Chancellor Palpatine was there! Anakin's heart slammed sharply in shock and dismay until he fought it back down to its normal rhythm. Was everyone in the Galaxy who thought of him as a big disappointment, or who had it in for him, here today?

It occurred to Anakin in a rush that the Chancellor must have arrived on the same Army task force as Padmé's staff. And Balé. He frowned, puzzling once again about the odd attack on that task force, and then stored the thought away for the moment, together with the persistent feeling of unease that accompanied it. Master Windu was taking a place at the Chancellor' left on the dais. That meant that the Jedi Council was being represented at this investiture - and therefore the Jedi were sanctioning the installation of the Military Governor. More importantly for Anakin's immediate concerns, it also meant that with only Master Windu on the dais, there were too many Jedi roaming elsewhere, probably in all the places where he needed to go unnoticed. Anakin struggled to contain a powerful surge of frustration, so that he could continue to observe clearly.

Queen Jamillia, accompanied by a contingent of the Queen's Own Guard, arrived to stand on the Chancellor's right, causing a welcoming ripple to run through the crowd. Four Red Guards took up places directly behind Palpatine. Music had been provided as well; in front of the dais sat a large band of musicians, both Naboo and Gungans. As some of them blew experimentally into their instruments to test their tuning, the distinctive tones suddenly catapulted Anakin back ten years in memory to another celebration on Naboo - the one after the Trade Federation crisis. After Master Jinn's death. The one at which Anakin truly had begun his life as a Jedi.

Again, he had the feeling of having come full circle. And again, everything had changed.

Fiercely Anakin pushed down the lump that had formed in his throat and concentrated on the scene around him. Another wave of murmurs, less welcoming ones this time, surged through the crowd as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic stepped forward and raised both arms in a gesture Anakin often had seen him use in the Senate Chamber. Anakin noticed the same feeling he had experienced during the crisis in the Senate - once again he felt the hairs rising on his arms and on the back of his neck. Once again he sensed an indefinable, rippling energy of some kind throughout the vast space. Involuntarily he glanced at Master Windu, who stood on the dais like a stone sentinel, neither speaking nor moving. The huge crowd quieted immediately upon the Chancellor's gesture, although no word had been spoken.

"My friends," the Supreme Chancellor began, in a voice that somehow carried to every part of the huge plaza, "this is indeed a momentous day."

A middle-aged woman standing next to Anakin in the crowd snorted loudly, distracting him from the speech. "A day of villainy, more like," she muttered bitterly to the man beside her.

"Aye," her companion agreed. "And those speeches are going to go on and on while we stand by helplessly."

On and on.

Anakin's attention snapped into focus. That was it. The investiture - it was perfect. He couldn't have designed a better distraction if he had tried. He glanced around the scene again with a sudden, deep sense of satisfaction. It was chaos, waiting to happen. He just needed a little more information. Abruptly he pushed past his neighbor.

"Have a care!" the woman snapped, looking around for the grim-faced young man who had jostled her, to berate him further. But he was gone.

Anakin's hopeful mood continued to buoy him up as he rounded the pillared gateway into a small courtyard that led to the main service entrance at the rear of the Palace at Theed. There was the tree that he had taught Balé to climb. There were the kitchens where he and Balé and prowled and played and annoyed the cooks. As he had anticipated, they were bustling with service staff. And if anyone knew who was in the Palace, and where they were located, it was the service staff.

Anakin grinned to himself as he walked boldly into the Palace kitchen, and again, as he walked back out a few minutes later, having helped himself to some sweet buns along the way. No one in the kitchen remembered his having been there, or having spoken to him. But the missing buns became the cause of a heated discussion between the cooks and the serving staff.

* * * * *

As soon as Obi-Wan Kenobi had left her alone and imprisoned in her own apartment in the Palace, Padmé began a systematic and frantic search through her home for all the emergency communications devices that had been carefully built into it. The Naboo were, by nature and as a result of long and bitter experience, supremely cautious. Padmé searched her furnishings, cupboards, walls and belongings obsessively, as though the action could provide her with an antidote to Obi-Wan's poisonous words.

Anakin is a danger to us all... he is under the influence of forces for which you have no frame of reference..

Padmé's heart contracted in pain with every step, with every movement she made. Oh, Anakin. Why didn't you tell me?

The result of her search was as she had expected. Before her arrival the Jedi evidently had combed through her residence and located all of the panic buttons, data terminals and hidden COM access links, and disabled them. Her store of hidden weapons had been removed as well. By now as determined as she was angry and fearful, Padmé stood in the middle of her gracious sitting room with her hands on her hips, thinking hard. There had to be a way to contact Typho, or her Handmaidens. They were her link to contacting Anakin.

Anakin. She wished she could still speak to him in her mind. She wished he still allowed it..

Gods. Padmé felt suddenly sick as she realized why Anakin would have cut off that beloved channel of communication. She didn't understand all the ramifications of the dark threat that hung over him, but she had seen his eyes. She had seen the effects on him. All he ever did was to protect me, and all I did was demand more and more.

No wonder he was afraid. No wonder he was desperate to leave. And she had made it worse for him - so much worse, that the mere thought made it hard for her to breathe.

Think.

It was so difficult. It had been so long since she had been home. Her mind strafed the rooms and belongings around her, searching for something helpful to her - anything - that she might have forgotten about, and that the Jedi might not have found. A bundle of frayed nerves, Padmé fidgeted as she stood, clenching and unclenching her fists, curling her toes inside her boots.

Boots. Clothing. Wardrobe.

Padmé sprinted into her bedroom and yanked open the door to the vast wardrobe, almost a room in itself. Heedlessly she tore her way along the rows of glittering gowns until she found the one she was looking for. Scrabbling for the hem, she ripped into the elaborate raised decorations that dotted the sensuous fabric of the wide skirt, looking for the one that was designed to come off easily. There. A small but powerful blaster had been sown into the gown underneath one particular piece of decoration. Even the Jedi hadn't thought to look there, Padmé thought with grim satisfaction, snatching up the weapon. She stopped short when she began to wonder where and how to conceal it.

Well, that's what clothes were for.

Padmé dug back into the wardrobe and finally dragged out a change of clothing - soft leggings and a loose double-layered tunic that would suffice to hide the small weapon. Hastily she changed her clothes, and then searched the wardrobe again, more methodically, for anything that might serve as a rope. Since she hadn't had any luck in finding a communications device, she would have to get out of here on her own. That meant climbing. Blasted Jedi.

Minutes later Padmé had a makeshift rope wrapped around her waist under the loose tunic. The blaster was fully charged and safely tucked away. She slammed the wardrobe door behind her and headed straight into the sitting room and out the magnificent glazed doors that led to her balcony terrace. Impatiently, she paced around the perimeter of the spacious terrace along the balustrade, looking for landing points below and trying hard not to think about how high up she was. It looked hopeless. Frustrated and growing desperate, Padmé doubled back and followed the balustrade around the side of the terrace to the point where it met the palace wall. That corner was well out of sight of the sitting room, and the thick eliril vine that grew stoutly up the wall at that point might provide some hand-and footholds.

Padmé was just reaching over to test the strength of the vine when something grabbed her ankle. She choked back a scream, and then a second later almost screamed again when Anakin's face suddenly appeared a foot in front of her own as he pulled himself up onto the balustrade. After the initial shock Padmé almost cried with relief.

"Shhhh," Anakin warned, as he dropped lightly over the wide stone ledge.

"I'm sorry," Padmé whispered desperately. "I'm so sorry about not leaving right away. I'm ready to go now. Right now."

Anakin encircled her waist with one arm and placed the fingers of his other hand against her lips to quiet her.

"Not now," he whispered quickly. "The two by your door know I'm here." His expression changed to surprise and then satisfaction as he detected the rope under her tunic. "Keep that on," he added, "it might come in handy." Padmé struggled to speak, but he wouldn't allow it. "Quickly," Anakin said. "How many Jedi are here on Naboo?"

He removed his fingers from her lips and Padmé obediently named the Jedi she had seen or knew about. When she reached the last one on the list Anakin's eyes widened in distress.

"Brith?" he hissed. "They brought Brith? They had no right."

"He's with Balé," Padmé whispered hurriedly. "I don't know where Obi-Wan and Master Windu went." Anakin's despairing expression twisted her heart. "Poulin's your friend, isn't he?" she asked worriedly.

"He can't afford to be," Anakin said harshly. "It would destroy him." His eyes shifted to the glass terrace doors, which had remained open.

"They're coming," he breathed. "Stay here. I'm going to get Balé. I'll be back for you."

And then suddenly, he was gone again, leaving Padmé alone on the sunny terrace where a year before, she and Anakin had lain together trying not to think about the future.

"Senator," came Master Medulla's voice from behind her, as Lon Erian suddenly appeared by her side and leaned over the balcony railing to scrutinize the walls and spaces below, "is anyone with you?"

"No," Padmé said shortly, looking longingly at the place where Anakin had just been. "I am alone." She turned around sharply to face the Jedi Knight. "And I would appreciate a bit more privacy. You may guard my door, but this is my home, and you should not feel free to burst in on me like this."

"He was here," Lon said over Padmé's head to Master Medulla, ignoring her completely. "He's not far."

"Come inside, please, Senator," Master Medulla said firmly. Padmé glowered at him and went. Lon followed, speaking into his communicator on the way. When they were all inside the sitting room again, Master Medulla closed the glazed doors. "I'm sorry, Senator," he said gravely. "Padawan Erian will remain here with you while I keep watch outside."

"How dare you!" Padmé blazed.

The Jedi Knight only bowed and returned to his post outside her apartment door, leaving Lon behind. The Padawan remained standing in front of the terrace doors with his arms crossed. No words were needed to tell Padmé that no repeat of her contact with Anakin would be tolerated. Padmé stood in the middle of her no longer private sitting room and glared at him full of grief and rage.

"Dellia has been inconsolable," she said abruptly, with wholly uncharacteristic malice. Lon looked at her, startled. "She is suffering terribly. I hope whatever you abandoned her for was worth it."

Look what I am turning into, Padmé thought wretchedly, when she realized that the sudden pain in the young man's eyes gave her nothing but satisfaction. This darkness touches us all.

Without another word, she turned to go into her bedroom where she would keep vigil until Anakin came for her.

Chapter 39. Into Our Own Hands (Part II)

Obi-Wan lowered his private communicator and looked at his companion. "Anakin has made contact with the Senator," he said quickly.

"He'll look for the child next," Tec Andros said, his eyes never ceasing their careful surveillance of the crowd in the plaza. The two Jedi Knights stood at the edge of the throng. Tec was once again wearing his Jedi robes. "I'll go."

"Wait." Obi-Wan spoke briefly into his communicator again. "Poulin - if Anakin appears, contact me, but take no action."

Tec shot him a sharp look. Obi-Wan looked away.

Despite the mobs of people at the investiture, there was always a little space around the Jedi Knights. People were cautious about getting too close to them. The feelings behind their distance seemed to have more to do with mistrust than fear.

"We will be blamed for this," Tec commented. "Our very presence here is taken as support for what he is doing."

"That is true everywhere in the Galaxy now," Obi-Wan pointed out.

The crowd milled and surged restlessly as the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic concluded his lengthy speech, and then quieted when the musicians took up their instruments and launched into a lively medley of Naboo folk music. Under cover of the music, Obi-Wan murmured to Tec, "Have you taken care of the last shipment?"

"As well as possible," Tec replied tersely. "I figure we have stopped the flow of the weapons for the time being - the last two shipments have been destroyed." He nodded toward the dais. "With the Military Governor installed, they can do anything they want, and shipments will likely resume. We'll have to take out the source on D'lai if we want to stop it."

"Do we know how many life-Force disruptor weapons are in circulation?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Hard to say," Tec answered grimly. "Enough. Enough to do us serious damage."

Obi-Wan was silent until the band launched into a well-known Gungan anthem. Then he said decisively, "There is nothing more we can accomplish here. It's time to take the Senator and leave. By the time the first round of negotiations about her fate finishes this afternoon, we will be in hyperspace on our way to Coruscant."

"What about Master Windu?" Tec asked finally, after mulling this over. "He has to stay for the negotiations."

Obi-Wan smiled briefly. "I imagine Mace can find his own way home."

Tec smiled, too. "And Skywalker?" he asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Wherever the Senator goes, he will follow. By taking her, we will have them both."

Tec caught his friend's eye. "You know, you could make this all a great deal simpler if you were willing to confront him here and now." Obi-Wan didn't answer. "Just finish it," Tec urged. "You know what he is, and worse yet, what he can become."

As quietly as he had been standing, Obi-Wan became even more still. It was a profound inner stillness, as though he had suddenly locked himself away. For a long few moments he didn't speak, and when he did, it was only to say, "My plan has the full support of the Council."

Tec shrugged dismissively. "Plans can change. The Council would also support you if you decided to take unequivocal action."

Ob-Wan took a deep, slow breath. "As long as Anakin remains in play, we have a chance to draw out his pursuer."

Tec studied his friend carefully.

"Perhaps," he conceded. He searched Obi-Wan's face some more. "But that's not the only reason you hesitate, is it?"

Obi-Wan looked away without another word, and continued to scan the crowd.

* * * * *

By the time Anakin had pulled himself up onto the last terrace, the one that belonged to the spacious apartment that had been assigned to Padmé's daughter and the staff that attended her, he reckoned that he could have produced detailed architectural elevations of the exteriors of The Palace at Theed with his eyes closed. He allowed himself the luxury of an extra push with the Force for that final climb, and it was with real relief that he dropped onto the wide stone surface and crept toward the doors that led inside. The apartment was very similar to Padmé's, although from the arrangement of windows and the length of the terrace it appeared to be larger. It was even higher up than Padmé's - the eaves of the shining green roof were just overhead - and the view was breathtaking. Anakin didn't care about the view.

Despite the warm sunshine outside, the terrace doors were closed and locked, and partially covered on the inside by curtains. Anakin peered inside the apartment through the uncovered portion of a glazed panel.

Come on, Brith, he thought impatiently. I know you can sense my presence.

Sure enough, he sensed movement behind the doors before he saw it. One of the doors opened a crack, and then the opening widened enough for Poulin Brith to slip through.

"H-hello, Anakin," Poulin said cautiously.

"I'm sorry they dragged you along on this," Anakin said without preamble. "They shouldn't have."

"I s-serve," Poulin said stoutly, but the stammer gave away his uneasiness.

"How is Balé?" Anakin asked, cutting to the point.

"Frightened," Poulin admitted. "Upset with Senator Amidala for n-not coming for her right away. And she m-misses you."

Anakin made for the door, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his arm. "That's not a g-good idea," Poulin said unhappily. "It will just get her h-hopes up. It will m-make things worse."

Who is guarding the apartment?" Anakin asked, ignoring Poulin's gentle plea.

"Four of the Queen's Own Guards," Poulin answered readily.

Anakin grinned lopsidedly. "That's it? Without further hesitation he stepped past the Jedi Padawan into the darker interior of the apartment and called softly, "Balé!"

Sabé leaped out of an armchair where she had been sitting with her back to the door.

"Son of the Seventh Pit!" she yelped at the same time that Balé emerged from the other room. "Where did you come from?"

Anakin ignored Sabé, and instead dropped to one knee to catch the squealing child as she threw herself at him. Her arms strangled his neck, her hair tickled his nose; her shrieks assaulted his ears. But her Force signature - holding her was like wrapping his arms around a bright, radiant bubble of love and acceptance and joy. Its light pierced Anakin effortlessly, instantly crumbling layers of defenses and shielding until he was gasping from the sheer unguarded happiness that poured from her. Anakin hugged her tightly, and for those precious moments all but forgot everything that haunted him.

Poulin stopped moving backward when he caught Anakin's glance. It wasn't so much a look as a plea through the Force. Poulin felt himself beginning to tremble with the effort of keeping from being torn in two. The communicator was already in his hand. Anakin had just given him all the information he needed to stop him. It was his duty to inform Master Kenobi. And yet.and yet.

"I want to go with you," Balé protested to Anakin, her voice rising anxiously.

"I know you do," Anakin said reasonably. "I want that, too. But I have to get Padmé. And there will probably be shooting. And sword fighting. I'd prefer to keep you safely out of all that."

"You're going to bring Padmé?" Balé's voice was wavering. Sabé slipped closer to Poulin.

"Yes," Anakin said.

"And then you'll stay with us?" Balé persisted.

Anakin smiled at her. "Yes, I'm staying with you both from now on," he said, and then looked pointedly at Dormé, and then at Sabé, and finally at Poulin again. The Force surged between them, encircling Poulin with its warmth and light. The warmth and light that the Jedi sought above all else.

"What are you doing with that thing?" Sabé hissed, right next to Poulin. She was staring at the communicator in his hand.

Poulin took a shaky breath, and made his choice. He chose the light. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all." And he replaced the device in his belt. The gratitude in Anakin's eyes reached straight into his soul.

"I'm sorry to do this to you," Anakin said softly. "This will go badly for you."

Poulin managed a very small smile. "I don't know," he said. "If I had to fight you, no one would expect me to win."

Anakin's eyes twinkled in sudden amusement. "Right," he said firmly. "Avoid the plaza. There is going to be trouble. And I suggest you find yourselves an official escort, for cover and protection." He winked at Poulin. "Most of the armored troopers out there appear to be clones."

Poulin nodded. Clones were easy to mind-manipulate.

Anakin and walked over to Dormé and gently transferred the clinging child into the stunned Handmaiden's arms, carefully detangling Bale's fingers from his hair in the process.

"Be brave, Warrior," he said. "It won't be long now." Balé nodded reluctantly from the safety of Dormé's shoulder.

No one said anything more until quite a while after Anakin had disappeared out the terrace doors.

"What.." Dormé eventually said uncertainly, into the silence, "what just happened?"

Sabé sighed suddenly and turned to give Poulin a warm and genuine smile. He felt himself beginning to blush.

"It seems we are taking matters into our own hands," Sabé said, still looking at the young Jedi. "We are returning Balé to her parents."

P-parents?" Poulin stammered. When the implications of Sabé's comment had sunk all the way in, a very shaken Poulin became aware that his blush had spread all the way to the roots of his hair.

Chapter 40. Shadowfall (Part I)


The man is boring beyond belief, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine thought as he listened to his handpicked Military Governor of the Naboo System drone his way through a speech that made up in length and insensitivity what it lacked in charm and purpose. The crowd below the dais was sullen and restless, and he could have sworn he heard one of the musicians snoring.

On the other hand, the idiot lacks the imagination to do anything other than follow orders. That was of course why he had been selected for the post.

Persuaded that the speech was likely to go on even longer, Chancellor Palpatine returned his attention to his true work, and reached out with the Force to gauge the mood and intentions of the crowd, the city beyond, and the key players who stood around him, all the while reflecting on the accomplishments of the past few days and the tasks ahead.

It was one of his great pleasures to use the Force undetected right under the nose of a member of the venerable Jedi Council. Master Windu stood next to him like an Alderaanian garden ornament. He was shielded and closed, and he wouldn't notice a thing. Confidently Palpatine sent his awareness slipping through the shadowy channels that criss-crossed his universe, probing and prying and searching with the complete freedom to which he was accustomed.

He was therefore singularly annoyed when Mace Windu unexpectedly turned to him and remarked quietly, "Are you quite happy with your choice for the post of Military Governor, Your Excellency?"

A Jedi making small talk? Palpatine wondered. In the middle of a ceremony? With his irritation and distrust perfectly hidden, Palpatine leaned companionably toward Windu and said, "He will do, Master Jedi. His post is more functional than ceremonial."

The Jedi nodded, and Palpatine returned to his dark ruminations.

"Let us hope his gifts as an administrator are greater than his gifts as an orator," Windu said suddenly, once again cutting into his focus.

Small talk indeed. Now deeply suspicious, Palpatine decided very quickly that there was more to the innocuous comment than appeared on the surface. Again, it very effectively had ended his deeply private train of thought - and his thoroughly cloaked exploration through the Force.

Had that been its purpose?

If so, then the Jedi Master deliberately had meant distract him. And that could only mean that he had noticed something. Had the Jedi finally taught themselves some new parlor tricks? Could they now, at least in some primitive way, sense the movements of the dark side of their beloved Force? Experimentally, Palpatine sent out a dark tendril of intent to probe for the individual whose whereabouts he took care to always track. As he did, his demeanor showed nothing more than ceremonial courtesy. But when he found what he was looking for, it took a great deal of skill not to allow his irritation to become patently visible. Skywalker was there, but had become difficult to latch onto. Somehow the young man's consciousness seemed to be slipping from his mental grasp like a beam of light.

To add to his irritation, Windu immediately interrupted him with yet another thinly veiled comment. It had to be deliberate.

"Let us hope that he is as competent as you say," Windu murmured quietly. "It is important for someone in his position to understand the enemy."

see, Palpatine thought coldly. This is not a conversation. It is a duel Very well, then.

"To be sure, Master Jedi," Palpatine said mildly, with a long-suffering air, "that is the challenge, isn't it? For it is certain that knowing our enemy, and being able to defeat him, are two entirely different things."

"Perhaps," Windu replied, with composure. "But knowing our enemy is a great step forward in the battle for freedom and justice."

Palpatine smiled and nodded, and went back to surveying the crowd. He sensed, rather than saw, Windu do the same beside him. So the Jedi thought they knew his true nature. Such arrogance. Their feeble ability to penetrate the outermost veils of the dark side of the Force would not help them. To defeat the darkness required the use of darkness, and that was something they would never do.

At least I'm not bored any more, he thought with a small glimmer of pleasure. Clearly it was time to move a few of his major plans forward. But it did occur to him, briefly, that the Galaxy would be a duller place without the Jedi to toy with. Still, for the time being he could derive some satisfaction from playing the game. Boldly Palpatine reached out and sent a dark wave of energy washing through the crowd. The shuffling and muttering and fidgeting stopped. The huge crowd of onlookers seemed to freeze; in some subtle way, to cohere into a single-minded group. All eyes looked in the same direction. All bodies had the same posture. The throng was silent.

Palpatine waited.

Almost immediately, another wave of energy, generated by Windu, rolled through the crowd, soothing and relaxing every person it touched. The crowd once again became individuated - a group of independent beings rather than a single, cohesive mob. Murmurs arose. People resumed fidgeting, jostling, and joking with one another.

Then Windu had the temerity to offer another asinine comment.

"You know what they say about the best-laid plans, Supreme Chancellor."

Palpatine smiled and nodded sagely, but declined to reply. It was unimportant. The Jedi were not long for this Galaxy. Indifferent to the possibly augmented abilities of the Jedi Master by his side, he continued to track Skywalker's slippery and now exasperatingly elusive path through the dark side of the Force.

And still the new Military Governor of the Naboo System droned on.

* * * * *

Alone in his meditation room in the Jedi Temple, Yoda sat hunched on his round stool, searching through the heights and depths of the Force for. for what? What was he looking for? He knew what was to come. He could not avoid knowing.

The long shadows cast into his sanctuary through the slatted windows were echoes of the shadows through which he now was forced to move during every meditation.

Shadowfall.

Bound only by its own laws, the Force folded and compressed time and space so that he could move backward and forward, in and out at will. But wherever he went, he could not avoid the shadows . unless of course he imagined time as being linear. In that view the past was bright. Golden. A glorious stretch of harmony and accomplishment. And then the shadows inevitably fell on that long, long line of time, and grew darker and darker until their depth and significance was enough to break his heart.

Yoda knew this. He had foreseen it all, and knew that, whatever obstacles were placed in its path, destiny had its own ways and came in its own time. So what was he still searching for? The ancient Jedi Master shifted on his cushion, trying in one part of his mind to relieve the sense of being crushed by the shadows of the inevitable. What did he seek?

He sought solace, of course. He sought hope. The solace and hope that would provide the strength to carry on. To survive the unthinkable. To trust in the ultimate balancing of the Force. Where there had been light, there was now growing darkness. It followed, then, that where there was now darkness, there would again be light. And in order to find faith in the resurgence of the light, to remind himself of the inevitability of its return, he had to move beyond the shadows. Far beyond, on that linear representation of time.

There was light ahead. There was hope. But it would be born out of darkness and sacrifice.

Yoda sighed, and shifted again. To recognize inevitability of shadowfall was knowledge. To have abiding faith in the resurgence of the light was wisdom. Gathering himself, and allowing the Force to be his guide, the ancient Jedi Master held steadfastly to a point between the two polarities, and once again dedicated himself to that glimmer of hope.

* * * * *

Anakin shot through the endless service corridors of the Palace at Theed like a bolt of pure energy. He felt like a beast of burden whose load had suddenly been removed; leaving him light, lean, mobile and swift. Doubt was gone. Fear was gone. So was any kind of hesitation or caution. All that was left was desire and intention. Anakin knew what he wanted, and the need filled him completely

He wanted his family together, and away from here. And he wanted it now.

He had never moved so fast. The investiture wouldn't go on forever, no matter how long the speeches were, and he had already used up precious time.

By the time Anakin reached the side of the Grand Plaza, the Military Governor evidently had just finished his speech, to scattered and sullen applause. The band began to play again, but the crowd clearly had had enough. Little by little, clusters of people began to move away from the Palace, turning their backs on the remainder of the ceremony.

Emerging easily and unnoticed from the Palace through a basement service entrance that always was kept securely locked and shielded with a security force field, Anakin merged into the fringes of the shifting throng and made his way toward an array of white-armored troopers who stood in formation about midway between the dais and the far end of the Plaza. Zeroing in on the ranking officer, Anakin reached out with the Force and latched firmly onto his mind, planting a suggestion that was quickly transmitted to all the others in the troop.

Without waiting to see the results of his action, Anakin next made his way to the opposite side of the Plaza where a group of gray-uniformed regular soldiers were positioned close to the musicians. Reflexively Anakin checked the dais. The eyes of all the dignitaries, including Master Windu, remained facing forward. Well, that didn't mean anything, but that would have to do for the moment. Anakin took care to remain well behind the group of soldiers, since he knew that non-Force sensitive people who received powerful Force suggestions always looked around them to seek physical confirmation for the planted thoughts. Gathering himself in the Force, he sent the ranking officer a very persuasive impression that was quite different from the one he had given the Trooper.

Again without waiting to see the immediate effects of that action, Anakin doubled back around the edges of the crowd and headed in the direction of the Palace.

Before he had gone very far all hell broke loose.

Chapter 40. Shadowfall (Part II)

"What's going on?" Tec Andros asked tersely. Something was wrong. To the Force-sensitive, the atmosphere in the Plaza had begun to spit and crackle like a power coupling, although on the surface it didn't seem any different.

Obi-Wan's eyes flew to the dais. He didn't need a com connection to know that Mace Windu had sensed the same thing. It was a full minute before a phalanx of white-armored troopers began firing into the air, causing an outbreak of panic in the crowd. But the three Jedi in the Plaza already had linked their minds and will to encircle the Plaza with a calming wave of energy. The crowd remained stable despite the fear and screams that resulted from the firefight against.nothing. The bravest among the unwitting spectators, the ones who dared to look up rather than hiding their heads or flinging themselves to the ground, saw and heard nothing in the blue sky above them but the flame-red traces of volleys from repeater blasters.

And still the troopers continued to fire, and were joined very quickly in their attack on thin air by other armored soldiers who were stationed around the wide plaza, with whom they evidently had communicated.

Without losing his concentration on the work of keeping the crowd from turning into a terrorized mob, Obi-Wan sidled around the edges of the Plaza until he reached the nearest firing troopers.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Aerial attack, sir. Separatist forces. Watch out!" A strong, armored fist roughly pushed Obi-Wan backward as the trooper dropped to one knee and fired repeatedly at an evidently moving target that wasn't really there.

Anakin, Obi-Wan thought grimly as he made his way back to Tec Andros. "It's a mass Force-delusion. We'll have to close the ceremony down before this gets out of hand. You start evacuating the section on the other side of the fountains. I'll try to counteract the delusion on this side."

"Skywalker," Tec said flatly. Obi-Wan nodded once, sharply.

"Time to evacuate the Senator," Tec declared.

Obi-Wan nodded again, and was just raising his com to his lips when the Force was rent by a different kind of emotion, emanating from a point near the dais. It wasn't merely fear. It was outrage, and fury, and was teetering very close to bloodlust.

"Change of plans. I'll go," Obi-Wan snapped to Tec, who had sensed the change as clearly as he. The order to move the Senator was postponed for the moment. "You stay here and evacuate this end of the Plaza." Without hesitation Tec turned and sprinted around the edges of the crowd to deal with a serious case of mass hypnosis, while Obi-Wan put the com link away and shot around the other side of the Plaza toward the dais. Before his eyes the fearful but otherwise orderly crowd turned into a surging melee. Obi-Wan could make out gray-uniformed officers apparently forcing citizens at blasterpoint to lie down on the ground with their hands over their heads. He redoubled his speed toward the nearest officer.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan demanded, using a slight Force compulsion. There was no time for friendly persuasion.

"We have received word of an assassination attempt, sir," the officer replied readily. "We are under orders to search the crowd for weapons, section by section." Despite his haste, Obi-Wan allowed himself a fleeting moment of objective appreciation of the efficiency and cleverness of Anakin's double attack. Nothing would arouse the peace-loving Naboo as much as a blatant violation of their civil liberties.

"An assassination attempt on the Supreme Chancellor?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously.

"No, sir. On Queen Jamillia."

Obi-Wan groaned inwardly and corrected his previous assessment. Nothing would arouse the Naboo to outrage, and action, as effectively as a direct attack on their beloved Queen. The problems caused by the mass delusion could be resolved fairly straightforwardly. This additional problem was much more difficult to deal with, both politically and in the potential volatility of the emotions that had been aroused. Fortunately there were enough Jedi on Naboo to prevent it from getting out of hand. Anakin must have known that, or he wouldn't have done it.

Or would he? The cold calculation behind Anakin's diversionary tactics, and his evident willingness to risk innocent lives, chilled Obi-Wan to the bone.

That's it, Anakin, he thought bitterly. You have gone too far. Using innocent people to further one's private ends was about as far away from the heart and conscience of a Jedi as one could get. Obi-Wan felt his deepest hopes - that there were limits to Anakin's horrifying slide away from light and grace - slip away, leaving only a bottomless well of sorrow and regret.

He raised his com to his lips. "Master Medulla, bring the Senator to our ship. And get some Naboo Security Forces to accompany you - there is trouble on the Plaza." Never mind now that the participation of the Naboo in the Senator's disappearance would cause political problems later. There were much greater issues at stake.

Without pause, the Jedi Knight turned the powerful focus of his full attention to the threatening crisis before him.

* * * * *

By the time the Jedi had reacted to keep the disturbed crowd from turning into a mob, the Military Governor was by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's side, whispering into his ear.

"What is it?" Windu's gravelly voice asked by his other side.

"We must secure the Queen," Palpatine said quickly, in a voice that betrayed only terrible concern. "It appears that Separatist agents are planning an attempt on her life."

"That was not our information," Windu said quietly, already moving toward Queen Jamillia, who had stepped forward on the dais to call for calm.

Nor mine, Palpatine thought, with well-hidden pleasure, but it is delightful news nonetheless. He liked nothing more than taking advantage of situations and turning them to further his own goals. Even though in this case he had not foreseen what Anakin would do, it was clear to him that it was the boy and the boy alone who had instigated the trouble. It was easy to infer why - Anakin was hoping to escape with his favorite Senator. That in itself wasn't bothersome - it would be dealt with by and by. But this opportunity was simply too good to pass up.

Thank you, my young friend, he thought in the darkest part of his soul. Even I could not have prepared a more effective beginning.

Of course there were Separatist agents in the crowd. He had planted them himself, as a precaution. With one carefully coded signal from his hidden com, transmission from which would not be noticed in the surge of communication that was taking place throughout the Plaza by the military and civilians alike, Palpatine set a new stream of events in motion.

Given the amount of blaster fire that was already emanating from the troopers, at first no one but Windu and Palpatine noticed when some of it was suddenly turned on Queen Jamillia. Leaping in front of the startled Queen, Windu successfully fought off the first volley that came from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, but even he was not fast enough to stop the second barrage that targeted her simultaneously from the side. The Queen of the Naboo staggered sideways and fell to the ground in a spray of blood, her Own Guard immediately surrounded the fallen Regent. Windu flung himself through them, presumably to see how badly she had been injured and to assist her, while Palpatine's own Red Guards closed instantly and unflinchingly around him and forced him off the dais and toward the Palace.

The Supreme Chancellor allowed himself to be secured by the elite who were trained to protect him at all costs. Concealed inside a towering shield wall of red armor and red flowing robes as he was marched rapidly away from the open danger on the Plaza, Palpatine used his hidden awareness to survey the chaos he had left behind. It was going very well indeed. Knowledge of the attack on the Queen was spreading through the crowd like wildfire, turning it into a mob. Soon the political chaos would become more than even the Jedi could control.

And so the Naboo would learn the painful lesson that only the Republic could save them. And it was a lesson that would spread throughout the Galaxy.

Palpatine smiled.

* * * * *

Far from the seething Plaza, Anakin sighed as he calculated the time it would take him to cover the distance back to Padmé's apartment. The Palace at Theed was enormous - it was almost a small city by itself. He simply had to take the shortest route. He had no choice. Letting himself out of yet another locked basement door at the rear of the Palace's left wing, he sighted straight up the towering wall.

Here we go again, he groaned inwardly, and jumped toward his first handhold. It would be even more challenging to get back down together with Padmé, but as always, Anakin refused to waste any energy worrying about the future. He was on his way to her. He was on his way home. He was confident in his decision to entrust Balé's safety to Sabé and Poulin, so his immediate concern was simply to get Padmé - which of course felt quite normal since that had been the principal goal of his life for most of the years he could remember. Anakin fairly flew up the walls and across narrow stone ledges and the occasional terrace balustrade.

Within minutes he had reached her very familiar terrace. Climbing up to it near the eliril vine, Anakin once again pulled himself over the stone balustrade, the handle of his weapon already in his hand as he did so. Not surprisingly, the terrace was deserted. Keeping his back to the sun-warmed stone wall of the Palace, Anakin sidled over to the glazed doors, boldly reaching inside the apartment with his awareness. There was no point in trying to hide now.

He found nothing. It felt empty.

He tried the door and found it locked.

Still nothing.

Despite his growing and infuriating conviction that there was no one inside, Anakin unlocked the door stealthily enough using the Force. But his perceptions had been right. He could have smashed the glass panels and not aroused the slightest notice, because no one was there.

Where did they take her? Anakin thought fast as he efficiently and furiously searched Padmé's silent and empty home.

Padmé's arrest warrant had come from the Chancellor. She had believed that the Naboo intended to negotiate with the Republic for her release. Assuming that the negotiations had been agreed to, it made sense that the Jedi, as a neutral party, would have been asked to hold her in custody until the final outcome had been decided.

Anakin opened the apartment door and checked the hallway outside. It was empty.

But now the Jedi had removed her. and from what he could tell, not long ago. probably around the same time that he had begun the disturbance in the Plaza. Suspicion sent Anakin straight back to the Chak'la game in his head. He backtracked as far as his last confrontation with Obi-Wan in the Senate training room on Coruscant - Gods, that seemed a lifetime ago now - and then moved systematically forward, through the visit to Alderaan, and then forward to the Jedi's fortuitous appearance on the task force in time to help fight off the attack on it.

By the time he got that far Anakin already had leaped back over the balustrade and was scrambling his way downward, driven full throttle by the twin engines of suspicion and pure determination.

He was halfway to the ground when he once again had gone over the details of the unusually numerous Jedi presence on Naboo, and the fact that Padmé and Balé had been kept separated. Replaying his own encounter with Master Andros in the cargo hangar got Anakin as far as the ground. He was moving fast. The logical conclusion, that the Jedi, led by none other than Obi-Wan, were planning to remove Padmé from Naboo in defiance of the warrant, was like a demon breathing fire into Anakin's soul all the way to the Plaza. Of course Obi-Wan knew that where Padmé went, Anakin would go, too.

You have gone too far, Kenobi. You are interfering with my life. My future. Everything that is important to me. The thought began to blow the dormant embers of frustration and fury in Anakin's heart back into warmth and life.

Anakin stopped short, leaning against the Palace wall and breathing in gasps, as soon as he had a view of the Plaza. The noise of blaster fire and screaming had reached him long before, even behind the Palace, but he had been so intent on this own thoughts that he had ignored it. Now, confronted with the battling mob that the formerly peaceful crowd had become, Anakin came face to face with another aspect of the deadly game he had been playing.

He knew he had created trouble on the Plaza, but he hadn't created this. There would have been enough Jedi to contain the disturbances he had set in motion - he knew their capabilities. They had been a central part of his plan. But this . this.

It wasn't a game at all. It was a matter of life and death. And he couldn't see a way out of it.

Chapter 41. Encounter With Destiny I


"Where are you taking me?" Padmé asked her uncommunicative Jedi captors for the fourth time since they had summarily, and without warning, removed her from her apartment. And for the fourth time, she didn't receive the courtesy of an answer from either one of them. She was being hurried along a circuitous route through the service corridors of the Palace, with a silent, wary Jedi on each side of her. They weren't touching her, but she might have well been shackled to them. One didn't escape from the Jedi. And if by some miracle she did, it would only be to run straight into the arms of the Army of the Republic or even the Naboo, who would already have imprisoned her, if not for the intervention of the Jedi.

She was well and truly caught.

Master Medulla politely but firmly had made it clear that she would not be allowed to see Balé before they left. It also had become clear to Padmé that the Jedi would go to any lengths to keep her away from Anakin. She thought she understood their game plan. It was likely that the Jedi were about to remove her from the planet completely - possibly back to Coruscant. Possibly even to the Jedi Temple itself.

Padmé just wanted to hear it from them. "Guardians of justice, indeed," she said bitterly, after her question was received by yet another unapologetic silence.

Padmé had refused to leave her apartment, of course. She couldn't imagine the Jedi manhandling her in any way, and so she had stalled. She simply had refused to move. But when Master Medulla very kindly had offered her the choice of accompanying them in a conscious, or in an unconscious state, Padmé chose consciousness. She wanted to keep her eyes open and her wits about her.

The Palace at Theed was a vast maze. The offices and grand reception rooms were located mostly in the vast central structure. Two huge wings extended forward at either side of the central Plaza, forming its eastern and western boundaries. The residences and guest quarters were in the western wing of the Palace. But the Jedi seemed to be moving toward the Palace's less populated east side, which didn't make sense to Padmé. That side was furthest away from the normal routes to the spaceport. The only thing Padmé could deduce from their convoluted route was that the Jedi, too, did not wish to be seen. She was a fugitive in the custody of fugitives.

Every step in this direction was taking her further away from Balé, from her staff, and from Anakin. He was truly her only hope for escape. She prayed he would find her - somehow - the way he always did.

For quite some time they hadn't encountered anyone along their eccentric path through the complex service corridors on the lower levels. Padmé surmised that they were somewhere below the Palace's central hall. She had opened her mouth to speak again when Lon Erian abruptly stifled her words by clapping his hand over her mouth while suddenly, and not very gently, hauling her into a curtained alcove near the junction with a larger corridor. Master Medulla jumped in with them, partially blocking Padmé's view of the corridor beyond. The two Jedi were so alert and wary that Padmé didn't struggle.

It wasn't long before the rhythmic marching of many booted feet echoed through the main corridor ahead of them, and a squad of soldiers jogged past the junction with the access corridor heading west at a fast clip, followed by another squad a few moments later. Padmé had not heard a signal, but Master Medulla raised a tiny com device to his face.

"Understood, Master Kenobi," he said after listening for a moment. He tucked the device away and said quietly to her captor, "You are needed on the Grand Plaza, Padawan Erian."

Padmé felt herself being released, but before she could speak, or shout, or move, Master Medulla caught her eye and shook his head. For some reason, it was enough to make Padmé subside.

"Your cloak, Padawan," Master Medulla said in a calm voice that brooked no argument. "Give it to the Senator." The Jedi Master's eyes never left Padmé's, and she somehow could not look away from them. Padmé felt the heavy, rough cloak being placed around her shoulders, and then Lon Erian slipped out of the alcove without a word and disappeared into the corridor like a wraith. Master Medulla reached over to fasten the cloak under Padmé's chin, and then placed a hand lightly, gently, on her shoulder.

"Listen to me carefully, Senator," he said softly. "Queen Jamillia has been assassinated. The crowd on the Plaza is rioting. A security lockdown on all government officials is being put into place. We have very little time left in which to get you away from the Army and Naboo Security forces."

Padmé flinched physically as the first shock of comprehension rolled through her like a wave. Only the Jedi Knight's hand on her shoulder kept her steady. Padmé felt tears running down her cheeks although she hadn't been aware of spilling them in the midst of the violent storm of grief and despair that swept through her after she grasped, really grasped, what Master Medulla was telling her.

"Our mission is to keep you safe," the Jedi Knight went on. "We are the only ones who can. You must come with me now."

Padmé kept looking into the Jedi's warm dark brown eyes. They helped to ground her. She had the oddest feeling of unreality - as though the moment were somehow suspended in time.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" she whispered hopelessly, while the tears continued to fall.

Master Medulla reached up to grasp her other shoulder. Padmé felt unexpectedly safe and secure between his two gentle hands.

"New paths always open before us," the Jedi Knight said steadfastly. "But for now, the more you cooperate, the easier it will be to safeguard you." His grip tightened ever so slightly. "Please allow me to protect you, Senator."

Padmé nodded. There was nothing else she could do.

The timeless moment ended abruptly the instant that Master Medulla received her assent. Dropping his hands from her shoulders, he shifted his attention briefly to the corridor and then back to Padmé.

"Run, Senator," he ordered, and shoved her out of the alcove.

* * * * *

Balé looked around her uncertainly. Everyone was acting strangely since Anakin had come and then gone away again. Sabé had changed her clothes into something Balé had never seen her wear before - long boots and leggings and a kind of jacket over them. She had put on a wide belt under the jacket, and then she had told Balé to stay in the bedroom with Dormé while she and Poulin went outside for a little while.

Balé didn't know they were allowed outside. She thought they had to stay here because of the guards outside the door.

When they came back, Sabé was tucking two blasters into her belt, and gave Dormé two more to keep. Maybe that's what they had gone outside to get.

Poulin was a little different too. Just a little. He was still patient and kind, but he didn't smile as much any more and Balé knew that she only had part of his attention.

And then Dormé went all funny. Sabé had told her to stay behind in the apartment. Dormé had given up trying to brush Balé's hair and just tied it back out of her eyes, and then got down on the floor and gave her a huge hug. Her eyes were wet.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Balé asked. She had thought that they would all be together.

"Not right now, little one," Dormé said, still hugging her. "I'll see you soon."

Suddenly Balé felt sad, too. Everything was confusing. It had been confusing since they had left Coruscant, and now everyone around her was nervous and .different.

"I'm scared," Balé said into Dormé's comforting and familiar shoulder. "I want you to come, too."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, child," Dormé said, stroking her hair. "You're going to be with your parents soon, and everything will be all right. Just remember to do exactly as Sabé and Poulin tell you."

"I will," Balé promised.

"It's time to go," Sabé said, from the door.

Balé reluctantly pulled away from Dormé's hug and obediently took Poulin's outstretched hand. She had the feeling that this wasn't the right time to ask for a piggyback ride.

Just before they left the apartment, Balé saw Poulin take his small com out of his belt with his free hand, and place it gently on the table by the door.

* * * * *

"You! Down on the ground!"

Anakin had felt the soldiers come up behind him, but he had been so intent on scanning the violent turmoil in the Plaza and trying to locate the Jedi that he had given no thought to the fact that in his civilian clothing, he, too, would be a target for an identity and weapons search.

Before turning around to face them Anakin counted and probed them through the Force. One officer, two clone troopers. He could see numerous similar groupings in front of him throughout the Plaza, cutting people out of the surging crowd and forcing them to the ground. Anakin noticed that after being searched, some of the civilians were hauled to their feet and marched away in the direction of the west side of the Palace. The rest were escorted out of the Plaza. Anakin made a quick decision.

"I'm Jedi," he said as he turned around with his hands on his hips, moving his battered leather over-tunic out of the way just enough to reveal the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

The officer studied him for a moment, taking him in from top to toe. Anakin leveled his best Mace Windu gaze at the man, who apparently decided to believe him.

"Sorry, sir," the officer said.

"No problem," Anakin said dryly, taking bitter pleasure, if only for a moment, in having the kind of status that commanded instant respect and cooperation. He decided to push his advantage as far as it would go. "What happened?"

The officer regarded Anakin warily. The thought that a Jedi should not have to ask a question like that was written all over his face.

"I just got here," Anakin snapped, reaching slowly toward his weapon for dramatic effect. If he really had wanted to use it the man would be dead by now. "Status report."

Again, the officer decided in favor of caution. "Sorry, sir," he said again, and clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin to make his report. "The Queen of the Naboo has been assassinated, reportedly by Separatist elements. The Jedi are controlling the crowd while we search for the assassins."

"How are the Naboo security forces being deployed?" Anakin demanded.

"They are securing the Government, sir," the officer replied. "The Palace, the other government buildings, and the residences of all government officials are on lockdown."

Anakin thought fast. Obi-Wan would have gotten Padmé out of her residence by now. The Palace was likely to be overrun with Naboo security forces. He just needed to know where she was, and how many Jedi were with her - preferably without broadcasting his own location and intentions to them through the Force any more than he already had. Having so many unfriendly Jedi around really cramped his style.

"Where are the other Jedi now?" Anakin asked, his hand resting visibly on his saber hilt.

"Three are on the Plaza calming the crowd, sir. One is helping with interrogation," the man answered, shifting his eyes toward Anakin's weapon, and then away again.

Anakin nodded briefly. "Dismissed," he said. The officer looked at him, startled, and probably wondering what happened to the legendary Jedi courtesy, and then signaled for the white-armored troopers to follow him back into the fray.

Anakin looked beyond the retreating officer and beyond the crowd and let his gaze rest on the west wing of the Palace. He had known before asking the officer that Master Windu, Obi-Wan and Tec Andros were on the Plaza. He could sense their individual Force signatures in the calming waves of Force energy with which the crowd had been encircled. He knew where Poulin was - or at least, where he was headed. And now he knew that one of the other two - either Master Medulla or Erian - was with Padmé, while the other was interrogating suspects across the plaza. If Anakin had been in charge, he would have left the stronger Jedi guarding Padmé and sent the weakest link down to assist on the Plaza. Obi-Wan had taught him well.

Anakin faced a number of choices. He could locate Padmé easily if he opened himself up to the Force fully, thereby also serving himself up to the Jedi on a platter. He could spend precious time locating Poulin to find out where Padmé was being taken, and risk that he would be too late to retrieve her from Obi-Wan's clutches. He could wait until for the Jedi to make their move off-planet and follow them. That of course would mean facing down all of them at once. Or, he could go straight to the weakest link for the information he needed. Without hesitation, Anakin headed across the Plaza at a run to find Lon.

Chapter 41. Encounter with Destiny I (Part 2)

Thanks to the combined efforts of three powerful Jedi, the crowd at the heart of the Plaza had calmed down enough to allow an orderly evacuation to take place. True, the dais had been destroyed, and a number of windows in the lower part of the Palace had been either disintegrated by blaster fire or broken during scuffles in which outraged Naboo had thrown paving stones and any other handy projectiles at the soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic. Army vehicles had been overturned and set on fire. But despite occasional bouts of blaster fire from within the crowd, the Jedi had successfully prevented the Army troops from firing into the crowd. The mass delusion of an aerial attack had been contained. And further injury and mayhem had been kept to a minimum. The task had been enormous, and exhausting, and made more difficult by the fact that the crowd's wrath often was turned against the Jedi as well as the Army. Tec Andros had been right. They were blamed by many for supporting the Army of the Republic, and for failing to prevent the death of the Queen.

As it gradually became safe to reduce the dampening effect of the Force, Obi-Wan once again turned his attention to their immediate mission and checked in with the members of his team. Master Medulla and the Senator were close to their mustering point in the east wing of the Palace. Lon Erian was assisting the Army interrogators on the west side. Master Windu and Tec were out on the Plaza. Poulin was . Poulin was not answering his com.

Blast. Now what? Obi-Wan was weary from his labors. He was certain that the others were, too.

He looked out over the grand Plaza. More than half of the civilians had been evacuated, and efforts to move the rest were proceeding in an orderly fashion. The sound of detonations and blaster fire occasionally arose from areas beyond the Palace, toward the center of the city, but they seemed like isolated incidents. Everything seemed under control for the moment. He could risk taking a moment to collect and strengthen himself, and to regain his focus.

Obi-Wan retreated to one of the few isolated spots nearby, a long arcade set off by marble columns and balustrades. The arcade was in deep shadow now that the noonday sun was straight overhead.

It had been a long morning, and there was still no end in sight.

Obi-Wan leaned against the smooth stone of the arcade wall and closed his eyes. He had been using the Force without ceasing for hours, but not for himself. This time he approached the Force as though he were diving into a deep, cool pool of water, immersing himself in it and allowing it to flow over and through him and refresh him. Gradually he felt his inner energies align, his strength return, and the focus and clarity of his inner vision sharpen. Bolstered by new vitality, he sent his awareness out to touch each of the other Jedi and to search for Poulin. His awareness spread out like widening ripples, further and further, touching and differentiating every physical form and energy pulse in their path.

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, and his com unit snapped into his hand.

"Lon," he said into it. "Anakin is moving in your direction. Tec, back him up."

Not waiting to hear Tec's reply, but completely confident that he would respond, Obi-Wan launched himself toward the road that led to the spaceport. It seemed that one Padawan was not where he was supposed to be, despite the fact that his tracking signal still placed him at his post in the Palace apartment. Obi-Wan didn't want to speculate why that might be the case. He preferred to find out for himself.

* * * * *

Balé stumbled along reluctantly, lagging behind Sabé, who was walking way too fast and dragging her by the hand. Balé wished she could hold Poulin's hand. He never dragged her. But Poulin was walking a little ahead of them, and paying attention to everything but her. Now they had four of the white shiny soldiers with them. They were carrying guns. Poulin had stopped and talked to the soldiers, and then suddenly the four surrounded them and walked with them. It was like being inside of a box. The soldiers were walking too fast, too.

"Look," Sabé said to Poulin. "Transport."

They had left the Palace through the back and were walking down one of the small roads beside it. An armored speeder was parked by the side of the road. Poulin said something to one of the white soldiers, and he climbed into the speeder and started the engine. Then he waved to them and they all climbed inside, except two of the white solders, who stayed outside and hung onto the outside of the speeder at the back. It looked like fun. Balé wished that she could do that, too, instead of being squashed between Sabé and a soldier. That white armor was really, really hard, and part of it was poking her in the knee. She couldn't even talk to Poulin, because he was sitting in the front next to the driver.

They started swaying along the road. They had to go really slowly because there were people everywhere - white soldiers and gray soldiers and people running and yelling and throwing things. Once in a while they threw things that hit their speeder, and Balé felt Sabé jump. Balé pulled her legs under her and sat on her knees so she could see outside better.

"Why is everyone running around and shouting?" Balé asked curiously. "Why are there so many people?"

"I don't know," Sabé said. "There was a ceremony on the Plaza this morning. Something must have happened."

"Anakin said there was going to be trouble on the Plaza," Balé said matter-of-factly. She wondered why Sabé looked at her so sharply.

Then, suddenly, there was a horrible, terrifying noise and the speeder bounced so hard that everyone inside was thrown around. Balé was flung onto the white soldier beside her and banged her head hard on his chest armor, while Sabé landed on top of her, and then the speeder bounced again and they all flew backwards against the seats. There was a smashing sound, but Balé couldn't see what happened because Sabé was suddenly on top of her, pushing her head down. Balé's heart was pounding so hard she couldn't even scream, or tell Sabé to stop crushing her.

From underneath Sabé, Balé heard Poulin say, "Sonic detonator. Is everyone all right?" Sabé sat up again so Balé could breathe, and see. The windows had blown out, and the doors were open. They weren't moving any more.

Sabé's arms were around Balé, and she was saying, "It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right." But it didn't feel all right. Balé knew that Sabé was scared, too.

The driver tried to start the speeder again but it didn't work. Poulin said, "Everyone out." They climbed out and saw that the two soldiers who had been hanging on in the back had fallen off. They were lying in the road and they weren't moving. Poulin ran over to them and leaned down to touch them, and then ran back. Sabé looked at him and he shook his head. "You two," he said to the driver and the soldier who had been inside the truck next to her, "come with us."

"Yes, sir," one of the soldiers said.

So they had to walk again. And Balé felt like she was being dragged again.

And then, all at once, she knew that everything was going to be all right. She saw Anakin. He was right there, across the road by the edge of the Plaza. He was right there! There were a lot of people over by the Plaza, but Balé knew that tall dark one was Anakin. She just knew it. Best of all, he was looking their way.

"Anakin!" Balé shrieked heedlessly.

The figure broke into a run, heading straight toward them. Balé twisted out of Sabé's grasp. Anakin would protect them all. He could make everything better. He always did. She was desperate to get to him.

"Balé, no!" Sabé gasped, making a grab for her. But Balé struggled loose for the second time and began to run toward Anakin.

"Anakin!" she shrieked again. This time it came out as a kind of sob. Balé felt like she was flying she was running so fast, and then all of a sudden strong arms grabbed her from behind and she tumbled, kicking wildly, to the ground, dragging whoever was holding her down with her. Blaster fire exploded over their heads.

"Shhh," Poulin said into her ear, holding her tightly. "Stay still."

"Let go!" Balé screamed, fighting and squirming against him.

"Wait," Poulin said, just as softly. "Wait."

Balé stopped struggling long enough to see what he was talking about. Her hair had come loose and through the tangles she could see Anakin. It was definitely Anakin; she could see his face. Only he wasn't running toward her any more. He had his lightsaber out and he was fighting with someone - someone who had a lightsaber, too. Balé started to cry.







Chapter 42. Encounter with Destiny II (Part I)


Anakin's lightsaber was in his hand almost before he was aware of it. His heart and mind had been wholly focused on Balé and on the disabled Army speeder. From his vantage point it was clear what had happened - an armed group of civilians had targeted a number of military vehicles along the heavily traveled road that skirted the south end of the grand Plaza. Evidently, Poulin and his group had been in one of the vehicles. Sonic detonators weren't the only weapons being used. The same group was now aiming a fierce barrage of blaster fire at the small clusters of soldiers who were strung out along the road to the spaceport.

Only the instinctive compulsion to defend himself could have wrenched Anakin's consciousness away from Balé and from the sudden and unexpected firefight. He snapped around, following his blade, which almost had a life of its own, to find Tec Andros bearing down on him with his blue-green lightsaber ignited. Master Andros wasn't paying attention to the trouble in the road. He was after Anakin.

No! Anakin screamed inside. Not now!

Without even thinking he lunged at Andros, catching the Master's blade with a powerful two-handed slash that sent Andros reeling backward - but just for a moment. In an instant Anakin and Master Andros were trading brutal, violent blows that would have pulverized stone or melted metal. The Force surged into a maelstrom between them, creating a disturbance that could be felt by Force-sensitive individuals far and wide like a distant earthquake.

"What are you doing?" Anakin roared between blows. "They're innocent! We have to help them!"

"You're a fine one to talk," Tec Andros spat, whirling around to counter Anakin's battering blows. He leaped upward to give his next downward slash more power, but Anakin ducked and rolled with breathtaking speed. "You created this disaster!"

"Don't make it worse!" Anakin yelled. "Look at what's happening!" Behind him, the firefight was rapidly turning into something that looked more like a battle. The armed civilians had taken up positions behind overturned armored vehicles and were firing remarkably disciplined and accurate rounds at the Army troops, who had re-grouped quickly into a combat formation. The orderly evacuation from the Plaza had degenerated into another melee, as the soldiers conducting it abandoned their charges and joined in the skirmish. The evacuees became refugees, fleeing the blaster fire in all directions. It was becoming difficult for Anakin and Tec to keep their private fight going without endangering bystanders in the crowds that began to surge around them.

Despite his focused and deadly intent, even Andros had to pause briefly when yet another group of civilians ran close by him. Anakin took advantage of the Jedi's hesitation, a matter of only seconds, to dive through the crowd toward Balé.

Keep her safe, Poulin, he demanded silently. Just keep her safe.

Even in the middle of the chaos Anakin's mind kept working logically, and stored the observation that the civilians behind the barriers weren't Naboo at all. Their Force signatures said D'laian, although they were dressed as Naboo. They were evidently mercenaries and rabble-rousers, and were taking advantage of the disturbances that Anakin had set in motion.

Of course he was being blamed. He would always and forever be blamed.

Anakin's headlong flight toward Balé and Poulin was halted by another volley of blaster fire from the insurgents. This time they weren't aiming only at the Army troops. Fleeing civilians were being targeted as well, and several people fell, shocked and wounded, nearby. No one on this part of the Plaza - or on the road - was safe.

Anakin's next actions arose out of a soul-deep impulse, augmented by years of uncompromising Jedi training. Instinctively he swung his lightsaber in wide, blindingly fast arcs to counter and deflect the blaster fire away from the bystanders. As he fought his way slowly and deliberately toward the source of the shooting, his circling blade created a safe zone behind him, where nothing as crude as a blaster bolt could get through.

"Get behind me!" he shouted repeatedly, to anyone and everyone who could hear him. "Pass behind me!" At first glance he may not have looked like a Jedi, but the sight and visible effects of his whirling blade were enough to encourage the people around him to obey. The path before Anakin began to clear rapidly as the surging, terrified throngs dove and shoved their way behind him.

And then, all at once, he had help. Without faltering in his focus and rhythm Anakin sensed Tec Andros nearby, performing the same movements and the same service. With two masterfully wielded blades forming a barrier against the continued blaster fire coming from the road, the safe zone behind Anakin and Tec widened considerably and more and more people used it to flee in the opposite direction, toward the inner reaches of the Plaza and the Palace. Working as a perfectly functioning team, the two Jedi, Master and rogue, advanced on the not-so-ragtag provocateurs in their positions behind the disabled armored vehicles. On both sides of the Jedi small groups of clone troopers knelt in firing position and began systematically picking off the insurgents.

"You're a puzzle, Skywalker," Tec Andros growled at one point, during a brief lull in the rapid bursts of blaster fire.

Anakin dared to shift his focus for a brief instant, and allowed his eyes to flick in the direction where he had last spotted Balé and Poulin. He saw that they had retreated back toward their disabled speeder. Even from this distance it was clear that Poulin was holding the child firmly. They were safe, for the moment.

Get out of here, Poulin, Anakin thought fiercely. Just go!

Another staccato round of fire made Anakin snap his attention back to the job in front of him. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he said to Tec between clenched teeth. "I just want to go. I'll never come back."

"From what I hear," Tec said darkly, sidling a bit closer to Anakin but never allowing his attention to stray from his surroundings, "you're on your way to a place that spells destruction for us all. We can't allow that."

He's talking about the dark side. The Sith. Anakin felt a spike of white-hot frustration sear through him. Andros was fixated on that singular Jedi obsession; to the point that Anakin was certain that nothing he said or did would persuade the man to look beyond it.

"Not if I can help it," Anakin snarled, not really expecting to be heard, and then surged into blinding, fluid motion again as a new volley of blaster fire exploded around him.

Andros leaped into action in the same instant, and once again they were fighting side by side against a common enemy. Their gradual but relentless advance toward the enemy's position had brought them within ten meters of the road. Army troops had now taken up organized positions along the edge of the plaza, and the civilians had been cleared from the hot zone between the combatants. The Army troopers were beginning to advance toward and to encircle the shooters when suddenly a violent detonation somewhere on the road unleashed a shockwave of sound and destructive energy so powerful that several of the vehicles were thrown briefly into the air.

"Another sonic detonator!" Tec yelled, but Anakin suddenly wasn't there any more. With the first shock of the detonation Anakin had thrown himself to the ground, only to leap up again an instant later and hurl himself in the direction of Balé and Poulin. Their crippled vehicle had been knocked sideways, and Anakin couldn't see them. His perceptions were momentarily muddled from the close-quarters detonation and so he simply ran, with his heart pounding so painfully in his chest that he could feel and hear nothing else. He was only dimly aware that the firefight had started up again behind him.

And then he saw Poulin. In the swirling dust and debris left behind by the explosion his beige robes had been momentarily indistinguishable from the paving on the road, but as the young Padawan rose to his feet Anakin could see a small, brightly dressed form beside him. Balé was all right.

Thank you, Poulin, Anakin thought passionately as he leaped toward them.

"Anakin!" Balé screamed when she saw him. Anakin saw her duck under Poulin's outstretched arm as she pushed herself to her feet, and then begin to run toward him.

"Stay there!" Anakin called out to her. Balé kept running. As his ability to perceive returned, Anakin sensed her feelings surging toward him like an arrow of pure intention. Her body just had to follow.

She wasn't thinking. She was reacting.

Anakin heard a resurgence of blaster fire, and doubled his speed.

He saw Poulin grab out for the child, only to leap abruptly sideways with his blade whirling in the air when another round of blaster fire burst out across the road.

Balé kept running.

And then, in an instant, Anakin's life changed again. Forever.

Suddenly, horrifyingly, out of nowhere, there was a flare of red and Balé seemed to rise into the air, only to stumble and collapse as her feet touched the ground again.

To Anakin's disbelieving eyes and heart the whole sequence appeared to take place in slow motion. He covered the last few meters between himself and his daughter in a single, gravity-defying leap, and caught the child's limp body from underneath before her head could touch the ground. Skidding to a stop on his knees, Anakin cradled Balé's small form in his arms, stubbornly and rebelliously refusing to acknowledge what all of his senses were telling him about what had just happened. Poulin arrived on Balé's other side a second later, but Anakin hardly registered him. He only saw the child.

"Balé," Anakin whispered urgently. "Balé! I'm here!"

Her eyes were closed and her head was flung back. Anakin didn't notice the dark red stain that appeared on her chest, seeping through her clothes and soaking his tunic. He only noticed her Force signature, as it wavered and fluctuated, and finally began to dissipate altogether.

No. Anakin thought, denying the evidence before him with all of his might. No.

Balé's body felt feather-light in Anakin's arms. He cradled her close to his heart, burying his face in her dusty, tangled hair.

No, he insisted again, as though sheer will could make it otherwise. Not again. Please, not again.

"I'm. I'm so sorry, Anakin," Poulin's voice suddenly said, out of nowhere. Anakin looked up, surprised to see him there. Poulin's face was caked with dust and tears. Anakin gazed at him in wonder. He had never seen Poulin look like that before.

Tec Andros' voice came from somewhere behind him, intruding dimly on Anakin's dream-like state of denial and shock.

"Skywalker," he said gruffly, "that was a stray shot. You left.I couldn't stop them all."

You left. Andros was blaming him for this? Anakin looked down at the child in his arms, and all of a sudden knew, without a doubt, that Balé was dead. He was cradling her familiar small body, but she was no longer there.

As his normal awareness began to return, Anakin had just enough time to take stock of his surroundings. Poulin was kneeling beside him, his presence in the Force a tortured knot of suffering. Not far beyond, a figure slowly standing up by the overturned speeder turned out to be Sabé, with a trail of blood trickling down the side of her face.Tec Andros now stood close behind Anakin, his blade still humming. the firefight seemed to have receded further into the distance.

And then a new voice, edgy and full of barely suppressed excitement, tore into Anakin's fragile awareness like a dull blade tearing flesh, and addressed Tec as though Anakin wasn't there.

"Master Kenobi said he was coming our way. What has he done?"

What have I done? Anakin's mind echoed in disbelief. The words tore away the last shreds of his dream-like sense of unreality. Anakin didn't turn around, and so he didn't see Tec Andros place a restraining hand on Lon Erian's arm.

Anakin looked down at his precious burden. Balé was gone. He had failed to protect her. All of his illusions fell away with that clear understanding, and with them, all of his many layers of inner shielding, leaving him completely unguarded and completely open to the Force. Bitter, undeniable reality took hold of Anakin's mind and heart, and shot through the core of his being only to emerge as a single, soundless scream.

NOOOO!!!!!

Encounter With Destiny II (Part II)


If the battle between Anakin and Tec had vibrated through the Force like a distant earthquake, Anakin's mute outpouring of grief and rage cascaded through it like an avalanche, engulfing everything in its path. The three Jedi closest to Anakin snapped backward like young trees in a gale as it crashed over them. As the shock wave surged outward across the Plaza and the road, expanding further and further, even the least Force-sensitive individuals stopped and were startled by something that they couldn't identify. But some of those innocent bystanders were even more baffled by the sight of a sprinting Jedi Knight suddenly being tossed into the air as though lifted by a violent gust of wind, only to fall flat on his face with his arms outstretched.

The wave hit Obi-Wan when he was no more than halfway across the Plaza. He knew instantly what was behind it. While the surge in the Force packed the power of an indifferent natural event, it was shot through with feeling. It was pure Anakin. Obi-Wan pulled himself together quickly, and covered the rest of the distance to the far end of the Plaza at speed. He kept his head clear and his emotions in balance, but a deeply buried part of his mind chanted, no, no, no, no in rhythm with his running feet.

* * * * *

Far on the other side of the Palace, somewhere below the East Wing, Padmé stumbled suddenly and violently, and fell to her knees in an agony of inexpressible pain. Holding her head in both hands, as though she could ease the anguish that tore though her mind, Padmé huddled under her brown Jedi cloak, rocking back and forth.

At the same time that Padmé fell, Master Medulla jerked backward and was slammed into the corridor wall by an invisible shockwave.

"Anakin," Padmé gasped, as she rocked and rocked. "Anakin. Something has happened to him - something terrible."

"I know," Master Medulla affirmed, recovering quickly. "Hurry on, Senator." He crouched beside her on one knee.

"He's in pain . the most terrible pain." Padmé sobbed, still rocking rock back and forth, trying not to black out from the inarticulate blast of grief and anguish that had ripped through her consciousness and heart and senses. She couldn't understand what it meant, but she could feel Anakin at its center as clearly as she once could when he still had allowed her to speak to him directly through her mind. as though she could still speak to him in her mind.

Anakin? she cried out silently.

Padmé, Anakin sobbed inside her mind as clearly as if he had been standing in front of her. Padmé.

I'm here, she sent back frantically, caught between relief that Anakin had reached out to her in this way once more, and terror at what he wasn't telling her. Padmé surged to her feet. "I have to go to him," she said wildly. "Now, Master Medulla."

"No, Senator," the Jedi Knight protested. "I have to get you to safety. There is no time to lose." He took hold of her arm to get her moving again.

"Don't you dare!" Padmé gasped, yanking her arm away. The distraught Senator and the determined Jedi Knight faced off against one another. "This ends here. Now. I'm going to find Anakin."

"If you are seen, you will be caught," Master Medulla said bluntly. "It's far to dangerous." He reached for her arm again, but Padmé stepped backward, poised and trembling like a hunted animal ready to flee.

"It's too dangerous for you, you mean," she hissed, continuing to sidle backwards. "If I'm caught, then so are the Jedi. You'll have a hard time explaining this little scheme of yours. Now either take me to Anakin or get out of my way."

Master Medulla looked at her in silence for a moment, but although he did not move or speak, Padmé suddenly became aware that his attention had shifted.

"Either way," he said at last, "it may already be to late." This time when he grabbed her arm there was nothing she could do to stop him. "This way," he whispered shortly, and pulled her into a dead run back the way they had come.

* * * * *

Master Yoda had always said that the path to the future was carved by destiny, but paved by individual choices. It was an ever-changing thoroughfare, and therefore one that could never fully be foreseen. One could only be ready for any eventuality. The ancient Master's words had echoed loudly in Master Windu's thoughts and reflections since embarking on this journey to Naboo; but they had never been clearer in his mind than now, as he stood facing the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic in a gracious suite in the central portion of the Palace at Theed. Behind the Chancellor a grand window framed the picture of the Plaza in chaos. A glimpse of the future, perhaps. And certainly an eventuality for which the Jedi Order had not been well enough prepared.

All at once, Mace felt the Force surge around him like a whirlwind. It took all of his skills to remain standing in the middle of that wild vortex; but he succeeded, only to be even more deeply disturbed by his observations of the man standing opposite him.

The Supreme Chancellor had barely moved. It was as though the untrammeled onslaught through the Force had not affected him at all. He appeared as impassive as if he had lacked any Force-sensitivity at all. What did that mean? Either the Jedi had been profoundly mistaken in their suspicions of the man, or..

But no. Palpatine looked into the distance, his face a perfect mask of calm - and yet his nostrils flared subtly, like those of a predator scenting blood. There was an eerie, cold light in his pale eyes, and for a moment the fleeting ghost of a smile appeared, only to vanish without a trace. Involuntarily, the Jedi Master shivered, and then gathered himself inwardly for all that was to come.

You were right, Master Yoda, he thought. You were right. This path can lead in any direction.

Palpatine broke the silence between them by activating his COM link and speaking into it. "The Jedi have removed Senator Amidala from her quarters," he said to an unknown person on the other side of the link, never removing his pale, icy gaze from Windu. "Find her, and bring her to me." Windu stared back at him, boldly, but said nothing.

"It seems the Jedi are not the servants of the Republic they proclaim themselves to be," Palpatine declared coldly.

Mace didn't know how or from whom the Chancellor had learned of the Jedi plot to kidnap the Senator and prevent her arrest and sentencing. But he knew that the die had been cast, and chance was not in their favor.

"We serve the Republic," Mace replied evenly. Outwardly placid, but inwardly coiled as tightly as a spring, the Jedi Master settled into a passive stance with his arms crossed and his hands hidden inside the loose sleeves of his tunic, and prepared to wait, or spring, as circumstances might require.

But not before he had activated a pre-arranged signal on the COM unit hidden inside his sleeve.

* * * * *

Obi-Wan's goal was in sight when his COM signaled. When he realized that it was the emergency code rather than a normal communication he halted in his headlong dash toward Anakin and turned his attention to the other part of his mission.

"Medulla," he snapped into the COM, heading reluctantly back toward the central portion of the Palace, "get the Senator away. Now. I'm on my way to you."

* * * * *

"Anakin," Poulin whispered, gingerly picking himself up from the ground where he had been flung seconds before by the Force-storm that had emanated from Anakin.

Wordlessly Anakin looked up. There was an oddly blank, distant look in his eyes, considering the violent upheaval he had just generated.

"Let me take her," Poulin said, with the greatest gentleness. "I'll take care of her. I'll take care of everything."

Anakin's eyes drifted back down to Balé's pale face.

Tentatively Poulin reached out for the child's bodily shell, where Anakin still cradled it close to his chest. Anakin didn't resist. Slowly, reverently, Poulin encircled Balé's remains with his own arms and drew her out of his friend's. Anakin allowed it. Poulin gathered the small corpse close to him and began to back away.

"Someone has to tell Sabé," the boy murmured, watching Anakin closely all the time. If he had harbored any hope that Anakin might take over that duty himself, it was dashed by the look in Anakin's eyes. Anakin didn't seem to be there at all. Poulin hesitated in his cautious backward journey, and then whispered, bravely, "Someone has to tell the Senator."

It was as though a plasma current had suddenly passed through Anakin. Without a word he leaped to his feet, turned and moved in the direction of the Palace, pushing past Lon and Master Andros as though they weren't there.

"Skywalker, wait," Master Andros demanded. Poulin flinched inwardly. Leave him alone, he thought. Just leave him alone. He kept moving backward, toward the wrecked transport and Sabé, holding his precious burden carefully.

"The Senator is no longer in the Palace, if that's where you're going," Lon pointed out to Anakin's retreating back, without much feeling. "She's on her way to our transport."

"Padawan." Master Andros, evidently the wiser, began, but it was too late. In two swift movements Anakin had whipped back round and taken Lon by the throat with his right hand.

"Where," Anakin growled, "is your transport? Where is she being taken?" Lon's feet were already well off the ground. Lon's eyes flicked toward Master Andros. Poulin couldn't tell whether it was a plea for help or to say, "see? I told you so."

"Let him go, Skywalker," Andros said with professional calm as he stepped closer to Anakin. "Deal with me."

Not good, Poulin thought. Not good at all. He kept backing away from the scene. He could hear Sabé calling Balé's name behind him.

Anakin didn't answer. In the time it would have taken him to say, "as you wish," Lon was sprawling on the Plaza several meters away, clutching his throat with both hands, and Anakin had exploded into a dead run in the direction of the Palace, with Master Andros hard on his heels.

"Poulin, is she hurt?" Sabé's worried voice was right behind him. "What happened?"

There were no words.

Chapter 43. Dark Deeds


"Where are you going?" a thoroughly unwelcome voice growled behind Anakin. He had made it as far as the grand entrance to the Palace before Tec Andros caught up with him, breathing heavily.

Anakin had no intention of answering. He had no intention of giving the Jedi any thought at all. He knew where Padmé was - his brief contact with her through the Force had been like switching on a homing beacon - and that was all that mattered. She wasn't far. And so he ignored his pursuer.

The vast stairs in front of the grand Palace doors were remarkably clear of people. A few cloned troopers clustered on either side, dwarfed by mammoth marble statues that stared indifferently down on them. Anakin had made it up the first long, wide tier of steps when Andros grabbed him by the arm. Of all the stupid. Anakin beat him off and kept going.

"Skywalker!"

It wasn't hearing his name called that finally halted Anakin in his tracks. It was the insufferable drone of the man's lightsaber igniting. Would that son of a rancid Ta'an never stop plaguing him? Anakin whirled around.

"Leave me alone!" he roared into the sweating Jedi's face. "Just leave me alone!" He was even more outraged when he detected the calming Force-wave that was directed at him, and instantly he twisted it back onto its source, more like a claw now than a wave. Andros staggered, but held his ground. Now that he was facing the Plaza again, Anakin suddenly noticed Lon racing toward them.

Oh, for the love of.

It took Anakin no more than a split second to weigh his options. The memory of Padmé's presence in his mind - that light, the solace that he had missed so much - filled up all the raw spaces inside of him and gave him something to hold onto. She was unconditionally reaching out to him. Waiting for him. He had to go. They had to go together. Anakin dismissed the two Jedi before him from his mind. Instead of reaching for his weapon, he hurled himself up the stairs, through the door, and into the surprisingly empty and echoing grand foyer of the Palace.

Two enormous, soaring staircases flanked the ornate, vaulted entry hall. Either one of them could accommodate six people walking side by side. Gleaming white marble statues overlooked the stairs and punctuated the pinkish marble walls of the spacious hallway. Straight ahead, and on either side of the foyer at the foot of the stairways, were high vaulted archways leading through to further halls. Anakin paused for a split second to choose a direction.

But of course the Jedi had followed him, and they overtook him before Anakin had made up his mind. And all at once both Jedi had their weapons out, and were creeping toward him from two sides as though he were some kind of wild animal that they sought to tame. They were even trying to use the Force to ensnare him.

No. He would NOT be caught. Not now, not ever.

As Anakin's own intentions crystallized and mounted through the Force like thunderclouds, he realized that a already a duel had begun. It had begun in the Force, even before any weapons were used. By now his weapon had leaped into his hand, sizzling with pale blue light, but the hand remained still. Instead, the power of his desires, of his will, fought against the cunning and treacherous invisible snares that emanated from Andros, and to a lesser extent from Lon, as they tried to encircle him and shackle him with binders forged in the Force. It was a higher-level battle than Anakin was accustomed to fighting, and it required absolute focus. The palatial hall was eerily quiet as the Force surged and curled and wound around the silent combatants.

They circled one another, their faces and arms and shoulders stage-lit by the flare of their humming weapons, while they pushed, and tested and probed one another through the Force.

Anakin didn't tolerate that soundless struggle for long. He just wanted out. That fierce, burning desire quickly coalesced into a bludgeon of Force energy that he slammed into both Jedi simultaneously. With only a flinch Andros withstood the onslaught, but Lon was knocked off his feet sideways and slid helplessly across the polished marble floor, leaving a deep gouge in the hard stone with the weapon he still clutched in his hand. Anakin tried the same tactic again, still hoping to get away, but this time the Force heaved around Andros in a mighty whorl that deflected the next slam, even though it arrived with the impact of a crashing speeder.

Gods, Andros was good.

Anakin crouched down, and focused, and got in the first decisive slash with his lightsaber before Andros detected his intent. It caught the Jedi on the shoulder, releasing a jolt of pain into the Force. But Andros hardly wavered. Anakin's second slash met with an instant counterstrike from Andros' blue-green blade, and suddenly the lofty hall was filled with the piercing quartertone whine and grating crashes of lightsabers locked in vicious combat.

Anakin matched Andros blow for blow, searching constantly for openings and weaknesses. So far, there were none. If Andros had looked winded when he first had caught up with Anakin, there was no sign of it now. The Jedi was fully attuned to the Force. Its strength was his.

And so it is with me, Anakin thought. He moved faster than thought, as effortlessly as a breath. His senses encompassed the whole hallway, the grand staircase, and beyond. Without faltering for a moment in his complex duel with Andros, Anakin detected that Lon had recovered, felt him moving closer, and perceived the intent behind his next move before it was made. Without so much as a glance behind him Anakin danced his blade backwards and forward in a blinding figure of eight to block the thrust the Padawan had aimed at his back without leaving any opening for Andros. Lon tried another attack from behind while Andros closed in further from the front. Unhesitatingly, Anakin leaped over their heads and landed where he was no longer caught between the two Jedi, but instead faced both of them. This was much better.

"We're not here to kill you, Skywalker," Andros insisted rather unconvincingly, considering that he was in full battle mode, "but to bring you before the Council for their judgment." The two Jedi began to advance on Anakin slowly.

"You could have fooled me," Anakin retorted. His attention was on Lon, who was trying to slip around behind him again. Anakin moved back, closer to the nearest wall, foiling his move.

"Don't think we won't, if we have to," Andros said plainly. "We will do our duty. But you can end this right now by putting down your weapon."

A second lightsaber, Anakin thought dispassionately, ignoring the Jedi's foolish rhetoric. That's what I need.

Lon's would do nicely.

Anakin sidled further back toward the wall. He knew Lon. He knew his style, the way he thought, and above all he knew his limitations. He had taught him, after all.

It's a pity he didn't allow me to teach him more.

Anakin gathered himself, and leaped again - this time straight up as far as the soaring banister high above. Holding onto it with his strong right hand, Anakin used his feet to push off from the wall beneath and somersaulted down to a point directly behind Lon, placing the Padawan between himself and Andros. Lon turned to face him a second too late. Anakin was just about to separate Lon's hand from the hilt of his sword with the tip of his own blade when a blue-green blade caught Anakin's pale blue one with such power that he barely was able to keep his grip on it.

Blast you, Andros.

Anakin dropped like a stone, rolled under Andros' powerful thrust, and sprang up to face the two Jedi once again. Lon was smiling. Andros was not.

It seemed that, in the same way Anakin had studied Lon, and had the measure of him, Andros had done the same with Anakin. Andros was even faster and more accurate than he had been earlier that morning in the hangar. In fact, all of his moves seemed tailor-made to match anything Anakin had come up with. So far.

Smoldering frustration and impatience had escalated into a slow burn in Anakin's gut. He was tired of this. He was tired of them. By all the stars in the Galaxy, he was even tired of himself. He just wanted out. He wanted Padmé, and he wanted her now. He gripped his lightsaber in his right hand. His Force-channeling left hand pointed straight at the middle of Lon's chest.

The tall Padawan flew backward as helplessly as a droid might have, only to smash into the towering, heavy carved Palace doors. Lon crumpled onto the floor in front of them. Even before he hit the floor the pale green glow of his weapon extended from Anakin's hand, not Lon's. Anakin didn't spare him a further thought.

Holding the two lightsabers crossed in front of him, Anakin snarled at Andros. "Back down. Now."

"You know I can't do that," Andros growled. "And you're not getting away with this. With any of this."

Neither Anakin nor Andros looked away from the eyes of the other. Brown eyes and blue, their gazes locked. And held.

In the end, it was Anakin who lunged first.

* * * * *

Padmé and her Jedi protector were sprinting up a dark service stairway when Obi-Wan appeared on the broad landing in front of them so suddenly and unexpectedly that Padmé let out a stifled shriek of surprise.

"Not this way," he said hurriedly, without any greeting. "Republic troops are on their way." He jumped lightly down the last few steps to Padmé's side. "We've been found out. The Army is under orders to find the Senator and take her into custody."

"I thought it was something like that," Master Medulla said shortly. "It's no better the way we came."

Padmé hadn't taken her eyes off Obi-Wan's face. "Where is Anakin?" she demanded.

"Shhhh," he warned, and continued to speak to Medulla over her head. "We need to get out with the Senator any way we can. The rest will follow as and when they are able."

"My Padawan?" Medulla asked sharply.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "Gone astray," he admitted reluctantly.

Medulla's lips compressed.

"I asked you a question, Obi-Wan!" Padmé barked, lowering her voice only a little. "Where is Anakin?"

The forbidding look on Obi-Wan's face terrified her. "It seems you don't understand the precariousness of your position right now, Padmé. We have to get you away from here. And you have to forget about Anakin." He encircled her shoulders with his arm to guide her back down the stairs they had just run up, only to let out a surprised grunt when Padmé elbowed him viciously in the stomach.

"What are you talking about?" she growled. "I demand to see him. Now."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, but didn't release her shoulders. His arm was as unyielding as a durasteel rod. Padmé pushed against him, but he held her easily.

"Anakin has violated every standard, every rule of the Jedi Order - and who knows how many others outside the Order. When we find him he will be brought to the Temple for judgment. And believe me, we will find him." He gripped Padmé's shoulders even more tightly, carefully restraining her from lashing out at him. "Don't you understand, Padmé?" he went on in a hoarse, broken whisper. "He's as good as gone. No one can save him now. Not even me."

"How can you say that?" Padmé gritted out between clenched teeth. "You can't give up on him like that. He's not going to harm anyone!" She brought her leg up to try to kick out at him, but there wasn't enough space between them.

"Oh, Padmé," Obi-Wan whispered sadly. "He already has."

For a moment, Padmé's heart stopped in fear. is it possible? Then she remembered Anakin's cry of pure suffering. If anything, Anakin was the one being harmed. "No!" She snarled. "He hasn't. He wouldn't. You're wrong."

Implacably, Obi-Wan continued, "He has, and he will again, Padmé. Anakin's lost to you, to me, to everyone. He can't help you. He can't even help himself."

"It's not true!" Padmé began to call out to Anakin again in her mind, over and over again, while pulling desperately against Obi-Wan's unyielding grip.

ANAKIN!

There was no answer.

Oh, Gods, there was no answer.

"Is he dead?" Padmé could barely get the words out.

Obi-Wan startled, and then hesitated. That single hesitation stabbed into Padmé's heart like a dagger. She grabbed a handful of her captor's tunic and twisted it with all her fear and rage, pulling his face closer to hers.

"Is. he. dead?" she hissed.

Obi-Wan didn't try to extract himself from her furious grip. Meekly he lowered his head toward hers and whispered, "He's gone, Padmé. Whatever happens, he is gone."

Whatever happens.that means he might still be alive. He IS alive. He has to be.

"He's not lost," Padmé spat. "You've abandoned him. And I will never forgive you for this, Obi-Wan. Never." Panting with the effort, she pushed him away wildly, and tried again to struggle out of his grasp.

* * * * *

The sound of voices and booted feet could already be heard echoing in the stairwell above. Obi-Wan looked up over Padmé's head into the compassionate eyes of his brother Jedi and raised his eyebrows slightly. Medulla nodded imperceptibly. Obi-Wan's hand slipped gently along Padmé's shoulder and to a very specific point on her neck, known only to a few. He pressed once, sharply, and Padmé crumpled instantly into complete unconsciousness. Master Medulla caught her from behind and gently lifted her limp body into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Padmé," Obi-Wan whispered. "We can move faster this way."

"Let's try the lower corridor," Medulla said quietly, running lightly back down the narrow stairway with his burden. "There are fewer."

Obi-Wan followed behind like a shadow.

* * * * *

Tec Andros wasn't surprised that Skywalker had chosen to fight rather than give himself up; but it saddened him. The young man was deeply unstable - a kaleidoscope of shifting emotions. So unlike a Jedi. Worse yet, those emotions were almost completely unshielded in the Force since Skywalker's furious outburst on the Plaza. For Tec, it was like trying to fight in the glare of a supernova. Very difficult. Very dangerous. The veteran fighter found himself drawing on everything he had ever learned from a lifetime as a Jedi.

Skywalker appeared to be everywhere at once, and with the two sabers, he seemed almost unstoppable. It was like fighting the Force itself. Whereas other Jedi spent their lives learning to know, to trust, and to use their ally, the Force, this one would have had the opposite struggle - he would have had to learn to contain himself, to dampen down his instincts and impulses; he would have struggled to learn to control his boundless access to the Force.

What a gift. What a waste. If only he would stop fighting and yield.

Tec didn't want to kill the young man. What he wanted at all costs was to prevent Skywalker from placing that powerful conduit to the Force at the disposal of the darkest forces in the Galaxy. Skywalker needed to be contained until the Council could deal with him.

It was like trying to contain a nuclear blast.

And Tec was on his own, embroiled in the duel of his life with an opponent who was so wrapped up in himself, so filled with the shadows of darkness, that he couldn't be reached with the light of reason.

Tec could use the help of the other Jedi right about now. A team of five could capture even Skywalker in short order. Tec probed the Padawan behind him. He was coming to, slowly. Good. Lon was no match for Skywalker; few were. But he would be useful in dividing Skywalker's attention.

He'd have to disable Skywalker, severely, if necessary. Without more help, there was no other way.

* * * * *

The duel in the Palace entry hall had created disturbances in the Force the way a sharply rising wind whips anything in its path into turmoil. Mace Windu felt the tremor keenly, and wondered whether his counterpart did as well.

"The choice is yours, Master Windu," Palpatine was saying unequivocally. "Turn Senator Amidala over to me now. If you do not, there will be very little I can do to save the Jedi Order from humiliation and dishonor."

Mace had known for a while just how thoroughly he had been outplayed. The only question had been when to retreat, and how. The duel that could now be felt through the Force had answered that question for him. It was as though, in the few short hours since the Jedi's arrival on Naboo, the entire balance of power in the Galaxy had shifted. And the catalyst for the shift was the volatile and unpredictable Anakin Skywalker.

Senator Amidala was no longer the Jedi mission's primary objective. Anakin was. It was time to collect Skywalker by whatever means necessary, and to retreat.

For now, anyway.

Never allowing his eyes to stray from Palpatine's face, Mace raised his small COM unit to his lips and asked Obi-Wan for a status report.

It was terrible pity. Mace had hoped that he had stalled long enough for his team to arrive at the Jedi transport with Senator Amidala. If they had, there might still have been a chance to save the idealistic young Senator. She represented the best of the Galaxy, and her trial and execution would have far-reaching repercussions. But, sadly, the Jedi team and the Senator were still inside the Palace.

Under Palpatine's unrelenting gaze Mace gave the order to turn the Senator over to the Army. He was confident that his team would understand and act on what he had left unspoken.

"Then we have no further business, You Excellency," Mace rumbled. "And I shall take my leave."

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic nodded once, dismissively, and turned away.

* * * * *

Andros was powerful, and determined, but he wasn't invincible. Anakin fought like a machine, his twin blades blocking and parrying and attacking with precision and speed that left the Jedi no quarter.

As Anakin advanced and began to gain the advantage, he suddenly realized that he had a new problem. He had to decide what to do next.

Andros wasn't going to stop. Anakin would have to kill the Jedi to make him stop.

He hadn't intended to kill a Jedi. He didn't care much about Andros, but he did care about getting away, and keeping the Jedi off his back thereafter. Killing a Jedi would ensure that he remained in the crosshairs of the Order's attention forever.

The tiny hesitation in Anakin's strength of purpose had made him pause almost imperceptibly. Andros saw the minuscule opening and attacked with a vicious downward slash that would have cost Anakin the use of his arm, had it been flesh. Andros' blade sliced through Anakin's sleeve and glove, gouging the gleaming metal of his artificial limb. Flesh would not have been as resilient. For once Anakin was glad of the wretched thing.

Andros' attack had missed any important components in the arm; but it had ended Anakin's equivocation instantly. The Force suddenly whirled into a vortex around the Jedi, knocking him backwards onto the floor. With both hands on the hilt of his blue-green lightsaber, the prone Andros fought valiantly against Anakin's flashing blades, but Anakin had him. He knew it. Without hesitating, Anakin lunged downward - straight for Andros' heart - only to be knocked sideways by a rocketing deadweight that slammed him against the marble floor and made him lose his grip on one of the lightsabers.

Lon had jumped him. He had forgotten all about the idiot.

Anakin threw the unarmed Padawan off with an angry heave. Lon dived for the loose saber. It was his own green one. He grabbed it, surged to his feet, and lunged.

Anakin didn't have time to get up. Instead he scrambled forward, feet first, toward the attacking Padawan, and kicked his legs out from under him, using a generous push from the Force for good measure. Lon toppled over backwards and smashed into the base of a graceful statue, but Andros was already on his feet and looming over Anakin. The Jedi swung his blue-green blade like a scythe. Anakin' belly exploded into fiery pain and the shreds of his utility belt flew to either side. It took every ounce of his strength for Anakin to roll away to avoid the return swing. He kicked out, trying to unbalance Andros as he had done Lon, but the initial shock of pain had slowed his reflexes. Andros slashed at Anakin again, and again.

Anakin barely managed to avoid the blows. He was in agony. He brought his remaining saber up to counter the Jedi's, only to have it knocked out of his hand. At last, purely acting on willpower, Anakin managed to hurl enough Force energy against his foe to unbalance him. With an overwhelming effort, he twisted sideways to kick out at Andros one more time. This time he connected, and Andros went down hard. Lon still hadn't moved. Anakin collapsed briefly from the exertion, with his cheek against the cold, smooth floor.

And then he saw it.

It must have fallen out of his severed utility belt.

A small, rounded object with two long prongs.

Obi-Wan had sent it to him ages ago. He had forgotten all about it. Anakin always had carried it around in his belt, although he hadn't known why.

This must be why.

Anakin wrenched himself around so that he could pick up the life-Force disruptor weapon in his artificial hand. The wound across his belly was throbbing with scorching pain that made it hard to focus. With his left hand pressing against his belly, Anakin forced himself to sit up.

Andros was on his knees, staring at the object in Anakin's hand in horror. Then he raised his eyes to meet Anakin's.

You wouldn't, they seemed to say. Andros gripped his lightsaber.

Yes, I would, Anakin thought. Somehow, using strength he didn't know he had, Anakin threw himself onto the Jedi just as Andros was bringing his saber down for a killing blow, activated the weapon in his hand, and plunged the prongs deeply into his enemy's heart. Anakin let go of the sinister weapon immediately, but he couldn't avoid absorbing a virulent shock that left him gasping on the floor. The blue-green blade fell out of Andros' hand, clattered to the floor, and deactivated itself suddenly.

It was a sure sign that Andros was dead.

And even through his pain and rage, Anakin knew that he had crossed into a place from which he could not return.

* * * * *

Obi-Wan ran through the lower corridor of the Palace alone. He had only the Force to guide him, because his eyes were blurred with bitter, unshed tears of grief and outrage. He hadn't realized that he still had it in him. Only a direct order from a member of the Jedi Council could have made him hand Padmé over to the gray-uniformed Commander of the Army detail that had stopped and surrounded the Jedi and their captive. With Padmé to protect, he and Medulla might not have prevailed in a skirmish with the soldiers, but Obi-Wan would rather have died fighting than relinquish her as he had been ordered to.

Of course he had woken Padmé up before transferring custody. She deserved the dignity of knowing her fate. She deserved.oh, Stars, she deserved so much more than this.

We failed her. I failed her.

He had sent Medulla to find his Padawan, and was now racing toward an equally heartbreaking task - the one that Mace had not mentioned in his order, but that every Jedi on the team now understood was primary. To capture Anakin.

I failed them both.

Bizarrely, Obi-Wan felt more sympathy toward Anakin than he had in a long time. He understood how easy it would be to give in to resentment and ... and fury. Obi-Wan fought down the thought, wrestled with his feelings, and ran, all the while trying and failing to forget the look in Padmé's eyes when the Army commander had taken her by the arm. The last look she had given him. so full of anger and. and.betrayal.

I will never forgive you for this, Obi-Wan. Never.

And why should she, when he could not forgive himself?

Suddenly a wrenching disturbance in the Force made him redouble his speed. Tec! Obi-Wan sensed his friend's agony. and then nothing.

He hurtled toward the heart of the Palace.

* * * * *

"You are a monster," Lon shouted hoarsely from somewhere behind Anakin.

The sound roused Anakin out of his shock. Instantly, he scrambled for his lightsaber and managed to get to his feet. Stars, he hurt - not only from the wound in his belly, but from the after-effects of the life-Force disruptor. Lon was still on the floor, his face a mess of blood, probably from a scalp wound. But his lightsaber was in his hand, and ignited.

Anakin stared at Lon incredulously. He'd defended himself - that was all. But the horror and revulsion on Lon's face, or at least on what Anakin could see of his face under the streaming blood, suddenly brought home to Anakin just how far his actions had taken him away from the life he had always envisioned for himself.

"Are you going to kill me, too?" Lon yelled, his voice shaking. "How about Master Kenobi? Why not Master Windu, while you're at it? Why don't you just kill us all?"

Blasted Jedi. They forced me into this. Anakin decided that he'd had enough of them.

"Not today," he said contemptuously, and turned to go.

"You're mad," Lon whispered, in horror. "You're simply mad."

Anakin paused, stubbing the ground near the Andros' corpse with his toe. His blue blade still sizzled in his hand, all but forgotten.

"Am I?" Anakin wondered out loud. "Perhaps. But that doesn't change what you are. You're nothing but a spineless hypocrite." He wondered why he was lingering, and then realized that he had lost a great deal of his strength. The pain in his belly was worse. He needed a moment to recover. The Padawan was no threat.

"Don't get me wrong," Anakin went on conversationally, playing for time. Each new breath brought him a little more strength. "I would love to kill you. It would give me great personal pleasure. But would be too easy - far too easy."

"You're dangerous. and. and. evil," Lon spat. "As long as you are alive, no one is safe."

"Who's going to kill me?" Anakin taunted, still stubbing his toe on the floor. Still taking careful, energizing breaths. "You?"

Anakin didn't even have to look up to see the blade that suddenly surged up at him from below. He knew Lon far better than Lon knew himself. Even in his weakened state, Anakin could sense Lon's desperate attack before it happened. He caught and deflected the blow easily with his blue blade, never even removing his hand from his belly.

"Go away," Anakin said tiredly, blocking and defending where he had to. "Go away and live your pathetic life as a Jedi."

Lon's face was distorted with fury. He somehow had managed to heave himself up off the floor, and began to attack Anakin with powerful two-handed thrusts that were probably using up every bit of his remaining strength.

Anakin fought back automatically, wondering whether Lon would give up the fight after all. Whether he had the guts to go on living and face himself every day. Yet Lon kept attacking ferociously.

When he finally decided that the outcome was inevitable, Anakin fought back swiftly, powerfully, and effectively. In three strokes Lon lay dead on the floor, pierced through the heart by Anakin's singing blue blade.

Anakin disengaged his lightsaber and poked thoughtfully at Lon's body with his toe.

"That was the easy way out, Lon," he said indifferently. "You always were a coward."

Chapter 44. Dark Armistice (Part I)


When Obi-Wan finally found Anakin, he came upon a horrific scene that would remain etched in his memory until the last moment of his life. His former Padawan was standing over the body of his new Padawan. There was no doubt that Lon was dead, and that he had died by Anakin's hand.

Obi-Wan had arrived in the grand foyer through one of the archways at the foot of a staircase. Anakin's back was to him. Oddly, Anakin didn't appear to have noticed Obi-Wan's presence yet. That was very unusual.

Obi-Wan crept further into the silent hallway. After passing the foot of the stairs his view of the space expanded enough to permit him a clear view of a second dead Jedi.

Tec, too. Obi-Wan felt sick. He defeated them both.

Anakin's head was bowed. His artificial arm hung at his side, barely covered by tatters of cloth, the hilt of his lightsaber clutched in his metallic hand. Anakin's other arm seemed to be folded over his stomach.

Despite his better judgment, Obi-Wan moved even closer. Anakin didn't turn around. He didn't stir at all.

But his lightsaber abruptly flared to life.

Obi-Wan froze.

"Are you planning to be next, Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice sounded disembodied. Distant. As though it were coming from very far away.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. "What have you done?"

"I had no choice." Anakin didn't turn around.

A hundred questions collided in Obi-Wan's mind. The answers to most of them could be seen, or inferred. He struggled to formulate the real question in his heart. The thing he ached to know. The words finally tumbled out in a hoarse growl.

"How far are you going to take this, Anakin?"

Anakin continued to look at the floor, a solitary, dark, battle-worn figure at odds with the gracious, ornate hallway. Was he contemplating the horrific results of his actions? Or preparing to attack? Obi-Wan couldn't be sure. The silence in the hallway was oppressive. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion. Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, and waited.

"What have you done with Padmé?" Anakin asked, almost conversationally. Almost. There was an undertone to his question that put Obi-Wan's nerves on edge. Before he could answer, Anakin finally turned to look at him. His eyes were cold. "You took her," Anakin declared. "I want to know where she is now."

For an insane moment, an irrational, unexpected, and altogether subversive ray of hope dawned in Obi-Wan's heart. If anyone could save Padmé, it was Anakin. He was the independent agent, the wild card in this truly loathsome situation.

His own thoughts shocked Obi-Wan. The mere fact that he was thinking along those lines, that he would even consider it, set off warning claxons in his mind. For some reason it reminded him of the iconoclastic character of his old Master. This was a thought Qui-Gon Jinn would have entertained. Not Obi-Wan.

But he couldn't forget the look in Padmé's eyes. All she had wanted was to find Anakin. All Anakin seemed to want was to find her. And yet Obi-Wan had obediently handed her to the Army, and to certain death. Guilt-ridden and momentarily uncertain, Obi-Wan moved closer to his rogue ex-Padawan, who did not move at all.

"I've lost her, Anakin. I took her to keep her safe, but I failed. She is out of my reach now."But perhaps she is not out of yours. Obi-Wan watched Anakin keenly for any sign of understanding, all of his senses on highest alert.

Anakin snorted in disbelief. "You took her to lure me closer, you mean." His lightsaber was still hissing in his metallic hand. "And now you've lost her?" For a long moment their eyes bored into one another's, and Obi-Wan had no idea what would happen next. Anakin was completely unreadable.

"Where is she now?" Anakin asked again, breaking the silence. Obi-Wan had the clear impression that he would not ask again.

"The Army has her in custody," Obi-Wan replied, much more calmly than he felt.

Anakin suddenly became readable. His abrupt flare of anger hit Obi-Wan like the stab of a blade. "I could have protected her, if you'd let me. If you hadn't interfered. I could have kept her safe."

This was going nowhere. There was no time to lose.

"Anakin, listen," Obi-Wan began. "It may not be too late."

He killed two Jedi! the rational part of Obi-Wan's mind roared, stopping him in mid-sentence. He couldn't believe that he was contemplating letting Anakin go after . after this . Obi-Wan tore his attention away from Anakin's mesmerizing stare and looked down almost disbelievingly at Lon, and then allowed his eyes drift to Tec, his friend and companion of so many years.

And then he saw it. A small, rounded object stuck in Tec's chest over his heart. A life-Force disruptor. Anakin had used it to kill Tec.

That wasn't self-defense. That was cold-blooded murder.

Obi-Wan's uncertainty vanished along with any lingering hope, or trust. Reflexively his lightsaber flashed into his hand.

He thought he was prepared for anything. He was wrong. He was not prepared for the viciousness - the pure, cold fury - of Anakin's instant pre-emptive attack.

"Stay out of my way!" Anakin yelled, slashing and cutting furiously. Obi-Wan couldn't have spoken if he had wanted to. He was moving too fast. He had to keep moving. Every move he made was merely a second's reprieve from the same fate Lon and Tec had suffered.

He'll kill us all, Obi-Wan thought disjointedly. He's willing to kill us all.

And then suddenly, there was a brief respite - the tiniest of pauses in Anakin's onslaught, as Anakin's attention shifted - up. Up?

Yes, up. Mace Windu was on his way down. And he hadn't bothered with the last flight of stairs - he had jumped from the soaring landing. Mace alighted on Anakin's other side, his distinctive purple lightsaber active and ready, trapping Anakin between himself and Obi-Wan.

"Stop this now, Anakin," Windu rumbled, almost before he landed lightly on his feet. "You're wounded. Let us help you. Calm down. There has been more than enough killing already."

Obi-Wan hadn't really noticed Anakin's wound. From the moment Anakin had turned to face him, Obi-Wan's gaze had been riveted by Anakin's fathomless eyes.

I don't know him any more, Obi-Wan realized. I no longer know who he is.

Anakin backed away, watching the two Jedi warily.

He looks like a cornered animal, Obi-Wan thought suddenly, with a sharp pang of pity. He saw Anakin take a measured breath, and then another, and understood what he was doing. Anakin was hurting, and would probably be quick to tire. Obi-Wan began to slide around behind his quarry, but was thwarted by another sudden and vicious attack from Anakin. It was all Obi-Wan could do to stand his ground, but Mace intervened quickly and Anakin backed off a little.

He fights like a wounded animal, too, Obi-Wan thought ruefully. Pity could be deadly.

"Stop fighting, Anakin," Obi-Wan urged, hoping against hope that Anakin could be reached. "Lay down your weapon. It's over. You can't win. Don't make us destroy you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Anakin snarled from somewhere deep down in his throat. He was still crouched down, backing and circling, as dangerous as a thermal detonator on a hair trigger. "You'd like to be rid of me. To wipe out the mistake that you made by agreeing to train me."

"Stop it, Anakin," Obi-Wan begged. "Don't do this."

In answer, Anakin lunged at him. He was unbelievably fast, and almost impossible to predict. He wasn't telegraphing anything. Obi-Wan's only recourse was to dive to the floor and scramble away from the barrage of slashes from Anakin's pale blue lightsaber. It was an inelegant move, but an effective one - for about a second. Anakin was on top of him again instantly. Obi-Wan was trying to fight his way up off the floor and onto his feet when a very determined Force push sent him sliding backwards across the polished floor, and Mace Windu took his place as the object of Anakin's fury.

Obi-Wan could have sworn that push had come from Mace, not from Anakin. That was strange.

He surged forward again to re-join the fight that by now was raging up and down the foyer, only to be pushed helplessly away again.

What in blazes was Mace doing?

Actually, it looked like he was winning. The duel was a dazzling display of speed and swordsmanship on both sides, but as Obi-Wan had predicted, Anakin's burst of strength and speed had been short-lived. He was gradually tiring and slowing as a result of the wound. Mace was all over him. It wouldn't be long now. if only Anakin would yield.

"Stop!" A voice rang out suddenly, echoing around the vaulted foyer. That single word was like nothing the combatants had heard before. It was not so much a cry as a command - not so much a sound as an irrefutable impulse.

Obi-Wan looked up, toward the source of that uncanny voice, and saw the Supreme Chancellor making his way slowly - almost majestically - down one of the sweeping staircases of the grand palace foyer. Six red-robed elite guards flanked him in a formation of three and three.

Both Anakin's and Mace's arms dropped in mid-attack; the blades of their weapons suddenly and simultaneously retracted, and in the time it took a human heart to beat twice the only sounds that echoed between the pillars and statues were the ragged breathing of the duelists and the staccato tap of the Elite Guard's lances on the polished floor as they adopted a standing formation around the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.

Obi-Wan looked down and noted, with surprise, that his weapon also had been stilled.

Heedless of the two prone, twisted bodies on the floor, and of the breathless tension among the three combatants, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic moved unhesitatingly to the center of the vast entry hall and, together with his geometrically-placed guard, stopped.

Mace and Anakin, mortal enemies only seconds before, stole surreptitious glances at one another, suddenly allied in their confusion about the sudden cessation of all action.

"That is quite enough of this," the Supreme Chancellor said in a quiet voice that nevertheless filled the cavernous space.

No one moved or spoke.

"This is a travesty," Palpatine went on. "A mockery. I will not allow it."

Still no one spoke. Not even Mace Windu. Obi-Wan felt as though his powers of speech had suddenly left him. He wondered if the same was true of the others.

"Anakin," the Chancellor commanded, "come here."

Moving like a sleepwalker, Anakin went to stand in front of the Supreme Chancellor.

"Stand here by me," his former mentor ordered. "You will not be harmed." Obi-Wan saw Anakin search the Chancellor's face and his eyes for a moment, as though looking for a clue as to his purpose. There was nothing to be seen but a level gaze and a perfectly composed visage. Anakin bowed, and did as he had been told. The six red-robed guards re-formed around the Chancellor and Anakin.

"Master Windu," the Chancellor then demanded, turning to look at the Jedi Master. "What is the meaning of this attack against a member of your own Order? What has become of the Jedi, that you would openly battle one another in this way?"

"This is an internal matter to the Jedi Order, Your Excellency," Mace said severely. He certainly had no difficulty speaking. "This young man is a dangerous rogue. The Jedi Order has the right and the duty to deal with him as we see fit."

"A rogue?" Palpatine asked incredulously. "Anakin?" He turned to look at the panting, wounded, disheveled figure beside him, and then back at Mace. "I find that very difficult to believe."

Mace did not waver. "He murdered two Jedi, Your Excellency. We will deal with him according to our Code."

This time the Supreme Chancellor's gaze swept the entire foyer, taking in the bodies of Lon and Tec Andros, and returned once again to rest on the Jedi Master's face.

"Ah, yes. The Jedi Code." Palpatine paused, as if thinking. No one said a word. He took his time. "If I recall correctly," he said finally, "in order to amicably end his association with your Order, a Jedi must surrender his weapon upon stating his intentions to separate. Is that correct, Master Windu?"

"It is." Despite the studied calm of his demeanor, something in Mace was beginning to build into a thunderous tension that was palpable to all present.

"Then we will resolve this amicably." Palpatine turned to Anakin. "Hand over your weapon to Master Windu, young Skywalker." It was a direct order. Anakin visibly startled, and clutched at the hilt of his lightsaber. "Do it!" Palpatine ordered. Walking almost like a puppet on strings, Anakin took a few reluctant, awkward steps toward Mace and, with infinite slowness, held out the cylinder toward the Jedi with his gleaming metallic hand.

Obi-Wan held his breath, fascinated and disbelieving.

Mace did not take the proffered weapon. "On behalf of the Jedi Council, I do not accept Skywalker's voluntary separation from the Order," he rumbled. His eyes were on Palpatine, not Anakin. "He is a criminal, and will be dealt with as such, by us."

Visibly outraged, Anakin snatched back his hand and retreated two quick steps toward the Supreme Chancellor. There was a long, spine-tingling pause, until Palpatine finally spoke again.

"I suggest, Master Jedi, that, on behalf of the Jedi Council, you consider carefully the position of the Order in light of recent events." His voice was louder and angrier than Obi-Wan had ever heard it. In his experience, Palpatine was never ruffled, no matter what the circumstances.

But of course, these were not ordinary circumstances. If his suspicions were right, Palpatine was laying claim to his prize. Obi-Wan waited with desperation to see what Mace would do.

Mace held Palpatine's gaze for a long time. Then he turned to look at Anakin. "Kneel," he growled.

"What?" Anakin looked more ready to engage his weapon again than to hand it over.

"The Code requires that you kneel when surrendering your weapon." Mace's voice had a dangerous edge that he took no pains to hide.

"No," Anakin gasped. "I will not."

The atmosphere became electric. Obi-Wan could feel the hairs rising on his arms and on the back of his neck.

"If you do not kneel, I will not accept your weapon and your voluntary separation from the Order!" Mace thundered at Anakin.

"I will not kneel before you!" Anakin shouted, the hilt of his weapon gripped tightly in his hand.

Suddenly Palpatine was standing directly beside Anakin, holding out his hand. "Give me your weapon, Anakin." Startled, Anakin turned to look at the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic with bewilderment written all over his face. "Give it to me!" Palpatine ordered.

And remarkably, astonishingly, in a gesture that Obi-Wan would never forget, Anakin obeyed. He pressed the hilt of his lightsaber into the older man's hand, and dropped his eyes to the floor. Palpatine took it brusquely and handed it directly to Mace.

"That will do," he snapped. "As of this moment, Anakin Skywalker has voluntarily severed his connection with the Jedi Order. He is a free citizen of the Galaxy, and you will respect his rights as such."

Mace took the proffered weapon in stony silence.

"And now," Supreme Chancellor Palpatine said frostily, "the Jedi presence here on Naboo is no longer welcome. I suggest you go."

Mace looked at Anakin's weapon in his hand. Then, without a word, he nodded at Obi-Wan.

Still reeling with shock at what had just transpired, Obi-Wan moved forward to pick up the body of his dead Padawan, along with Lon's lightsaber. Mace picked up Tec's remains. Silently, carrying their grim burdens, the two Jedi moved toward the grand entry doors.

Obi-Wan turned one last time to look at Anakin, who still stood staring at the floor, a heart-wrenching picture of defeat, and wondered how long the Council would allow this to go on. He knew with certainty that Mace's actions here today were merely a strategic withdrawal. The Jedi were not finished with Anakin. Or with Palpatine.

The corpse in Obi-Wan's arms as he left the Palace at Theed weighed nothing compared to the heavy burden that dragged on his soul. the burden of regret, and grief, and guilt; and most of all, the burden of dread.

Chapter 44. Dark Armistice (Part II)


"My dear boy," Chancellor Palpatine said, once they were alone in the private study to which he had retreated with Anakin in tow, "I am furious with you. Absolutely furious with you."

Anakin felt that familiar inner "thud" that always meant he had trespassed and been caught, and was about to pay dearly for it. He did what he always did in those situations, and remained silent. The people who caught him always had so much to say, anyway. And at this moment in time he didn't care at all. About anything.

"Why didn't you simply come to me?"

"What?" Anakin roused himself half-heartedly out of a crushing semi-stupor. Grief and aching pain had made his mind thick and his thinking slow. Rage and bitterness had practically emptied him of everything but the moment. And the knowledge of what he had done - of the finality of his actions - was a burden that weighed so heavily on his heart that every breath cost him an effort.

"You were in trouble. You needed help. Why didn't you come to me? Haven't I always looked out for you?"

"I.I. yes, of course but." Anakin struggled to focus. To remember anything that had happened before the last hours, before the light had gone out of his life. To remember anything that once might have been important to him. "I thought I had let you down," he said listlessly, just to give a reply. "I thought I had broken the rules." He took a deep breath. "You had made it very clear that I was not to bring dishonor onto your office."

Palpatine looked at him with gimlet eyes.

"Precisely what dishonor do you imagine you had brought upon my office, Anakin?" he enquired. "The work you did for me in the Senate was superb. No one else could have accomplished as much in the time you were given. That Academy graduate who has taken over Chief Zangan's position has been handed a perfectly functioning machine. All he needs to do is run it."

Trying to remember back to those far-off times and events, Anakin felt as though he were dredging up some insignificant piece of ancient history. Why had it seemed so important, so momentous, at the time? So much had happened since then.

"As I recall," he said, "I was accused of murdering Chief Zangan." As an afterthought he added, "I didn't."

"If you tell me that you didn't, then I will believe you," Palpatine said smoothly. "Either way, the Zangans of the Galaxy are of little consequence. They can be replaced. You cannot."

Anakin looked out the window, not answering.

"I wish you had come to me sooner, Anakin. Perhaps we could have avoided all this trouble."

"Nothing can be done about it now," Anakin replied bleakly, into the distance. "I've crossed the line. Lived up to everyone's worst expectations."

"Those are the Jedi talking, my boy," Palpatine snapped. "Utter nonsense, as usual."

Anakin was so dulled that he had trouble understanding what the Chancellor was saying to him. "What?" he asked again. It was the cleverest and most intelligent thing he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"What makes you think that I would allow any harm to come to you? That I would allow the Jedi to have their way?"

Anakin struggled to understand. "I killed two Jedi, Your Excellency. No matter what you tell them, they won't let me live." He took a deep, shuddering breath. If he couldn't free Padmé, living was pointless anyway. "By rights you should turn me over to them."

"You accept their right to annihilate you, Anakin?" Palpatine asked severely. "And yet, you still fought on against them ."

Anakin hung his head.

"It would be unconscionable of me to permit someone of your talent to be destroyed for so little reason. What an unspeakable waste that would be."

Anakin sagged, and unconsciously reached up to rub his face with his ungloved living hand. He was tired. So tired. "What could you possibly want with me now?" asked, with effort. "I'm done for. Finished."

"You are far from finished, my boy," Palpatine insisted. "You stand at the beginning of your path." When Anakin did not respond, he went on, "Is it possible that you are not aware of your own value?"

"The Jedi don't think I have any value," Anakin said bitterly to the window. "They never did."

Palpatine let out a short, exasperated breath. "The Jedi, my friend, are an anachronism. Their powers grow weaker by the day. The Galaxy is falling apart around them, and they can do nothing! I have told you before - you are the most powerful of them all!"

Powerful? What an absurd idea. He had never been more helpless. "I'm not powerful," Anakin whispered.

Palpatine was undeterred. "It is clear to me, Anakin, that you do not understand the nature of power. It flows to those who are worthy of it - those who have the strength, the cunning, and the determination to wield it. Power is too precious to be wasted on the weak. Master Andros is dead by your hand, is he not?"

"Yes." Anakin sighed.

"Then who was the more powerful?"

"I could hardly defeat Master Andros. I had to use subterfuge." I cheated.

"Young fool," Palpatine said, moving closer to Anakin, "you prevailed because you were the most determined, and the most resourceful! Don't you see? That is true power. Skills - skills can be learned. The heart, the will to prevail - that is a gift. It is your gift. I would no sooner hand you over to the Jedi than I would hand over our precious Republic to our Separatist enemies. The Jedi only want to destroy you because they fear you."

The heart, the will to prevail - that is a gift. It is your gift. The Chancellor didn't know what he was talking about. It was over. Everything was over. Anakin's hand went automatically to his hip, where his lightsaber always had hung. He felt its loss terribly. It added the final weight to the other unspeakable losses he had suffered today, because it had removed his last hope. Without hope, his will had gone as well. Anakin went back to looking unseeingly out the window, a body without a soul, yet incomprehensibly still alive.

"I'm not powerful," he insisted again. "I'm not a Jedi any more, and I never will be. I'm.I'm nothing."

"Another foolish idea," Palpatine said dismissively. "Surely you haven't unquestioningly swallowed all of the venerable Jedi Order's archaic teachings? If the Jedi Order suddenly vanished, if there were no others in the Galaxy to approve of you and to give you orders and to determine your fate, would you suddenly lose your abilities? Would they vanish with the institution?"

"No." Anakin frowned out the window, trying to imagine a Galaxy without the Jedi Order.

"Would the Force cease to flow through you, giving you strength? Would you lose your ability to craft and use a new weapon as you see fit? Would you suddenly, with the disappearance of the Order, become as meek and humble as the remaining creatures of the Galaxy?"

Meek and humble? As he had begun his life? That was the last thing he wanted to be. The Jedi strove for humility and service . meekness, of a sort. Anakin became curious in spite of himself. "No."

"Well, then. Your Jedi powers are intact. You are a Jedi through and through, and no one can take that away from you."

"With all respect, Your Excellency, what is the point of being a Jedi without an Order?"

Palpatine laughed, startling Anakin. "My dear boy, that is like asking what is the point of having power! Power makes it possible to create change. To make right what is wrong. To shape events for the better. He dropped his voice to a whisper that was almost like a caress. "It's all a terrible, terrible, mess, isn't it?"

The words, like so many of Palpatine's words to him over the years, penetrated straight into Anakin's heart. Yes, it was a mess. Everything around him was chaotic and confused. Every path seemed to lead only to misery and disgrace.

Anakin nodded mutely in agreement. It's a terrible, terrible mess.

"I need you, Anakin," Palpatine persisted. "I need you by my side to help bring order to this chaos. I am a powerful man, but I am only as strong as the people I surround myself with. I need the strongest Jedi of them all by my side. There is work to be done - work for which you have astonishing and unswerving ability."

Anakin crossed his arms and heaved a great, deep breath, ignoring the pain across his abdomen. It wasn't getting any better. Finally, he allowed his eyes to leave the window and to meet those of the man who stood so steadfastly by his side.

"You want me to work for you, Your Excellency? Is that what you are saying?"

"I know what you are thinking, Anakin," Palpatine protested, holding up his hand. "More security work - more administration." He smiled. "But no, that is not what I intend. You are far beyond that. We have a war to win, my friend. I want you to help me bring peace and sanity back to the Galaxy once and for all." He paused for effect, and then went on with a flourish, "I intend to give you your own command."

His own command. Power, status, authority, and a mandate to act, all at once. It was a prospect that, only a short time ago, would have seemed like the culmination of all Anakin's desires. He was being given the kind of acknowledgement and recognition that he had craved all of his life.

And yet Anakin found it hard to care. Just when he finally had discovered his true heart's desire - to leave with Padmé, to live in freedom with his family and to make his own new beginning - it had been wrenched away from him. Or maybe he had lost it though his own incompetence. Either way, no grand offering, no share in the Galaxy's treasures could compare with that.

Damn Obi-Wan to the darkest hells.

For the hundredth time, Anakin tried to work out where Padmé might be now. He supposed that she was being taken to Coruscant. Really, the only attraction in Palpatine's offer was the prospect that he would once again have some real authority. Perhaps he could use it to find and free Padmé after all?

Or perhaps it was too late already. Time was short. And he had to tread carefully. After all, the man who was offering him a new life was the same one who had signed Padmé's arrest warrant.

Palpatine was watching him carefully, expectantly, for a response. Anakin knew that he owed the Supreme Chancellor a reply - some gratitude, at least, if he couldn't muster any excitement or pleasure at the gift he had just been offered. He had to say something.

"Thank you for your generous offer, Your Excellency," Anakin said heavily. "I appreciate your faith in me. It's just that right now, I ."

"Right now," Palpatine interrupted silkily, "you should have yourself seen to, and get some rest." He waggled some long, knotted fingers in the direction of Anakin's wound. "I have some official business to attend to here on Naboo tomorrow, and I will return to Coruscant on the following day. You have that long to think it over. If you choose to return with me, if you accept my offer, I will see to it that you are placed under my personal protection and given my authority in all your actions throughout the Galaxy." He smiled again. "There is no doubt that the Jedi will continue to harass you, but I am quite certain that my protection will make it much more difficult for them. Nothing you can't handle, eh, my boy?"

The underlying message was clear. If you accept my offer, I will protect you. If you do not, you are on your own.

Anakin nodded. "I understand perfectly, Your Excellency."

Palpatine smiled pleasantly, seemingly unaffected by Anakin's lack of enthusiasm for his offer, and delivered his coup-de-grace. He held out his hand. In it lay the distinctive silver hilt of a lightsaber. Not Anakin's, but a different one.

Anakin was momentarily mystified.

"My guards found this," Palpatine said carelessly. "It may be of some use to you."

Anakin couldn't resist reaching out for the weapon. He took it, and as an afterthought, turned aside to ignite it. It flared obediently into life. The blade was a distinctive blue-green color.

It was Master Andros' lightsaber. In spite of himself, Anakin felt a cold chill.

"It's yours if you want it," Palpatine was saying. "I know a Jedi always feels more comfortable when properly armed."

Anakin switched off the blade and turned to Palpatine.

"Am I free to go?" The lightsaber remained in his hand.

"Of course, of course, my boy," Palpatine said, his eyes glittering with something that almost looked like amusement. "The Jedi have left Naboo. No harm will come to you . for now."

Still clutching Tec Andros' lightsaber, Anakin left the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic behind. He needed to find Padmé. He needed to find his soul.

Chapter 45. The Imponderable Nature of Hope


Anakin stumbled out of Palpatine's private study without any clear idea about where to go next. He supposed he ought to find a healing center. The central foyer of the Palace and the private staterooms above it were uncannily unpopulated, but as he made his way through the vast west wing, the corridors were filled with soldiers of all descriptions.

He paused, partially hidden behind a pillar that he found himself leaning on for support, and tried to collect himself. He guessed that Padmé was no longer on Naboo, but he had to keep trying to find her.

Anakin closed his eyes and concentrated, boldly reaching out with his perceptions to search for her Force signature. He had only touched her awareness once very briefly, just after Balé's death, and then the connection had been cut off. His best chance was to see if he could open it again, no matter what the consequences.

It suddenly occurred to Anakin that the persistent dark voice in his mind had been still since his arrival on Naboo. He didn't know why. But right now, after everything that had happened, finding Padmé quickly was more important than keeping that dark presence away from her. If she could be found, that is.

Padmé. he called out on the wings of the Force. Padmé.

There was no reply. In fact, there was nothing - he couldn't get any sense of her at all.

Anakin fought down the bitter tears of disappointment and frustration that stung his eyes. I ought to be able to find her anywhere. But it had been so long since he had allowed himself to communicate with her in this way. There had to be a logical explanation.

I'm tired. He was exhausted, actually, and still in pain. Not functioning at his peak.

She is unconscious and can't respond. This thought, along with its corollary - that someone might have hurt her - terrified Anakin, so he quickly shoved it aside. He had to think clearly.

He didn't allow a single instant for the next logical extrapolation. That Padmé might no longer be alive.

Instead, Anakin pushed himself away from the supporting pillar and headed downstairs toward the Palace service levels, where he knew he could always get information. He hadn't gone far when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Skywalker! Wait!"

By all the stars and moons, it was Captain Typho. And he looked furious.

Anakin watched as the Captain detached himself from a clutch of Naboo security guards and hurried in his direction.

"Where in the seventh pit have you been?" Typho growled wrathfully. He paused, and looked Anakin up and down. "What happened to you? You were supposed to get her out a long time ago!"

"The Jedi interfered," Anakin said shortly, using the dismissive tone he always adopted in the face of Typho's tirades. But inside, in his most secret heart, something warm was bubbling up. Something he had thought was gone forever.

Hope.

If anyone knew where she was, Typho would. Anakin grabbed the Captain's jacket in both hands. "Where is she?" he demanded. "What happened to her?"

Typho's eyes shifted nervously to the other soldiers who were milling around in the spacious corridor.

"Get your hands off me," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't draw attention to yourself! We have to get out of here."

Anakin let go, and Typho angrily straightened his uniform. "Follow me," he snapped, and headed rapidly toward a small service staircase. Anakin was right behind him, practically breathing down his neck.

Two flights of stairs later Typho opened the door to a small office, dragged Anakin inside by the arm, and shut the door behind them.

"The Army has her," he said belligerently, as though it were Anakin's fault.

"Where?" Anakin demanded.

"Back in her apartment," Typho said, to Anakin's utter astonishment.

Anakin couldn't believe it. Then why couldn't I reach her? "Here?" Anakin barked. "On Naboo? Right in the Palace? Then why in the blazes didn't you get her out? You know where our ship is!"

"She is in the custody of the Chancellor's own guardsmen. I don't have any access to her!" Typho yelled, then quickly remembered himself and lowered his voice. He added furiously, "I was removed from her personal security detail and reassigned as soon as she was arrested."

Anakin made for the door. Typho stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Her trial is scheduled for tomorrow. Didn't you know that? Palpatine is presiding over it personally. I guarantee you he is going to make short work of it."

Anakin stopped in his tracks, as the Supreme Chancellor's words surged back into his memory. I have some official business to attend to here on Naboo tomorrow. Padmé's trial. That was Palpatine's official business. I will return to Coruscant the following day.

He certainly was going to make short work of it. And Palpatine hadn't mentioned a word about it.

But then, why would he?

Anakin decided he had been right to tread cautiously in Palpatine's presence where Padmé was concerned. The Chancellor clearly had a specific agenda, and would be unlikely to tolerate interference with it.

But hope kept bubbling up in his heart.

"I'm going to get her," Anakin announced.

Before Typho could say anything more, Anakin was gone.

* * * * *

Padmé's door was guarded by two of the Chancellor's personal elite guards, just as Typho had described it. Padmé was once again under house arrest, in her own apartment, but this time her jailers were the Chancellor's formidable red-robed protectors.

Anakin strode up to the guards and, as a formality, demanded entry. It was denied.

"Chancellor's orders," Anakin snarled, experimentally. It seemed odd to be using that old standby again.

The guards didn't move.

Tec Andros' blue-green blade flared to life and without hesitation Anakin swung it in a single, wide, powerful arc that felled them both where they stood. The door did not withstand his will any better. Inside Padmé's palatial apartment Sabé and Dormé were huddled together on the window seat where he and Padmé had spent so many glowing evenings. They both looked up at the same time as he entered, the dull defeat in their eyes turning into shock at the sight of him. Anakin wondered if it was any indication of what he would find in Padmé's.

Padmé was in the bedroom. Her Force signature was disturbingly dim and faint.

No wonder I wasn't able to find her.

"How is she?" he asked the Handmaidens without offering explanations. They didn't ask for any.

Dormé shook her head, speechless.

Sabé said, simply, "Balé is dead, and you are gone." It was explanation enough.

Anakin took a deep, determined breath and went to claim his wife.

The bedroom was dim because the curtains were tightly drawn against the crystalline light of the Naboo summer afternoon. Padmé was curled up in the very center of her large bed, like a child. Anakin climbed straight in beside her, boots, weapon and all, and gathered her into his arms.

Padmé cried out in shock, and then burst into tears. Anakin encircled her with his body and though the Force, soaking up the waves of grief and despair and guilt and loss that surged out of the very center of her being as she cried, trying to draw them away from her so that she could recover and find some peace. He rocked her. He crooned to her. Neither one spoke. There were no words for what had happened to them.

Padmé didn't ask how he came to be there. The unbelievable events of the past hours seemed to have left her too numb to be surprised at anything that might happen. She felt limp, almost boneless, in his arms, as though all her strength had left her long ago.

"Padmé," Anakin whispered. Her name was the only word that came close to expressing what he felt. He said it over and over again, cradling her in his arms as if she were the most fragile, precious thing in the universe. She gradually quieted, but her energy field, her always-vibrant presence in the Force, was as weak as a tiny sputtering flame that simply did not have enough fuel to live on.

"Stay with me," Anakin begged, when her sobs had quieted.

Padmé sighed and shifted a tiny bit. "I don't know if I can." Her voice was as faint as a puff of air.

"You can," he insisted, "because I'm here. You have to because I need you."

"You're always leaving me," she sighed. "There is always so much grief. So much pain. I can't keep fighting any more."

Neither one had the courage or the strength to mention Balé's name.

Anakin knew better than to argue. His own bitter experience with this kind of despair had taught him that it couldn't be reasoned away. Instead he accepted her words, accepted how she felt, and continued to cradle her gently in his arms and in the Force.

But he wasn't about to allow her to slip away from him.

Slowly, carefully, Anakin did something he had not done in more than a year - something he had promised himself he would never do again. He began to merge his Force presence with hers, just a little at a time. He gradually changed the rhythm of his breathing to match hers. Little by little his heartbeat followed.

Soon their hearts beat in unison, and Anakin began to merge his consciousness with her own so that they were practically inside each other's minds.

Despair was like a heavy mist clouding every part of Padmé's awareness and it was difficult to reach her thoughts. Rather than trying to force his way past the clouds of pain, Anakin concentrated on augmenting her body's energy with his own. Not all of it - he had learned his lesson there - but enough to bring her some vitality and strength. If she chose to, she could use it to fight her own inner battles.

In the process, something began to nag at Anakin's awareness. Something seemed different, but the impression was so faint that it was difficult to pinpoint. He continued his slow, careful journey through her energy fields, augmenting and strengthening and improving their flow as he went. The sense of something new and unexpected remained, without revealing its source.

Gradually Anakin withdrew his Force presence from hers again. Padmé was still quiet and heavy against his chest, as though she were asleep, but her presence in the Force remained clearer and brighter even after he withdrew his own.

Anakin relaxed and wondered about the new and unusual impression he had received. By itself it was faint. But when he stretched his awareness out into the Force, or more accurately, when he allowed the Force behind the impression to come toward him and reveal itself to him, he was staggered by its power. It was the unstoppable power of nature itself - the Force of eternal renewal, of resurgence, of the very essence of life.

The growing realization of its significance left him stunned in the wake of a wave of utter wonder and shameless joy.

Padmé was pregnant. He was sure of it.

* * * * *

Anakin came to with a start that shuddered the length of his body. It took him a moment to realize that he must have been asleep for quite a while - even with the heavy drapes drawn the vivid reds and purples of the Naboo twilight made their presence known. It was evening already. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. There was so little time left as it was. Anakin looked down at Padmé, who was fast asleep curled against his chest, snuggled into the grimy shreds of his black tunic.

He had come here to rescue her, to spirit her away; and instead they had slept.

Anakin gently brushed a strand of hair away from Padmé's cheek. She was so fragile right now. He was afraid that dragging her away through firefights and hardships would prove too much for her. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure whether he had strength enough at the moment to keep them both safe.

But remaining here was just as dangerous.

Tomorrow. Padmé's trial is tomorrow.

Anakin brushed Padmé's forehead lightly with his lips, and then inched away carefully so he wouldn't wake her.

Suddenly every part of his body hurt. Somehow he must have struggled out of his leather over-tunic while he was sleeping, because it lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. But his tunic was stiff and scratchy in front, and with every movement it sawed against the wound across his belly, inflaming it. He still had his boots on. Every muscle in his body screamed. He reached up to rub his face, and encountered hair that was stiff with dried perspiration.

Trying not to groan out loud, Anakin rolled off the bed and onto his feet. Every step he took toward Padmé's fresher was painful.

Once there, Anakin found some towels and ran water into the sparkling white washbasin at full force before reaching over his head to pull off his slashed and filthy tunic. The fabric on the front was stiff with caked blood from top to bottom. He didn't remember having bled that much. Saber cuts were usually pretty well cauterized. He winced as bits of the cloth pulled away from the clotted gash that extended from one side of his abdomen to the other, ripping part of it open again. He was pulling the tattered garment over his head when Sabé opened the door quietly.

"Padmé?" The Handmaiden's worried voice startled him. Anakin yanked the tunic off and jerked around. Sabé gasped.

"I'm. I'm sorry. I heard water running and I thought Padmé was up." Sabé stopped and stared at the unexpected sight of Anakin shirtless, his leggings loose around his hips, with a long, vicious-looking wound across his abdomen and his metallic arm gleaming in the dim light of the glowlamps. Anakin turned away from her mutely and began carefully to rinse the blood away under the running water, turning the sparkling white basin slowly red.

Sabé crept closer. "Is that yours or Balé's?" she whispered, mesmerized by the swirling vortex of red.

Oh. Of course. The blood wasn't all his. In the dim light, Anakin saw that his chest and stomach were stained a rusty color.

"A bit of both, probably," he said tersely. The mere mention of Balé's name hurt far worse than any wound of the flesh. He didn't appreciate Sabé's intrusion, or her tactlessness. "Padmé is in the bedroom." He wanted Sabé to go.

"Let me help," she insisted stubbornly, refusing to take the hint.

"I'm fine." Anakin could be just as stubborn.

Grimly he cleaned the wound and the area around it, bit by bit, and watched the blood slowly wash away until the water in the basin ran clear again. Her blood. His blood. Mingled, and then gone. He took a deep breath, ignoring the dull, burning pain in his belly.

Gone. All gone.

Sabé let out an exasperated sigh. "At least let me get you a bandage. And some fresh clothes."

Sabé was still there? He'd forgotten about her. Anakin didn't answer. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed. So much had happened, and so quickly. He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on any of it yet. He hadn't dared. But he couldn't escape a dizzying sense of being lost and helpless in the midst of chaos - crushing, uncontrollable chaos. He felt his last strength slipping away.

He hated feeling lost. But feeling powerless was worse

Tomorrow. Padmé's trial is tomorrow.

Anakin swayed, then fiercely gripped the sides of the washstand in the struggle to stay on his feet, and to push away the grief and the fear and the hopelessness and loss and.

"Anakin?" Sabé moved closer to him. "Are you all right?" He turned his face away from her, and hung on to the sides of the washbasin with all of his might.

"Anakin?" It wasn't Sabé's voice this time - it was fainter, and further away. Coming closer. "Anakin?" It was Padmé. She was up, and looking for him. She must have heard their voices.

Anakin snapped around to Sabé. "Don't let her see me like this," he hissed. "Not now."

Sabé understood instantly, and jumped toward the door. "I won't. Stay there until I bring you some things." She closed the door behind her.

Anakin slowly raised his head and for the first time looked at his reflection in the mirror above the basin. What he saw there shocked him to his core.

He looked the same.

Of course he looked exhausted. And battered. And grimy. And disheveled. But it was his face - the same face he saw every time he bothered to look. How was it possible that after everything that had happened, after everything that he had done, and felt, and lost. how was it possible that on the outside, nothing much had changed?

I'm still here.

He looked down at the water again. It was still running, clear and bright. The basin was pristine again, just as it had been when he had started.

Like new. Like at the beginning.

Behind him the door opened a crack and Sabé stuck her head in. "Padmé is calling for you." The door opened wider, and in the mirror Anakin watched the Handmaiden slip inside and close it carefully behind her again. She remained there, leaning against the door with her back to it. She looked exhausted, too. And her eyes were puffy. Anakin didn't say anything.

Sabé cleared her throat. "To be honest, I think she's afraid to let you out of her sight. I think she is afraid that you will disappear forever, like." She stopped. The silence between them filled with pain. Again, Anakin didn't answer - this time because he couldn't.

Padmé needs me, he thought with the same wonder and awe that had filled him at that first, miraculous moment of discovery. New life. A child. His eyes flicked back to his reflection. I'm still here. And suddenly, he knew what he must do.

He had to stay alive. Padmé had to stay alive. They both had to live. Not just from moment to moment - not as everlasting fugitives - but protected, and safe.

Family is the only thing that makes sense. He remembered the sound of Padmé's voice saying those words. It had been soft, and husky and dreamy. and full of hope.

They had a future. And it was in his hands.

"Sabé, I need your help," Anakin said suddenly, decidedly. Sabé jumped as his voice reverberated in the small room.

"Hah," she said mockingly, to cover up her surprise and worry. "Now he wants my help."

Anakin ignored her tone.

"I need you to get me some formal clothes. And I need you to help Padmé get dressed - also in formal clothes. The kind she would wear for a Senate function."

Now Sabé was so surprised she forgot to hide it. "She's in no condition to go anywhere. And she's still under house arrest."

"I'd like you to have her ready in half an hour." Anakin still didn't turn around. But he watched Sabé's expression carefully in the reflection of the mirror. "And I'll take that bandage."

Sabé scowled, suspicion and mistrust written all over her face. "What are you up to this time, Anakin? Haven't we had enough grief and misery by now?"

Yes, we have, Anakin thought. And it's time to start fresh. To make a new beginning.

He bent down painfully and struggled out of his battered boots.

Finally he turned around and leveled the kind of stare at Sabé that in the past had brought Senate troops to order within seconds. Holding out the boots to the stunned Handmaiden, he said only, "see if you can find someone who can put a shine back on these."

Sabé stared back for a moment. And then, whatever her private thoughts, whatever her private feelings, she wordlessly took the proffered boots, opened the door and left the room.

Anakin turned on the water in the shower, quickly shed his remaining clothes and stepped inside. Slowly and deliberately he washed away the last remnants of what had been, and prepared himself for what was to come.

* * * * *

"Ready?"

Padmé looked at Anakin, puzzled. She still didn't understand where they were going or what he was trying to do, but she had left the decisions to him and she was too weary to argue. She had passively allowed Sabé and Dormé herself to dress her and arrange her hair. Anakin looked resplendent in formal robes worthy of an appearance at Court.

Before Padmé could answer, Anakin lifted her into his arms and opened the door of the apartment. As he stepped carefully over the fallen bodies of two of the Chancellor's elite guards, she understood why he had carried her. Padmé looked down at the fallen guards without feeling anything at all for them.

A little further down the hallway he whispered, "Can you walk? It would be best if you walked on your own."

Padmé nodded faintly and he slipped her onto her feet. She stood, as frail yet as resilient as a stalk of meadow grass. The effort that standing on her own two feet required seemed to energize her a little, and she began to focus more clearly.

"Where are we going?"

Anakin gently took her arm and tucked it securely into his strong, warm living arm.

"We're going to see Palpatine. Together."

Padmé blanched, and swayed. Anakin held her steadily.

"Why? What are you doing?"

"The only thing I can think of to do. The only thing that might keep us both alive, and together, long enough to ." His voice faded out.

Padmé could feel waves of strength and resolve coming from him - a force of will that was so potent it gave the impression that it could carry them both and many more besides. He was absolutely glowing with determination. Padmé looked at him in wonder.

"I don't understand."

"Consider this . an apology. My apology to you. The most magnificent apology the Galaxy has ever known." He smiled down at her wryly as they walked slowly through the long pillared hallways of the Palace at Theed. "Or if this doesn't work, it will be that proverbial 'blaze of glory' that marks the end of a star."

"I can't go in there, Anakin. I can't face him. I don't have the strength."

"It's all right," Anakin reassured her. "I have enough for both of us."

What happened? Padmé wondered. Where did he get this confidence? He had changed - everything about him had changed. He was almost . serene.

She clung to his arm. He was right - she could not come up with any other solutions. The only paths she had been able to visualize led to failure and to certain death. If he had found a possibility for salvation, then she would follow him. At the moment Anakin was the only source of strength and hope in her universe, and she wished desperately that she would never have to let go of him again.

"Remind me why we are trying so hard to stay alive," Padmé said.

"Because," Anakin said firmly, as they crossed the threshold into the Throne Room's foyer, "there is one thing that makes sense. One thing that isn't crazy. The one thing that is worth staying alive for." He stopped and cupped her face gently in his free hand, turning it so that he could look into her eyes. "Family."

They stood facing one another, two small figures beneath the soaring ceilings and vast columns of the majestic space. Padmé looked at him blankly. "Family?"

"You. Me. Our child."

Padmé's eyes filled with tears. "She's gone."

Anakin glanced around the foyer to ensure that they had privacy and then slipped his free hand down to rest gently on her abdomen. Padmé could feel a surge of energy there at his touch, but it still took a long time for her to understand what he was telling her. When she did, she could only look up at him, astounded.

"Come on," he murmured. "Let's go. It's time to find a way to keep on living."

Still staring at Anakin incredulously, Padmé unconsciously squared her shoulders and raised her chin. A faint flush began to spread over her deathly pale cheeks.

* * * * *

Having seen Skywalker with the Chancellor before, the pair of Elite Guards outside the Naboo Throne Room made no effort to stop his passage.

That decision saved their lives.

Anakin guided his wife past them, opened the grand doors with a single wave of his hand, and led Padmé straight into an audience with her enemy.

Chapter 46. The Bargain


Supreme Chancellor Palpatine watched impassively as the vast doors to the Throne Room of the Palace at Theed swung open of their own accord. Even if Skywalker had not formally requested this appointment, he still would have known by whose will the Force pushed those heavy doors apart. The boy's presence was unmistakable. His purpose, although it had not been stated in the message, was equally clear.

He was coming to bargain for Senator Amidala's life.

Palpatine had not doubted that the boy would go in search of the young Senator, particularly once he was again armed. Skywalker quite obviously had felt empowered the moment he had held the dead Jedi's lightsaber in his hand. As indeed he should.

And of course, steps had been taken to ensure that the Senator was easily found.

Palpatine had anticipated that there would be a rescue attempt. He had predicted that it would be dramatic, clever, quick and powerful - and of course, ultimately tragic. He had pictured vividly the untimely death of the popular Senator, perhaps in her lover's arms; the anguish, the grief, and ultimately the white-hot implosion of rage and despair in Anakin.

And then the boy would have had no one, and nowhere to go, and no purpose to his life.

And he, Palpatine, would have stepped in, as comforter, savior, and ultimately, Master.

All too easy.

But instead, he had received that unexpected request for a meeting.

Under different circumstances - in the aftermath of tragedy, for example - they would have met in cozier, more intimate circumstances, as indeed they had this afternoon.

But Skywalker had chosen to take a different approach to his otherwise predictable goal. He was apparently prepared to negotiate, rather than acting independently and rebelliously. To give and take, rather than simply taking.

The boy's strategy didn't seem in character. It struck Palpatine as studied. Deliberate. Well-thought out. That was the way Skywalker operated when he worked; but after the boy's emotional conflagration earlier today, he certainly would not have expected him to take such a rational and cautious approach when his personal stake in the outcome was so high.

There is something else behind this.

And so he had arranged the meeting with Skywalker in the grand, symbolic surroundings of the Throne Room. It was a setting that would leave the boy in no doubt of their respective roles - a setting that would not allow Anakin to misconstrue the depth of their intimacy, or to presume on the relationship Palpatine had so carefully cultivated with him.

The doors opened and Skywalker entered. Palpatine felt a faint stirring of interest. The boy's entrance was novel, to say the least.

Evidently Skywalker had defied the rule of law and Palpatine's personal orders, not to mention having probably killed some of his personal guards, to remove the Senator from the Republic's custody. And now he was walking into the Throne Room arm-in-arm with her, as though they both had every right to be there.

They had dressed for the occasion. The Senator was as perfectly turned out as she would have been for a formal Senate function; and Skywalker - well, Palpatine had never seen him looking so grand. So resplendent. Down to the mirror shine on his boots.

Anakin had planned his approach well. By having freed the Senator and boldly brought her here he had demonstrated strength; by having dressed formally, he had bestowed gravity and importance upon the occasion of their meeting.

Palpatine allowed the pair to walk all the way across the huge room before he acknowledged their presence.

"What is the meaning of this, Anakin?" he said severely, when Skywalker and the Senator had arrived before him and bowed. "Surely you are aware that Senator Amidala is a prisoner, awaiting trial on the very serious charge of treason against the Republic!"

"I am, Your Excellency," Anakin replied calmly. "But what I have to say concerns Senator Amidala directly. I prefer to speak with you with her at my side."

The woman stood as pale and still as one of the marble statues in the foyer, but her terror was palpable. Good.

"I could have you arrested and imprisoned for this, Anakin," Palpatine said coldly.

The boy didn't flinch. Instead, he replied evenly, "That is of course well within your authority, Your Excellency. If, at the end of our conversation, you believe that to be necessary, by all means, have me arrested. I won't resist."

Well played. He concedes my superiority. Now he will ask for my benevolence.

Palpatine saw the Senator shoot her companion a quick, surprised glance. She doesn't know why she is here. And yet she had gone along with Skywalker's illegal act. Interesting.

Palpatine allowed a few moments to go by before he replied. The Senator looked as if she might faint. Skywalker did not waver, inwardly or outwardly. He merely waited respectfully.

"Very well, Anakin" Palpatine agreed. "I will hear what you have to say."

"Thank you, your Excellency," Skywalker said with a small, correct bow of acknowledgement.

Palpatine nodded impatiently in return. Get on with it.

"You made me a very generous offer this afternoon, Your Excellency," the boy declared. "That offer included your assurance of my personal safety, as well as considerable authority."

Palpatine took note of the young Senator's startled glance at her companion.

"As generous as your offer is, I could only accept it provided that." Skywalker paused, while the Senator's eyes became wider and wider.

Not a plea, then. A demand. Palpatine's look grew darker. "Provided that." he prompted, without sounding the least bit encouraging.

Skywalker turned to look into Amidala's eyes. Their gazes locked for a long moment. Then the boy turned back to Palpatine and said, "Your Excellency, I need your assurance that your offer of protection extends to my family as well."

"Your family?" Palpatine repeated. His momentary bafflement was not feigned.

"You already know Senator Amidala, Your Excellency," the boy went on boldly. "Now I would like to introduce her to you as my wife."

"Your wife, Anakin?" Palpatine snapped. "The wife of a Jedi? Do you actually expect me to believe that?" He stared into Skywalker's eyes, searching for the slightest hint of deceit. There was none. Amidala, too, returned his stare with a bravado that matched the boy's.

What a clumsy, contemptible effort to draw her into my good graces. I had expected something cleverer from him.

"You will understand if I point out that this all seems exceptionally convenient, given the dire circumstances in which the Senator finds herself," Palpatine said coldly. "How long ago, may I ask, did you undertake this. this union?"

It was Amidala who answered - clearly and steadily. "Anakin and I have been married for over a year, Chancellor. We were married here on Naboo. The records are available."

Now this was interesting. Could Skywalker really have pulled off something like that?

"I suppose the Jedi know nothing of this?" Palpatine enquired.

"No, Your Excellency. I'm certain they don't," Skywalker replied.

"And now that you are no longer a member of the Jedi Order, you are willing to reveal your deception," Palpatine observed. Amidala sent another brief, shocked glance Skywalker's way. Apparently she hadn't known that he had left the Order, either. This initiative appeared to be entirely Skywalker's, and Amidala was going along with it blindly.

That was very unlike her.

Amidala appeared professionally composed on the outside, but it did not escape Palpatine that she clung to her companion's arm with something akin to desperation. Odd. He had never known her to be so afraid - not even for her own life.

There is something more behind all this.

In the meantime, he had to decide quickly what to do about Skywalker.

The fact that the boy had deceived the Jedi for so long was one thing. That showed that he had the right instincts - and considerable skill. On the other hand, Anakin had not confided in him. He had kept his own secrets and his own counsel, demonstrating quite clearly that he was loyal only to himself. That was a dangerous trait in a servant. Particularly the kind of servant he intended Anakin to be.

Perhaps I should just kill him now Palpatine speculated. I should kill them both.

"Not only do I require a guarantee of my wife's personal safety, Your Excellency," the boy was saying, "but I ask that all charges against her be dropped, that she receive a formal apology for the error of having been falsely accused of treason, and that there be no impediment to her taking up all of her duties and responsibilities as before."

"I see," Palpatine said in a voice that cut like shards of glass. "And what am I to receive in return?"

"I will work for you," the boy said simply. "I will fight on behalf of the Republic. I will undertake any other tasks that you deem fit to assign to me. I will serve you."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed. "You place a very high value on your services."

Skywalker looked at him steadily. "No, Your Excellency," he said. "You do."

And there it was.

The single attribute that, together with his incomparable presence in the Force, would make the boy such a valuable instrument: his boldness. His audacity. Without his fundamental weakness - his deplorable tendency to form attachments - Anakin Skywalker would be completely fearless. Had the Jedi succeeded with him, he would have been a formidable opponent indeed.

This was the reason that he had invested precious years in cultivating the boy. The reason that he had taken such care to draw him in, to lure him, rather than simply taking possession of him as he could have so easily. A gifted, creative, and bold and willing tool had a value beyond any treasure in the Galaxy. It really would be a waste to destroy him now.

However, he was disinclined to grant clemency to Amidala. Her usefulness in separating Anakin from the Jedi Order had ended. She was a traitor and a rebel, and dangerously popular, and would serve his purposes best by being held up as an example for all to see.

"No, Anakin," Palpatine said decidedly. "I will not agree to your terms. Senator Amidala must be dealt with by the rule of law. If I try to circumvent that, the Republic becomes no better than a dictatorship."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Your Excellency," the boy said, unable to keep the hollow tones of disappointment from his voice. "I see now that I have either overestimated my value, or underestimated your power." And with that the boy reached under his ceremonial robes with his free hand and pulled out the lightsaber Palpatine had given him only that afternoon. "I won't need this any more."

Palpatine glared at the boy. Insolence couched in humility. What a trial he must have been for the Jedi.

But not for me.

He did not accept the weapon. Instead, he stared appraisingly at the unnaturally silent and withdrawn Senator from Naboo.

I offered him power. And glory. And riches. And this.this is what he wants.

Why was the boy willing to give up everything for her? It didn't make sense. She was nothing. And yet it seemed that she was the key to the boy's willing compliance. Skywalker would give up his life, his freedom, and yes, his soul for her.

Palpatine addressed Amidala directly for the first time.

"This is a real departure for you, Senator Amidala," he said with thinly veiled contempt. "I have never known you to hide behind the broad backs of others. Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

The woman appeared to grow even paler, if that was possible, and instantly the Force, directed by Skywalker, surged around her protectively.

He protects her at all costs.

"I am not myself today, Chancellor Palpatine," Amidala said faintly. "Our daughter was killed this morning. Anakin speaks for us both."

Palpatine compressed his lips into a thin, hard line as he contemplated the pair. Our daughter. Surely not. There hadn't been enough time. then he remembered the child whom Anakin had brought to the Senate and introduced as Amidala's daughter. Not Anakin's blood, and therefore unimportant.

But it did raise an interesting idea.

What if Skywalker were to have offspring of his own? What if Amidala were pregnant now? It would explain why Skywalker had been so deliberate in his actions. Why he was so protective of her.

Palpatine reached out surreptitiously with the Force to probe her a little, but then backed away just as quickly. Amidala's Force presence was somehow permeated by Skywalker's. Apparently the boy had found a way to mingle his own Force presence with hers, thereby creating a very effective shield. He would react instantly to any invasion of the woman's Force energies, as though they were his own.

Fascinating.

But not as fascinating as the prospect of a new generation of Skywalkers. That alone was worth a short-term change in his plans. He wouldn't lose anything by waiting a little longer to complete Skywalker's training. In fact, he would have the boy even more firmly in his grasp, because Skywalker would have so much more to lose. Especially if this union were to result in a child.

And of course, he could alter any bargain they made whenever he saw fit.

Either way, he will be mine. But he must learn to fear me.

"I see that you have made a choice after all, Anakin." Palpatine said smoothly, in a voice that he augmented deliberately with just enough dark shadows to get the boy's attention, and to stir his memory. He was gratified to see a momentary flicker of recognition, a flash of alarm, in the boy's eyes. It almost made him smile.

"I do place a high value on your services," he went on dispassionately. "But I will not exonerate Senator Amidala entirely from her traitorous actions." He took care to speak only to Anakin, ignoring Amidala again.

"As a favor to you, I will agree to withdraw the formal charges against your wife, but they will not be expunged from her record. The Government of Naboo is in chaos. If your wife can persuade the new government to allow her to continue to represent this system despite her record, I will tolerate her presence in the Senate." He ignored the audible gasp that came from the woman. "And Anakin, I will hold you personally responsible for her activities in the future."

"Chancellor!" the Senator suddenly found her voice. "I don't think."

Palpatine cut her off with a wave of his hand. He had made his final offer. There would be no further negotiation. "Well, Anakin?" he asked, completely ignoring Amidala.

Skywalker turned to look at the woman who clung to his arm. Again, their eyes met. After a long, long moment, and with his eyes still on hers, the boy sealed his fate.

"Agreed, Your Excellency," he said.

And it was done.

Palpatine shifted his glare to the young woman. "Your husband's fate is now linked to your actions, Senator Amidala," he said coldly. "And yours to his." He deliberately moved one threatening step closer to her and said pointedly, "I suggest you conduct your political life with greater care from now on."

The Senator from Naboo only stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. Skywalker leaned down and murmured something in her ear. She dropped her eyes, and bowed slightly to Palpatine.

"Thank you, Your Excellency," the boy said hastily, bowing as well. "We will take our leave now."

Not before you understand the true nature of your bargain, young Skywalker.

Palpatine allowed the pair to walk all the way to the heavy doors of the Throne Room before he called out to the boy again.

"Anakin!"

The boy stopped, and turned.

The room filled with dark energies. The Force leaped and boiled and surged.

"I'm certain that you will serve me well."

The boy froze. Horrified recognition dawned on his face. Palpatine could feel his potent shudder of despair reverberate through the Force.

Satisfied, Palpatine waved Skywalker away.

He was a patient man, he reminded himself. He could be patient a little longer.


* * * * *

Looking back, Padmé couldn't remember how she and Anakin made it from the Throne Room all the way back to her Palace apartment after that soul-wrenching meeting with the man who held their lives in his gnarled, twisted, malevolent hands. They had walked, surely, clinging together like frightened children. She remembered passing through hallways and doors. There had been pillars and statues and stairs, but they had all gone by in a blur. She only remembered Anakin, stumbling, collapsed inwardly, and slumped over like someone who had taken a beating. She remembered trying to hold him upright despite her own weak state. She remembered urging him on, somehow keeping them both moving forward, until they finally reached her apartment. Sabé and Dormé had helped her to drag Anakin to a chair, where he had sat, silent, with his face in his hands.

"What happened?" Sabé kept asking.

"He saved my life," Padmé said to her Handmaiden, just to make her stop asking questions. "The warrant has been dropped. But the price was very high."

Sabé looked as though she were about to begin a detailed cross-examination when Dormé mercifully pulled her away with a muttered comment that sounded like "leave them alone." The two Handmaidens disappeared out the terrace doors.

Padmé slipped down to the floor next to Anakin's chair, rested her head on his thigh, and waited. She had seen him like this before - on the Defiance - when he suddenly and unaccountably had disappeared inside of himself, presumably to fight some unknown inner battle.

Obi-Wan's words returned to her, unbidden. .he is under the influence of forces for which you have no frame of reference..

The meeting with Chancellor Palpatine had been gruesome enough. But evidently something else had happened - something that had affected Anakin so deeply that he had disappeared again. And so Padmé watched and waited for him to come back to her. And while she waited, she wondered how she could ever atone for all the horrors she had wrought with the series of choices she had made. In the end, she had even cost Anakin his precious, hard-won freedom.

I will always protect you, he had vowed. And he always had. And each time, he had paid a terrible price.

She didn't understand how he could love her. All she ever brought him was suffering.

"Anakin," she whispered after what seemed like a long time.

She was rewarded for her patience when she felt his hand on her hair. She looked up, and he seemed to be present again. He was stroking her hair, and looking down at her with.with love.

Padmé scrambled into Anakin's lap and tried to hide in his neck.

"I'm sorry," she moaned desperately. "I'm sorry."

His arms came around her. "You're safe," he murmured. "That's all that matters."

"None of us are safe, Anakin," Padmé sighed. "We've just gotten a brief reprieve."

Anakin loosened his hold on her, leaned back in his chair, and took a deep, long breath. "Sometimes," he said, "one opening is all you need." He no longer looked crushed. His eyes were coming back to life. He even tried out the ghost of his crooked smile. It almost broke Padmé's heart.

"Are you all right?" she wondered out loud.

"I will be," Anakin said. Padmé tried hard to believe him.

A sudden, stiff breeze blew open one of the terrace doors, startling them both with the crash. It gave Padmé an idea. She slid off Anakin's lap, and tried to pull him up by the hand. "Come with me."

He followed her out onto the wide, breezy balcony. The wind had blown away the last of the clouds, and the sky was covered with stars. Naboo's twin moons were in the third phase of their cycle, and hovered close together high above.

Padmé's two Handmaidens were huddled together at the far side of the balcony. Ever tactful, Dormé tugged at Sabé's sleeve when Padmé and Anakin appeared on the terrace, and pulled her toward the door.

Sabé was having none of it. To everyone's surprise, most of all Anakin's, she threw herself on him and gave him a hearty hug.

"Thank you," she said. "For whatever you did. Thank you." Still startled, Anakin mumbled something inarticulate in return.

Dormé yanked at Sabé, hard. "Come on," she hissed.

"I'm going, I'm going," Sabé said irritably, and then she announced, "I'm going out. I have to see someone." The two Handmaidens disappeared into the warmly lit apartment, leaving Padmé and Anakin alone in the sparkling night.

Padmé grasped Anakin's living hand in hers, tightly, and gazed up at the stars. They seemed smaller, colder, and much, much further away than they had in space.

"Husband and wife," Padmé said thoughtfully into the long silence that followed. "Openly. But it isn't exactly the way we had imagined it would be."

"I know. Still, it's done. You are my wife for the entire Galaxy to see. Finally." Anakin pulled her closer.

They stood silently for a while longer, their faces turned upward to the far beyond.

"If only." Padmé began.

"Don't," Anakin said quickly. "Please. Just don't."

"Not talking about it doesn't change things." Padmé couldn't keep the deep sadness out of her voice. In response, Anakin slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, enfolding her in warmth.

"I know," he said again. "But things tend to change so quickly all by themselves. Nothing ever stays the same anyway. What is true today won't necessarily be true tomorrow."

Padmé leaned back into him. He held her tightly.

"Some things are always true," she said after a while. "They are as constant as the stars. Some things can't be changed."

"I love you," Anakin whispered into her ear. "That doesn't change."

"And look what I have done to you. Look what I have done to us all."

"Things happen," Anakin murmured, rubbing his cheek against her hair. "They happen no matter what we do."

Padmé twisted around in his arms so that she was facing his chest, and buried her face against his shoulder.

"It's all my fault. To save me, you have become that man's slave." She stopped to take a terrible, sobbing breath. "I'm so afraid for you. I'm terrified of what he will make you do in the name of the Republic."

A deep shudder passed through Anakin. His chest rose and fell a few times, as though he were deliberately steadying his breathing.

"It's not going to be easy," he admitted. "For either of us. I'm. I'm sorry I couldn't do better."

Padmé shook her head violently against his chest. Oh Gods, she thought desperately. What awaits us?

"I used to think you could do anything," she mumbled sorrowfully. "That nothing could stop you. And so I let everything rest on your shoulders." She shook her head again. "I was so wrong."

"No," Anakin protested. "I wanted to spare you all this. Never let it touch you. But I couldn't." His voice wavered a little, and Padmé hugged him harder. It seemed like such a feeble gesture, but it was all she could do.

"The thing is, Padmé," Anakin went on from inside her fierce embrace, "I'm going to do what I have to. I won't have a choice." He leaned down closer to her face. "You have to know that."

Padmé felt the tears come. She was so everlastingly tired of tears. She nodded, once, and it felt as though every last good and fine and noble dream or aspiration slipped away in that one gesture, leaving only grim reality and the living, breathing, tormented man in her arms.

"Maybe we shouldn't have done it," Padmé ventured. "Maybe we should have let go."

"You're alive," Anakin said, nuzzling her hair and what he could reach of her cheek. "You're alive and so am I, and so is our child. As long as we're alive, there's always hope that things will change again." With a little more nuzzling, he found her lips. "Maybe we'll be able to change things," he whispered against them.

"How?" she whispered back.

"I'll never stop looking for a way out."

"I don't know why you love me," Padmé murmured against his mouth. "Why you would take on all this."

Anakin abruptly helped himself to the kiss he had evidently been waiting for but that had not been forthcoming. He took his time about it. When he was done, and Padmé was beginning to remember some reasons why being alive was worthwhile, Anakin took her by the shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.

"You really don't understand, do you? You're part of me. You're the best part of me. You're the thing that keeps me going. The two of you now. As long as you're with me, I actually do feel as though I can do anything."

Padmé shifted a little, and bit her bottom lip. "We're in this together, Anakin. You're mine, remember?"

"I always have been," Anakin said solemnly. "And I always will be."

Let that be true. Padmé wished fervently. Please let that be true.

For Anakin's sake, Padmé managed a very faint imitation of a smile. "Magnificent apology accepted, by the way," she said.

"At least that's something," Anakin said, stooping down to scoop her legs out from under her. "It's a start, anyway." He straightened up again and Padmé found herself being carried effortlessly back inside the apartment, as though she weren't a burden at all.

A start. A beginning. Padmé prayed that's what it was.

But it felt as though somewhere, far away, a star had died.

Chapter 47. The Weight of Prophecy


The Jedi task force's losses left them with barely enough able pilots to return to Coruscant with all of their ships.

At first Mace had intended for Obi-Wan to pilot the six-passenger transport in which he had arrived, leaving Master Medulla and himself to fly the two starfighters. But after having observed the silent, withdrawn Kenobi for some time, Mace decided to keep his friend company in the transport and leave one of the starfighters behind to be retrieved later.

He shouldn't be left alone.

He had never seen Obi-Wan like this. Outwardly the Jedi Knight performed all of his required tasks. Together the three remaining Jedi Knights carefully had loaded the bodies of Tec Andros and Lon Erian onto the Jedi transport ship. Together they had laid out the corpses and treated them with the herbs and potions that would preserve them during the journey back to the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan had plotted their return course efficiently and arranged a daring flight plan that would bring them back to the Jedi Temple in little more than a day and a half. But he had not said a word since leaving Anakin behind with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine in the echoing foyer of the Palace at Theed. And all the while, Obi-Wan's presence in the Force had resonated with the jarring, discordant unrest of a soul in torment.

They had left Naboo as quickly as possible, and entered hyperspace at the earliest opportunity. For a many long hours Obi-Wan sat silently in the pilot's seat of the transport, staring at the featureless gray streaks of hyperspace. He didn't move. He didn't eat or sleep. And as far as Mace could tell, he didn't meditate.

Mace kept vigil beside him.

Medulla's Padawan, Poulin Brith, remained behind on Naboo. Mace had not wanted to permit it, but Medulla had insisted with unusual obstinacy.

"My Padawan requested to attend the little girl's ceremony of passing," Master Medulla had explained patiently. "He feels responsible for her death. I have allowed it."

"He disobeyed his orders," Mace had protested. "He should be disciplined. And besides, it's not safe for a Jedi on Naboo right now. You are willing to leave him there alone?"

"Poulin has the skills to go unnoticed. He will not be alone. He has promised to return to the Temple in a few days' time, and he will keep his promise. I will deal with his transgressions then," Master Medulla had said firmly, "and I take full responsibility for my decision." And that had been the end of it. In decisions regarding a Padawan's upbringing, the Master invariably had the final word.

For too long Anakin had been no one's Padawan. In retrospect, that had been a mistake. One, perhaps, of many.

Mace glanced at his silent, withdrawn companion yet again. Obi-Wan clearly still felt responsible for Anakin, and by extension, for everything that had happened. And he probably always would. It was in his nature.

Mace pulled his robe around him more tightly, as though it could ward off the chill of foreknowledge. As though he could insulate himself from the bleak landscape of prophecy that he, along with the other members of the Jedi Council, inhabited all the time now.

If this was so difficult for him to bear, how must it be for Master Yoda?

Of all the members of the Jedi Council, Master Yoda was the one who retained the greatest ability to see through the growing darkness. His was the vision and guidance they all sought and relied upon. He was the Jedi who carried on his wizened shoulders the full burden of prescient sight.

And what he saw, and shared with the others, he called shadowfall. The gradual darkening into night.

Mace was astounded that the weight of this knowledge didn't crush the Ancient One.

The Jedi view on destiny was clear. It had been set down in the most ancient texts, at the dawn of the Order.

Destiny is a river that flows inexorably from its source to its end in the sea, where it loses itself in the larger cycle of the world. The end is inevitable. The fact that it will flow to the sea is inevitable. But in the river itself there are an infinite number of paths to that end. At every bend, at every rock and obstruction there are numerous decision points. New flows. Counterpoints. Diversions.

The end is inevitable.

It seemed that every minute of every hour of every day the Jedi fought their way from stone to stone in that river. To smooth the path. To even the flow. And yet the vast cycle of time and space, the eternity that was the Force, moved in its own inexorable way.

Who was to say, then, what was a mistake?

The Jedi Order had chosen its path. And Anakin had chosen his. And given what they now knew - that Palpatine himself might well be the Dark Power they had sought so long - it was almost impossible to imagine that the course Anakin had chosen led to anything that might offer hope for the victory and resurgence of the light.

Palpatine was already the most powerful individual in the Galaxy. If that political power was indeed augmented and supported by the power of the dark side of the Force, the consequences were almost unimaginable. And Anakin, the Chosen One, had been given straight into his hands.

And so Obi-Wan suffered. As did they all.

Mace contemplated his withdrawn companion for a while, this time deliberately intensifying his own presence in the Force. It wasn't long before Obi-Wan responded, and roused out of his deep lethargy by the suddenly vibrant presence of the man by his side. When he turned to look at Mace his eyes were awake, and clear, and hard.

For along time neither Jedi said anything. It was Mace who broke the silence.

"What is it that you want to ask me, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's brittle reply was not long in coming. "I want to know why you did it, Mace. Why you kept me out of that fight with Anakin."

"Ahh. That disturbs you."

"Many things disturb me!" Obi-Wan snapped. "I keep trying to put all the pieces of this puzzle together in a way that makes sense. That is merely one piece that I keep coming back to."

"Why do you think I did it?" Mace asked mildly.

Obi-Wan looked daggers at the Jedi Master. "I think you were sent along on this task force to make sure I did my duty - no matter what." His voice became rough. "Well, I have done my duty! I have done everything you asked, even against my better judgment! I have done things in the name of duty that were so painful, so soul-destroying ." He stopped, and swallowed a few times. "So, Mace. Why did you stop me from confronting Anakin?"

"Is that what you think? Mace reached over placed a hard hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to steady him. "You think that we don't trust you where Anakin is concerned?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but he couldn't help looking away from Mace's penetrating stare. The small gesture spoke volumes. Mace's voice was gentler when he spoke again.

"That couldn't be further from the truth." Mace paused. "Look at me, Obi-Wan." To Mace, his hand felt heavy on Obi-Wan's shoulder, like the weight of many worlds pressing down. He forced himself to keep his touch light, but the inner impression of heaviness remained.

Obi-Wan looked back into Windu's eyes.

"I joined your mission for one purpose only," Mace said gruffly. "To keep you safe. Whatever happened - however events unfolded - my job was to make certain that you survived. No matter what the cost."

Obi-Wan was completely taken aback. "What?" he gasped. And then, "But why?"

Mace sighed a little. "I'm afraid Master Yoda insisted."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan whispered, astounded.

Mace removed his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder and shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"It seems that you will be needed." Mace paused, and then finished quietly, "It seems that your destiny lies along a different path from mine."

They did not talk much more after that. Obi-Wan went back to looking into the far distance, while Mace prepared to slip into a deep meditation. He needed all the strength he could draw from the Force.

As would all the Jedi.

There was light ahead, Master Yoda insisted. There was hope. But it would be born out of darkness and sacrifice.

Given what was coming, surviving seemed like the greatest sacrifice of all.

* * * * *

The day on which Padmé's trial for treason against the Republic would have taken place dawned clear, bright and with the tender mildness that only the mid-season on Naboo could bring. Padmé woke early, even before the pale light of dawn warmed the golden stones of the ancient capital city of Theed, and roused her Handmaidens as well.

There was much to do.

Instead of a trial, there would be a ceremony of passing for a very young and much-loved child. It was no happier an occasion, but it had a much greater prospect of ending on a note of peace.

Whatever Padmé did, wherever she went, Anakin was by her side. He woke when she woke. He ate when she ate. He sat by patiently while Padmé and her Handmaidens laid out the plans for the day. It wasn't long before he became the object of a heated discussion between Padmé and Sabé.

"Please, Sabé," Padmé said reasonably. "The only clothes he has are the formal robes he wore last night. Please find him something else to wear."

Sabé glared at Anakin, who at the moment was lounging on a chair dressed only in last night's rather elegant formal leggings and one of Padmé's dressing gowns. It didn't exactly close around him. His lightsaber stuck haphazardly out of a pocket.

"I don't care who you're married to," Sabé snapped directly at him. "I didn't sign on to be your wardrobe mistress! Especially not yours. You're impossible!"

Anakin grinned. "I'll go like this then. I don't mind."

"Sabé, please!" Padmé was losing her patience. "Anakin has to go back to Coruscant tomorrow. He needs a few things. Just do it!"

Sabé gave in, of course.

When she had left, the mood between Padmé and her husband became more somber. The reality that Anakin had to leave for Coruscant immediately hung heavily between them. They had decided together that Padmé would remain behind on Naboo for the time being. She faced the difficult, delicate task of finding her place in the new government of Naboo, and she had to be nearby while the transition took place. She would need all of her skills and all of her contacts to ensure her retention as Senator. At the moment she wasn't sure whether it would be possible. But Padmé felt she had to try.

She had been a little surprised by how willingly Anakin had agreed to her staying behind. She could have sworn that he seemed. relieved. But then, he was being accommodating about everything today. She looked at him lovingly, and tried to lighten the mood a little.

"You really ought to use the proper entry code for the apartment on Coruscant. You can't keep taking apart the lock and putting it back together."

Anakin looked genuinely startled. "I hadn't thought about where I would live." he mused. "I guess there isn't any reason why I can't leave my boots under your bed now."

Padmé reached out for his hand. "Our bed, Anakin. Think about it. Our bed. Our apartment. Our home."

Anakin looked at her in wonder. "This is going to take some getting used to."

Despite her grumbling Sabé returned fairly quickly with a selection of clothing for Anakin. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, and what would make him comfortable. She even had found a belt somewhere that Anakin was able to adapt to hold his ever-present weapon. Before long he was dressed simply and comfortably, yet appropriately to his position as Padmé's husband. He did glare at some of the more decorative elements on his clothes, but mercifully showed the discretion not to say anything about it. By far, he seemed happiest with the long, dark cloak that Sabé had found for him.

The ceremony of passing for Bale had been arranged for evening, in the Temple at Theed. Padmé's family was scheduled to arrive in the city in the late afternoon. Out of respect for the time constraints faced by the son-in-law they only just discovered they had, Padmé's parents had agreed to hurry back from the country for the ceremony rather than holding it in the privacy of their small village temple, as they would have preferred. Padmé's sister Sola and her husband and children were coming as well, along with a few more family members and close friends. The family's long-time spiritual advisor was arriving with them to preside over the ceremony.

Padmé had left the rest of the details to her staff, so the remainder of the day stretched ahead with relatively few obligations. But even with Anakin's departure imminent, there was only one way Padmé could imagine spending this time. This day of all days. Shattered as she had been by the terrible turn of the tide in her life, and torn has she felt about the future, Padmé wanted only one thing.

She wanted to find some peace.

Padmé dressed carefully in a simple robe of pure white. Then she added a sash of deep crimson over one shoulder. Dormé flashed her a look of surprise and concern when she saw the combination, but said nothing.

Accompanied only by her steadfast and, at the moment, tirelessly cooperative husband, Padmé made her way along the long winding path that led down the Palace hill to the Temple district. They did not speak very much on the way. When they arrived before the vast Temple, whose graceful green dome was a Theed landmark second only to the Palace, Padmé and Anakin stopped in front of the doors.

"Would you like to come in with me?" Padmé asked.

Anakin paused. He looked as though he were listening to something far away, or perhaps catching a scent on the wind. Then he smiled, and said, "The Force has an infinite number of faces. While you speak with yours, I'll go into the garden and spend some time with mine." The Garden of Remembrance was only one small gate away. Padmé nodded mutely, and stepped inside the sanctuary.

* * * * *

Anakin watched Padmé until she had completely disappeared inside, and then wandered into the Garden of Remembrance. Among the many commemorative statues and plaques that dotted the lush garden, some of them dating back almost a thousand years, was one in particular that Anakin remembered from his visit to Naboo a little more than a year before. For some reason he longed to see it again.

And the person whose Force signature had drawn his attention seemed to know of it, too, because he sat on the small bench in the shady alcove that had been Anakin's destination.

"H-hello, Anakin," Brith said.

Anakin sauntered up to the bench and loomed over Poulin with his arms crossed. He didn't return the greeting, but instead looked the Jedi Padawan up and down.

"It suits you," he said. "You can easily pass for a Naboo. But I'd increase my shielding, if I were you. You stand out like a beacon." Poulin was dressed in the subdued workday clothing and colors of the average citizen of Theed. His tunic, tabard and leggings were far from the ideal of Jedi simplicity, but would attract no notice at all here. Even Poulin's low boots looked as though they had been crafted locally. Anakin suspected Sabé's fine hand at work in the boy's disguise. He was unlikely to have done so well on his own.

Poulin blushed a little, and bobbed his head. His presence in the Force toned down instantly.

"There aren't supposed to be any Jedi on Naboo," Anakin pointed out. Poulin shot him a quick glance. It looked cautious. And appraising. "Why did they leave you behind?" Anakin went on, mildly.

"I asked to stay. For.for B-Balé."

Anakin nodded. "I see. And they allowed it? Even after.even after you helped me?"

Poulin nodded. "Master Medulla knows how much it m-meant to me to stay. He's v-very understanding."

Anakin shifted a little and looked down at his boots.

"And of course," he said, "you are to bring back news of me?"

"Of course," Poulin said. "Always." Anakin looked up into the boy's eyes. The look in them was sincere and unguarded. "B-but only if there is any n-news to be had."

Anakin thought for a moment. "You can tell them that I'm returning to Coruscant to work for Chancellor Palpatine. You can tell them that I'm married to Padmé. It's going to be announced soon, anyway." Anakin stubbed the toe of his boot against the ground thoughtfully, and then looked at Poulin again, with a very faint smile. "Make sure Obi-Wan knows that I have been married for over a year."

Poulin nodded gravely.

"And then you need to warn them that I won't tolerate any interference in my life or my family's life," Anakin said coldly. His smile had disappeared. "Not now. Not ever. In fact, they had better give me a very wide berth. I don't want to see a Jedi cross my path."

Poulin nodded again.

Anakin stared into the boy's eyes once more. All he saw there was acceptance. Most tellingly of all, Poulin didn't ask for special dispensation for himself.

They were probably saying goodbye.

Anakin turned his attention to the small monument in the garden alcove that had drawn both of them to this place. It commemorated Naboo's victory over the Trade Federation's blockade many years before. On the beautifully fashioned plaque were three faces: Qui-Gon Jinn's, young Obi-Wan Kenobi's, and the face of a young boy with his hair flopping into his eyes. The artwork was rendered with such skill and realism that for a moment - just for a moment - the years rolled away and Anakin's heart and soul were once again those of that young boy.

Master Jinn, he wondered, how did it come to this?

A breeze kicked up suddenly and rippled through the previously still garden, waving small branches and rustling leaves.

So many things had changed. Master Jinn was gone. Obi-Wan.well, he was a good as gone. He was over. As was Anakin's dream of becoming a Jedi.

But there was one thing that had remained unchanged - the one thing that had only grown stronger and truer. One single, bright, unbreakable thread that connected that time to this. The thread Anakin had followed unerringly.

Padmé.

"I have to go," Anakin said to Poulin. "It will be dusk soon."

Brith stood up. "You go ahead. I'll be there in a little while."

Anakin turned away and headed back toward the garden gate and the Temple sanctuary where Padmé waited in prayer. Before he reached the gate, without turning around to look behind him, he raised one hand to wave to the boy he had left behind.

* * * * *

Twilight fell, in time. The center of the soaring Temple sanctuary was lit by a ring of hundreds of pure white candles, creating an intimate circle in a space that could hold thousands. An altar formed one arc of the circle. At the center of the circle was Bale's towering bier, surrounded by sheaves of herbs and arms full of flowers. Her small corpse, dressed in white, could barely be seen.

There were a surprising number of people gathered inside the flickering circle of light, all dressed in cloaks of dull and muted colors.

Only Padmé stood out in the crowd, dressed in her white and crimson. She did not wear a cloak.

Many faces were hidden inside large hoods, but Anakin recognized quite a few of them. Padmé's family, of course. They had risen to the doubly shocking occasion with tact and grace, and treated Anakin as one of them.

Sabé, Dormé and quite a few other Handmaidens were there. Poulin had slipped into the sanctuary at some point, and hovered near Sabé, who seemed to have taken him under her wing.

Captain Typho was there, too, along with a few others who looked as though they might be members of the Naboo security forces. Others probably were politicians and other assorted dignitaries. A few musicians lingered in the background.

All the mourners paid their respects to both Padmé and Anakin. And Anakin certainly recognized the ancient, bearded Holy Man who had presided so discretely over his wedding a little more than a year before. The old man's presence in the Force was brighter than all of the candles combined.

At one point the Holy Man gestured to Padmé, drawing her aside near the altar. Anakin lingered uncertainly in the background, but close enough to hear what was being said.

The Holy Man reached out and fingered the dark red cloth that was draped from Padmé's shoulder to her hip.

"Is this what you feel you must wear?" he asked gently. Padmé nodded, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

With a lightning quick movement, the old cleric yanked the fabric off Padmé's shoulder and threw it away. Padmé cried out, and Anakin was instantly at her side.

The Holy Man did not flinch, nor did his eyes leave Padmé's. But it was Anakin he spoke to.

"Surely you agree that your wife does not need to wear this stain of guilt." The old man's voice was kind, but had an unyielding strength that was forged in the Force.

"No," Anakin said roughly, revealing far more raw emotion than he had intended. Somehow the Holy Man had drawn it out. "She has done nothing wrong."

The old man nodded. "Go, my child," he murmured to Padmé. Go in peace."

As night drew in outside, silence sighed through the Sanctuary. The ring of mourners assembled itself around Bale's bier, the incense was lit, and the first glimmering notes of the first hymn of mourning spiraled up through the scented air to resonate against the dome high above

* * * * *

In the end, all that was left was the fire.

The singing was done. The ceremony had ended. The last notes of music had stilled.

Padmé and Anakin no longer stood side by side. In the gloom they might have appeared as a single figure. Padmé's back was pressed against Anakin's chest, for strength and for comfort. His cloak fell over her gleaming white dress, as his arms were securely wrapped around her from behind. Her head was tucked under his chin. As one, they watched the leaping flames of the fire return Balé to the Force.

Anakin opened himself to the Force completely. The radiance of its presence in the chamber took his breath away. And everywhere, everywhere, there were the bright, sparking traces that Anakin knew so well. It was Balé. It felt has though she was touching him, and as though he could touch her.

It wasn't grief he felt, Anakin realized. It was gratitude.

He had set out to conquer the stars. But one little girl had come into his life and taught him that everything he wanted, everything he dreamed of, was right here in his arms.

Anakin hugged Padmé closer and reached out to her in his mind, hoping he could convey to her a little of what he saw and felt. She stirred against him.

He shut his eyelids so that he could better open his inner eyes. As his consciousness expanded, a vivid image of Balé shimmered into life right in front of him. There she stood, wavering with pale blue light, smiling in a way that reached all the way into his soul.

She wasn't alone. Her small hand was clasped tenderly in the large, square hand of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Hello, Warrior, Anakin said to her in his heart. Thank you for showing me the way.



The End

Chapter 47. The Weight of Prophecy


The Jedi task force's losses left them with barely enough able pilots to return to Coruscant with all of their ships.

At first Mace had intended for Obi-Wan to pilot the six-passenger transport in which he had arrived, leaving Master Medulla and himself to fly the two starfighters. But after having observed the silent, withdrawn Kenobi for some time, Mace decided to keep his friend company in the transport and leave one of the starfighters behind to be retrieved later.

He shouldn't be left alone.

He had never seen Obi-Wan like this. Outwardly the Jedi Knight performed all of his required tasks. Together the three remaining Jedi Knights carefully had loaded the bodies of Tec Andros and Lon Erian onto the Jedi transport ship. Together they had laid out the corpses and treated them with the herbs and potions that would preserve them during the journey back to the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan had plotted their return course efficiently and arranged a daring flight plan that would bring them back to the Jedi Temple in little more than a day and a half. But he had not said a word since leaving Anakin behind with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine in the echoing foyer of the Palace at Theed. And all the while, Obi-Wan's presence in the Force had resonated with the jarring, discordant unrest of a soul in torment.

They had left Naboo as quickly as possible, and entered hyperspace at the earliest opportunity. For a many long hours Obi-Wan sat silently in the pilot's seat of the transport, staring at the featureless gray streaks of hyperspace. He didn't move. He didn't eat or sleep. And as far as Mace could tell, he didn't meditate.

Mace kept vigil beside him.

Medulla's Padawan, Poulin Brith, remained behind on Naboo. Mace had not wanted to permit it, but Medulla had insisted with unusual obstinacy.

"My Padawan requested to attend the little girl's ceremony of passing," Master Medulla had explained patiently. "He feels responsible for her death. I have allowed it."

"He disobeyed his orders," Mace had protested. "He should be disciplined. And besides, it's not safe for a Jedi on Naboo right now. You are willing to leave him there alone?"

"Poulin has the skills to go unnoticed. He will not be alone. He has promised to return to the Temple in a few days' time, and he will keep his promise. I will deal with his transgressions then," Master Medulla had said firmly, "and I take full responsibility for my decision." And that had been the end of it. In decisions regarding a Padawan's upbringing, the Master invariably had the final word.

For too long Anakin had been no one's Padawan. In retrospect, that had been a mistake. One, perhaps, of many.

Mace glanced at his silent, withdrawn companion yet again. Obi-Wan clearly still felt responsible for Anakin, and by extension, for everything that had happened. And he probably always would. It was in his nature.

Mace pulled his robe around him more tightly, as though it could ward off the chill of foreknowledge. As though he could insulate himself from the bleak landscape of prophecy that he, along with the other members of the Jedi Council, inhabited all the time now.

If this was so difficult for him to bear, how must it be for Master Yoda?

Of all the members of the Jedi Council, Master Yoda was the one who retained the greatest ability to see through the growing darkness. His was the vision and guidance they all sought and relied upon. He was the Jedi who carried on his wizened shoulders the full burden of prescient sight.

And what he saw, and shared with the others, he called shadowfall. The gradual darkening into night.

Mace was astounded that the weight of this knowledge didn't crush the Ancient One.

The Jedi view on destiny was clear. It had been set down in the most ancient texts, at the dawn of the Order.

Destiny is a river that flows inexorably from its source to its end in the sea, where it loses itself in the larger cycle of the world. The end is inevitable. The fact that it will flow to the sea is inevitable. But in the river itself there are an infinite number of paths to that end. At every bend, at every rock and obstruction there are numerous decision points. New flows. Counterpoints. Diversions.

The end is inevitable.

It seemed that every minute of every hour of every day the Jedi fought their way from stone to stone in that river. To smooth the path. To even the flow. And yet the vast cycle of time and space, the eternity that was the Force, moved in its own inexorable way.

Who was to say, then, what was a mistake?

The Jedi Order had chosen its path. And Anakin had chosen his. And given what they now knew - that Palpatine himself might well be the Dark Power they had sought so long - it was almost impossible to imagine that the course Anakin had chosen led to anything that might offer hope for the victory and resurgence of the light.

Palpatine was already the most powerful individual in the Galaxy. If that political power was indeed augmented and supported by the power of the dark side of the Force, the consequences were almost unimaginable. And Anakin, the Chosen One, had been given straight into his hands.

And so Obi-Wan suffered. As did they all.

Mace contemplated his withdrawn companion for a while, this time deliberately intensifying his own presence in the Force. It wasn't long before Obi-Wan responded, and roused out of his deep lethargy by the suddenly vibrant presence of the man by his side. When he turned to look at Mace his eyes were awake, and clear, and hard.

For along time neither Jedi said anything. It was Mace who broke the silence.

"What is it that you want to ask me, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan's brittle reply was not long in coming. "I want to know why you did it, Mace. Why you kept me out of that fight with Anakin."

"Ahh. That disturbs you."

"Many things disturb me!" Obi-Wan snapped. "I keep trying to put all the pieces of this puzzle together in a way that makes sense. That is merely one piece that I keep coming back to."

"Why do you think I did it?" Mace asked mildly.

Obi-Wan looked daggers at the Jedi Master. "I think you were sent along on this task force to make sure I did my duty - no matter what." His voice became rough. "Well, I have done my duty! I have done everything you asked, even against my better judgment! I have done things in the name of duty that were so painful, so soul-destroying ." He stopped, and swallowed a few times. "So, Mace. Why did you stop me from confronting Anakin?"

"Is that what you think? Mace reached over placed a hard hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to steady him. "You think that we don't trust you where Anakin is concerned?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but he couldn't help looking away from Mace's penetrating stare. The small gesture spoke volumes. Mace's voice was gentler when he spoke again.

"That couldn't be further from the truth." Mace paused. "Look at me, Obi-Wan." To Mace, his hand felt heavy on Obi-Wan's shoulder, like the weight of many worlds pressing down. He forced himself to keep his touch light, but the inner impression of heaviness remained.

Obi-Wan looked back into Windu's eyes.

"I joined your mission for one purpose only," Mace said gruffly. "To keep you safe. Whatever happened - however events unfolded - my job was to make certain that you survived. No matter what the cost."

Obi-Wan was completely taken aback. "What?" he gasped. And then, "But why?"

Mace sighed a little. "I'm afraid Master Yoda insisted."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan whispered, astounded.

Mace removed his hand from Obi-Wan's shoulder and shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"It seems that you will be needed." Mace paused, and then finished quietly, "It seems that your destiny lies along a different path from mine."

They did not talk much more after that. Obi-Wan went back to looking into the far distance, while Mace prepared to slip into a deep meditation. He needed all the strength he could draw from the Force.

As would all the Jedi.

There was light ahead, Master Yoda insisted. There was hope. But it would be born out of darkness and sacrifice.

Given what was coming, surviving seemed like the greatest sacrifice of all.

* * * * *

The day on which Padmé's trial for treason against the Republic would have taken place dawned clear, bright and with the tender mildness that only the mid-season on Naboo could bring. Padmé woke early, even before the pale light of dawn warmed the golden stones of the ancient capital city of Theed, and roused her Handmaidens as well.

There was much to do.

Instead of a trial, there would be a ceremony of passing for a very young and much-loved child. It was no happier an occasion, but it had a much greater prospect of ending on a note of peace.

Whatever Padmé did, wherever she went, Anakin was by her side. He woke when she woke. He ate when she ate. He sat by patiently while Padmé and her Handmaidens laid out the plans for the day. It wasn't long before he became the object of a heated discussion between Padmé and Sabé.

"Please, Sabé," Padmé said reasonably. "The only clothes he has are the formal robes he wore last night. Please find him something else to wear."

Sabé glared at Anakin, who at the moment was lounging on a chair dressed only in last night's rather elegant formal leggings and one of Padmé's dressing gowns. It didn't exactly close around him. His lightsaber stuck haphazardly out of a pocket.

"I don't care who you're married to," Sabé snapped directly at him. "I didn't sign on to be your wardrobe mistress! Especially not yours. You're impossible!"

Anakin grinned. "I'll go like this then. I don't mind."

"Sabé, please!" Padmé was losing her patience. "Anakin has to go back to Coruscant tomorrow. He needs a few things. Just do it!"

Sabé gave in, of course.

When she had left, the mood between Padmé and her husband became more somber. The reality that Anakin had to leave for Coruscant immediately hung heavily between them. They had decided together that Padmé would remain behind on Naboo for the time being. She faced the difficult, delicate task of finding her place in the new government of Naboo, and she had to be nearby while the transition took place. She would need all of her skills and all of her contacts to ensure her retention as Senator. At the moment she wasn't sure whether it would be possible. But Padmé felt she had to try.

She had been a little surprised by how willingly Anakin had agreed to her staying behind. She could have sworn that he seemed. relieved. But then, he was being accommodating about everything today. She looked at him lovingly, and tried to lighten the mood a little.

"You really ought to use the proper entry code for the apartment on Coruscant. You can't keep taking apart the lock and putting it back together."

Anakin looked genuinely startled. "I hadn't thought about where I would live." he mused. "I guess there isn't any reason why I can't leave my boots under your bed now."

Padmé reached out for his hand. "Our bed, Anakin. Think about it. Our bed. Our apartment. Our home."

Anakin looked at her in wonder. "This is going to take some getting used to."

Despite her grumbling Sabé returned fairly quickly with a selection of clothing for Anakin. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, and what would make him comfortable. She even had found a belt somewhere that Anakin was able to adapt to hold his ever-present weapon. Before long he was dressed simply and comfortably, yet appropriately to his position as Padmé's husband. He did glare at some of the more decorative elements on his clothes, but mercifully showed the discretion not to say anything about it. By far, he seemed happiest with the long, dark cloak that Sabé had found for him.

The ceremony of passing for Bale had been arranged for evening, in the Temple at Theed. Padmé's family was scheduled to arrive in the city in the late afternoon. Out of respect for the time constraints faced by the son-in-law they only just discovered they had, Padmé's parents had agreed to hurry back from the country for the ceremony rather than holding it in the privacy of their small village temple, as they would have preferred. Padmé's sister Sola and her husband and children were coming as well, along with a few more family members and close friends. The family's long-time spiritual advisor was arriving with them to preside over the ceremony.

Padmé had left the rest of the details to her staff, so the remainder of the day stretched ahead with relatively few obligations. But even with Anakin's departure imminent, there was only one way Padmé could imagine spending this time. This day of all days. Shattered as she had been by the terrible turn of the tide in her life, and torn has she felt about the future, Padmé wanted only one thing.

She wanted to find some peace.

Padmé dressed carefully in a simple robe of pure white. Then she added a sash of deep crimson over one shoulder. Dormé flashed her a look of surprise and concern when she saw the combination, but said nothing.

Accompanied only by her steadfast and, at the moment, tirelessly cooperative husband, Padmé made her way along the long winding path that led down the Palace hill to the Temple district. They did not speak very much on the way. When they arrived before the vast Temple, whose graceful green dome was a Theed landmark second only to the Palace, Padmé and Anakin stopped in front of the doors.

"Would you like to come in with me?" Padmé asked.

Anakin paused. He looked as though he were listening to something far away, or perhaps catching a scent on the wind. Then he smiled, and said, "The Force has an infinite number of faces. While you speak with yours, I'll go into the garden and spend some time with mine." The Garden of Remembrance was only one small gate away. Padmé nodded mutely, and stepped inside the sanctuary.

* * * * *

Anakin watched Padmé until she had completely disappeared inside, and then wandered into the Garden of Remembrance. Among the many commemorative statues and plaques that dotted the lush garden, some of them dating back almost a thousand years, was one in particular that Anakin remembered from his visit to Naboo a little more than a year before. For some reason he longed to see it again.

And the person whose Force signature had drawn his attention seemed to know of it, too, because he sat on the small bench in the shady alcove that had been Anakin's destination.

"H-hello, Anakin," Brith said.

Anakin sauntered up to the bench and loomed over Poulin with his arms crossed. He didn't return the greeting, but instead looked the Jedi Padawan up and down.

"It suits you," he said. "You can easily pass for a Naboo. But I'd increase my shielding, if I were you. You stand out like a beacon." Poulin was dressed in the subdued workday clothing and colors of the average citizen of Theed. His tunic, tabard and leggings were far from the ideal of Jedi simplicity, but would attract no notice at all here. Even Poulin's low boots looked as though they had been crafted locally. Anakin suspected Sabé's fine hand at work in the boy's disguise. He was unlikely to have done so well on his own.

Poulin blushed a little, and bobbed his head. His presence in the Force toned down instantly.

"There aren't supposed to be any Jedi on Naboo," Anakin pointed out. Poulin shot him a quick glance. It looked cautious. And appraising. "Why did they leave you behind?" Anakin went on, mildly.

"I asked to stay. For.for B-Balé."

Anakin nodded. "I see. And they allowed it? Even after.even after you helped me?"

Poulin nodded. "Master Medulla knows how much it m-meant to me to stay. He's v-very understanding."

Anakin shifted a little and looked down at his boots.

"And of course," he said, "you are to bring back news of me?"

"Of course," Poulin said. "Always." Anakin looked up into the boy's eyes. The look in them was sincere and unguarded. "B-but only if there is any n-news to be had."

Anakin thought for a moment. "You can tell them that I'm returning to Coruscant to work for Chancellor Palpatine. You can tell them that I'm married to Padmé. It's going to be announced soon, anyway." Anakin stubbed the toe of his boot against the ground thoughtfully, and then looked at Poulin again, with a very faint smile. "Make sure Obi-Wan knows that I have been married for over a year."

Poulin nodded gravely.

"And then you need to warn them that I won't tolerate any interference in my life or my family's life," Anakin said coldly. His smile had disappeared. "Not now. Not ever. In fact, they had better give me a very wide berth. I don't want to see a Jedi cross my path."

Poulin nodded again.

Anakin stared into the boy's eyes once more. All he saw there was acceptance. Most tellingly of all, Poulin didn't ask for special dispensation for himself.

They were probably saying goodbye.

Anakin turned his attention to the small monument in the garden alcove that had drawn both of them to this place. It commemorated Naboo's victory over the Trade Federation's blockade many years before. On the beautifully fashioned plaque were three faces: Qui-Gon Jinn's, young Obi-Wan Kenobi's, and the face of a young boy with his hair flopping into his eyes. The artwork was rendered with such skill and realism that for a moment - just for a moment - the years rolled away and Anakin's heart and soul were once again those of that young boy.

Master Jinn, he wondered, how did it come to this?

A breeze kicked up suddenly and rippled through the previously still garden, waving small branches and rustling leaves.

So many things had changed. Master Jinn was gone. Obi-Wan.well, he was a good as gone. He was over. As was Anakin's dream of becoming a Jedi.

But there was one thing that had remained unchanged - the one thing that had only grown stronger and truer. One single, bright, unbreakable thread that connected that time to this. The thread Anakin had followed unerringly.

Padmé.

"I have to go," Anakin said to Poulin. "It will be dusk soon."

Brith stood up. "You go ahead. I'll be there in a little while."

Anakin turned away and headed back toward the garden gate and the Temple sanctuary where Padmé waited in prayer. Before he reached the gate, without turning around to look behind him, he raised one hand to wave to the boy he had left behind.

* * * * *

Twilight fell, in time. The center of the soaring Temple sanctuary was lit by a ring of hundreds of pure white candles, creating an intimate circle in a space that could hold thousands. An altar formed one arc of the circle. At the center of the circle was Bale's towering bier, surrounded by sheaves of herbs and arms full of flowers. Her small corpse, dressed in white, could barely be seen.

There were a surprising number of people gathered inside the flickering circle of light, all dressed in cloaks of dull and muted colors.

Only Padmé stood out in the crowd, dressed in her white and crimson. She did not wear a cloak.

Many faces were hidden inside large hoods, but Anakin recognized quite a few of them. Padmé's family, of course. They had risen to the doubly shocking occasion with tact and grace, and treated Anakin as one of them.

Sabé, Dormé and quite a few other Handmaidens were there. Poulin had slipped into the sanctuary at some point, and hovered near Sabé, who seemed to have taken him under her wing.

Captain Typho was there, too, along with a few others who looked as though they might be members of the Naboo security forces. Others probably were politicians and other assorted dignitaries. A few musicians lingered in the background.

All the mourners paid their respects to both Padmé and Anakin. And Anakin certainly recognized the ancient, bearded Holy Man who had presided so discretely over his wedding a little more than a year before. The old man's presence in the Force was brighter than all of the candles combined.

At one point the Holy Man gestured to Padmé, drawing her aside near the altar. Anakin lingered uncertainly in the background, but close enough to hear what was being said.

The Holy Man reached out and fingered the dark red cloth that was draped from Padmé's shoulder to her hip.

"Is this what you feel you must wear?" he asked gently. Padmé nodded, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

With a lightning quick movement, the old cleric yanked the fabric off Padmé's shoulder and threw it away. Padmé cried out, and Anakin was instantly at her side.

The Holy Man did not flinch, nor did his eyes leave Padmé's. But it was Anakin he spoke to.

"Surely you agree that your wife does not need to wear this stain of guilt." The old man's voice was kind, but had an unyielding strength that was forged in the Force.

"No," Anakin said roughly, revealing far more raw emotion than he had intended. Somehow the Holy Man had drawn it out. "She has done nothing wrong."

The old man nodded. "Go, my child," he murmured to Padmé. Go in peace."

As night drew in outside, silence sighed through the Sanctuary. The ring of mourners assembled itself around Bale's bier, the incense was lit, and the first glimmering notes of the first hymn of mourning spiraled up through the scented air to resonate against the dome high above

* * * * *

In the end, all that was left was the fire.

The singing was done. The ceremony had ended. The last notes of music had stilled.

Padmé and Anakin no longer stood side by side. In the gloom they might have appeared as a single figure. Padmé's back was pressed against Anakin's chest, for strength and for comfort. His cloak fell over her gleaming white dress, as his arms were securely wrapped around her from behind. Her head was tucked under his chin. As one, they watched the leaping flames of the fire return Balé to the Force.

Anakin opened himself to the Force completely. The radiance of its presence in the chamber took his breath away. And everywhere, everywhere, there were the bright, sparking traces that Anakin knew so well. It was Balé. It felt has though she was touching him, and as though he could touch her.

It wasn't grief he felt, Anakin realized. It was gratitude.

He had set out to conquer the stars. But one little girl had come into his life and taught him that everything he wanted, everything he dreamed of, was right here in his arms.

Anakin hugged Padmé closer and reached out to her in his mind, hoping he could convey to her a little of what he saw and felt. She stirred against him.

He shut his eyelids so that he could better open his inner eyes. As his consciousness expanded, a vivid image of Balé shimmered into life right in front of him. There she stood, wavering with pale blue light, smiling in a way that reached all the way into his soul.

She wasn't alone. Her small hand was clasped tenderly in the large, square hand of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Hello, Warrior, Anakin said to her in his heart. Thank you for showing me the way.



The End